“For God’s sake, what happened to you?” asked Butch. “Talk, can’tcha?”
Rawls tried to say something, but slumped back in the dirt. Swiftly Butch picked him up in his arms and went running to the saloon, with Rawls’s heels bumping along the rough planks of the sidewalk. Their entrance caused consternation in the War Dance, and questions were hurled at Butch from every angle.
“He fell off his horse at the hitchrack; that’s all I know.”
Kendall Marsh heard the uproar and came out from the office, just as Butch was crossing the room toward him. Butch shoved past him with his burden and laid him down on the floor in the little office.
“Shut the door!” snapped Butch. “Keep everybody out, Hank. Alden, you come in here.”
Terry Ione came running and shoved his way in before they could close the door.
“He was ridin’ the sheriff’s horse!” exploded Terry. “What’s happened?”
Nobody knew. They looked blankly at each other and down at the unconscious man on the floor.
“I’m going,” said Kendall Marsh huskily. “Something has gone wrong.”
They all realised that something had gone decidedly wrong. Mac Rawls would know, but Mac Rawls was unconscious.