Cultus Collins did not seem greatly concerned. He massaged the knuckles of his right hand for a few moments, permitting himself a slow, lazy grin, and looked around the room. The blackjack players looked at each other, wondering just a little who this man might be, and resumed their game.
“Mind havin’ a little drink on the house?” asked the bartender.
“If you’ve got a little cool water,” said Cultus seriously. “I’m kinda dry.”
The bartender filled a tall glass and watched Cultus drain it.
“That was Butch Van Deen you hit,” offered the bartender. “The other feller was Kendall Marsh’s son.”
“Butch Van Deen, eh? Is he a native around here?”
“No, he ain’t been here long. I heard that he’s from south Texas, or down around there. Most of the Triangle X outfit are from down thataway, and there ain’t none of ’em been here long. Kendall Marsh bought out the Triangle X, yuh know. I suppose that’s how his kid is in with the gang. He wants to be a reg’lar heller.”
“That’s quite an ambition for a kid,” seriously. “His pa ought to spank him.”
“That’s right. Do yuh know I’ve been lookin’ at yuh ever since yuh came in. I’ve seen yuh somewhere, but I can’t quite figure out where it was.”
“My name’s Collins.”