“Nothing; I was just wondering,” and she walked back to the stairway. The old man puffed for several moments, sighed deeply and shook his head.
“Women are queer critters,” he said. “Awful queer.”
CHAPTER VIII: “THE GITTINEST SON-OF-A-GUN!”
Cultus Collins might have spent weeks in Painted Valley and never learned much of the local gossip, but when Bad News Buker found out about Cultus knocking Butch Van Deen down and throwing Alden Marsh out of the War Dance Saloon, he immediately made it a point to seek out Cultus.
A stranger was meat and drink to Bad News. It meant an open and fertile field for Bad News to operate on, and he proceeded to regale Cultus with everything that had happened in Painted Valley during the past year. Time permitting, he would go back far beyond that. Cultus was a good listener, and the shady side of the sheriff’s office was a comfortable place to sit and listen to the local historian.
At times Buck Gillis would come from the office and look around the corner, grunt wearily and go back. When Bad News was wound up, he could tick news, scandal and dire prophecy for a week. Bad News’s story of the killing of Ben Kelton, the arrest and conviction of Blaze Nolan, his subsequent release on parole, and the fear of sheep invasion were interesting to Cultus, although he had no interest in the Valley.
For a number of years Cultus had been a freelance of the border, where his name was anathema to those who ran contraband from the land of mañana. Foe of smuggler and hi-jacker alike, his life was forfeit at any time; but still he kept going, a tall man on a gray horse, always unexpected and always unwelcome where men try to evade the law.
The border Mexicans hated and admired him; admired him because of his cold nerve, but hated him because he had an uncanny habit of cutting off their revenues, jailing the men who made it possible for them to make big money, and evading their traps set for his extermination.
But just now Cultus was not thinking of the contrabandista—he wanted that tall gray horse, which had been his closest companion for over two years; the ghost horse who could run like the wind or be as immovable as a statue.
“And this here girl is back,” explained Bad News. “She shore faded out quick, when Blaze was arrested.”