“I guess we better go home,” said Jane wearily.
“I guess so. But what were you doin’ out at the Triangle X, and what was the shootin’ about? Is it a secret? And what woman did Blaze Nolan mistake you for?”
“For that woman he was supposed to have fought Ben over.”
“Oh, she was out there, eh? More mystery!”
“I suppose so. My, I skinned my arm when I got thrown!”
“Are yuh sure Blaze didn’t recognise yuh?”
“No. Let’s go home, Harry.”
“Don’t feel very good, eh?”
“I feel great. If I didn’t still have sand in my throat, I’d sing.”
And while they rode back to the JK, things were not so pleasant at the Triangle X. Terry Ione was laid out on the couch, with a cold water compress on his head along with a lump the size of a goose-egg, where Cultus Collins’s six-shooter barrel had landed with sufficient force to cause Terry to lose all interest in things.