“Tryin’ to kid me?” asked Windy.
“If you think so, come with ’em. Didja hear about Lonesome Lee gettin’ killed?”
“Lonesome Lee! Whatcha mean?”
“Somebody shot him on Skelton’s porch a while ago.”
“Kill him dead?”
“Didja ever know a feller to get hit with a .30-30 and fail to grab a harp?”
“Whatcha know?” grunted Windy. “Who’d kill him?”
“Come on, Sleepy.”
Hashknife strode back to the door and headed for their horses. They rode swiftly back toward the Tombstone ranch, with Sleepy demanding to know what in —— they ever made the trip to Caldwell for, and what good it was going to do?
“Elimination and instruction, Sleepy,” replied Hashknife, as they dismounted at the Tombstone corral.