“Wanted to tell you that the inquest’ll be held t’morrow afternoon ’bout two o’clock,” he announced. “Likely need your testimony.”
“We’ll be here,” nodded Hashknife.
The doctor walked out, and Barney got to his feet.
“Gotta git that —— felly fixed up, I suppose,” he groaned. “Hope I never git sick and have to call Doc Clevis. Him and Jake Blue are thicker’n two drunks in one bunk. Besides, I never like to have any truck with a doctor who is the undertaker, too.”
“Gets ’em goin’ and comin’, eh?”
“Gotta cinch,” agreed Barney. “And Jake Blue ain’t as particular as he might be, especially when the reward notice don’t specify ‘dead or alive.’”
“We’ll see you again, pardner,” said Hashknife, as he and Sleepy walked out the front door.
“Come in any ol’ time,” yelled Barney. “Mostly always I’ve got time to talk.”
Hashknife led the way past the War-Bonnet and up to the hitch-rack where they got on their horses and rode back toward the Tombstone Ranch. Hashknife looked back and saw Hagen standing in the doorway, looking in their direction; but there was no sign of Lonesome Lee nor of Spot Easton.
“Do you reckon they’ll hang the killin’ onto Swede Sam?” asked Sleepy, as they poked off down the dusty road.