“Not a danged thing, Spot. I’m sober today, if you take notice, and I’m lookin’ for a letter I lost.”
“Letter?” echoed Easton. “What letter?”
“I was drunk,” continued the old man, “but I wasn’t so drunk that I didn’t know about that letter. Somehow I remember you tellin’ me about other letters, Spot— letters that you wrote. I’ve been a —— old drunken bum, but I’m sober right now and I want to know a few things.”
“That must ’a’ been the letter that the long cowboy had,” said Blondy unthinkingly.
Easton shot Blondy a withering glance and turned back to Lonesome.
“I dunno what you’re talking about, Lee.”
“I remember the tall cowboy,” muttered Lonesome. “He was a stranger. But you got the letter, Spot.”
Spot Easton’s hand went mechanically to his ear as he shook his head.
“No, I’m —— if I did! You ask Windy who got that letter. Come on and let’s have a drink, Lonesome.”
Lonesome shook his head slowly, licked his lips and walked away. Easton glared after him and turned to Hagen: