They left the Half-Box R and rode away toward Red Arrow together. Slim was not very communicative, and Hashknife noticed that he looked often at the bay horse.
“Not wishin’to get personal on short acquaintance,” smiled Hashknife, “but haven’t you an idea who owned this horse, sheriff?”
“I can’t swear that I do, Hartley. Yuh might be fooled in a bay horse, so I better keep my mouth shut. Stealin’ horses is a crime in this country, yuh know.”
“I thought it might be. It is in several places I’ve been. Down at Welcome I was talkin’ to a gambler, who used to deal at the Eagle in Red Arrow, and he told me quite a lot about the place. His name was Warren.”
“Oh, yeah; Bill Warren. I heard he was down there. The Eagle has closed its doors.”
“He said it probably would. Did McCoy go busted?”
“More than likely. His old man won pretty close to eight thousand the night before it closed.”
“Did he pay it?”
Slim laughed shortly. “I dunno. Don’t see how he could. That’s a lot of money, Hartley. Remember that feller DuMond yuh just met at the ranch? Well, old Rance McCoy danged near killed him that night. He shore made DuMond crawl.”
“Rance McCoy is pretty salty, eh?”