Butch Reimer blinked slowly, thoughtfully. He knew he didn’t stand a ghost of a chance to bluff this tall, gray-eyed cowboy.
“Why didja deny knowin’ that bay horse?” asked Hashknife. “Lotsa folks recognized it as Kid Glover’s horse.”
“Did they?”
“That’s a fact, Butch,” said Slim softly.
“Uh-huh.”
Butch cleared his throat harshly and tried to grin.
“I’ll tell yuh why I didn’t say anythin’,” he explained. “I didn’t know Hartley. The Kid was with me a long time, and yuh don’t usually throw down folks yuh know in favor of a stranger, Slim. At least, I don’t. I’ll admit that the animal belongs to the Kid. He quit his job and pulled out of the country ridin’ that bay horse. Naturally, I didn’t want to put him in bad; so I said I didn’t know the horse.”
The explanation was not entirely satisfactory to Hashknife.
“He must ’a’ been in a hurry,” said Hashknife.
“I dunno a thing about it,” said Reimer testily. “I’ve admitted that I know the horse; what more do yuh want?”