“The horse.”
“Well, I ain’t got it!”
Butch shoved away from the bar and grew interested in the play at a roulette wheel. Hashknife smiled thinly, as he and Slim went back to the office, where they found Sleepy, Scotty McKay, and Jim Langley talking about the robbery.
“Even if a man had them diamonds—what could he do with ’em?” asked Langley. “Yuh can’t sell ’em.”
“Can’t yuh?” laughed Scotty. “I could, y’bet-cha. I’d hop a train and take ’em East. You shore can sell diamonds in any big town.”
“Yuh could do that, Scotty.”
“Probably have to discount ’em pretty bad; but, at that, you’d have more money than yuh ever seen before.”
None of them saw Rance McCoy and Chuckwalla Ike ride in. They tied their horses and went straight to the bank. Michael Hale, the cashier of the bank, nodded pleasantly at old Rance, but got a scowl in return.
“You told Merkle that I borrowed money, Hale,” said old Rance accusingly. “I didn’t know that was the way yuh done business.”
Hale swallowed heavily. The old man’s eyes were as hard as granite and the scars of his face showed white against the leather-brown of his skin.