“Whoever he was he left his card behind him.” Hugh stooped and drew from his boot leg a bowie knife with a horn handle. Upon the lower part of the horn had been filed fourteen little notches. “This was the sticker he flung at me. He was in a hurry and didn’t take it with him when he vamosed.”
Byers examined the knife and spoke for the first time.
“Dutch claims fourteen.”
“Well, I’m going to advertise it in the paper and give the owner a chance to reclaim his property,” McClintock said grimly.
“Won’t that be a call for a showdown?” Budd asked gravely.
“I aim to call for one. Then I’ll know Mr. Pig Sticker is sittin’ on the other side of the table from me an’ ain’t pluggin’ me in the back.”
“If he stands for a showdown.”
“If he stands for one. If he don’t, well, I’ll call his bluff that he’s chief of Piodie, anyhow.”
“You sure want to pack a good gun handy, then.”
Byers nodded agreement. The simple direct way always suited him.