“But he might. He forgot all about his plans this morning. How do we know he mightn’t a second time?”
“Don’t you worry, honey. I’ve got a card up my sleeve,” Luck promised.
CHAPTER X
“STICK TO YOUR SADDLE”
The old Arizona fashion of settling a difference of opinion with the six-gun had long fallen into disuse, but Saguache was still close enough to the stark primeval emotions to wait with a keen interest for the crack of the revolver that would put a period to the quarrel between Soapy Stone and young Flandrau. It was known that Curly had refused to leave town, just as it was known that Stone and that other prison bird Blackwell were hanging about the Last Chance and Chalkeye’s Place drinking together morosely. It was observed too that whenever Curly appeared in public he was attended by friends. Sometimes it would be Maloney and Davis, sometimes his uncle Alec Flandrau, occasionally a couple of the Map of Texas vaqueros.
It chanced that “Old Man” Flandrau, drifting into Chalkeye’s Place, found in the assembled group the man he sought. Billie Mackenzie, grizzled owner of the Fiddleback ranch, was with him, and it was in the preliminary pause before drinking that Alec made his official announcement.
“No, Mac, I ain’t worrying about that any. Curly is going to get a square deal. We’re all agreed on that. If there’s any shooting from cover there’ll be a lynching pronto. That goes.”
Flandrau, Senior, did not glance at the sullen face of Lute Blackwell hovering in the background but he knew perfectly well that inside of an hour word would reach Soapy Stone that only an even break with Curly would be allowed.