"You know who he's lookin' for?"
"Maybe," the pimp said.
"C'mon."
It was almost two o'clock in the morning before the pimp found the man he was looking for.
He was playing cards in the back of the Golden Eagle.
The pimp touched him on the shoulder cautiously.
"Mr. Dort," he whispered.
"What the hell do you want?"
The pimp licked his lips nervously.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Dort," he apologized quickly.
"I got some information that I think you ought to have." The pimp looked around the table nervously.
The other men stared at him. "Maybe it's better private like, Mr. Dort," he said.
"It's about that tobacco pouch."
He pointed to the table where it lay. Dort laughed. "My Injun-tit tobacco pouch? Somebody's allus tryin' to buy it.
It ain't for sale."
"It's not that, Mr. Dort," the pimp whispered. Dort turned his back to him.
"What the hell are you tryin' to tell me?"
"I figger it's worth somethin'- "
Dort rose swiftly. He grabbed the pimp's jacket and slammed him tightly against the wall.
"What should I know?" he asked.
"It should be worth something, Mr. Dort," the pimp said, his eyes wide in fright. Dort was one of the worst killers in town.
"It'll be worth something," Dort said menacingly. "If you don't talk real quick- "
"There's an Indian kid in town lookin' for you," the pimp said in terror. "He's packin' a gun."
"An Injun kid?" Dort questioned. Slowly his grip relaxed. "What did he look like?"
Quickly the pimp described Max.
"His eyes, was they blue?" Dort asked harshly.
The pimp nodded. "Yeah.
I saw them when he picked one of my girls up in the saloon.
That's how come I didn't know he was Indian at first.
You know him?"
Dort nodded without thinking.
"I know him," he said.
"That was his mother's."
All their eyes were on the tobacco pouch now.
Dort picked it up and put it in his pocket.
"What're you goin' to do?" the pimp asked.
"Do?" Dort repeated dully.
He looked at the pimp, then at the table of men around him.
He couldn't run away now.
If he did, everything would be gone. His reputation, his position in this oblique society. "Do?" he said again, this time with growing strength and conviction. "I aim to do what I shoulda done a year ago. Kill him."
He turned back to the pimp. "Where is he?"
"I'll take you to him," the pimp said eagerly.
The others at the table looked at each other for a moment, then silently got to their feet.
"Wait for us, Tom," one of them called. "This oughta be some fun."
When they got to the hotel, Max had already left.
But the hotel clerk told them where they could find him tomorrow. At the stockyards at two o'clock.
The clerk was supposed to meet him there and collect a dollar for the room.
Dort threw a silver dollar on the counter.
"There's your dollar," he said.
"I'll collect it for you."