Bueno leaned forward on the three-legged stool, placing his elbows on
his knees to look up at Crawford. "So you had to come back, Glenn," he
said. "Why?"
"Maybe I came back to pay a few debts," said Crawford thinly.
The oily click of the cylinder stopped abruptly. "You owe somebody
something?"
"Still snipping cinches, Bueno?"
The stool crashed to the floor, and Crawford whirled from where he
had been standing in the doorway to meet Bailey as the man came up
against him. The only thing that prevented their bodies from meeting
was the gun Bailey held against Crawford's body. The man's milky eyes
were slitted, and the smell of that bacon grease in his hair nauseated
Crawford.
"Chew that a little finer," said Bueno, through his teeth.
"Africano never could have rolled me under if that rigging hadn't
come apart," Crawford said thinly. "I saw the cinch on that saddle
afterward. It hadn't pulled loose by itself."
"Glenn--" Bailey let it out on a hissing breath--"I think you better
change your mind about that."
"I know who did Rockland's stable jobs for him," said Crawford.