Chapter III

13

STRANGE FISH

PARIS stepped back swiftly. She had seen much of death in England and France. She had never become accustomed to it. Not even a little. The impact on her now, this moment, was as harsh as it had been the first time.

The two cowboys Fred and Little Toe were close to Paris. Fred started to step between her and the body. She avoided him, and moved back into the tent.

Sounding wild, Johnny Toms said, “Get her out of here!”

Paris said, “Stop being a fool, Johnny! I may not like it, but this isn't the first time I've seen it.”

“Not the first—” He stared at her. “Oh, you mean death.”

“Let me see if he's dead,” Paris said.

He was dead all right.

Johnny Toms said, “Look.” He lifted the man's coat to show her.

The knife had a deer foot for a handle. It wasn't particularly unique, because hunting knives are often made with a deer−foot handle. This one had a ferrule and a hand−guard made of white metal. Silver. Carved silver.

That silver guard, it suddenly struck Paris, was familiar. But she couldn't place it.

Johnny Toms leaned close to examine the knife. Then he swore. He swore with words that he ordinarily wouldn't have used in front of Paris.

“What is it, Johnny?” Paris asked.

“My knife,” he said. “This is my knife. How in blue and green hell did it get here, into this guy?”

“Johnny, you must be wrong!” Paris said unbelievingly.

Johnny grunted, said, “I'll find out. Look the other way.” Paris didn't turn away. Instead, she objected,

“Johnny, the law—you're not supposed to remove the murder weapon from a dead man, I don't think.”

Johnny hesitated. “If that's my knife, it's in a poor place,” he muttered. He withdrew the knife, grimacing.

Paris could see his eyes grow thin and horrified as he examined the weapon. “Mine,” he said.

The four cowboys were standing close together. They were uneasy.

“Porter,” said the cowboy called Frosty. “Didn't he say his name was Porter?”

Buck, one of the other cowboys, went away suddenly. They could hear him at the creek, being sick.

Johnny Toms came out of the tent.

“I don't like this,” he said violently. “By golly, there's something queer here.”

“Johnny,” Paris said. “Johnny, I'm afraid I've gotten you into trouble.”