The Rider of Golden Bar Part 43

"You forget, Rafe," said the district attorney, "that you and I don't know what all Mr. Reelfoot is driving at."

But Rafe Tuckleton was too angry to keep up the farce any longer. "I hope the fool's hung!" he panted.

"I'll take care not to go alone," said Reelfoot, pressing his advantage. "You fellers will have to see that I'm protected or I'll tell what I know."

"Blah!" blared the district attorney. "You wouldn't dare snitch!"

"I'll dare more than that to save my skin," Reelfoot declared hardily.

Rafe Tuckleton returned to the charge. "What in so-and-so and such-and-such did you do such a fool trick for? Don't you know--couldn't you--oh, whatsa use?"

"You oughta told me all the circ.u.mstances," persisted Reelfoot. "That was _your_ fault. If I'd knowed, I could have managed better."

"I expect--you couldn't," said Rafe Tuckleton, with an appreciable pause after each word.

"What you gonna do about it?" Reelfoot wanted to know, fidgeting in his chair.

"You'll be taken care of now, you needn't to worry."

"Oh, fine, fi-ine. That helps a lot, that does, with either Bill Wingo or one of his deputies over to my place about every other day, snoopin'

round and talking to my men."

"They do that, do they?"

"Yes, they do that."

"What of it?" demanded Rafe. "They can't find out anything, can they?

You weren't fool enough to let on to your men--your foreman or anybody, were you?"

"Sure not. But----"

"But what?"

"I don't like 'em slouchin' round this way. You dunno what'll happen.

They might find out somethin' you can't tell."

"If you didn't tell any of your men, you're safe," soothed the district attorney, "so long as you keep your upper lip stiff. You're just a li'l nervous, that's all, Simon. Nothing to worry you a-tall. Here, have another drink. Rafe, shove the bottle over, will you?"

Rafe Tuckleton pettishly obeyed, muttering under his breath. It was only too painfully obvious that Reelfoot's remarks had upset him, and he didn't care who knew it.

"Look here, Simon," he said suddenly. "You wanna leave right here your notion that you'll snitch if it comes to the squeak."

"I'll think about it," said Simon, setting down his gla.s.s deliberately.

"Because," Rafe continued, as though there had been no interruption, "you wanna remember it's almost as easy to kill two men as it is one."

"I'd thought of that," said Simon, "and I brought two of my men with me to-night. They're down at the saloon waiting for me now."

"A lot of good they are down there," sneered Rafe.

"But they can do you and Arthur here a lot of harm later--if anything happens."

"Don't you trust us?"

"Not so far as I can throw a calf by the tail," was the candid reply.

"I'm goin' now. You fellers scratch your heads over what I've said. I ain't gonna go to the pen for anybody, and you can stick a pin in that."

When Simon was gone, the district attorney and Rafe sat in silence while a man, had one been so inclined, might have counted three hundred. Neither looked at the other. Rafe fiddled with his gla.s.s on the tabletop. The district attorney rolled a slow cigarette.

The district attorney was the first to break the silence with, "Simon's got a bad case of nerves."

"We oughtn't to have used him," said Rafe. "First thing you know the tom fool will say or do something we'll all be sorry for. I didn't think he was like that."

"Maybe we'd ought to have told him all of it from the beginning."

"Not that. No, he'd never have gone in it then. He ain't got nerve enough. I'm afraid Reelfoot's days of usefulness to us are over."

"He's done good work in the past."

"The past ain't now. And I tell you, Arthur, if Simon gets any more jumpy than he is now, he'll kick the kettle over. You hear me, he'll do it, the pup!"

Rafe allowed the district attorney two full minutes to mull over this, then he continued:

"We gotta get rid of him."

The district attorney looked over at Rafe, his upper lip lifting. "I suppose we gotta."

"We'll work the old game over again."

"Not on your life! We turned it once! And that was one too many."

"We had bad luck, that's all. Just a li'l hard luck. Look here, didn't Simon say either Bill or one of his deputies were always snooping round his ranch? All right, what more do we want? We can fix it so's to get rid of two birds at a clip. And it'll work this trip.

We'll do it all right."

"We'll have to." The district attorney smiled grimly.

Rafe Tuckleton gazed speculatively upon his friend. "How about Tip O'Gorman?"

"Well?"

Rafe came flatly to the point. "How about gettin' rid of him, too?"

But this was going too fast for the district attorney. He shook his head. "No. Too dangerous."

"Now look here," said Rafe, leaning forward and tapping the district attorney's knee with a persuasive forefinger, "you're forgetting that all this trouble we're having is due to Tip O'Gorman. If it hadn't been for him wanting a 'safe' man, Jack Murray would have been elected, and everything about now would be fine as frawg's hair in January."

"Well, we had to give 'em one honest man," said the district attorney cynically. "The voters were getting ideas."

"Rats," snorted Rafe. "What if they were? I don't give a d.a.m.n what Tip or anybody says, we were strong enough to elect our whole ticket.