Maybe Nick had some information about the other man’s crookedness. Anyway, the other man figured that Nick had to go. So there wasn’t any powder spared in getting him when the chance opened up.”
Swingley turned pale with rage, but he choked back his inclination to denounce Bertram.
“Do you mean to say that I was mixed up in any deal with Nick Caldwell?” he demanded.
“I said it looked as if some other man was, that man being in the confidence of the cattle interests,” responded the Texan coolly. “I didn’t say it was you, but it might have been. Do you want me to spring any documentary evidence I might have?”
“Do you mean you’ve got letters, papers of any kind?” Here a note of anxiousness crept into Swingley’s voice.
“You had it right the first time. There are some letters of interest, and I want to tell you to quit your high-handed persecutions in this county, or they’re going to be made public.”
“That girl’s turned ’em over to you, if there is anything of the sort,” said Swingley, his face working convulsively, his voice thick with anger and fear.
“The girl has had nothing to do with it,” responded Bertram. “But she’s one of the people around here that you’ve got to let alone from now on.”
“I’ll let nobody alone,” said Swingley, liquor and his anger getting the better of his tongue. “There ain’t enough left of her herd now for her to make a living with, but there’s worse in store for her, if she don’t clear out of the country. As for you, you’re a marked man, and you won’t be safe till you’re on the other side of the mountains.”
“Better not have me marked too plainly, Swingley,” observed the Texan. “I’m not fool enough to carry those letters on me, you know. I’ve left them where they’re sure to come to light if I’m killed. So call off the man who’s been prowling around our cabin lately, and tell him to pack his guns elsewhere. Speaking of gunmen, there’s Tom Hoog looking for you.”