“To approach one man—who would talk, who was on the other side—would be to ruin the whole project.”
“Nevertheless, it must be done.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “First find a man worthy to hold the office,” he said.
“I shall find him.... I know Mrs. Churchill. She will know her husband’s friends and supporters—the men who worked for his election and whom he trusted.”
“The idea is good,” said Evan. “Suppose you act without delay.”
Carmel found Mrs. Churchill in the kitchen, giving a hearty welcome, in spite of her baking, to the visitor.
“Set,” said Mrs. Churchill, “and lemme pour you a cup of tea. Always keep it simmerin’ on the back of the stove in case of headache.” This was a favorite fiction of Mrs. Churchill’s—that she suffered with her head and that tea was the only remedy. It would appear, however, that she used the beverage as a preventive instead of a cure.
“I’m sorry, but I haven’t time to sit this morning. I’ve come to you because you’re the only person in Gibeon who can help me—and because you are the one most interested in helping me.... I want to know whom to trust.”
“Eh?... Trust? Speakin’ of young men, be ye?”
“No.” Carmel smiled as she saw the fire of matchmaking light Mrs. Churchill’s motherly eyes. “I want to know whom your husband trusted. I’ve got to find a man.... Deputy Jenney is going to be appointed sheriff,” she said.