“They will put you in jail if they can, and bring you to trial, and––and–––”
“And hang me, that’s what you hesitate to say,” Steele finished for her. “Whom do you mean by ‘they’?”
“The people.”
“Are the people here in this county really ‘they’? Do the people, that is, the mass of poor ignorant Mexicans, have anything to do with public affairs? Both you and I know they do not.”
“Why deny it!” she sighed. “It’s generally known 93 that four men, with a few more at their skirts, run things. They nominate the men who are to fill office––there’s only one political party in the county worth mentioning––and give them orders and expect them to obey. For that reason father would never accept an office. He could be coroner; he could be county treasurer; he could go to the legislature; or anything else––if he would but wear their political livery. But he prefers to be a free man. I used to think nothing of it, see no wrong in such a state of affairs, for everything went along well enough and about the same as ever as far as I could see.”
“Possibly you didn’t see everything that was occurring below the surface even then.”
“Exactly what father told me yesterday. We talked about everything under the sun, I imagine. And I informed him that you walked home with me the night of the shooting; I had not spoken of it before.”
“That was proper; he should know it.”
“He doesn’t share in the feeling against you, Mr. Weir, let me assure you of that. Ever since he heard my explanation of the shooting and then met you at the inquest, he’s convinced that you’re being done a great injustice.”
Steele experienced a warm glow of pleasure.