“Then I’ll be a bigger one–big enough to call you to account before another day has passed over your head for your part in that dirty work in Comanche that night. And I want to lay it off to you right now that all the influence you can command in this state isn’t going to save you when I go after you!”
Boyle picked up his bridle-reins and threaded his arm through them, standing so, legs wide apart, while he rolled a cigarette. As it dangled between his lips and the smoke of it rose up, veiling his eyes, he peered narrowly through it at the doctor.
“There’s a man in the graveyard up at Cheyenne that made a talk like that one time,” he said. 270
“I’ll have to take your word for that,” returned Slavens, quite unmoved. “I’ll meet you at the hotel in Meander tomorrow morning at nine o’clock for a settlement, one way or the other.”
“One way or the other,” repeated Boyle.
He mounted his horse and rode away toward Meander, trailing a thin line of smoke behind him.
Agnes hurried forward to meet Slavens as he turned toward her. Her face was bloodless, her bosom agitated.
“I heard part of what you said,” she told him. “Surely you don’t mean to go over there and fight him on his own ground, among his friends?”
“I’m going over there to see the county attorney,” said he. “He’s from Kansas, and a pretty straight sort of chap, it seemed to me from what I saw of him. I’m going to put this situation of ours before him, citing a hypothetical case, and get his advice. I don’t believe that there’s a shred of a case against you, and I doubt whether Boyle can bluff the government officials into making a move in it, even with all his influence.”
“And you’ll come back here and tell me what he says, no matter what his opinion may be, before you act one way or another?”