“I wouldn't wag my tongue to save 'em” he retorted bitterly. “Now here's the programme. You've got young McGraw bottled up there at the Hat Ranch, and I want you to keep him there until he's able to walk away without any assistance, an' all that time don't you let nobody see him. I've got Doc Taylor fixed already, which was easy, Doc bein' a bachelor—an' now if you stand in we'll have 'em goin' south. On account o' bein' postmistress an' in a position to get all the news, the town's lookin' to Miss Pickett to produce, an' if she can't produce, I'm hopin' she'll go into convulsions.”
“Mr. Hennage,” said Donna, “this is most unworthy of you. I didn't think you would harbor a grudge.”
“Why, you know my reputation, Miss Donna.”
“Yes, you're the worst man in San Pasqual. But I'm afraid I can't agree to enter into this conspiracy.”
“Why not?”
“It's unlawful.”
“Miss Donna, I'm serious—”
“It's cruel and unusual punishment—”
“I'd light a fire under 'em” said Harley P. ferociously. “Better stand in, Miss Donna—to oblige me.”
“All right, it's a go, if you put it that way.”