“Shore do. What about him? Ain’t he got a right to be here?”
“Oh, I suppose he has. But you know what folks are saying.”
“About him comin’ back to dig up what he stole? Shore.”
Ben stretched his legs and began rolling a cigarette.
“Ain’t that the natural thing for him to do, Baggs?”
“Natural, perhaps.”
“Oh, I know what yuh mean. I’ve heard a lot about it. Fact of the matter is, I’ve been notified to watch him. Uh-huh! Grab him if he shows up with money. I’ve got a hell of a lot of time to trail Len Ayres around these hills, watchin’ for him to dig up a pot of gold! Know what I told ’em? I sent a wire to Wells Fargo and told ’em to send their own detectives in to watch him. I’m here for the suppression of crime—not to hunt for hidden treasure.”
Ben laughed softly over his cigarette.
“Personally, I’m not interested, Mr. Baggs, attorney-at-law; and it’s none of yore damn business, as far as I can see. You ain’t prosecutin’ attorney of this here county this season; so I don’t know why yo’re hornin’ in. ’F I remember right, you said a lot of nasty things about Len Ayres, when you sent him over the road, and since he came back, I’ve been listenin’ for you to holler for help. I’ll tell him that yo’re still interested in his future, and that you warned me to keep an eye on him.”
“You don’t need to do that,” quickly. “I merely talked it over with you, sheriff.”