“Yeah? Well, I’ll wait until somebody else takes the first chance.”
Ryker grinned sourly as he walked away, going to the Black Horse Saloon. He found Hashknife and Regan at the bar. Regan invited him to have a drink; and he introduced Hashknife.
“Ryker is the prosecuting attorney,” explained Regan.
“He’s the jigger who proves they’re guilty, whether they are or not, eh?” laughed Hashknife.
“Something like that,” smiled Ryker, accepting the drink.
“You’re not part of the law that’s been ordered out of the county, are you?” asked Hashknife.
“Not yet. No, they’re not on my trail, it seems.”
Regan nudged Hashknife sharply. English Ed was coming up to them, and Regan didn’t want any arguments started. The gambler looked sharply at Hashknife, when Regan introduced him.
“Holmes owns this place,” explained Regan.
“Uh-huh. Quite a place you got, Holmes,” observed Hashknife. “Lot nicer than bootleggin’ hooch to the Flatheads, eh?”