“Can’t you come out and have a talk with him?”
“And git my earthly envelope all gummed up?”
“I don’t believe he—if he knew you were just coming to talk with him, he wouldn’t harm you.”
“Talk to him about what, Dawn?”
“Oh, about everything. Try to make him understand. He’s bitter. Sometimes I think he’s losing his mind. He hasn’t hired a lawyer for Peter. I asked him why he don’t, and he says it’s no use. He says that the Big 4 and the Black Horse Saloon are running the country and that they’ll hang Peter in spite of any lawyer.”
“Pshaw, that ain’t no way to feel,” said Roaring slowly. “Old Judge Beal ain’t against your dad.”
“No, he’s honest. Dad knows he is; but Dad says they’ll kill him before the trial.”
“Uh-huh,” Roaring caressed his chin thoughtfully. “Well, I dunno; mebby they will.”
“And what chance has an honest judge, if a crooked jury brings in a verdict of guilty?”
“Shore, that’s the worst of it. I tell you what you do. You tell your dad I’ll be out this evenin’, and we’ll see what we can figure out. Pers’nally, I think he had a right to hoodie Moran and Regan off the ranch. They had plenty of warnin’.”