“Would they nominate Hank Stagg and then elect him?” queried Brick.
“If they nominate him, they’ll sure elect him. He wouldn’t be worth a plugged dime as a sheriff, but that don’t count now.”
“Well,” Brick yawned wearily, “I dunno as I care a lot, Soapy. I’ve had two years of misery for two hundred and twenty dollars per month. I suppose it would be kinda tough to go back to the old forty a month, punchin’ cows.”
“Now you get the idea out of yore mind,” advised Soapy. “Sun Dog needs a reg’lar sheriff—not a chilblain like Hank Stagg.”
“Soapy, do yuh think that Bill Grant, Hendricks and Leach will be nominated?”
“Leach don’t have to—he’s a hold-over, Brick. But I reckon Grant and Hendricks will be elected ag’in. They’re as good as we can pick.”
“They don’t like me, Soapy.”
“Well, my , what do you care? Are yuh gettin’ so that folks has to send yuh vi’lets?”
Brick laughed widely at the serious expression on Soapy’s face.
“Listen, Soapy,” he said softly, “they’ve hired a professional detective to come here to unravel our troubles.”