“Uh-huh. Yuh ought to be. Say, old Lafe’s been down to Silverton—kinda ridin’ around—and he says it don’t look a of a lot like you was goin’ to be reelected, Brick.”
“Thasso?” Brick showed interest. It was nearing the first of October, and in November the primary election would be held.
“Dang right, it’s so,” nodded Silent. “Lafe says that you ain’t noways as popular as yuh was a few weeks ago.”
“What have I done?” queried Brick, grinning.
“Well,” Silent grinned widely, “they seem to think yuh ain’t done nothin’. I s’pose them three high-and-mighties were over here to kinda invigorate yuh, wasn’t they?”
Brick nodded. He realized now that these robberies were happening at a very inopportune time for him. The Sun Dog voters were very likely to judge him on present showings instead of on his past records; and the sheriff’s office was the one big issue in cow-land politics.
His opponent, Henry Stagg, known as “Hank,” had been considered more or less of a joke as a candidate. He operated the stage lines from an office in Silverton, where he could be found at nearly all times, reciting his own deeds of valor.
Hank was tall and angular, with a raspy voice and a wonderful vocabulary of profanity, gained from driving stage teams. He wore his gun in a shoulder-holster, because his hips were too thin to support a belt, and his favorite amusement was shooting magpies on the wing with a thirty-thirty rifle. This latter branded him as a fairly good rifle shot.
“They brought me some very good news,” said Brick. “When it comes to bringin’ good cheer, they’re a fine flock of buzzards. Sun Dog County is to be investigated by a professional detective and I’m to just go along in my own dumb way and let him do the lookin’ through the knot-holes.”
“Is—thasso?” Silent exploded and his mouth remained open.