“Oh, they didn’t deny it. But I don’t think they’ve found out very much.”
“Possibly not.”
Le Moyne watched Barnhardt ride down to his office, tie his horse, and go inside. The face of the handsome paymaster twisted angrily, as his gloomy eyes squinted against the sun.
“I wonder if Barnhardt is just a plain —— fool, or—”
Le Moyne shook his head and went on his way.
That evening Hashknife, Sleepy and Jimmy rode to Blue Wells. There were few people in town, and while Jimmy and Sleepy played pool at the Oasis saloon, Hashknife found the sheriff at his office. The sheriff was pleasant and curious, especially when Hashknife talked over with him the evidence in the Taylor case.
The subject of the AK boys’ locking the sheriff in his own cell came up, and the sheriff explained that the reason no one discovered his plight was because Al Porter, the deputy, was at Encinas, visiting a girl, and did not get back until morning.
“Does that Santa Rita pay-roll come in at the same time every month?” asked Hashknife.
“I dunno.”
“They say that the paymaster always takes the money from here to the mine.”