“Well, what’s to be done?” asked Marsh. “What can be done?”
“You’ve lost yore chance to twist any information out of Nolan,” declared Van Deen. “He’ll be wild as a hawk now. Probably throw in with Painted Valley.”
“They don’t trust him, Butch. He’s in a tough spot himself. The best thing he can do is to leave the Valley.”
“The same to you and many of ’em,” said Mac Rawls painfully. “You’re settin’ on dynamite yourself, Marsh. If I was in yore place⸺”
“That’s about all out of you, Rawls; I’m runnin’ my business.”
“Runnin’ is jist the right word—runnin’ it to hell and gone.”
Van Deen stepped in quickly and told Rawls to drop the subject. He left the room, and Marsh snorted with disgust and anger.
“Don’t blame Mac,” said Van Deen. “He’s lookin’ out for himself. The men are willin’ to take orders from you, but they won’t run their necks into a rope for what you’re payin’ ’em. This shore is a ticklish business right now, and if Painted Valley ever breaks loose, we’ll all go over the hill.
“You was foolish to try and put somethin’ over with Nolan. He’s no fool; and right now he’s dangerous. If it was the Injun who hit Terry over the head, there’s nothin’ to worry about, because that Injun ain’t very well liked around here; but if it was somebody else, and they heard what was said⸺”
“This is a fine time to accuse me of foolishness,” complained Marsh. “You thought the idea was a good one.”