“Loaded to the gills,” declared Ben. “He’s shore a fine specimen for sheriff.”
“Yuh can throw that in a can!” snapped Honey. “Since when did the Circle M start judgin’ morals?”
Evidently Ben did not know; so he shut his mouth.
“What are yuh goin’ to do?” asked Merrick.
“Put him to bed. My God, I can’t take him out to the Flyin’ H. Joe! You brainless idiot, wake up!”
“We better help yuh, Honey,” said Merrick. “He’s plumb floppy.”
Honey managed to get the office key from Joe’s pocket, and between the three of them they managed to carry Joe back to his office, where they put him on his bed.
“What’ll yuh do about it?” asked Merrick when they came out.
“God only knows, Merrick!” wailed Honey. “I can’t go out there and say he’s drunk. Oh, why didn’t the fool get shot, or somethin’? I—I—aw hell, I’ve got to go out there. I hope to God the horse runs away and breaks my neck. But there ain’t much hopes,” dismally. “These Pinnacle livery horses never did run away from home. Well, I—thanks for helpin’ me put him to bed.”
Honey limped out, untied the horse and got into the buggy.