“All right, Nebrasky.”
Hashknife turned to face the prosecuting attorney.
“What is this all about?” he demanded. “Don’t you realize what—”
“Better than anybody else,” smiled Hashknife. “Here,” he handed a key to Dan Leach. “There’s two more cells empty. Put Collins in one and Merrick in the other.”
“Well, I’ll be darned!” That was about as near as Fred Coburn ever came to using profanity.
Uncle Hozie was pawing at Hashknife, masticating violently and staring at Joe Rich and Peggy.
“Wh-what about him?” demanded Uncle Hozie, pointing at Joe.
“Oh, don’t bother ’em,” grinned Hashknife. “Listen, you folks. I’ve got the whole story. Dutch Siebert is hog-tied at the Circle M and we found Joe Rich in a cellar under the house, where he’s been since the day he rode out of town.
“Joe Rich didn’t get drunk on his weddin’ night. He took two drinks of liquor with Len Kelsey in the Arapaho saloon, and Len slipped him some knockout drops. Joe knew he hadn’t been drunk, but there wasn’t any way to prove it. Merrick practically forced Joe to appoint Kelsey, and it was Merrick’s idea to discredit Joe in order to make Kelsey sheriff. Merrick wanted to own the law.
“Well, he done a ⸺ good job of it.