“Has yours an L. C. stamped in the sweat band?” Bolt asked with a smile.
“I know you ain’t his friend, Nick. But you want to be fair to him even if he did oppose your election.” Mackenzie laid an appealing hand on the knee of the man seated opposite him.
“I’m sheriff of Papago County. It doesn’t make any difference who worked for or against me, Billie. I was elected, and I’m going to enforce the law.”
“And you think Luck would do a fool thing like this?”
“I didn’t say I thought so, but it’s my business not to overlook any bets.”
“But you do believe it. Now, don’t you?”
“Since you’ve got to have an answer—yes, I do.”
“By heaven, I’d as lief think I did it myself.”
“You’re a good friend,” Bolt conceded. “By the way, I’ve got to pay for some supplies this morning. Can you cash a check for a hundred?”
“I reckon so.” Mackenzie drew from his pocket the roll Cullison had given him two hours before. He peeled five twenties from it. The sheriff observed that the prevailing denomination was the same.