"The party's, I guess," Skinny reluctantly admitted. "But I want my share of it."
"You can have your share without being sheriff," Rafe told him. "You'll be taken care of, don't fret. This here's a case of united we stand, divided we tumble. Suppose any li'l thing upsets our plans, and our ticket don't go through? What then? What happens? For one thing you won't get the contract for furnishing the lumber for the new jail and town hall that's gonna be built next year. And for another, that land deal you and I put through last month will be investigated. How'd we like that, huh?"
"Rafe's right," said Tom Driver. "This is no time for taking any chances. It ain't a presidential year, and you can gamble there ain't gonna be a thing to take folks' eyes off the county politics. We've all gotta give up something for the sake of the party."
"I don't notice you givin' up anything," snapped the disgruntled Skinny. "I seem to be the only one that loses."
"And Jack Murray," supplemented Rafe Tuckleton. "Hell's bells, Skinny, why didn't you say something sooner? To-night's the first I ever heard you even wanted an office. That's why I told Jack he could have it. He's a good man, but if I'd known——"
"What difference does that make?" interrupted Skinny, bitterly. "You couldn't give me the nomination anyway."
"You could have had another office—say county clerk."
"Wouldn't take it on a bet—not enough opportunity. Aw hell, it's a dead horse! Let it go, Rafe. Tip, you've had a lot to say about me, now let's hear what you got against Jack Murray."
"Yep," said Rafe Tuckleton, "let's have it. I'll have to give Jack some reason for going back on him, and I don't see exactly——" He did not complete the sentence.
"Speaking personal," observed Tip, again on the broad grin, "I ain't got a thing against Jack. Him and me get along fine. But when Jack was first deputy two years ago he managed to kill four men one time and another."