"Maybe you're right. Let's go back and make sure."
Rafe's blazing rage was so augmented by this naïve suggestion that his native prudence was almost overcome by the sharp impulse to argue the matter. But almost is not quite. His coat was buttoned, and his six-shooter was under his coat. Bill Wingo's six-shooter was likewise under its owner's coat, but the coat was unbuttoned and—Rafe recalled another day, a day when he had held his hands above his head while the muzzle of Wingo's gun gaped at his abdomen. That had been a quick draw on the part of Billy Wingo. Uncommonly quick. What happened once may happen again. This is logic.
The logician spat upon the ground. "Because you're elected sheriff now, you needn't think that you can boss everybody in the county."
"But I ain't trying to boss anybody," denied Bill. "I'm only askin' a favor of you, only a li'l favor. And I'm hoping you'll see it that way. I don't want any trouble with you, Rafe," he added, "or with anybody else."
Rafe hesitated. He stared into Bill's eyes. Bill stared back. Rafe did his best to hold his eyes steady. But there was something about that gray gaze, something that seemed to bore deep down into that place where his sinful soul lived and had its being. The Tuckleton eyes wavered, veered, came back, clung an instant, then looked away over the landscape.
"Turn your horse, Rafe," said Billy Wingo in a soft voice.
Rafe Tuckleton turned his horse. They rode back to the Walton ranch in silent company. Dismounting at the door, Billy was careful to keep his horse between Rafe and himself.
Billy looked across the saddle at Rafe. "You better knock at the door, feller."
With extremely bad grace, Rafe obeyed. Following the knock, a window curtain was pulled aside and Hazel looked out. She nodded and smiled at Billy. The curtain dropped. Billy heard the grating of the bar as it was withdrawn from the iron staples. The door had been barred, then. Why? Was Rafe indeed the qualified polecat Billy had half-way suspected him of being when he meet him hurrying away from the Walton ranch? But Hazel's smile had been natural as ever. Bill took comfort in that fact.
The door opened. Hazel stood wiping her damp hands on her apron.