Part 43 (2/2)
”But they can do you and Arthur here a lot of harm later--if anything happens.”
”Don't you trust us?”
”Not so far as I can throw a calf by the tail,” was the candid reply.
”I'm goin' now. You fellers scratch your heads over what I've said. I ain't gonna go to the pen for anybody, and you can stick a pin in that.”
When Simon was gone, the district attorney and Rafe sat in silence while a man, had one been so inclined, might have counted three hundred. Neither looked at the other. Rafe fiddled with his gla.s.s on the tabletop. The district attorney rolled a slow cigarette.
The district attorney was the first to break the silence with, ”Simon's got a bad case of nerves.”
”We oughtn't to have used him,” said Rafe. ”First thing you know the tom fool will say or do something we'll all be sorry for. I didn't think he was like that.”
”Maybe we'd ought to have told him all of it from the beginning.”
”Not that. No, he'd never have gone in it then. He ain't got nerve enough. I'm afraid Reelfoot's days of usefulness to us are over.”
”He's done good work in the past.”
”The past ain't now. And I tell you, Arthur, if Simon gets any more jumpy than he is now, he'll kick the kettle over. You hear me, he'll do it, the pup!”
Rafe allowed the district attorney two full minutes to mull over this, then he continued:
”We gotta get rid of him.”
The district attorney looked over at Rafe, his upper lip lifting. ”I suppose we gotta.”
”We'll work the old game over again.”
”Not on your life! We turned it once! And that was one too many.”
”We had bad luck, that's all. Just a li'l hard luck. Look here, didn't Simon say either Bill or one of his deputies were always snooping round his ranch? All right, what more do we want? We can fix it so's to get rid of two birds at a clip. And it'll work this trip.
We'll do it all right.”
”We'll have to.” The district attorney smiled grimly.
Rafe Tuckleton gazed speculatively upon his friend. ”How about Tip O'Gorman?”
”Well?”
Rafe came flatly to the point. ”How about gettin' rid of him, too?”
But this was going too fast for the district attorney. He shook his head. ”No. Too dangerous.”
”Now look here,” said Rafe, leaning forward and tapping the district attorney's knee with a persuasive forefinger, ”you're forgetting that all this trouble we're having is due to Tip O'Gorman. If it hadn't been for him wanting a 'safe' man, Jack Murray would have been elected, and everything about now would be fine as frawg's hair in January.”
”Well, we had to give 'em one honest man,” said the district attorney cynically. ”The voters were getting ideas.”
”Rats,” snorted Rafe. ”What if they were? I don't give a d.a.m.n what Tip or anybody says, we were strong enough to elect our whole ticket.
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