"An' yer never heard no one say," went on Brennan, "that I was afraid
ter hit when I needed to. I reckon also yer know what sorter man Jim
Westcott is. Now the two ov us ain't out here in this damned Shoshone
desert fer the fun of it--not by a jugful. Get that fact into yer
head, son, an' maybe it'll bring yer some sense. Do yer get me?"
"Yes," sullenly and reluctantly. "But yer haven't got nuthin' on me."
"Oh, haven't I? Well, you shut up like a clam, and find out what I've
got. You drove a young woman out here from Haskell night afore last,
for Bill Lacy. Ain't abduction no crime? An' that's only one count.
I've had an eye on you for more'n six months, an' Lacy's been makin' a
damn cat's-paw out of you all that time. Well, Lacy is playin' his
last hand right now, an' I've got the cards." The marshal paused,
fully aware that he had struck home, then added quietly: "It allers
struck me, Matt, that naturally you was a pretty decent fellow, but had
drifted in with a bad crowd. I'm offering you now a chance to get
straight again.
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