"I know, but who manages the voters?"
"You mean the party machine?"
"That's it. Well now, Bill, suppose the machine put a man in office,
would he have to do what the machine told him?"
"He would, if he was that kind of a man."
She straightened and gave him a level look. "Billy, they say the gang
that runs this county elected you sheriff."
"Who's they--Rafe Tuckleton?"
"Never mind who. What I want to know is do you have to do what that
gang tells you to do?"
"I don't have to. Has anybody been saying I'd have to?"
"I--you hear rumors sometimes, Billy. Will you have a free hand, then?"
"So far as my powers extend, I will," he said.
"And you'll use it?"
"I'll use it," curiously.
"Is--is that quite safe?"
"Safe?"
"Safe to antagonize the gang?"
"It may not be safe for the gang."
Hazel raised a great gob of butter in her two hands and squeezed it out
slowly between her fingers. "Couldn't you give 'em their way, sort of?
Not in everything. I don't mean that. But just enough to keep 'em
good-natured?"
His curiosity changed to blank amazement. "You know what you're
asking, I suppose," he said coldly. "I thought you didn't like Rafe
Tuckleton?"
"I hate him," was her simple statement. "But I--I'm afraid."
"Afraid? How afraid?"
"Afraid for you."
"Why for me?"
"Because--oh, it's so hard to explain!" she almost wailed. "You
misunderstand me so. You think I'm asking favors on their account!"
He believed he detected a sob in her voice. This would never do.
Couldn't have Hazel crying.
"If you'd only explain," he suggested soothingly.
"Well," she said, her hands busy in the butter, "Sally Jane Prescott
was over here yesterday, and she said what a darn good thing your
election was for Crocker County; how you'd reform it and all that, and
how you'd surely put out of business the gang that's running it now. I
agreed with her, of course, but I never really realized till--till
later what it might mean to you."
She paused. He awaited her pleasure. After a minute's silence she
continued.
"You see, Billy, you've been pretty nice to me--uncle and me. And
you've come to be sort of a--sort of a friend--kind of and--and I--we
don't want to see you hurt," she finished with a rush.
"So that's the reason you think I'd better go easy on the gang."
"It will be safer. You don't have to be too open about it. You can
arrest the people the gang doesn't care anything about."
"That would be hard on the people, I should say."
"It's better than running into danger all the time. I tell you, Billy,
as true as I stand here this minute, if you try to fight the gang, you
won't last out your term."
She clasped her hands and regarded him piteously. When a pretty girl
clasps her hands and regards you piteously, what are you going to do?
Right. You can't help yourself, can you? Neither could Billy.
But when he had kissed her three times on the mouth she pushed him away
and cried distractedly. "You mustn't! You mustn't! You don't know
what you're doing!"
"Oh, yes, I do," he assured her and seized her buttery hands. "We'll
be married to-morrow!"
At which she whipped her hands from his grasp and put the table between
them. "No! Go over there and sit down!"
"I won't! I love you! And you love me!"
"I don't," she stormed.
"What did you kiss me back for then?" he demanded triumphantly. "You
did! You know you did! I felt you!"
This was true. But she continued to keep the table between them,
despite his efforts to come around to her side.
"You go over there and sit down--please!" she begged. "Please, please,
pretty please!"
He went slowly. He sat down. He stretched his long legs out in front
of him and teetered his heels on the rowels of his spurs.
"Look here, Hazel," he complained, for he was feeling most ill-used, "I
don't understand this a-tall. You lemme kiss you three times and then
you shove me away, and when I ask you to marry me, you run behind the
table. What did you let me kiss you for if you don't love me?"
"I couldn't help myself. You were so quick."
"You kissed me back, too. Don't forget that."
"It was a mistake, all a mistake. You don't love me."
"You don't know a thing about it. I do love you. And you love me, you
know you do."
But by this time she had regained complete control of herself. "I
don't know anything of the kind. Let's forget it."
As if he could forget the pressure of her soft lips! Why, for another
such kiss he would cheerfully have fought a grizzly. For that's the
kind of a kiss it was.