Sliphammer by Brian Garfield Read Free Book Online Page A

you’re supposed to arrest Earp and take him out of Gunnison. The millionaires aren’t going to like that. Earp’s doing them a favor by being here, and they’re doing him a favor in return.”
    â€œWhat favor?”
    McKesson’s smile, again, was colder than it should have been. He said, “I’d have thought you’d have figured that out by now. This is a mining state—the men who own the mines pretty much control the politics. It’s for sure they control the governor’s office. You can’t arrest Earp unless Governor Pitkin signs the extradition papers. Now do you see? Earp’s friends are trying to persuade the Governor not to sign the extradition papers.”
    Tree’s pipe had gone out; he found a match and lit it. When he looked at the sheriff, the long-clawed hands were spread in a gesture that meant, So there it is. McKesson’s smile was small and almost apologetic. “Friends,” McKesson said, “and politics. Earp stays in town to intimidate the agitators, and in return, the owners protect him against extradition.”
    â€œYou think they’ll persuade the Governor not to sign?”
    â€œWho knows? My private opinion is it’s a tossup. But whatever happens in Denver, your problem’s right here in Gunnison, and nobody here will give you any help. The only men in Gunnison who’d be tough enough to join you going up against the Earps are the owners’ hired strike-breakers. They’re a pack of thugs but they have a purpose—they help me keep the peace by keeping the lid on ten thousand miners. Point is, of course, the strikebreakers are Earp partisans because they’re all on the same side, against the miners and agitators. You won’t get any help there.”
    McKesson had finished his coffee. Now he stood up. “So you see the whole city’s united against you. Regardless of what happens in Denver, you haven’t got a chance.”
    Tree said, “What about you?”
    â€œMe?”
    â€œIf the Governor signs the extradition, where does that put you?”
    â€œIn a rather uncomfortable spot, I’m afraid. I’m a county official, of course, not a state employee, so there’s some question whether I’d be bounden to obey instructions from Denver unless martial law was declared.”
    Without comment, Tree stood up and knocked the bowl of his pipe into his hand. He stooped over the spittoon to dump ash into it, pocketed the pipe and rubbed his hands. He gave McKesson a dry look.
    McKesson said, “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m a coward.”
    â€œWhat word would you prefer?”
    For the first time, McKesson flushed. But he regained composure quickly; he said, “Realist. I prefer realist. I happen to know which side my job’s buttered on. I’m a hired hand, you know, and if you eat a man’s bread then you’re obliged to sing his songs.”
    â€œThanks,” Tree said, “for telling me where you stand.” The tone, if not the words, was without sarcasm.
    â€œThink nothing of it.”
    â€œI will,” Tree replied, and saw it take effect; he added, “Just one other thing.”
    â€œName it. I’m always anxious to be of service to a friend.”
    â€œAeah. If I have to arrest him will you try to stop me?”
    McKesson’s pitted face was too animated ever to be blank, but he held it now in stern, guarded repose. “Probably not. I’ll have to wait and see.”
    Tree tugged his hat down, feeling dismal; he said, “Listen, I’ll fight you too if I have to.”
    â€œWill you, now. You’re talking as if you had a chance of winning.”
    â€œNo point in acting as if I’d already lost.” Tree managed a cool smile.
    â€œYou have, you know,” McKesson breathed. “You can only get killed.”
    â€œYou can’t always go by that.” Tree went outside into