I hung up the phone. Robert Lee Jefferson was staring at me like I was plumb out of my mind. “Nick,” he said, waving his hands, “haven’t you heard a word I said? Is that your idea of doing your job—to go out and chore around the Hauck farm?”

“But Rose needs help,” I said. “You surely ain’t sayin’ it’s wrong to help her.”

“Of course, I’m not! It’s nice of you to want to help her; that’s one of your good qualities, the way you’re always willing to help people. But—but—” He sighed and shook his head wearily. “Aaah, Nick, don’t you understand? It isn’t your job doing things like that. It isn’t what you’re paid for. And you’ve got to start doing what you’re paid for, or Sam Gaddis will beat you!”

“Beat me?” I said. “Oh, you mean the election?”

“Of course I mean the election! What the hell else have we been talking about?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about that,” I said. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about it, Robert Lee, and I think I’ve thought of an angle that will beat ol’ Sam.”

“An angle? You mean some kind of trick?”

“Well, you might call it that,” I said.

“B-But—but—” He looked like he was about to explode again. “But why, Nick? Why not simply do your job?”

“Well, I thought a lot about that, too,” I said. “Yes, sir, I really did a lot of thinking. Almost had myself convinced for a while that I actually should get out and start arrestin’ people, and start actin’ like a sheriff in general. But then I did some more thinkin’, and I knew I hadn’t ought to do nothing of the kind.”

“But, Nick—”

“Because people don’t want me to do that,” I said. “Maybe they think they do, but they don’t. All they want is for me to give ‘em some excuse to vote for me again.”

“You’re wrong, Nick.” Robert Lee wagged his head. “You’re dead wrong. You’ve got away with tricks in the past, but they won’t work this time. Not against a truly fine man like Sam Gaddis.”

I said, well, we’d just have to wait and see, and he gave me a sharp look.

“Have you got some idea that Sam Gaddis isn’t a good man? Is that it, Nick? I can tell you right now that if you have some idea of digging up some dirt on him—”

“I got no such idea,” I said. “I couldn’t dig up no dirt on Sam if I wanted to, because there just ain’t none to dig.”

“Good. I’m glad you realize that.”

“No, sir,” I said. “I know Sam’s as good a man as they come. That’s why I can’t understand how all these stories about him got started.”

“Well, that’s fine. I—‘what?’” He stared at me startled. “What stories?”

“You mean you ain’t heard?” I said.

“Of course, I haven’t! Now just what are these stories?”

I made as if I was about to tell him, and then I stopped and shook my head. “I ain’t gonna repeat ‘em,” I said. “If you ain’t heard ‘em, you sure ain’t gonna hear ‘em from me. No, siree!”