“What's that mean—‘look into it’?”

“I get out there every once in a while, check on things. I'll talk to the ranchers about respecting other people's cattle. No one's got more rights than anyone else in Aravaipa Canyon.”

“When's ‘once in a while’?”

“I was just out there last week. I wasn't aware of any problem while I was there. I'll get back that way in a week or so.”

“Meanwhile you got your backside in that chair.”

Kirby set the cone down carefully, deliberately on the desk. “Now hold on a minute, son. You have no right to be talking to me like that. I'm a government employee, not your servant. And I'm your elder. You need to show some respect.”

“And I ain't your son,” Power said. “But I'm a citizen of the United States, so you are my servant. We got a mining operation going up in Kielberg Canyon, and we can't be riding over to Aravaipa all the time just to round up our cattle. That ain't right, and you know it. We're miners and cattlemen, and we got a right to be both.”

Kirby stared at the kid, who was staring right back and not backing down any. Power held Kirby's gaze, calm and collected, like a man older than the boy he was.

“I got a lot of territory to cover, and I can't be in two places at once. You talked with the other ranchers?”

“The other ranchers don't want to talk to us. But they'll listen to you.”

“And maybe they'll listen to you, too. If we do this the right way. What if you were acting on direct orders from me?” He looked over to Swift, who was knitting his brows in puzzlement.

“You mean, like a deputy?”

“Well, sort of.”

“Could I have a badge?”

“Well, only for the time being. This all has to go through Washington.”

“Washington.” Tom scratched at a scab on the back of his hand, causing it to send a thin course of blood down his hand and between his fingers.

“It's a federal post. Everything has to come from Washington. You'd be an officer of the United States government. I can't just hand out badges for that. Your appointment would come from President Taft himself.”

“Could I have a gun?”

“Haven't you got a gun?”

“Hell, yes, I've got a gun. I got a couple. Plenty.”

“Well, then, I guess you wouldn't need a gun. Not from us, anyway. But if President Taft says to give you a gun, I most certainly will. Do you know President Taft?”

Swift got up and shot a glance at Kirby before quickly shuffling out the side door, saying only, “Crapper.” Kirby smiled broadly and then looked back at Tom Power.

“No,” Power said. “I don't know him.”

“That's all right. It would speed things up if you were a friend of the president, but it's not essential.”