When US Marshal Frank Haynes came in the door, McBride was not happy. He was never happy to see Haynes. Haynes was a snappy dresser, his shirt always pressed, his tie secured by a silver tie bar, and his “gig line,” formed by the tie, the front seam of his shirt, and the flap of his fly, always straight. He wore knee-high laced boots, shined to near brilliance. He was a good-looking, middle-aged man with a square jaw and a quick smile. He had an eye for the ladies and a taste for whiskey. He was well connected and had made his way through the ranks of lawmen in central and eastern Arizona quickly and smoothly without leaving much trace of accomplishment. He looked good and prosperous, and he made a show of being active in the faith despite his habits. McBride assumed that was enough to keep him as the federal presence in the area.

Haynes came in smiling, his hand extended, eyes bright and eager as though he were an elected official coming up on a new race. “McBride. How are you? Winning the war on demon rum?”

“Wish it were so, Frank. For every one we catch, Lord only knows how many get through. We can't stop every car and truck that comes through Graham County.”

“I don't know, McBride. That Kempton boy seems pretty intent on doing just that. You watch yourself around him. That young man has a future, and right now, you're sitting right in the middle of his chosen road.” Haynes spoke with the authority of a man who, not a politician as such, understood power and how to get it. He was a glad-hander and a probable fraud but damned good at both.

“What's on your mind, Haynes?”

Haynes flashed the big smile again. “Maybe I'm just here to pick up tips on putting a halt to the hooch business. It's starting to look like the amendment is going to pass and that it's going to become my job to stop it, not yours.”

“I would be happy to turn it over to you. I believe in the amendment, and I think alcohol is one of the greatest problems mankind faces, up to and including the war in Europe. But just from our experience, it strains the resources, badly.”

“But it keeps us in work. It keeps us in work. Law's a good business if you like steady work and don't mind getting shot at.”

“You ever been shot at, Frank?” McBride asked.

“I've heard some gunfire,” Haynes said. “But I can't swear any of it was aimed at me. I do accept the possibility of a shooting, though. Not anxious for it, you understand, but I accept the possibility. And you, Sheriff?”

“Never have. Never want to.”