H. Bedford-Jones

“ Robinson's hand went to his gun, and Tracy sat down again, breathing hard.
"Who done it?"
"Now, sheriff, don't go to askin' me unpleasant questions. One of the gents that done it is real dead. The other gent is going over the road for it—in my care."
Tracy bristled.
"You may be Sam Fisher and you may not," he said aggressively, "but you ain't walkin' into my county and givin' no orders, stranger. That's plumb final. You got no authority here; not a mite."
"I know it," said Robinson sweetly. "But I aim to get that authority real sudden. Now don't go to causing any trouble, Sheriff Tracy. ”

“ Sam Fisher was duly sworn as deputy sheriff, and Tracy handed him a badge. Fisher put it in his pocket with a grin. The startled, staring men behind him were dumfounded. Tracy then shoved over the jail keys.
"They's four brand-new cells," he said, "just installed, all the latest fittin's. The others ain't worth much 'cept for looks. Four will be plenty, I guess?"
"One," said Fisher significantly, "is all I figger on using. I'd hate to cause the county a lot of expense, Tracy, when you're treatin' me so wide and handsome." ”

“ That's all right; we'll leave Jack Robinson out of it. Sam Fisher has drawn cards in this game, and he's going to stick for the pot."
"Why don't you take Murphy, if you want him, and go?" demanded the sheriff.
"I don't want him. Three hundred bones means nothin' in my young life. Also, and moreover, I don't aim to go in that direction." Fisher's smile was cherubic. "You are gettin' off mighty easy, Tracy. All you got to do is to swear me in as a deputy and turn over the jail keys to me, then start travelin' with Murphy. I'll even go so far as to help you arrest him." ”