Tom had been laying for Aaron McBride for a long time, just waiting to catch him out of line. McBride gave him his opportunity when he showed up in town with a pistol on his hip. He had a legitimate reason for wearing it. It was payday for Highlands, and he was packing a lot of money back into the oil fields. Moreover, as long as the weapon was carried openly, the sheriff's office had made no previous issue of it.

``So what's this all about?'' he demanded, when Lord confronted him. I'm not the only man in town with a gun, or the only one without a permit ``.

It was the wrong thing to say. By failing to do as he was told instantly -- to take out a permit or return the gun to his car -- he had played into Lord's hands.

The trouble was that he had virtually had to protest. The deputy had forced him to by his manner of accosting him.

So, ``How about it?'' he said. ``Why single me out on this permit deal?''

``Well, I'll tell you about that,'' Lord told him. ``We aim t' be see-lective, y ' know? Don't like to bother no one unless we have to, which I figger we do, in your case. Figger we got to be plumb careful with any of you Highlands big shots.''

McBride reddened. He himself had heard that there was gangster money in the company, but that had nothing to do with him. He was an honest man doing a hard job, and the implication that he was anything else was unbearable.

``Look, Lord,'' he said hoarsely. ``I know you've got a grudge against me, and maybe I cann't blame you. You think that Highlands swindled you and I helped' em do it. But you're all wrong, man! I'm no lawyer. I just do what I'm told, and'' --