“The stupid thing,” Longarm put in, “was that those Indians didn’t give a damn what a bunch of white men wanted to do. If you’d just left them alone they would have gone on down to the low country and set about their spring hunt. It made no particular impression on them at all when they saw you stealing that gold. They figured you were just so many crazy white men, and hardly any Indian will bother himself trying to figure white men out. If you’d just left them alone another few weeks they would have headed on down for the spring hunt. They sure as hell didn’t care enough about what they’d seen the day of the train robbery to tell anyone about it. But no, you got nervous and tried to keep them quiet by hiding them away in legal custody. And you would have started riots or generated any kind of slaughter to accomplish that, spreading those lies about Ute war parties and everything. You dumb bastards. You could’ve actually started another Indian war with those lies.”
“You’re responsible for that, Farmer,” Bevvy said. “Your neighbors will hold you accountable too. Don’t you think otherwise.”
Farmer had begun to sweat.