The other submitted, and the drink was poured out. The Padre ignored his.
"Get right ahead," he said in his easy way.
Beasley leered over the rim of his glass as he drank his whisky.
"You think it's rye," he said, setting his glass down with unnecessary force. "An' I say it's the women--or the woman. Trouble come to this camp with that tow-headed gal over at the farm. Anybody with two eyes could see that. Anybody that wasn't as blind as a dotin' mother. The boys are all mad 'bout her. They're plumb-crazed. They got her tow-head and sky-blue eyes on their addled brains, an' all the youngsters, anyway, are fumin' jealous of each other, and ready to shoot, or do anything else that comes handy, to out the other feller. That's the root of the trouble--an' you brought that about selling her your farm."
Beasley had let himself go intending to aggravate, but the other's manner still remained undisturbed.
"But this only happens when they're drunk," he said mildly.
Beasley's angry impatience broke out.
"Tcha'! Drunk or sober it don't make any difference. I tell you the whole camp's on edge over that gal. It only needs a word to set things hummin'. It's that gal! She's a Jonah, a Hoodoo to us all--to this place. She's got rotten luck all over her--and you brought her here. You needn't try an' sling mud at me fer handing them the rot-gut the boys ask for. Get that woman out of the place and things'll level up right away."
The man's rudeness still seemed to have no effect.
"But all this doesn't seem to fit in with--with this affair to-night," the Padre argued. "You said it began, you thought, over the four women you allow in here."
Beasley was being steadily drawn without knowing it. His swift-rising spleen led him farther into the trap.
"So it did," he snapped. Then he laughed mirthlessly. "Y' see some one suggested those gals pay a 'party' call on your Golden Woman," he said with elaborate sarcasm. "And it was because Mr. Curly Saunders sort o' fancies he's got some sort of right to that lady he butted in and shot up the Kid."
"Who suggested it?" asked the other quickly, his mild gray eyes hardening.
"Why, the Kid."
The Padre looked the saloon-keeper squarely in the eye.
"And who put it into that foolish boy's head?" he asked slowly.
Beasley's face purpled with rage.
"You needn't to put things that way with me," he cried. "If you got things to say, say 'em right out. You reckon I was the man who suggested----"