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diff --git a/34826-h/34826-h.htm b/34826-h/34826-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d016046 --- /dev/null +++ b/34826-h/34826-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,21246 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of The Rider of Golden Bar, +by William Patterson White +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; } + +P.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +H4.h4center { margin-left: 0; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: none ; + clear: both ; + text-align: center } + +IMG.imgcenter { margin-left: auto; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-top: 1%; + margin-right: auto; } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The Rider of Golden Bar, by William Patterson White + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Rider of Golden Bar + +Author: William Patterson White + +Illustrator: Remington Schuyler + +Release Date: January 2, 2011 [EBook #34826] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RIDER OF GOLDEN BAR *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-cover.jpg" ALT="Cover art" BORDER="2"> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR> + +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-front.jpg" ALT="The girl seized his stirrup to save herself from falling. FRONTISPIECE. See page 55." BORDER="2"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 466px"> +The girl seized his stirrup to save herself from falling. FRONTISPIECE. <A HREF="#p55">See page 55</A>. +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +THE RIDER OF GOLDEN BAR +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +BY +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +WILLIAM PATTERSON WHITE +</H3> + +<BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +WITH FRONTISPIECE BY +<BR> +REMINGTON SCHUYLER +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TORONTO +<BR> +THE RYERSON PRESS +<BR> +1922 +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> +<I>Copyright, 1922,</I> +<BR> +BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. +<BR><BR> +<I>All rights reserved</I> +<BR> +Published January, 1922 +<BR><BR><BR> +PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA +</H5> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TO +<BR> +MY POINT O' WOODS COUSINS +<BR> +LAURA, CHARLOTTE, JULIA, AND DOROTHY +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent" STYLE="margin-left: 10%"> +By William Patterson White +<BR><BR> +THE OWNER OF THE LAZY D<BR> +LYNCH LAWYERS<BR> +HIDDEN TRAILS<BR> +PARADISE BEND<BR> +THE HEART OF THE RANGE<BR> +THE RIDER OF GOLDEN BAR<BR> +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">CHAPTER</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">BILLY WINGO</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">A SAFE MAN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">WHAT SALLY JANE THOUGHT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">HAZEL WALTON</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">JACK MURRAY OBJECTS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">CROSS-PURPOSES</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">RAFE'S IDEA</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">THE NEW BROOM</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">THE DISTRICT ATTORNEY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">A SHORT HORSE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">THE TRAPPERS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">THE TRAP</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">OPEN AND SHUT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">WHEN THIEVES FALL OUT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">THE BEST-LAID PLANS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">OBSCURING THE ISSUE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">WHAT HAZEL THOUGHT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">THE BARE-HEADED MAN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIX </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">THE PERSISTENT SUITOR</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XX </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">A DISCOVERY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap21">THE DISTRICT ATTORNEY'S NIGHTMARE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap22">THE HUNCH</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap23">THE GUNFIGHTERS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap24">CONTRARIETIES</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXV </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap25">JONESY'S ULTIMATUM</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVI </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap26">THE FOOL-KILLER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVII </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap27">THE LONG DAY CLOSES</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +THE RIDER OF GOLDEN BAR +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER ONE +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +BILLY WINGO +</H4> + +<P> +"But why don't you <I>do</I> something, Bill?" demanded Sam Prescott's +pretty daughter. +</P> + +<P> +Bill Wingo looked at Miss Prescott in injured astonishment. "Do +something?" he repeated. "What do you want me to do?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want you to do anything," she denied with unnecessary +emphasis. "Haven't you any ambition?" +</P> + +<P> +"Plenty." +</P> + +<P> +"Then use it, for Heaven's sake!" +</P> + +<P> +"I do. Don't I ask you to marry me every time I get a chance?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's not using your ambition. That's playing the fool." +</P> + +<P> +"Nice opinion of yourself you've got," he grinned. +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind. You make me tired, Bill. Here you've got a little claim +and a little bunch of cows—the makings of a ranch if you'd only work. +But instead of working like a man you loaf like a—like a——" +</P> + +<P> +"Like a loafer," he prompted. +</P> + +<P> +"Exactly. You'd rather hunt and fish and ride the range for monthly +wages when you're broke than scratch gravel and make something of +yourself. You let your cows run with the T-Up-And-Down, and I'll bet +when Tuckleton had his spring round-up you weren't even on the job. +Were you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I—uh—I was busy," shamefacedly. +</P> + +<P> +"Fishing over on Jack's Creek. That's how busy you were, when you +should have been looking after your property." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Tuckleton's boys are square. Any calves they found running with +my brand, they'd run the iron on 'em all right." +</P> + +<P> +"They'd run the iron on 'em all right," she repeated. "But what iron?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why—mine. Whose do you suppose?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know," she said candidly. "I'm asking you." +</P> + +<P> +"Shucks, Sally Jane, those boys wouldn't do anything crooked. +Tuckleton wouldn't allow it." +</P> + +<P> +"Bill, don't you ever distrust anybody?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not until I'm certain they're crooked." +</P> + +<P> +"I see," said the lady disgustedly. "After you wake up and find your +hide, together with the rest of your worldly possessions, hanging on +the fence, then and not till then do you come alive to the fact that +perhaps all was not right." +</P> + +<P> +"Well——" began Bill. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you see by that time it's too late?" interrupted the lady. +</P> + +<P> +"Aw, I dunno. I—I suppose so." +</P> + +<P> +"You suppose so, do you? You suppose so. Don't you know, my innocent +William, that there are a sight more criminals outside of jail than +there are in?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Sally Jane!" said the innocent William, scraping a fie-fie +forefinger at her. "Shame on you, shame on you, you wicked girl. I am +surprised. Such thoughts in a young maid's mind. No, I ain't either. +I always said if your pa sent you away to school you'd lose your faith +in human nature. He did; and you did. And now look at you, talking +just like a district attorney. And suspicious—I'd tell a man!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, darn!" wailed Sally Jane. "I hate a fool!" +</P> + +<P> +"So do I," concurred Bill warmly. "Tell a feller who's the fool you +hate and I'll hate him, too. One pair of haters working together might +do said fool a lot of good." +</P> + +<P> +"Sometimes, Bill, my fingers simply ache to smack your long and silly +ears." +</P> + +<P> +He nodded soberly. "I know. I often have the same feeling about +people. But don't let it worry you. It don't mean anything." +</P> + +<P> +"Bill, can't you understand that I like you, and——" +</P> + +<P> +"Easily," he grinned. "Of course you like me. So do lots of other +people. It comes natural. And that is another thing you mustn't let +worry you, Sally Jane. Just you take that liking for me and tend it +real careful. Put it on the window-sill between the pink geraniums and +water it morning, noon and night, and by and by that li'l liking will +wax strong and great and all that sort of thing, and you won't be able +to do without me. You'll have to marry me, I'm afraid, Sally Jane." +</P> + +<P> +"I will, will I? And you're afraid, are you? You big, overgrown, lazy +lummox! I wouldn't marry you ever." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not so sure, but you needn't stamp your foot at me anyway. It +ain't being done this season. People slam doors instead. I'm sorry +there isn't a door near at hand. It must have been overlooked when +Linny's Hill was made." +</P> + +<P> +"Bill, don't fool. This is not any joking matter. This +come-day-go-day attitude of yours is bad business. It's ruining you, +really it is." +</P> + +<P> +"Drink and the devil, huh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you're decent enough far as that goes. You never have been +beastly." +</P> + +<P> +"I thank you, madam, for this good opinion of your humble servant." +</P> + +<P> +"Shut up! I mean to say— What I'm trying to beat into your thick +head, you simple thing, is that in this world you don't stand still. +You can't. You either go ahead or you slip back. And—you aren't +going ahead." +</P> + +<P> +"If not, why not, huh? I know you mean well, Sally Jane, and——" +</P> + +<P> +"And it's none of my business? Oh, I know you weren't going to say +that but you think it. You're quite right, Bill—but can't you see I'm +talking for your own good?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, yes. My pa used to talk just like that before he'd go out +behind the corral with a breeching-strap in one hand and my ear in the +other. I've heard him many's the time. I used to hurt most unpleasant +for two-three days after, special if he'd forget which end of the strap +carried the buckle. Old times, old times. Now, I take it you were +never licked, Sally Jane. That was a mistake. You should have been— +What? You don't mean to say you're going home? And we were getting +along so nicely too. Well, if willful must, she must. I'll hold your +horse for you. Again let me offer my apologies for the lack of a door." +</P> + +<P> +He sagged down on his heel and watched her ride away along the side of +Linny's Hill. +</P> + +<P> +"I've often heard a woman's 'no' doesn't mean what it says," he +muttered, fishing out the makings from a vest pocket. "But Sally Jane +is so persistent with it, I dunno. I wonder if I really love her, or +do I only think I do because I can't have her? I suppose I'd feel +worse'n I do every time she turns me down if I did. Lord! she said, I +said, he said, and may Gawd have mercy on your soul!" +</P> + +<P> +When his cigarette was going well he lazed over on his side, supporting +his head on a crooked arm, and gazed abroad between half-shut lids. +</P> + +<P> +The view from Linny's Hill was all that could be desired. At the base +of the hill the Golden Bar-Hillsville trail, a yellow-gray ribbon +across the green, led the eye across flats and gentle rises through +shady groves of pine and cedar westward to where Golden Bar, a +collection of toy houses, each one startlingly clear and distinct in +that rarefied atmosphere, sprawled along the farther bank of Wagonjack +River. +</P> + +<P> +The stream itself, a roaring river in the spring of the year, was now +but a poor thing. Shrunk to quarter-size, and fordable almost +anywhere, it flowed in sedate and midsummer fashion between its +cut-banks and miniature bluffs. Bordered throughout its length by +willows and cottonwoods, Wagonjack River meandered and wound its way +southward from the blue and hazy tumble of peaks that was the main +range of the Medicine Mountains to where the wide and pleasant reaches +of the Peace Pipe watered the southern section of the territory. +</P> + +<P> +From Golden Bar to the Medicine Mountains was a long two hundred miles. +From Golden Bar to the Peace Pipe was twice that distance. +</P> + +<P> +Crocker County, four hundred miles long by three hundred miles wide, +bounded on the east by the Wagonjack, ran well up into the Medicine +Mountains before giving way to Storey County. Across the river from +Crocker were two counties, of which Tom Read County was the northern +and Piegan County the southern. Shaler County ran the whole length of +the southern side of Crocker, whose western line was the boundary of +the neighboring territory. +</P> + +<P> +There you have Crocker, a county three hundred miles wide by four +hundred miles long, and Golden Bar was its county seat. +</P> + +<P> +Political pickings in Crocker, which pickings the neighbors called by a +much worse name, were consistently good. A small Indian reservation +lay partly in Crocker and partly in Shaler, but somehow the Crocker +citizens always secured the beef contracts. Crocker laws, provided the +suspected person or persons were friendly with the county officials, +were not administered with undue severity. Coarse work was never +tolerated, naturally; but if one were judicious and a good picker, one +could travel far and profitably. Thus it may be seen that Crocker was, +as counties go, fertile ground for easy consciences. +</P> + +<P> +But, like Gallio, Bill Wingo cared for none of these things. He +watched the moving pencil-end that was Miss Prescott and her mount +descend to the trail and ride along it in the direction of Golden Bar. +</P> + +<P> +Another pencil-end was riding the same trail,—away from Golden Bar. +Traveling at their present rate of speed, the riders would meet not far +from the scattering grove of cedars marking the entrance to the +low-walled draw that led to the Prescott ranch house. +</P> + +<P> +Bill Wingo intently scrutinized the way-farer from Golden Bar side. +</P> + +<P> +"Looks like Jack Murray's sorrel," he mused, holding the cigarette in +the corner of his mouth and rocking it up and down. "If they stop, +it's Jack." +</P> + +<P> +The pencil-ends drew together at the lower end of the grove. They +stopped. +</P> + +<P> +"Shucks," Mr. Wingo muttered mildly. "I never did like that man." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Said the first pencil-end to the second pencil-end, "Hello, Sally Jane." +</P> + +<P> +"Morning, Jack." +</P> + +<P> +"I was just a-riding to your place." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't let me stop you." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll ride along with you." +</P> + +<P> +"It's a free country." She lifted her reins and "kissed" to her horse. +"And at times I've known you to be amusing, Jack. It's four miles to +our ranch and you'll help to brighten the weary way." +</P> + +<P> +He spurred alongside and turned in his saddle to stare at her. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that all I'm good for—to help pass the time?" +</P> + +<P> +"What else is a man good for?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be so flip, Sally Jane. You know——" He stopped short. +</P> + +<P> +She waited a moment. Then, "I know what?" +</P> + +<P> +"You know I've been loving you a long, long time," he said abruptly. +"I didn't want to tell you till I had something to offer you besides +myself. And now I've got something—Rafe Tuckleton has promised to +make me sheriff." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought the voters usually decided such things," said she. +</P> + +<P> +He laughed cynically. "Not in Crocker. <I>We</I> know the better way. +Well, I've told you, Sally Jane. What do you say?" +</P> + +<P> +She looked at him coolly. "What is this—a proposal?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, I want you to marry me." +</P> + +<P> +"No, you don't." There was no hint of coquetry in either her tone or +the direct gaze of her violet eyes. +</P> + +<P> +He crowded his horse almost against hers and dropped a hand on top of +her hand where it lay on the saddle horn. She did not withdraw her +hand at his touch. She simply suffered it impassively. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you understand?" he said earnestly. "Don't you understand that +I love you, Sally Jane? And I want you." +</P> + +<P> +Sally Jane continued to look at him. +</P> + +<P> +"I understand that you want me," she told him calmly. "Why not? +You're dark and tall and thick-lipped and headstrong. I'm slim and +red-haired and my mouth is full, too—but I'm headstrong, thank Heaven. +My type appeals to your type, that's all. Appeals physically, I mean. +You'd like to possess me, but you don't love me, Jack Murray." +</P> + +<P> +"I tell you——" he began passionately. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't have to tell me," she said calmly. "I know." +</P> + +<P> +"How do you know?" +</P> + +<P> +"By your eyes." +</P> + +<P> +"My eyes!" +</P> + +<P> +"Your eyes. Love is something besides desire, Jack. I know that lots +of men don't think so; but women know. You bet women know. And I, for +one, don't intend to risk my happiness on a twenty-to-one-shot." +</P> + +<P> +"What you talking about?" he demanded, scowling and withdrawing his +hand. +</P> + +<P> +"You—and me—us. If I married you, it's twenty to one our marriage +would be unhappy. There's too much of the animal in you, Jack." +</P> + +<P> +"You listen to me, Sally. I tell you I love you and I'm going to have +you." +</P> + +<P> +"I said you only wanted to possess me," she observed placidly. +</P> + +<P> +"Dammit, I tell you——" +</P> + +<P> +"That's right, swear," she interrupted. "A man always does that when +he can't think of anything else to say." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm gonna marry you," he persisted sullenly. +</P> + +<P> +"If it does you any good, keep right on thinking so. It can't hurt me." +</P> + +<P> +"Has Bill Wingo——" he began, but sensed his mistake and stopped—too +late. +</P> + +<P> +"You mean am I in love with Billy Wingo?" she put in helpfully. "My +answer is, not at present." +</P> + +<P> +"Meaning that you may be later on, I suppose." +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't say so. Lord, man, haven't I a right to bestow my heart +anywhere I like? I intend to, old-timer." +</P> + +<P> +"You ain't gonna marry anybody but me," he insisted stubbornly. +</P> + +<P> +"There you go again. Leave the melodrama alone, can't you? This isn't +a play. It's real life." +</P> + +<P> +"I said I was gonna have you and I am," he said slowly. "Neither Bill +Wingo nor anybody else is gonna get you. You were always intended for +me. You're mine, understand, mine!" +</P> + +<P> +Jamming his horse against hers he pinioned both her hands with his +right, swung his left arm round her waist and crushed her gasping +against his chest. Be sure she struggled; but he was a man, and +strong. Forcing the back of the hand that confined her two hands under +her chin, he tilted her head up and backwards. Tightly she screwed up +her mouth so that her lips were invisible. Once, twice and again he +kissed her compressed mouth. +</P> + +<P> +"There," he muttered, releasing her so abruptly that she almost fell +out of the saddle and only saved herself by catching the saddle horn +with both hands. "There. I've heard you boasted that no man had ever +kissed you. Well, you're kissed now and you won't forget it in a +hurry." +</P> + +<P> +She settled her toes in the stirrups and faced him, her body shaking. +Her hat had fallen off, her copper-colored hair hung tousled about her +ears. Violet eyes sparkling under the black eyebrows, lips drawn back +revealing the white, even teeth—her features were a mask of rage—a +rage that seethed and boiled in her passionate heart. +</P> + +<P> +Never in her life had she been so despitefully used. Had she had a +gun, she would have shot the man. But she did not have a gun—nor any +other weapon. She had even dropped her quirt somewhere. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" she cried, striking her fists together. "Oh! I could kill you! +You dog! You beast! Faugh!" Here she wiped her mouth with the back +of her hand and wiped her hand on her horse's mane. "When I get home," +she raved on, "I'll try to wash the touch of your mouth off with soap, +but I don't believe even ammonia will ever make my lips feel clean +again!" +</P> + +<P> +He laughed. She began to cry as her rage overflowed her heart. +</P> + +<P> +"When I tell my father," she sobbed, "he will kill you!" +</P> + +<P> +"Here, stop crying," he directed, stretching forth an arm and leaning +toward her. +</P> + +<P> +At that she came alive with startling suddenness and with a full-armed +sweep scored his cheek with her finger nails from temple to jaw. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't touch me!" she squalled. "Don't touch me! When my father gets +through with you——" She left the sentence unfinished and wheeled her +horse. +</P> + +<P> +But he was too quick for her and seized the bridle rein and swung her +mount back. +</P> + +<P> +"Listen," he said, his voice quiet but his eyes ablaze, "don't say +anything to your father." +</P> + +<P> +"Afraid now, are you?" she taunted sneeringly. +</P> + +<P> +"Not for me, for him. I don't want any trouble with your pa, not any. +But if he jumps me, I'll have to defend myself. And you know your pa +was never very quick on the draw, Sally Jane. So long." +</P> + +<P> +He let her bridle go and moved aside. She snatched her horse around +with a jerk and flew homeward at a gallop. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TWO +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +A SAFE MAN +</H4> + +<P> +"We gotta be careful," cautioned Tom Driver, the local justice of the +peace. +</P> + +<P> +"Careful is our middle name," Rafe Tuckleton said reassuringly. +</P> + +<P> +"I know, I know," persisted Driver. "But you can't fool all the people +all——" +</P> + +<P> +"Abe Lincoln said it first," Felix Craft interrupted impatiently. "But +he didn't live in Crocker County." +</P> + +<P> +"Or he wouldn't have said it, huh?" flung in Tip O'Gorman. "Don't you +fool yourself, Crafty. Tom's right. Human nature don't change any." +</P> + +<P> +"I s'pose you mean give the people a square deal then," sneered Felix. +</P> + +<P> +"If he does, he's crazy," said a lanky citizen named Shindle. +</P> + +<P> +O'Gorman grinned a wide Irish smile. "No, I ain't crazy, but we'll +give 'em a square deal alla same." +</P> + +<P> +"He is crazy," declared lank Shindle. +</P> + +<P> +"A square deal," repeated O'Gorman. "A square deal—for us." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought so," nodded plump Sam Larder, speaking for the first time +since the beginning of the discussion. "A square deal—for us. Let's +hear it, Tip." +</P> + +<P> +O'Gorman sat back in his chair and crossed his legs. "When a dog is +hungry it ain't sensible to feed him a whole juicy steak. He'll gobble +it down an' come pesterin' round for more in five minutes. But give +him a bone and he'll gnaw and gnaw and be a satisfied dog for quite a +long while." +</P> + +<P> +"What kind of a bone were you figuring on giving our dog?" inquired Tom +Driver. +</P> + +<P> +"Sheriff." Thus Tip O'Gorman with finality. +</P> + +<P> +Felix Craft shook a decided head. +</P> + +<P> +"Guess again. Too much meat on that bone." +</P> + +<P> +"Not if it's the right kind of meat," said O'Gorman blandly. +</P> + +<P> +"Stop walking in the water," grunted the impatient Felix. "Say it +right out." +</P> + +<P> +"A sheriff with a ring in his nose," explained O'Gorman. +</P> + +<P> +"A weak sister, huh?" put in Tom Driver. +</P> + +<P> +"Or words to that effect," smiled O'Gorman. "Can't you see how it is, +gents? To shove our ticket through we gotta give 'em one good man. If +we don't, the four legislators are a stand-off. We may elect them. We +may elect our three justices, county clerk and coroner. You can't tell +what will happen to them. Folks will scratch their heads this election +and they'll vote their own way. Take my word for it. And when it +comes to sheriff, folks are gonna do more than scratch their heads. +They're gonna think—hard. That's why we gotta give 'em a good man." +</P> + +<P> +"One of themselves, for instance?" said plump Sam Larder, locking his +hands over his paunch. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," O'Gorman drawled. "Do that. Give 'em somebody they trust and +like for sheriff an' they'll be so busy thinkin' about electin' him +that the rest of the ticket will slide in like a greased pig through a +busted fence." +</P> + +<P> +"To tell the truth. I'd more than half-promised the job to Jack +Murray," remarked Rafe Tuckleton, incidentally wondering why Jack had +not yet turned up at the meeting. "He should have been here an hour +ago." +</P> + +<P> +"You half-promised it to Jack Murray, huh?" exclaimed the lank citizen +Shindle. "Lemme tell you that I was a damsight more than half-counting +on that job myself." +</P> + +<P> +"Neither of your totals is the right answer, Skinny," explained +O'Gorman pleasantly. "Nominatin' either you or Jack would gorm up the +whole ticket." +</P> + +<P> +"Aw, the party is strong enough to elect anybody!" protested Felix +Craft. +</P> + +<P> +"Not this year," contradicted O'Gorman. "You ain't been round like I +have, Felix. I tell you I know. Gents, if we go ahead and nominate +either Skinny Shindle or Jack Murray, we'll all have to go to work." +</P> + +<P> +"Who you got in mind?" queried Rafe Tuckleton. +</P> + +<P> +"Bill Wingo." +</P> + +<P> +Dead silence for a space. Then Rafe Tuckleton looked at Sam Larder and +whistled lowly. Sam's eyes switched to Tip. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't see the connection," said Sam Larder. +</P> + +<P> +"Me either," concurred Rafe. +</P> + +<P> +"I should say not," Shindle declared loudly. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll tell you," said Tip O'Gorman, beaming impartially upon the +assemblage. "Take Skinny Shindle. He——" +</P> + +<P> +"Aw right, take me!" burst out the gentleman in question. "What about +me! What——" +</P> + +<P> +"Easy, easy," cautioned Tip O'Gorman, his smile a trifle fixed. "I +ain't deaf in either ear, and besides ain't we all li'l friends +together?" +</P> + +<P> +"But you said——" Skinny tried again. +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't said it yet," interrupted Tip, "but I'm going to—gimme a +chance. It won't hurt. It's only the truth. Take Skinny and look at +him. He buys scrip at three times the discount anybody else does, and +there was a lot of talk about that beef contract the agent gave him." +</P> + +<P> +"What of it? Folks don't have to bring scrip to me if they don't +wanna, and suppose there was chatter about the contract. It's the +government's funeral." +</P> + +<P> +"It came near being the agent's," slipped in Sam Larder, with a +reminiscent grin. "Some of them feather dusters like to chased him off +the reservation when they saw the kind of cattle he gave 'em. I saw +'em. They were thinner than Skinny. No exaggeration. Absolutely." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, that's all right, too," said Skinny. "A feller's got to make +money somehow. Who ever heard of giving a Injun the best of it? Not +in Crocker County, anyway." +</P> + +<P> +"That's all right again, too," declared Tip. "But that last deal with +the agent was a li'l too raw. Taking that with your prices for scrip, +Skinny, has made a heap of talk. You ain't a popular idol, Skinny, not +by any means." +</P> + +<P> +"Damn my popularity!" snarled the excellent Skinny. "I wanna be +sheriff." +</P> + +<P> +"Like the baby wants the soap," said Tip. "Well, you'll never be happy +then, because you'll never get it." +</P> + +<P> +"Lookit here, Tip——" +</P> + +<P> +"You lookit here, Skinny," swiftly interjected Rafe Tuckleton. "Is +this campaign your own private affair, or is it the party's?" +</P> + +<P> +"The party's, I guess," Skinny reluctantly admitted. "But I want my +share of it." +</P> + +<P> +"You can have your share without being sheriff," Rafe told him. +"You'll be taken care of, don't fret. This here's a case of united we +stand, divided we tumble. Suppose any li'l thing upsets our plans, and +our ticket don't go through? What then? What happens? For one thing +you won't get the contract for furnishing the lumber for the new jail +and town hall that's gonna be built next year. And for another, that +land deal you and I put through last month will be investigated. How'd +we like that, huh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Rafe's right," said Tom Driver. "This is no time for taking any +chances. It ain't a presidential year, and you can gamble there ain't +gonna be a thing to take folks' eyes off the county politics. We've +all gotta give up something for the sake of the party." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't notice you givin' up anything," snapped the disgruntled +Skinny. "I seem to be the only one that loses." +</P> + +<P> +"And Jack Murray," supplemented Rafe Tuckleton. "Hell's bells, Skinny, +why didn't you say something sooner? To-night's the first I ever heard +you even wanted an office. That's why I told Jack he could have it. +He's a good man, but if I'd known——" +</P> + +<P> +"What difference does that make?" interrupted Skinny, bitterly. "You +couldn't give me the nomination anyway." +</P> + +<P> +"You could have had another office—say county clerk." +</P> + +<P> +"Wouldn't take it on a bet—not enough opportunity. Aw hell, it's a +dead horse! Let it go, Rafe. Tip, you've had a lot to say about me, +now let's hear what you got against Jack Murray." +</P> + +<P> +"Yep," said Rafe Tuckleton, "let's have it. I'll have to give Jack +some reason for going back on him, and I don't see exactly——" He did +not complete the sentence. +</P> + +<P> +"Speaking personal," observed Tip, again on the broad grin, "I ain't +got a thing against Jack. Him and me get along fine. But when Jack +was first deputy two years ago he managed to kill four men one time and +another." +</P> + +<P> +"That was in the line of duty," said Rafe. "They all resisted arrest." +</P> + +<P> +Tip O'Gorman nodded. "I ain't denying it. And we've got Jack's word +for it besides; but the four men all had friends, and when, as you +know, each and every one of 'em turned out to be more or less innocent, +why the friends got to talking round and saying Jack was too previous. +Ain't you heard anything a-tall?" +</P> + +<P> +"I've heard it said he was a <I>leetle</I> quicker than he maybe needed to +be," conceded Rafe. "But folks always talk more or less about a +killing. It didn't strike me there was enough in it to actually keep +Jack from being elected." +</P> + +<P> +"There is. They're only talking now, but nominate Jack and they'll +begin to yell." +</P> + +<P> +"You must have been mighty busy these last few weeks, Tip," sneered +Skinny. +</P> + +<P> +"I have," declared Tip. "Seems like I've talked with every voter in +the county. I've gone over the whole field with a finetooth comb, and +I tell you, gents, the bone for our dog is Bill Wingo. Most everybody +likes Bill. He's a damsight more popular than the opposition +candidate. Bill will get a lot of the other feller's votes, but if we +put up anybody else the other feller will get a lot of ours—and so +will the rest of his ticket." +</P> + +<P> +Tip O'Gorman sat back in his chair and eyed his friends. It was +obvious that the friends were of two minds. Rafe Tuckleton, his +fingers drumming on the table, stared soberly at the floor. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you sure, Tip," inquired Larder suddenly, "that Bill Wingo is the +breed of horse that will <I>always</I> drink when you lead him to water?" +</P> + +<P> +Tip O'Gorman nodded his guarantee of Mr. Wingo's pliability of +character. "Bill is too easy-going and good-natured to do anything +else." +</P> + +<P> +"I'd always had an idea he was a good deal of a man," said Sam Larder. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, he'll stand the acid," Tip said. "He'll go after anybody he +thinks he oughta go after; but if we can't manage to give him the right +kind of thoughts we're no good." +</P> + +<P> +"You needn't start losing flesh, Sam," slipped in Tom Driver. "Bill +would never go back on his friends. H's just a big overgrown kid, +that's all." +</P> + +<P> +Rafe Tuckleton leaned back in his chair and stared dubiously at Tip +O'Gorman. "All right for Bill, but how about Tom Walton?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll bite," Tip averred blandly. "How about him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing, oh, nothing a-tall. Only Tom Walton has been one too many +round here for a long time." +</P> + +<P> +"He does talk too much," admitted Tom Driver, his bright little eyes, +like those of an alert bird, fixed on Rafe Tuckleton. +</P> + +<P> +"He's a very suspicious man," said the latter. "He like to broke Simon +Reelfoot's neck last week over a horse of his he said Simon rustled." +</P> + +<P> +"Serve Simon right," said Tip promptly. "Simon's a polecat. Always +was. Felt like breaking his neck more than once myself. Good for +Walton." +</P> + +<P> +"But Simon's one of our crowd," Rafe reminded him, "and he's been +mighty useful. We gotta consider his feelings." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, damn his feelings. The old screw ain't got any right to feelings." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, but there wasn't any real actual proof about the horse—only some +tracks in Simon's corral that Walton thought he recognized." +</P> + +<P> +Tip quirked a quizzical mouth. "Between us, Rafe, what did Simon do +with the horse?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sold him to a prospector who was leaving the country. So it couldn't +be traced." +</P> + +<P> +"Good horse was it?" +</P> + +<P> +"It was that chestnut young Hazel rides." +</P> + +<P> +"Hazel's own pony? Lord! Man alive, Simon is worse'n a polecat. He's +a whole family of them. Why couldn't he have rustled some other horse?" +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't Simon, so I can't tell you," said Rafe dryly. "But if you +don't want anything done on Simon's account, how about this: yesterday +one of my boys was shot at while he happened to be doing a li'l +business on the Walton range." +</P> + +<P> +"What did your boy happen to be doing?" smiled Tip. +</P> + +<P> +Rafe attempted to excuse himself and his cowboy. "It was a long-ear." +</P> + +<P> +"Branding it on the Walton range?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"With its mammy?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Serve the boy right." Tip gave judgment. "You and your outfit are +getting too reckless for any use, Rafe. The territory is not a +Sunday-school. You can't pick a man's pocket openly any more. It +isn't safe. And you know it isn't safe. Who was the boy and what time +of day was it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ben Shanklin; and it was round noon." +</P> + +<P> +"Worse and more of it. My Gawd, Rafe, you gimme a pain!" +</P> + +<P> +Sam Larder shook a fat-cheeked head. "Dangerous, Rafe; dangerous. +You've got to consider a man's feelings now more than you used to. +Haven't you told your man to always work round sunrise and sunset, and +never to shoot a calf's mammy on her owner's territory?" +</P> + +<P> +"Others do, and get away with it. Besides, he didn't shoot the cow." +</P> + +<P> +"He might as well have shot her," declared Tom Driver. "He got caught, +didn't he?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ben didn't get caught. He made the riffle all right with two holes in +his saddle-horn and one in his cantle that tore his pants." +</P> + +<P> +"What range? Did he say?" +</P> + +<P> +"About fourteen hundred." +</P> + +<P> +"Fourteen hundred, huh? Then he couldn't have been recognized." +</P> + +<P> +"Luckily not." +</P> + +<P> +"Luck is the word—for you—for us." +</P> + +<P> +"Wonder who did the shooting?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know. Ben dug out one of the bullets from his horn. It was +fifty caliber—a Sharps." +</P> + +<P> +"That was Tom Walton himself," declared Tom Driver. "He's the only one +in his outfit owning a Sharps, and he won't let any one else shoot it. +'Twas Tom Walton. And don't be so positive Ben wasn't recognized, +Rafe. I hear Walton carries field glasses now." +</P> + +<P> +"He <I>is</I> getting suspicious," smiled Tip O'Gorman. +</P> + +<P> +The smile stung the amiable Rafe. "He's gotta be stopped." +</P> + +<P> +"How?" Thus Tip. +</P> + +<P> +"There are ways," snarled Rafe. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, but it doesn't pay to be too rough. Tom has a great many +friends. We can't afford to stir up a whole kettleful of discontent. +A little care, Rafe, is all that's necessary. I think I'd impress my +men, if I were you, with the absolute necessity of being careful." +</P> + +<P> +"I did tell 'em," said Rafe sullenly. +</P> + +<P> +"Your telling seems to have left them cold. At least it left Ben +Shanklin. Damn his soul! I almost wish Tom Walton had got him, the +coyote! He deserves to be got, gorming up our plans thisaway." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, everything turned out all right," Felix Craft tucked in hastily. +"So why worry? I'm sure Rafe's men will be more careful after this." +</P> + +<P> +"I wish I was sure," grunted Tip O'Gorman. "They're a wild bunch, +every last one of 'em. I believe they just try to stir up trouble. +They're eternally getting drunk and shooting up saloons and other +places of business. People don't like it." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, boys will be boys," deprecated Rafe. +</P> + +<P> +"Your boys will be dead boys if they don't watch out. Anyway, you put +the hobbles on that Ben boy, Rafe. We can't afford to have him spoil +things." +</P> + +<P> +"How about having him spoil Walton?" +</P> + +<P> +"And antagonize all of Walton's friends, huh? Bright, oh, very!" +</P> + +<P> +"If the feller who spoiled Walton was a stranger, it would be all +right. You couldn't connect an absolute stranger with us, could you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Let's hear your li'l plan," said Tip O'Gorman. +</P> + +<P> +Every man of them listened intently to the Tuckletonian plan. +</P> + +<P> +As plans go it was a good plan. Procuring an assassin to do the dirty +work is always a good plan. Rafe knew a gunman, named Slike, in a +neighboring territory. For two hundred and fifty dollars, according to +Rafe, Dan Slike would murder almost any one. For five hundred it was +any one, without the almost. +</P> + +<P> +"Can he do it?" doubted Tom Driver. +</P> + +<P> +"We all know how slow Tom Walton is on the draw," sneered Rafe. "Which +he's slower than Sam Prescott. If Slike don't plug Walton three times +before he can draw, I'll eat my shirt." +</P> + +<P> +"That sounds well," said Tip O'Gorman, eyeing Rafe with frank disgust. +"But, somehow, I don't like the idea of having Walton killed." +</P> + +<P> +"Whatsa matter with you?" demanded the originator of the idea. "Losing +your nerve?" +</P> + +<P> +Tip O'Gorman's expression did not alter in the slightest. He gazed +upon his questioner as if the latter were a new and interesting +specimen of insect life. +</P> + +<P> +"No," he said, "I don't think I'm losing my nerve. Do you think I'm +losing my nerve, Rafe?" +</P> + +<P> +Rafe looked upon Tip. Tip looked upon Rafe. The others held their +respective breaths. In the room was dead silence. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you, Rafe?" persisted Tip, his voice velvety smooth. +</P> + +<P> +Rafe found his tongue. "No, I don't," he declared frankly. "But, I +don't see why you don't like my scheme." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you? I'll explain. Tom Walton's niece, Hazel, is the drawback. +Rubbin' out Tom would most likely put a crimp in her, sort of. She +lost her ma and pa only five years ago." +</P> + +<P> +"Aw, the devil!" exclaimed Rafe Tuckleton. "We can't stop to think of +all those li'l things. We're here to make money, no matter how. Good +Gawd, Tip! We ain't——" +</P> + +<P> +"Good Gawd, Rafe!" interrupted Tip. "We ain't hiring any gunman to +wipe out Tom Walton. I'm no he-angel—none of us are, I guess; but +I've known Hazel since she was a li'l squaller, and I won't sit still +and see her hurt. And that <I>goes</I>!" +</P> + +<P> +Tip nodded with finality at Rafe Tuckleton. Rafe sat back on the +middle of his spine and gnawed his lower lip. His eyes were sulky. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want to see Hazel hurt either," said Skinny Shindle with an +indescribable leer, "but when it comes to a question of li'l Hazel or +us, I'm for us every time." +</P> + +<P> +"You look here, Skinny," said Tip O'Gorman in a low dispassionate +voice, "what I said to Rafe, I say to you: Hands off Tom Walton." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, all right," said Skinny Shindle, "but if anything happens out of +this, don't say I didn't tell you." +</P> + +<P> +"I won't say so, Skinny," Tip said good-naturedly. "I won't say a +word." +</P> + +<P> +"Gentlemen," Felix Craft put in hurriedly, "let's go slow about now. +No use saying anything hasty, not a bit of use. Tip's right. None of +us want to hurt Hazel, and——" +</P> + +<P> +"And we want to be damn sure we don't want to hurt Hazel," interrupted +Tip O'Gorman, his eyes fixed on Rafe Tuckleton's sullen face. +</P> + +<P> +"'T'sall right, 't'sall right," said Rafe, forcing a smile. "Have it +your own way, Tip. Tom Walton's safe for all of me." +</P> + +<P> +"Good enough," Tip said heartily, shooting at Rafe a glance that was +not completely trustful. +</P> + +<P> +Entered then Jack Murray, wearing a set smile across his scratched +face. He nodded to the assemblage, sat down jauntily on the edge of +the table and brought out the makings. +</P> + +<P> +"Well!" he said, his eyes on Rafe Tuckleton, rolling the while a +meticulous cigarette. "Well, I suppose you've got the ticket all made +up." +</P> + +<P> +"Just about," nodded Rafe. +</P> + +<P> +"What prize did I draw?" +</P> + +<P> +"A large, round goose-egg," Skinny Shindle answered for Rafe with +malice. +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" Thus Mr. Murray, the hand he had reached upward to his hatband +coming down without the match. "You serious, Skinny?" +</P> + +<P> +"I wish I thought I wasn't," was the reply. +</P> + +<P> +Jack Murray turned a slow head back toward Rafe Tuckleton. "You told +me the sheriff's job was mine," he said bluntly. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought it was," admitted Rafe, looking straight into his eyes. +"But we've heard some bad news, unexpected news. It seems you ain't as +popular with our citizens as you might be. We understand that you're +so little liked you wouldn't be elected in a million years." +</P> + +<P> +"Who told you that?" Jack's tone was sharp. +</P> + +<P> +"I did." Thus Tip O'Gorman in a tone no less sharp. "And I know what +I'm talking about, you can gamble on that." +</P> + +<P> +"Tip's had his ear to the ground pretty steady," said Rafe Tuckleton. +"He knows what's on every voter's mind, and if we nominate you for +sheriff it means the defeat of the party. Listen, and I'll explain the +whole thing." +</P> + +<P> +Jack Murray listened in silence. When Rafe said his last word, Jack +Murray laid his unlighted cigarette across the end of his left index +finger and teetered it slowly. +</P> + +<P> +"Who you figurin' on running in my place," he drawled, his dark gaze on +the cigarette. +</P> + +<P> +"Bill Wingo." +</P> + +<P> +The teetering stopped. The cigarette slipped into the fork of two +fingers. The man slid to his feet. +</P> + +<P> +"Bill Wingo," he repeated. "Bill Wingo, huh? Well, this is a +surprise." +</P> + +<P> +Without another word he left the room, closing the door behind him very +gently. +</P> + +<P> +When he had gone Tip O'Gorman threw a whimsical glance at Rafe +Tuckleton. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd feel better if he'd slammed that door," said Tip O'Gorman. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER THREE +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +WHAT SALLY JANE THOUGHT +</H4> + +<P> +"Careless child," observed Bill Wingo, coming up on the porch where +Sally Jane lay in the hammock. "You dropped your hat in the draw. I +found it this morning. Here it is. Don't move, sweet one. Of course, +if you asked me to sit down or didn't ask me I would, and if you felt +like rustling some coffee and cake, or lemonade and doughnuts, or even +just a piece of pie with a bite of cheese on the side—just a bite, not +over half a pound, I don't like cheese much—I wouldn't stop you." +</P> + +<P> +"Stop calling me 'sweet one,'" Miss Prescott said crossly. "I'm not +your sweet one, or anybody else's sweet one, and I'll get you something +to fill your fat stomach, you lazy loafer, when I get good and ready. +Not before." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, all right," he murmured resignedly, settling down on the stout +pine rail of the porch and fanning himself with his hat. "But I love +you just the same. What's that? Did I hear you curse or something?" +</P> + +<P> +"Something. I only said damn because you make me sick. Love, love, +love, morning, noon and night! Don't men ever think of anything else?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not when you're around," he told her. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it's the very devil," admitted Sally Jane, rubbing her red mouth +with a reflective forefinger. "Am I so alluring?" +</P> + +<P> +"Who has been kissing you now?" he asked idly and wondered why her face +should flame at the word. Wondered—because everybody knew Sally Jane. +</P> + +<P> +On her part she wondered if he had seen what had passed in the draw the +day before, then decided instantly that he had not, else his manner +toward her would have been decidedly different. +</P> + +<P> +"You haven't answered my question?" he persisted, still idly. +</P> + +<P> +"Does it need one?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, no, not yet, anyway. When you're engaged to me, I'll know who's +kissing you." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be disgusting." +</P> + +<P> +"No disgusting about it. I'll probably hug you, too." +</P> + +<P> +"What dismal beasts men are," she said, with a mock shiver, having +regained control of her jumpy nerves. "I suppose you'd enjoy having me +sit on your knee." +</P> + +<P> +"I would indeed," he told her warmly. "I think that chair there would +hold the two of us if we sat quiet—fairly quiet." +</P> + +<P> +It was at this juncture that her father, Sam Prescott, came out on the +porch. +</P> + +<P> +"Howdy, young Bill," said Sam. He invariably prefixed the adjective to +Bill's name. Why, no one knew. It was doubtful if he knew himself. +</P> + +<P> +"'Lo, Sam," said young Bill. +</P> + +<P> +"Sam," said Sally Jane from the hammock, "s'pose now a man tried to hug +you, and kiss you and make you sit on his knee, what would you do?" +</P> + +<P> +"If I was you, you mean?" inquired Sam judicially. Middle-aged though +he was, he never ceased to experience a pleasurable thrill when his +daughter called him "Sam." It reminded him so much of her mother. "If +I was you," he went on, without waiting for an answer, "and the feller +which tried to make me do all those things was young Bill here, I'd do +'em. I really believe he likes you, Sally Jane." +</P> + +<P> +"You think so, do you?" sighed Sally Jane, smoothing her frock down +over her ankles. "You too, Samuel? What chance has a poor girl +got—without a club?" +</P> + +<P> +"I told her if she married me," spoke up Bill, "she could have jam on +Sundays and butter the rest of the week." +</P> + +<P> +"There, you see, Sally Jane!" said Sam Prescott. "He'll be good and +generous. And if you asked him for a new dress now and then, or a pair +of shoes, I'll bet he wouldn't say no." +</P> + +<P> +Sally Jane stubbornly shook her copper-colored head of hair. "Samuel," +said she, "you're the only man I ever loved. Bill's all right in his +futile, thumb-handed way, but he's not my Sam. Now don't forget that +one drink is enough for a plumpish man with a beautiful daughter, and +that I want you to bring back a dozen cans of baking-powder, a dozen +bars of May Rose soap, three dozen boxes of matches, four sacks of +flour, sack of salt, sixty pounds of sugar, two papers of pins, four +spools of number forty cotton and a pail of chocolate creams. Be sure +and take the cover off and see it's a full pail, and if Nate tries to +palm off any stale stuff or hard candy on you, why just throw it in his +face and tell him I'll come in and complain in person my next trip." +</P> + +<P> +"My Lord, Sally Jane," Sam exclaimed helplessly, "I can't remember all +that!" +</P> + +<P> +"I know you can't," said Sally Jane calmly. "I've merely been +impressing it on you that there's a lot of errands for you to do. +You'll find a carefully written list of everything I want stuck in the +coil of the tie-rope under the seat of the buck-board. You can't miss +it when you go to tie the team." +</P> + +<P> +"And Sam," she added, raising her voice to a shout, for her father had +already departed corralward, "be back by seven. I'm gonna make a lemon +pie." +</P> + +<P> +Her father waved a comprehending hand and disappeared behind the +blacksmith shop. +</P> + +<P> +"You see," said Billy Wingo, with a smirk of self-satisfaction, "the +male parent approves. The last obstacle is removed. Be a sport. Take +a chance. You might go farther and fare worse." +</P> + +<P> +"I doubt it, William. Not that you aren't a nice boy and all that sort +of thing. However, tell sister why you seek her company this morning?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes, of course, sister not being a good excuse for coming, I did +another reason. I have a fresh bale of news for her li'l pink ear. +Last night I was approached—" He paused dramatically. +</P> + +<P> +"How much did he try to borrow?" Sally Jane inquired indifferently. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing like that, sweet one. The political steersmen of our fair +county rode out to my place last night and——" +</P> + +<P> +"What did the old thief want?" Sally Jane brutally wished to know. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Steersmen</I>, beloved. There were two of him, and you do both old +gentlemen an injustice. They——" +</P> + +<P> +"So Tip came with Rafe, did he? And you mean to tell me you didn't +even miss your watch after they'd gone? You didn't? They must be +sick, the pair of them. What did they do?" +</P> + +<P> +"Offered me the nomination for sheriff!" +</P> + +<P> +Sally Jane sat up abruptly, stuck her finger in her mouth, then held it +up to catch the vagrant breeze. +</P> + +<P> +"The wind's still in the west," she said, making her eyes round as +saucers. "And you are still sitting there as large as life, and I'm +here alive and in my right mind!" Here she pinched her forearm. "That +hurt," she added. "I really am not dreaming. They want you for +sheriff, huh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't 'huh' at me, Sally Jane. It ain't being done by the best people +no more. And they want me for sheriff, really." +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder just how much of that really is real?" +</P> + +<P> +He wrinkled his forehead at her. "Sometimes, Sally Jane, you talk most +awful puzzling." +</P> + +<P> +"Those two old rascals!" she cried. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you think their intentions are honorable?" +</P> + +<P> +Sally Jane's laughter was sardonic. +</P> + +<P> +"Are they trying to fool me, or what?" he persisted. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know whether they're trying to fool you or not," was the +reply, "but they're trying to fool somebody, that's a cinch." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know now, Sally Jane, I was thinking something like that +myself." +</P> + +<P> +She looked at him with a gleam of respect in her eyes. "I wonder if +you really have a brain after all, William. Occasionally you give out +a spark that leads one to believe that there may be a trace of +reasoning power underneath your waving hair. What makes you think they +have an ulterior motive?" +</P> + +<P> +"Humanly speaking, I dunno why; but I do." +</P> + +<P> +"Instinct is the white woman's burden, boy. You'd better leave it +alone. But it doesn't take any instinct to tell me that there's a man +and brother hiding in the cord-wood. To find the dark-hued +gentleman—that is the question." +</P> + +<P> +"Why take the trouble?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why? Listen to the man! Why? So you'll know what you're up against, +that's why." +</P> + +<P> +"But I'm not up against anything," he objected mildly. "I told 'em I +didn't want the job." +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +He rubbed an outraged ear. "No need to deafen me," said he. +</P> + +<P> +"Deafen you?" she cried. "I could take a club to you, you fat-head! +The opportunity of a lifetime and you turn it down! Oh! I could +shriek my head off with rage! I never was so hopping in my life! The +first time an honest man is offered a political job in this county, for +the honest man to turn up his nose, is——" Words failed her. She +almost choked. +</P> + +<P> +"So-o, so-o," he soothed. "Don't get so excited. Remember we are +young but once, and every outburst brings us nearer the grave. I +hadn't reached the end of my tale when you blew up and hit the ceiling. +Lemme finish, that's a good child. I told 'em I didn't want the job, +but they wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. They said for me to think +it over, and they'd be back in a couple of days and take it up with me +again." +</P> + +<P> +"Bill," said Sally Jane, leaning forward, her violet eyes shining, "I'm +serious." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll try to believe it," he said, regarding her with admiration. "But +just this minute you look like the most unserious thing I ever saw—and +the most beautiful. Listen, Sally Jane, I wish you'd do as I ask you. +Close your eyes and plunge right in. We'd be as happy as two pups in a +basket. Sign on the dotted line and leave the rest to me." +</P> + +<P> +Which nonsense she quite properly disregarded utterly. "Bill, I want +you to take that nomination." +</P> + +<P> +"But why, Sally Jane? I don't wanna be sheriff." +</P> + +<P> +"Suppose I want you to?" +</P> + +<P> +"But why should you want me to?" +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't it enough that I ask it?" +</P> + +<P> +"You flirt! You're utterly shameless! You know you can twist me all +round your li'l pink finger like a piece of string. You know I'm fool +enough to do anything you ask, and——" +</P> + +<P> +"Well then, good fool," she smiled her interruption, "it's all settled. +You accept the nomination, and if you don't make things hum after +you're elected, you're not the man I take you for." +</P> + +<P> +Bill slipped right off the porch rail and sat down limply on the floor. +His eye-balls rolled up. His hand fluttered over his heart. He +breathed with difficulty. "At last," he muttered. "Accepted! The +shock will be the death of me! Water! Water! With a little whisky +stirred in. Just a little. Not more than four or five fingers, or +perhaps six. No sugar." +</P> + +<P> +He got to his feet slowly and reseated himself on the rail. "You won't +go back on your word, Sally Jane," he told her soberly. +</P> + +<P> +"I can do lots of things you never heard of," said she. "But making +two meanings grow where only one grew before is not one of them." +</P> + +<P> +"Joking aside," he said, "will you marry me if I take this sheriff job?" +</P> + +<P> +"Joking aside," said she, "would you want me for a reason like that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, no," he admitted frankly. "I'd want you to love me a lot." +</P> + +<P> +"I'd make a pretty worthless wife otherwise. Honestly, Bill, I like +you a great deal, but there's something lacking. And when there's +something lacking, there's nothing to be done. Love is the greatest +thing in the world, Bill. It's what makes life worth living. And you +mustn't cheat it. If you do, you might better never have been born." +</P> + +<P> +He nodded. Try as he might, he was unable to feel very badly. He +decided to give it up as a hopeless job. +</P> + +<P> +"I see," he said gravely. "Sometimes, Sally Jane, I get an idea that +maybe you and me won't marry each other, after all. But no matter what +happens, I'll always be a brother to you. You can count on me." +</P> + +<P> +He arose and made her a flourishing bow. +</P> + +<P> +"That," said Sally Jane, with her bright smile, "takes a load off my +heart. As a sister, I know I'd fill every requirement. Be a good +brother now, and do as I ask. Be a sheriff." +</P> + +<P> +"All right," said Billy Wingo. "I will." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER FOUR +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +HAZEL WALTON +</H4> + +<P> +"Now there," said Riley Tyler, staring at the driver of a buckboard who +was tying her team in front of the Rocky Mountain store, "now there is +a girl that is pretty as a li'l red wagon, new-painted." +</P> + +<P> +Billy Wingo, unmoved, continued to whittle the end of the packing case +he was sharing with Tyler. He did not even look at the girl, and she +was a very handsome girl. +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah," said Billy Wingo. +</P> + +<P> +"Not that I cotton to a female girl as a usual thing," resumed Riley, +"ever since a experience I had when young. I'll tell you about it some +time; maybe I better now." +</P> + +<P> +"No, not now," Billy made haste to say; for he had heard the story of +every single one of Tyler's love affairs at least a dozen times. "Le's +talk about somethin' pleasant. Try the weather." +</P> + +<P> +"You know, just for that," trundled on Riley Tyler, "we'll go on +talking about young Hazel Walton over there. Pity she's gone in the +store. You've never taken a good look at her, have you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nor I don't want to," denied Billy with what seemed to Riley an +unnecessary heat. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not? Do your eyes good. Tell you, Bill, she's got the +best-looking black hair y'ever saw." +</P> + +<P> +"I saw her once or twice with her uncle," Billy admitted desperately. +"She's all you say she is and more too. Anything to please the +children. Don't you ever stop talkin', Riley?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not when I got somethin' like Hazel to talk about," declared the +relentless Riley, warming to his subject. "Y'oughta notice her eyes +once, Bill. Tell you, you never saw <I>eyes</I> till you see hers. They're +eyes, they are! Big and black and soft and eyewinkers long as a +pony's. Fact. And she ain't lost a tooth. She's still got the whole +thirty-four. You take my word for it, Bill, she's a whole lot +different from other folks." +</P> + +<P> +"She's two teeth different anyway. Most generally all other folks can +crowd in their mouth are thirty-two." +</P> + +<P> +"What's a tooth more or less between friends?" said the unabashed +Riley. "She's got a whole mouthful, and when she smiles she shows 'em +all." +</P> + +<P> +"That's great," yawned Billy, closing his pocket-knife with a click. +"You forgot to say whether she's a good cook or not." +</P> + +<P> +"She's a number one cook," Riley told him seriously. "Her coffee is +coffee, lemme tell you, and she don't fry a steak to boot-leather +neither. Not her. No. She broils it, she does. <I>Y'oughta</I> taste her +mashed potatoes. No lumps in 'em or grit or nothin', only the mealy +old potato; and butter beets! My Gawd!" +</P> + +<P> +"Mixes 'em up with the potato, huh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course not, you jack—separate. And canned peas—separate. +Actually she cooks those peas so they're tender as fresh ones; +tenderer, by gummy! Makes her own butter, too, in a churn." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well, in a churn. I never knew they made butter thataway." +</P> + +<P> +"Shut up, Bill. You ain't got any soul. I stop at Walton's for a meal +every chance I get. Y'oughta see her cookin' a meal, Bill. She rolls +her sleeves up and she's got dimples in her elbows. She's a picture, +and you can stick a pin in that." +</P> + +<P> +"Why don't you marry the girl?" +</P> + +<P> +"I've asked her," was the reply made without rancor. "She said, 'No +thanks.'" +</P> + +<P> +"That's one thing in her favor." +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah, I think—Hey! what you tryin' to do, insult me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Insult you, you tarrapin? You wouldn't know it if I did." +</P> + +<P> +"If I wasn't so comfortable, I'd show you something," declared Riley +Tyler, sliding farther down on the small of his long back. "But the +heat has saved your life, William. Yeah, otherwise you'd be a corpse +all bluggy in the middle of Main Street. I'm a wild wolf when I'm +riled, you can gamble— Yonder she comes. She didn't stay long." +</P> + +<P> +Billy dug the Tyler shortribs with a hard elbow. "Where's your +manners? Go over and untie the lady's team." +</P> + +<P> +"Too far. She'd have 'em untied by the time I got there. Besides, I'm +too comfortable. Another thing, I'd have to get up. No, no, I'll stay +here." +</P> + +<P> +Hazel Walton stepped into the buckboard, kicked the brake-lever and +swung her team like a workman. The tall near mule laid back his long +ears and planted both hind feet on the dashboard. <I>Smack! Smack!</I> +went the whip. The mule tucked his tail, shook his mean head and tried +to jump through his collar. The brake-lever shot forward under the +shove of the girl's straightened right leg. The sensible off mule +threw his head to the left to ease the hard drag on his mouth as the +girl swayed back on the near rein. The near mule, hearing the slither +of the locked wheels behind him, and with his windpipe bent like a bow +and his chin forced back to his chest, decided that fighting would +avail him nothing and quieted at once. +</P> + +<P> +"Regular driver, that girl," Billy said approvingly. "It ain't every +woman can drive a pair of those big freight mules. I never knew she +was like that." +</P> + +<P> +"Lots of things you dunno," Riley hastened to say. "You didn't even +know she was pretty." +</P> + +<P> +Billy hopped across the sidewalk and ran out into the middle of Main +Street. The mules, hard held, slid to a halt. Billy scooped up the +package that had fallen from behind the seat and hurried up to the +buckboard. +</P> + +<P> +"Your tarp's slipped a little, ma'am," said he, stowing away the +package without raising his eyes to Miss Walton, who was leaning over +the back of the seat. "I'll tie it fast." +</P> + +<P> +Not till the tarpaulin was fastened to his complete satisfaction did he +look up. Then he realized that Riley Tyler had not told half the truth +about Hazel Walton's eyes. True, they were big and black and soft, but +they were deep too, deep as cool rock pools, and they looked at you +steadily with a straight look that somehow made you wish that you had +been a better boy. +</P> + +<P> +Queer that he hadn't noticed this attribute before. But at none of the +two or three times he had passed the girl on Golden Bar's Main Street +had she impressed him in the least. He could not have described her to +save his life. Perhaps it was because he had not looked into her eyes +before to-day. But he wasted no time thinking about that. He kept +right on looking into her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't come in town very often," was his sufficiently inane +observation. +</P> + +<P> +"Not very often," said she, and smiled. +</P> + +<P> +Yes, there were the teeth. And weren't they white! He didn't know +when he had seen such white teeth. And her mouth had a dimple near one +corner. Now the dimple was gone. He wished it would appear once more. +</P> + +<P> +"Do it again," he found himself saying like a fool. +</P> + +<P> +She wrinkled her pretty forehead at him. "What?" +</P> + +<P> +"Smile," he said, with a boldness that surprised himself. +</P> + +<P> +It surprised Hazel Walton, surprised her so that she jerked around to +the front, "kissed" to the mules and drove away without a word. +</P> + +<P> +Billy stood quite still in the middle of Main Street, with his hat off, +and looked after her a moment. Then he pulled on the hat with a jerk +and returned to his packing case. +</P> + +<P> +"What did she say to you?" Riley wanted to know. +</P> + +<P> +"None of your business," was the ungracious reply. +</P> + +<P> +"She left you sort of sudden," persisted Riley. "And why did you stand +still in the middle of the street and look after her so forlorn and +long?" +</P> + +<P> +"I wasn't lookin' more than ten seconds," denied Billy, jarred off his +balance for once in his life. +</P> + +<P> +"Shucks, I had time to roll a cigarette, and smoke it to the butt while +you stood there nailed to the earth. Yeah. Tell you, Bill, you don't +wanna let your feelings give you away so much. Bad business that is. +Somebody's bound to pick your pocket forty ways. Y'oughta play poker +more. That would teach you self-control." +</P> + +<P> +"Bluh," grunted Billy. "Think you're smart, don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I know I am," returned Riley, crossing one knee over the other and +diddling his foot up and down to the thin accompaniment of a tinkling +spur-rowel. "I got eyes, I have. I can see through a piece of glass +most generally. Oh, mush and milk, love's young dream, and when shall +we meet again." +</P> + +<P> +"Aw, hell, shut up!" urged Billy, and shoved his friend off the packing +case and went elsewhere hastily. +</P> + +<P> +Riley first swore, then laughed and reseated himself on the case. Jack +Murray, passing by, stopped and sneered openly. It was obvious that +Jack was in liquor. +</P> + +<P> +"He don't care how much he picks on you, does he?" observed Jack. +</P> + +<P> +Riley Tyler did not move hand or foot. But a subtle change took place. +Iron turning into steel undergoes such a metamorphosis. The sixth +sense of an observing old gentleman across the street and directly in +line with Jack Murray informed its owner of the sudden chill in the +air. The observing old gentleman, whose name was Wildcat Simms, oozed +backward through a doorway into the Old Hickory saloon. +</P> + +<P> +"Why are you walking like a crab, Wildcat?" queried his friend the +bartender. +</P> + +<P> +"Because Jack Murray is talking to Riley Tyler." +</P> + +<P> +The bartender, wise in his generation, was well able to fill in the +rest for himself. He joined the old gentleman behind a window at one +side of the line of fire. +</P> + +<P> +Riley Tyler, meanwhile, was fixedly regarding Jack Murray. +</P> + +<P> +"Meaning?" said Riley Tyler. +</P> + +<P> +Jack Murray came right out into the open. "Ain't you able to stand up +for yourself no more?" +</P> + +<P> +There it was—the deliberate insult. Followed the movement so swift no +eye could follow. But Riley's gun caught. Jack Murray's didn't. When +the smoke began to wreathe upward in the windless air, Jack Murray was +calmly walking away up in the street and Riley Tyler was hunched across +the packing case. Blood was running down the boards of the packing +case and seeping through the cracks in the sidewalk. +</P> + +<P> +Billy Wingo was the fourth man to reach Riley. The boy, for he was not +yet twenty-one, had been turned over on his back on the sidewalk. He +was unconscious. Samson, the Green-Front Store owner, was bandaging a +wound in Riley's neck. +</P> + +<P> +"Lucky," observed Samson, "just missed the jugular." +</P> + +<P> +"Where else is he shot?" queried Billy, his eyes on the blood-soaked +front of Riley's shirt. +</P> + +<P> +"Right shoulder," Samson informed him. +</P> + +<P> +"I heard three shots," said Billy. "Two was close together but the +last one was maybe ten seconds later." +</P> + +<P> +"I only found the two holes," declared Samson. +</P> + +<P> +But when Billy and another man picked up Riley to carry him to the +hotel, Billy found where the third shot had gone. It had penetrated +Riley's back on the left side, bored between two ribs, missed the wall +of the stomach by a hair and made its exit an inch above the waistband +of the trousers. +</P> + +<P> +The marshal, who had seen the crowd going into the hotel, arrived as +Billy and Samson were making Riley as comfortable as possible on a cot +in one of the hotel rooms. +</P> + +<P> +The marshal, whose surname being Herring was commonly called "Red," +thrust out a lower lip as he surveyed the man on the bed. +</P> + +<P> +"Even break, I hear," said the marshal. +</P> + +<P> +Billy set him right at once. "You heard wrong, Red. Riley's gun +caught. I found where the sight had slipped through a crack in the +leather. Besides, Riley was plugged in the back after he was down. Do +you call that an even break?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, no," admitted Red Herring, who was inclined to be just, if being +just did not interfere with his line of duty. "Anybody see it besides +you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't see it a-tall. I didn't have to. I heard the shots—two +close together and one a good ten seconds later. Oh, Riley was plugged +after he was down and out, all right enough. Besides, Riley was lying +across his gun hand when he was picked up, Samson says." +</P> + +<P> +"That's right," nodded Samson. +</P> + +<P> +"Jack was a little previous, sort of," frowned the marshal. +</P> + +<P> +"You think so," said Billy sarcastically. "Maybe you're right." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I can't do a thing," said the marshal. "I didn't see it. And +these fraycases will happen sometimes." +</P> + +<P> +"Nobody's asking you to do anything," said Billy. "I'm looking after +this." +</P> + +<P> +"Now don't you go pickin' a fight with anybody," urged the marshal, +instantly perceiving his line of duty. "Judge Driver is dead against +these promiscuous shootings." +</P> + +<P> +"Judge Driver can go to hell," Billy said with heat. "What's this here +but a promiscuous shooting, I'd like to know? And I don't see you +arrestin' anybody for it. You said you couldn't." +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't see this one, and besides Riley ain't been killed, and no +complaint has been made," defended the marshal, who was no logician. +"But where a feller says he's gonna attend to somebody, that shows +premeditation and malice aforethought, which both of 'em is against the +statute as made and provided in such cases." +</P> + +<P> +"How you do run on," commented Billy. +</P> + +<P> +But the Red Herring lacked a sense of humor. Heavy of soul, he frowned +heavily at Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"You go slow," was his fishy advice. +</P> + +<P> +"Be careful and otherwise refrain from violence," observed Billy, whose +English became better as his temper grew worse. "I grasp your point of +view," he added gravely. "But I don't like it. Not for a minute I +don't. I'll do as I think best. I'd rather, really." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you go startin' nothin' you can't finish," said the marshal, +lost in a maze of words. "I don't want to have to arrest you." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want you to have to either," Billy averred warmly. "Arrestin' +me would surely interfere with my plans. Yeah." +</P> + +<P> +"A sheriff-elect had oughta set a good example," argued the marshal. +</P> + +<P> +Riley Tyler rolled his head from side to side. He muttered +incoherently. The men about the cot turned to look down at him. Then +he said, speaking distinctly: +</P> + +<P> +"He shot me after I was down." +</P> + +<P> +Billy Wingo raised his eyes and stared at the marshal. +</P> + +<P> +"How's that, umpire?" said Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"He's raving," snapped the marshal. +</P> + +<P> +"A man speaks the truth when he's thataway," rebuked Billy. "I'm going +to see about this." +</P> + +<P> +But the marshal blocked his way. "I told you——" he began. +</P> + +<P> +"Get out of my way!" directed Billy, his gray eyes ablaze. +</P> + +<P> +The marshal got. After all, he had no specific orders to prevent a +meeting between Jack Murray and Billy Wingo. Let Jack look out for +himself. No doubt Rafe and sundry other of his friends would be +annoyed, but it couldn't be helped. The marshal betook himself +hurriedly to the back room of the Freedom Saloon. +</P> + +<P> +Billy, coldly purposeful, made a round of the saloons first. In none +of them did he find his man or news of him. Finally, from the stage +company's hostler tending a cripple outside the company corral, he +learned that Jack had left town. +</P> + +<P> +"Which he went surging off down the Hillsville trail," said the +hostler, "like he hadn't a minute to lose. He told me he was going to +Hillsville." +</P> + +<P> +"Told you?" Surprisedly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, told me, sure. 'If the marshal wants me,' says he, as he loped +past, 'tell him I've gone to Hillsville.'" +</P> + +<P> +Here was an odd thing. Jack Murray knew where he stood with the powers +that were and consequently knew that the marshal would not want him for +the shooting. Yet here was Jack Murray not only leaving town hastily, +as though he feared capture, but taking pains to leave word where he +was going. The two facts did not fit. True, a gentleman seeking to +mislead possible pursuers might lie as to where he was going. In which +case such a gentleman would not take a trail like the Hillsville +trail—a trail visible from Golden Bar for almost five miles in both +directions. But if a person wished to be pursued—— +</P> + +<P> +"I think I can see his dust still," said the hostler helpfully, +pointing toward the spot where the Hillsville trail entered a grove of +pines five miles out. +</P> + +<P> +"I think I see it too," declared Billy grimly, and went hurriedly to +the hotel for his rifle and saddle. +</P> + +<P> +Hazel Walton, jogging along the homeward way, was overtaken by a +horseman. He nodded and called, "'Lo," as he galloped by. She +returned his greeting with careful courtesy. But she scowled and made +a little face after his retreating back. She did not like Jack Murray. +She never had. The man had repelled her from the moment she first set +eyes on him. +</P> + +<P> +It is human nature for one to take an interest in the movement of a +person one dislikes. Hazel wondered where Jack Murray was riding so +fast. For it was a hot day. Her wonder grew when, twenty minutes +after he had passed from sight, she perceived by the hoofmarks that he +had left the trail and turned into a dry wash. She knew that the wash +led nowhere, that it was a blind alley, a cul-de-sac ending in a +rock-strewn, unclimbable slope that was the base of Block Mountain. +This wash was a good two miles beyond where the trail entered the grove +of pines five miles out of Golden Bar. +</P> + +<P> +Beyond the wash the trail wound up the side of a hill. At the crest of +the hill the off mule picked up a stone. Hazel set the brake, tied the +reins to the felley of a wheel and jumped to the ground. The stone was +in a near fore, and jammed tight. After ten minutes hard hammering and +levering with her jackknife she had the stone out. +</P> + +<P> +As she released the foot from between her knees and straightened her +back, her gaze swept along the back trail. She saw only sections of +trail till it passed beyond the grove of pines five miles out of town. +The grove was now three miles behind her. The wash into which Jack +Murray had ridden was distant not half a mile. The land on either side +of the wash had once been burnt over and had grown up in brush and +scraggly jack pine. +</P> + +<P> +Of the pines and spruce that had once covered the ground surrounding +the wash, but one tall gray stub remained. The eye of the beholder was +naturally drawn to this salient characteristic of the landscape, She +saw more than the stub. She saw Jack Murray's horse tied to its bole. +There was something queer about the horse's head. Whereas Jack +Murray's horse when it passed her on the trail had been a sorrel of a +solid color, the head was now whitey-gray. +</P> + +<P> +Hazel was not of an abnormally inquisitive nature, but that a horse's +head should change color within the space of half an hour was enough to +make any one ask questions. Ever since she and her uncle had come to +realize that some one was rustling their cattle, neither of them ever +left home without field glasses. Hazel pulled her pair from beneath +the seat cushion and focused them on the odd-looking horse. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, it's a flour sack over the horse's head!" she exclaimed. "They +say a horse won't whinny if you cover his head. I wonder why Jack +doesn't want him to whinny. And <I>where</I> is Jack?" +</P> + +<P> +Two minutes later she found Jack. He was lying on his stomach in the +brush behind an outcrop. The outcrop overlooked the trail. Jack's +rifle was poked out in front of him. It was only too obvious that Jack +was also overlooking the trail. Why? +</P> + +<P> +A few minutes later that question was answered by the sudden appearance +of a rider at a bend of the trail a mile back. Jack Murray must have +glimpsed the rider at the same time, for Hazel saw him snuggle down +like a hare in its form, and alter slightly the position of his rifle, +although the rider was not yet within accurate shooting range. With a +gasp she recognized the rider on the trail by his high-crowned white +hat: only one man in Golden Bar wore such a hat and that man was Billy +Wingo. Instantly she recalled what folks were saying of Jack Murray +since it had become positively known that the party nomination for +sheriff had gone to Billy Wingo, that Jack Murray "had it in" for +Billy, that he had made threats more or less vague, and that he had +taken to brooding over his fancied wrongs. She realized that the +threats had crystallized into action, and that this was an ambush. +</P> + +<P> +She knew that Billy would be masked by a certain belt of trees before +he traveled another thirty yards, not to emerge into view again till he +topped a rise of ground about a thousand yards from the base of the +hill on which she stood. It was a certainty that Jack would not risk a +shot till his enemy had crossed the rise of ground. If Hazel could +only reach the top of the rise first— +</P> + +<P> +Hazel popped up into the seat of the buckboard as Billy reached the +belt of trees. It has been shown that Hazel Walton was a good driver, +and she needed every atom of her skill to turn the buckboard in the +narrow trail without smashing a wheel against the rocks that some +apparently malign agency had seen fit to strew about at that particular +spot. The near mule, devil that he was, when he found that he was no +longer headed for home, stuck out his lower lip and front legs and +balked. +</P> + +<P> +This was unwise of the near mule. He should have chosen a more +opportune moment. Hazel had no time to reason with him. She set her +teeth, slacked the reins, opened her jack-knife and jabbed an inch and +a half of the longer blade into the mule's swelling hip. +</P> + +<P> +It is doubtful whether the recalcitrant mule ever moved faster in his +life. The forward spring he gave as the steel perforated his thick +hide almost snapped the doubletree. Hazel, her toes hooked under the +iron foot-rail, poured the leather into the off mule. +</P> + +<P> +She made no attempt to guide her galloping team. She did not need to. +She barely felt their mouths, but ever she kept her whip going, and the +mules laid their bellies to the ground and flew down that hill like +frightened jack rabbits. And like a rubber ball the buckboard bounced +behind them. +</P> + +<P> +Hazel knew that Jack Murray behind his outcrop must hear the thunder of +the racing hoofs, the rattle of the swooping buckboard. Half-way down +the hill she lost her hat. Promptly every hairpin she possessed lost +its grip and her hair came down. In a dark and rippling cloud it +streamed behind her. +</P> + +<P> +"Keep your feet, mules!" she gritted through her locked teeth. "Keep +your feet, for God's sake!" +</P> + +<P> +And they kept their footing among the rolling stones, or rather a +merciful Providence kept it for them. For that hill was commonly a +hill to be negotiated with careful regard to every bump and hollow. +Hazel's life was in jeopardy every split second, but so was another +life, and it was of this other life she was thinking. Reach that +white-hatted rider she must before he came within thousand-yard range +of the man behind the outcrop. +</P> + +<P> +Within thousand-yard range, yes. Jack Murray's reputation with the +long arm was of territorial proportions. He had made in practice, +hunting and open competition almost unbelievable scores. Given +anything like a fair shot, and it would be hard if he could not hit an +object the size of Billy Wingo. All this Hazel Walton knew, and her +heart stood still at the thought. But she was of the breed that fights +to the last breath and a gasp beyond. +</P> + +<P> +She breathed a little prayer, dropped her right hand on the reins ahead +of her left and turned the team around the curve at the foot of the +hill as neatly as any stage-driver could have done it. That they swung +round on a single wheel did not matter in the least. Beyond the curve +one of the front wheels struck a rock that lifted Hazel a foot in the +air and shot every single package and the tarpaulin out of the +buckboard. +</P> + +<P> +And now the road passed the wash and ran straight for more than half a +mile till it disappeared over the rise of ground. Throughout the whole +distance it was under the sharpshooting rifle of the man behind the +outcrop. +</P> + +<P> +As she clung to the pitching buckboard and plied the whip, she +speculated on the probability of Jack Murray firing on her. He must +realize her purpose. He had been called many things, but fool was not +one of them. He might even shoot her. She recalled dim stories of +Jack Murray's ruthlessness and grim singleness of purpose. +</P> + +<P> +"Bound to get what he wants, no matter how," men had said of him. +</P> + +<P> +Four hundred yards from the curve where the buckboard had so nearly +upset, a Winchester cracked in the rear. The near mule staggered, +tried to turn a somersault, and collapsed in a heap of sprawling legs +and outthrust neck. The off mule fell on top of his mate, and Hazel +catapulted over the dashboard and landed head first on top of the off +mule. +</P> + +<P> +The off mule regained his feet with a snort and a lurch, in the process +throwing Hazel into a squaw bush. Dizzy and more than a little shaken, +that young woman scrambled back into the trail and feverishly set about +unhitching the mule. +</P> + +<P> +She heard a yell from the direction of the outcrop above the wash. +Fingers busy with the breast-strap snap, she looked back to see a man +hurdle the outcrop and plunge toward her through the brush. +</P> + +<P> +"Wait!" he bawled. "Wait!" +</P> + +<P> +Her reply to this command was to spring to the tail of the mule and +shout to him to back. He backed. She twitched both trace cockeyes out +of the singletree hooks (she was using the wagon harness that day) +tossed the traces over the mule's back and ran round in front to +unbuckle the dead mule's reins. +</P> + +<P> +"Halt or I shoot!" +</P> + +<P> +She giggled hysterically. How could she halt when she had not yet +started? She freed the second billet, tore the reins through the +terrets, and bunched the reins anyhow in her left hand. He was a tall +mule, but she swarmed up his shoulder by means of collar and hames, +threw herself across his withers and besought him at the top of her +lungs to "Go! Go! Go!" +</P> + +<P> +He went. He went as the saying is, like a bat out of hades. Hazel +slipped tailward from the withers, settled herself with knees clinging +high, and whanged him over the rump with the ends of the reins. He +hardly needed any encouragement. Her initial cry had been more than +enough. +</P> + +<P> +The man in the brush stopped. He raised his rifle to his shoulder, +looked through the sights at the galloping mule, then lowered the +firearm and uttered a heartfelt oath. It had at last been borne in +upon his darkened soul that he possibly had made a mistake. Instead of +shooting the mule, in the first place, he might better have +relinquished his plan of ambush and gone his way in peace. There were +other places than Golden Bar, plenty of them, where an enterprising +young man could get along and bide his time to square accounts with his +enemy. +</P> + +<P> +But the killing of the mule had fairly pushed the bridge over. It was, +not to put a nice face on it, an attack on a woman. He might just as +well have shot Hazel—better, in fact. She had undoubtedly recognized +him. Those Waltons both carried field glasses, he had heard. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll get the mule anyhow," he muttered. "That'll put a crimp in her." +</P> + +<P> +He dropped on one knee between two bushes, took a quick sight at the +mule's barrel six inches behind the girl's leg and pulled trigger. +Over and over rolled the mule, and over and over a short foot in +advance of his kicking hoofs rolled Hazel. Luckily she was not stunned +and she rolled clear. She scrambled to her feet and set off up the +trail as fast as her shaking legs would carry her. +</P> + +<P> +"Damn her!" cursed Jack Murray, notching up his back sight. "I'd +oughta drop her! She's askin' for it, the hussy!" +</P> + +<P> +His itching finger trembled on the trigger, but he did not pull. +Reluctantly, slowly, he lowered the Winchester and set the hammer on +safety. The drink was dying out in him. Against his will he rendered +the girl the tribute of unwilling admiration. "Whatsa use? She's got +too much nerve; but maybe I can get him still." +</P> + +<P> +On her part the girl pelted on up the rise, stumbled at the top and +came down heavily, tearing her dress, bruising her knees and thoroughly +scratching the palms of her hands. But she scrambled to her feet and +went on at a hobbling run, for she saw below her, rising the grade at a +sharp trot, the rider of the white hat. +</P> + +<P> +Now she was waving her arms and trying to shout a warning, though her +voice stuck in her throat and she was unable to utter more than a low +croak. +</P> + +<A NAME="p55"></A> + +<P> +Billy Wingo pulled up at sight of the wild apparition that was Hazel +Walton. But the check was momentary. He clapped home the spurs and +hustled his horse into a gallop. He and Hazel came together literally, +forty yards below the crest. The girl seized his stirrup to save +herself from falling and burst into hysterical tears. +</P> + +<P> +"Lordy, it's the girl that dropped the package!" exclaimed Billy, +dismounting in haste. +</P> + +<P> +He had his arm round her waist in time to prevent her falling to the +ground. She hung limply against him, and gasped and choked and sobbed +away her varied emotions. +</P> + +<P> +"There, there," he said soothingly, patting her back and, it must be +said, marveling at the length and thickness and softness and shininess +of her midnight hair. "It's all right. You're all right. You're all +right. Nothing to worry about—not a-tall. You're safe. Don't cry. +Tell me what's bothering you?" +</P> + +<P> +And after a time, when she could speak coherently, she told him. +</P> + +<P> +It was a disconnected narrative and spotty with gasps and gurgles, but +Billy made no difficulty of comprehending her meaning. They who can +construct history from hoofmarks in the dust do not require a clear +explanation. +</P> + +<P> +When he had heard enough for a working diagram he plumped her down +behind a fortuitous stone and adjured her to lie there without moving, +which order was superfluous. She did not want to get up again—ever. +</P> + +<P> +Billy stepped to his horse, dragged the Winchester from the scabbard +under the near fender and trotted to the top of the rise. Arrived at +the crest, he dropped his hat and went forward crouchingly, his rifle +at trail. Sheltering his long body behind bushes he dodged +zigzaggingly across the top of the ridge to an advantageous position +behind a wild currant bush growing beside a jagged boulder. +</P> + +<P> +He lay down behind the wild currant bush and surveyed the landscape +immediately in front of him. At first he saw nothing—then two hundred +yards away on his right front a sumac suddenly developed an amazingly +thick shadow. He automatically drew a fine sight on that sumac. +</P> + +<P> +The shadow of the sumac became thin. A dark objected flitted from it +to another bush. The dark object was a man's head. It was hatless. +Billy smiled and decided to wait. He understood that he was dealing +with a man who could shoot the buttons off his shirt, but on the other +hand, Billy did not think meanly of himself as a still hunter. He lay +motionless behind the currant bush and watched Jack Murray's advance. +</P> + +<P> +Billy smiled pityingly. It was obvious to him that Jack Murray had +never been on a man hunt before. If he had he would have been more +careful. +</P> + +<P> +"Good Gawd," Billy said to himself, "it's like taking candy from a +child." +</P> + +<P> +It was destined to be even more like taking candy from a child. +</P> + +<P> +Four times before the bold Jack reached the crest of the hill he +offered Billy a target he couldn't miss. And each time the latter +refrained from shooting. Somehow he was finding it difficult to shoot +an unconscious mark. If Jack had been shooting at him or had even been +aware of his presence, it would have been different. But to shoot him +now was too much like cold-blooded murder. There was nothing of the +bushwhacker in the Wingo make-up. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly at the top of the rise, Jack Murray ducked completely out of +sight. +</P> + +<P> +"Must have seen the horse," thought Billy, and looked over his +shoulder. No, it was not the horse. Billy was on higher ground than +was Jack and he could not see even the tips of his mount's ears. +</P> + +<P> +"It can't be my hat he sees," Billy told himself. +</P> + +<P> +Evidently it was the hat, for while Billy's eyes were on the hat, a +rifle cracked where Jack Murray lay hidden and the hat jumped and +settled. +</P> + +<P> +"Good thing my head ain't inside," said the wholly delighted Billy, his +eyes riveted on the smoke shredding away above the bushes on the right +front. "I wonder if he thinks he got me." +</P> + +<P> +It was evident that Jack Murray was wondering too. For the crown of a +hat appeared with Jack-in-the-box unexpectedness at the right side of +the bush below the smoke. Experience told Billy that a stick was +within the crown of the hat which moved so temptingly to and fro. +</P> + +<P> +Three or four minutes later, Jack Murray's hat disappeared and the +rifle again spoke. +</P> + +<P> +"Another hole in my hat," Billy muttered resignedly and cuddled his +rifle stock against his cheek. "He'll wave his hat again, and then +he'll be about ready to go see if the deer is venison." +</P> + +<P> +Even as he foretold, the hat appeared and was moved to and fro, and +raised and lowered, in order to draw fire. Then, peace continuing to +brood over the countryside, the hat was crammed on the owner's head and +the owner, on hands and knees, headed through the brush toward Billy's +hat. +</P> + +<P> +Billy was of the opinion that Jack Murray's course would bring him +within ten feet. He was right. Jack Murray passed so close that Billy +could have reached forth his rifle and touched him with the muzzle. +Instead he waited till Jack's back was fairly toward him before he +said, "Hands up!" +</P> + +<P> +Jack Murray possessed all the wisdom of his kind. He dropped his rifle +and tossed up his hands. +</P> + +<P> +"Stand up. No need to turn around," resumed Billy, Riley Tyler's +six-shooter trained on the small of Jack's back. "Lower your left hand +slowly and work your belt down. You wear it loose. It'll drop easy. +And while you're doing it, if you feel like gamblin' with me, remember +that this is Riley's gun and I ain't used to it, and I might have to +shoot you three or four times instead of only once, y' understand." +</P> + +<P> +Obviously Jack Murray understood. He lowered his left hand and worked +his gun-belt loose and down over his hip bone with exemplary slowness. +The shock of his capture had evaporated the last effects of the liquor. +He was cold sober and beginning to perceive the supreme folly he had +committed in shooting a woman's mount from under her. +</P> + +<P> +"One step ahead," directed Billy when the gun-belt was on the ground. +"And up with that left hand." +</P> + +<P> +Jack Murray, thumbs locked together over his head, stepped out of the +gun-belt. Billy went to him, rammed the six-shooter muzzle against his +spine and patted him from top to toe in search of possible hide-outs. +He found none except a pocket knife which did not cause him +apprehension. +</P> + +<P> +"Le's take up the thread of our discourse," said Billy, "farther down +the hill. Walk along, cowboy, walk along." +</P> + +<P> +With Billy carrying both rifles and Jack's discarded gun-belt, they +walked along downhill to where Billy's pony stood in a three-cornered +doze. It was then that Jack Murray caught sight of Hazel Walton lying +on her back behind a stone, her arms over her face. She looked +extremely limp and lifeless. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't shoot her!" cried the startled Jack. +</P> + +<P> +"I know you didn't," said Billy. "The lady's restin', that's all. +We'll wait till she feels like moving." +</P> + +<P> +Hazel Walton uncovered her face. There was a large and purpling lump +in the middle of her forehead, the skin of her pretty nose was +scratched, a bruise defaced one cheek bone, and one eye was slightly +black. +</P> + +<P> +"Your work, you polecat," Billy declared succinctly. "You'll be +lynched for mauling her like that." +</P> + +<P> +But Hazel Walton was just. She sat up, supporting herself by an arm, +and dispelled Billy's false impression. "He never touched me—and he +could have shot me if he'd wanted to." +</P> + +<P> +"So kind of him not to," said Billy with sarcasm. "Who is responsible +for hurting you? Your face is bruises all over." +</P> + +<P> +"Is it?" she said, with an indifference born of great weariness. "I +suppose it must be. I remember I struck on my face when he shot the +mule I was riding. He—he shot both mules." +</P> + +<P> +"He'll be lynched for that, then," Billy said decisively. +</P> + +<P> +"Who'll pay for the mules?" Hazel wished to know. "We needed those +mules," she added. +</P> + +<P> +Billy nodded. "That's so. If he's lynched for this attack on +you—your mules—same thing if you know what I mean—you lose out on +the mules. Maybe we can fix it up." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure we can," Jack Murray spoke up briskly. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not talkin' to you," pointed out Billy. "Whatever fixing up there +is to do, I'll do it. You have done about all the fixing you're gonna +do for one while. Yeah. I came out after you, Jack, to make you a +better boy, but now that we got you where you'll stand without +hitching, I can't do it. I ain't got the heart. Of course, if you +were to jump at me or something, or make a dive for your gun I'm +holding, I don't say but I'd change my mind in a hurry. I kind of wish +you had seen me back there a-lying under my currant bush. Then we'd +have had it out by this time, and I'd be going back to town for a +shovel." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you be too sure of that," snarled Jack Murray. "Just you gimme +my gun back, and I'll show you something." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll bet you would," acquiesced Billy, "but I'm keeping your guns, +both of 'em. I'd feel too lonesome without 'em." +</P> + +<P> +"Can't you do nothing but flap your jaw?" demanded Jack in a huff. +"I'd just as soon be downed outright as talked to death." +</P> + +<P> +"But you haven't any choice in the deal," Billy told him in mild +surprise. "Not a choice. You shut up. I'll figure out what to do +with you. Y'understand, Jack, I've got to be fair to Miss Walton too. +If you're lynched she won't get paid for her team, and I can't have her +losin' a fine team of mules thisaway and not have a dime to show for +it. That would never do. Never. Lessee now. You got any money, +Jack?" +</P> + +<P> +"A little." +</P> + +<P> +"How much?" +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe ten or twelve dollars." +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe you've got more. You know you never were good at figures. +Lemme look." +</P> + +<P> +He looked. From one of Jack Murray's hip pockets he withdrew a plump +leather poke that gave forth a jingling sound. A search of the inner +pocket of the vest produced a thin roll of greenbacks. But the bills +were all of large denominations. +</P> + +<P> +"There," said Billy, "I knew you'd made a mistake in addition, Jack. +You count what's here, Miss Walton." +</P> + +<P> +He tossed the greenbacks and the heavy poke into the lap of the girl +who was now sitting up cross-legged, her back against the rock. +</P> + +<P> +"Sixteen hundred and twelve dollars and sixty-five cents," announced +Hazel a few minutes later. +</P> + +<P> +"How much did your mules cost?" queried Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"Five hundred and a quarter the team," was the prompt reply. +</P> + +<P> +"Call it six hundred," said Billy briskly. "It's only right for you to +take something at an auction thisaway. Strip off six hundred dollars +worth of greenbacks and put them in your pocket." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I wouldn't feel right about taking more than the regular price," +demurred Hazel. +</P> + +<P> +"No reason why you shouldn't. No reason a-tall. Jack's only paying +you for the damage he did. He's glad to pay. Ain't you, Jack?" +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose so," grunted Jack. +</P> + +<P> +"There, you see. Your uncle would want you to. I know he would. In +fact, he'd be a heap put out if you didn't. Those bumps of your's now. +What do you say to one hundred wheels a bump? You got three bumps and +a scratched nose. Which last counts as a bump. In round numbers that +makes four hundred dollars. One thousand dollars to you, Miss Walton." +</P> + +<P> +"Here!" cried the outraged Jack Murray. "You're robbin' me! You're +takin' every nickel I got!" +</P> + +<P> +"No, I ain't," denied Billy, "and don't go and get excited and put +those hands down. Don't you, now. About that money—the worst is yet +to come. Young Riley Tyler not being here to assess his own damages, +I'll assess 'em for him. You put three holes in Riley. Call it two +hundred dollars a hole. That makes six hundred dollars. Just put that +six hundred in a separate pile for Riley, Miss Walton." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't mind the man paying for the mules," said Miss Walton firmly, +"but I can't take any money for my scratch or two." +</P> + +<P> +Billy looked at her, decided she meant it and said: +</P> + +<P> +"All right, put that four hundred with Riley's six. Riley won't mind." +</P> + +<P> +"But I do!" shouted Jack Murray, his arms quivering with rage. "You +can't rob me thisaway. By Gawd——" +</P> + +<P> +"Now, now," Billy cut in sharply, "no swearing. You forget Miss +Walton. You're right about the money, though. I can't rob you. Miss +Walton, dump all that money back in the poke and hand it to him. He +wants to go back to Golden Bar and be lynched." +</P> + +<P> +"I got friends in Golden Bar," blustered the prisoner. +</P> + +<P> +"None of 'em will be your friends after I tell 'em what you did to Miss +Walton, Jack. There's a prejudice in this country against hurting a +woman. Folks don't like it. Aw right, get a-going, feller. No, the +other way—toward Golden Bar." +</P> + +<P> +A hearty groan wrenched itself from the depths of Murray's being. +"Uncle! Uncle!" he cried angrily. "Have it your own way. I don't +want to go to the Bar. Take all my money and be done with it." +</P> + +<P> +"I wouldn't think of such a thing," declared Billy, "though it wouldn't +be any more than right if I did. You're getting off too easy. You'll +live to be hung yet, I'm afraid, but I can't just see my way to downing +you now and here. No, you divide the money again, Miss Walton. Six +hundred for you, a thousand for Riley and twelve dollars and sixty-five +cents tobacco money for this gentleman.— Don't bother reaching for +the money, Jack. I'll put it in your pocket. There you are. Now, +Miss Walton, if you'll wait here while I get this citizen started— +You've got a horse somewhere, I expect, Jack. Lead the way." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Oh, sure I saw him off all right. I don't guess he'll be back for a +while—not if he has brains. You know, I owe you a lot, Miss Walton. +You did the bravest thing I ever knew a man or woman to do. You +gambled your life to save mine. You might have been killed, you know +it? And after me getting fresh there in the street, I dunno what to +say, I don't." +</P> + +<P> +He knew that he was talking too much. But in the reaction that had set +in he was so embarrassed that it hurt. +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah!" he gabbled on, red to the ears, "you certainly are a wonder. +I—uh—I guess we better be getting back to town. You feel able to +ride now? My horse is gentle. Besides, I'll lead him." +</P> + +<P> +It was then that reaction set in for Hazel Walton. As the strain on +her nerves eased off, everything went black before her eyes and she +keeled over sidewise in a dead faint. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER FIVE +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +JACK MURRAY OBJECTS +</H4> + +<P> +"You hadn't oughta shot the girl's mules," said fat Sam Larder, shaking +a reproving head at disconsolate Jack Murray. +</P> + +<P> +The latter endeavored to defend himself. "I was drunk." +</P> + +<P> +"That's no excuse," averred Felix Craft. "You had no business picking +a fight with young Riley in the first place. He's a popular lad, that +one, and you ain't." +</P> + +<P> +"He made me mad, setting there in the sun joking with that damn Bill +Wingo who's gonna be sheriff in my place. Besides, I was drunk." +</P> + +<P> +"I saw the whole affair," said Sam Larder. "Bill pushed Riley off the +cracker box and you had to slur Riley about it. Fool caper." +</P> + +<P> +"I never did like Riley," grumbled Jack Murray. "He's a friend of Bill +Wingo's and that's enough. I figured by downin' Riley and skippin' out +and lettin' that stage hostler know where I was going, Bill Wingo would +come pelting after and gimme a chance to settle with him all salubrious +and private on the trail somewheres." +</P> + +<P> +Sam Larder bluntly called the spade by its correct name. "Bushwhack +him, you mean." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, if I did, it's none of your business," snapped Jack Murray with +an evil glance. +</P> + +<P> +"Then why make it our business by coming here bellyaching to me and +Craft?" Sam Larder wished to know. +</P> + +<P> +"I came to you because I want my money—sixteen hundred dollars that +bandit Bill Wingo stole off me." +</P> + +<P> +"He didn't say anything about any sixteen hundred," said Felix Craft, +his eyes beginning to gleam. "Tell us about it." +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah," urged Sam. "Give it a name." +</P> + +<P> +Jack proceeded to give it a name—several names and all profane. When +he was calmer he gave a fairly truthful account of the financial +transaction between Hazel Walton, Bill Wingo and himself. +</P> + +<P> +"And I'm telling you here and now," he said in conclusion, "that six +hundred dollars is too much for that broken-down team of jacks. And a +thousand dollars for putting a few holes in Riley Tyler is plumb +ridiculous. My Gawd, he'll be out of bed in a month. Wha' t'ell you +laughin' at?" +</P> + +<P> +For his hearers were laughing—laughing immoderately. They whooped, +they pounded the table, they beat each other on the back till they sank +exhausted into their chairs. +</P> + +<P> +Jack demanded again to be told what they were laughing at. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll leave it to anybody if this ain't the funniest thing ever +happened in the territory," declared Sam Larder, when he could speak +with coherence. +</P> + +<P> +Felix Craft nodded. "Sure is. One on you all right, Jack." +</P> + +<P> +"Aw, hell, you fellers can't make a monkey out of me." +</P> + +<P> +"Bill Wingo seems to have done that pretty thoroughly," said Sam Larder +with a fat man's giggle. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not through with him yet," snarled Jack Murray. +</P> + +<P> +"Where's your sense of humor?" grinned Felix. "If you'll take my +advice you'll walk round Bill Wingo like he was a swamp. Ain't you had +enough?" +</P> + +<P> +"I want my money back!" squalled the indignant Jack. +</P> + +<P> +Sam Larder kissed the tips of his plump fingers. "The money's gone. +Can't do anything about it now. Can we, Crafty?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't see how." +</P> + +<P> +Jack sat up stiffly, his face red with rage. "You fellers mean to tell +me you're gonna let me be robbed of sixteen hundred dollars?" +</P> + +<P> +Felix Craft spread eloquent hands. "What can we do?" +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you were friends of mine," disgustedly. +</P> + +<P> +"We are," Sam hastened to assure him. "If we weren't we'd have called +in the sheriff long ago." +</P> + +<P> +"What's the sheriff got to do with it?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's got a warrant for your arrest—for assault and battery, malicious +mischief, and assault with intent to kill. Besides, the folks +hereabout have got it in for you. I wouldn't be surprised if they hang +you—give 'em half a chance." +</P> + +<P> +"I know they would, damn 'em, but as long as they don't see me they +can't lynch me, and they ain't likely to see me here in your house, +Felix. But I don't like the idea of that warrant." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose not," said Felix. "A warrant follows you all over while a +necktie party generally stays close to home. And no matter what the +present sheriff does, I got an idea Bill won't forget that warrant any +after he takes office— Yeah, I know, cuss him out by all means, but +after all, what are you gonna do about it?" +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't think he'd swear out a warrant," said Jack. +</P> + +<P> +Felix tendered his mite. "There's a reward offered, too." +</P> + +<P> +A warrant was bad enough, but a <I>reward</I>! Many people would be on the +lookout to earn such easy money. +</P> + +<P> +Jack Murray felt an odd and sinking sensation in the region of his +stomach. "How much is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Only three thousand dollars." +</P> + +<P> +"Only, huh. Only? Who's puttin' up the cash?" +</P> + +<P> +"Riley Taylor put his name down for a thousand and Hazel's uncle, Tom +Walton, added six hundred, and——" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, that sixteen hundred is <I>my own money</I>!" interrupted Jack Murray. +</P> + +<P> +"I expect so," continued Felix. "The other fourteen hundred was made +up around the town." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you'll tell me you fellers put it up yourselves," said the +sarcastic Mr. Murray, who did not expect any such thing. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure we did," said Felix. "We had to. Bill Wingo and Sam Prescott +and Wildcat Simms brought the paper round, and we had to sign up. I'll +be out a hundred if you're caught, Sam two hundred, Tip a hundred, Rafe +the same, and that's the way it went. Even the district attorney +chipped in his ante." +</P> + +<P> +Jack Murray was too horrified to speak for a minute. While he wrestled +with his thoughts Sam Larder spoke. +</P> + +<P> +"You see, Jack," said he, "we had to sit in. If we hadn't, everybody +would have said we sympathized with you, and we couldn't afford +that—not with elections coming on. It would never do. Never. You +see how it is, I guess." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I see," said Jack bitterly. "I see all right. I see you've skun +me between you. That damn reward will make me leave the territory for +a while." +</P> + +<P> +"Most sensible thing you could do," declared Sam Larder warmly. "We +don't want to see you get into any trouble, Jack. You're young. +Starting somewhere else won't be a hardship for you a-tall. We'll be +sorry to lose you," he concluded thoughtfully. +</P> + +<P> +"You ain't lost me yet," Jack snapped back. "I may pull out for +awhile, but I'll be back. You bet I'll be back, and when I do come +back I'll sure make Bill Wingo hard to find." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't yell so loud," Sam cautioned him, "or you may have the +opportunity sooner than you want it. You hadn't oughta come here, +anyhow. You dunno whether you were seen or not." +</P> + +<P> +"And you don't want to get a bad name, I expect," sneered Jack Murray. +</P> + +<P> +"You expect right," Felix Craft said with candid bluntness. +</P> + +<P> +"You see, we ain't been openly connected with any scandal yet," +contributed Sam Larder, glancing at the clock, "and while it ain't +daylight yet, still—" He paused meaningly. +</P> + +<P> +"You want me to drag it, huh?" growled Jack. +</P> + +<P> +"We-ell, maybe you'd better," admitted Sam. +</P> + +<P> +"If fifty dollars would do you any good, here it is," said Felix, +thrusting a hand into his trousers pocket. +</P> + +<P> +Jack Murray spat on the floor. "T'ell with your money. I know who +ain't my friends now, all right, and you can gamble I'm a-going right +quick. See you later." +</P> + +<P> +So saying, Jack Murray rose and left them. He was careful to close the +door quietly. When he was gone, Sam grinned at Felix. The latter +broke anew into laughter. +</P> + +<P> +"His own money!" crowed Felix Craft. "His own money offered as a +reward! If that ain't——" +</P> + +<P> +But what it was, was drowned in the bellowing cackle of Sam Larder. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Billy Wingo removed his hat and stuck a brown head round the corner of +the door jamb. "Hello, Hazel!" +</P> + +<P> +"'Lo, Billy," said Hazel Walton, breaking another egg into the mixture +of sugar and shortening in the yellow bowl. "Chase that sprucy chicken +out, will you, there's a dear." +</P> + +<P> +Billy did not misunderstand. He had discovered that Hazel called any +friend "dear." It was her way of showing her liking, that was all. +Nevertheless, the appellation never failed to give him a warm feeling +that felt pleasant around his heart. He shooed out the marauding and +molting Wyandotte and then sat down on the doorstep and regarded Hazel +with approving eyes. +</P> + +<P> +And Hazel Walton was undoubtedly good to look at as she stood there +behind the kitchen table, stirring with a great spoon the contents of +the yellow bowl. There were dimples in her pretty elbows that matched +the one in her cheek. Billy could not see the ones in her elbows, but +he knew they were there. Her eyes were downcast. He thought he had +never seen such long lashes. The eyebrows were slim and perfect +crescents. The round chin was made for the palm of a man's hand. But +her hair,—that was what Billy admired most of all. It was so heavy +and thick. There was a bit of a wave in it, too. And it always looked +neat and tidy. There were never any "scolding locks" at the nape of +her neck, as there were on other necks that had come under his eye. +But he was not in love with her. Oh, no, not he. After his latest +turn-down by Sally Jane, he had made a resolve not to fall in love +again, ever. But there was no harm in going to see a girl. How could +there be? Quite so. +</P> + +<P> +"Your uncle home?" he asked after a cigarette had been constructed and +lit. +</P> + +<P> +"He'll be in for dinner," replied Hazel, with a swift flash of dark +eyes. "And there I was hoping all along you had come to see me." +</P> + +<P> +"I came to see you, too." +</P> + +<P> +"Me too is worse, lots worse. Shows what an afterthought I am. Life's +an awful thing for a girl." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll bet it is. For you especially. This is the first time I ever +came here that some one else wasn't here ahead of me. Usually a feller +has to fight his way through a whole herd in order to say good evening +to you." +</P> + +<P> +Hazel put her head on one side and looked at him demurely. "They come +to see Uncle Tom." +</P> + +<P> +"Which is why they spend all their time talkin' to you." +</P> + +<P> +Hazel smiled. "I feed 'em. I'm a good cook, if I do say it myself. +Stay to dinner, William?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not after that," he told her firmly. "I don't want another meal here +long's I live." +</P> + +<P> +"Just you let me catch you sloping out before dinner's over and done +with, and I'll never speak to you again as long as <I>I</I> live. Besides, +I want you to go fill the waterbucket for me in about ten minutes, and +after dinner I need some help in the chicken-house, and Uncle is busy +this afternoon. So you stay and be mother's li'l helper, Bill, won't +you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Putting it thataway," said Bill, "what can a poor man do?" Here he +licked his lips cat fashion and added "Is that cake for dinner?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course not, you simple thing. Here it is half-past eleven and the +cake not even mixed yet. I've got a dried-peach pie though. It's +outside cooling. And there'll be fried ham, Bill, and corn +fritters—the batter's all ready in that blue bowl. Lima beans, too, +the last you'll see this year." +</P> + +<P> +"I saw some young ones for another crop on the vines when I came +through the garden," said Billy, who was no farmer. +</P> + +<P> +Hazel smiled pityingly. "The frost will kill 'em before they get a +chance to ripen. It can't hold off much longer. Do you realize it's +nearly October, Bill? We almost had frost last night." +</P> + +<P> +"Winter's coming." +</P> + +<P> +"Election will be here first. Uncle Tom says you're sure to be +elected. My, how important you'll be. Will you speak to a feller +then, Bill?" +</P> + +<P> +"I might. You never can tell. Seen Riley lately?"—elaborately casual. +</P> + +<P> +"Saw him last Sunday. To look at him now you'd never know he'd been +shot, would you? He's coming to dinner to-day—has some business with +Uncle Tom." +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah, like the rest of 'em. Fen dubs on the chicken-house. You said +I could help you with that, remember." +</P> + +<P> +Hazel nodded. "Here comes Riley now." +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Billy, when Riley, having put his horse in the corral, made +as if to step over him. "You stay right here. She's busy. She +doesn't want a long, lazy lump like you clutterin' up her nice clean +kitchen. Sidown on the step next mine. I don't care how close you +sit." +</P> + +<P> +"But I do," returned Riley, seating himself opposite his friend. "Last +time I sat next you I lost my tobacco. Good thing my watch wasn't on +that side." +</P> + +<P> +"Shucks, that watch!" Bill said scornfully. "It was good maybe when +your grandad had it. It must have cost him two dollars easy." +</P> + +<P> +"Alla same, that's a good watch." Riley returned tranquilly. "It only +loses thirty minutes a day now since I had it fixed. Say, Hazel, lemme +throw this jigger out, will you? He's only sliming round to mooch a +bid to dinner." +</P> + +<P> +"I've asked him to stay," smiled Hazel, "but I don't remember saying +anything about it to you." +</P> + +<P> +"You didn't. I said I was coming. Here I am. What's fairer than +that, I'd like to know? As I was sayin' before you interrupted, I saw +you out ridin' last Sunday." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you?" indifferently. +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah—with that nice old Samson man." +</P> + +<P> +"He's not old," Hazel denied vigorously, "and anyway, he's nice." +</P> + +<P> +"He gives her lollypops," Riley confided to Billy, "and sometimes as +much as half-a-pound of chalklet creams. Oh, he's a prince." +</P> + +<P> +Hazel stamped a small foot. "It wasn't half-a-pound. It was—it +was—" Her voice dwindled away. +</P> + +<P> +"Say a pound," offered Billy, entering into the spirit of the thing, +"and that's a generous estimate." +</P> + +<P> +"Almost as generous as Samson," grinned Riley. "Hazel, go easy on the +poor old feller. He can't afford to be givin' you expensive presents +like that." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure not," slipped in Billy. "Why, I don't believe Samson makes a bit +more than fifty per cent on everything he sells." +</P> + +<P> +"You two think you're smart, don't you. He's a nice man, Mr. Samson +is, and he spends an evening here quite often." +</P> + +<P> +"He never spends anything else," said Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"Cheap wit," flung back Hazel. +</P> + +<P> +"Almost as cheap as Samson," tucked in Riley. +</P> + +<P> +Hazel's eyes were beginning to sparkle, and Billy seized his +opportunity. "Here, here, Riley, stop it! Don't you lemme hear you +making any more slurs against Mr. Samson. He's a friend of mine, +and——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you!" cried Hazel, instantly regaining her good humor. "You're as +bad as Riley, every bit. But you almost did get a rise out of me. I +don't like to hear my friends run down." +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't mean it—anything," said Riley, with well-feigned humbleness. +"I like Samson, I do, the poor old good-for-nothing lump of +slumgullion." +</P> + +<P> +Billy shook a sorrowful head. "Honest, Hazel, I'm ashamed of you, +robbing the grave thataway." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't believe he's much over sixty, Bill," said Riley. +</P> + +<P> +"Say sixty-one." +</P> + +<P> +"He's forty-one, if you must know," Hazel said. +</P> + +<P> +"I knew it was getting serious," mourned Billy. "They're exchanging +birthdays. We'll have to find us a new girl, Riley." +</P> + +<P> +"Not me. I'm satisfied. I'll stick to the last shout and a li'l +beyond. Hazel's only fooling these other fellers. I'll make her the +best husband in four counties, and she's the girl that knows it. Don't +you, Hazel?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not that hard up," replied the girl, with a smile that belied the +harshness of her words. +</P> + +<P> +"There, you hear?" chuckled Billy. "Now you'll be good, I guess." +</P> + +<P> +"If you won't have me for the twenty-fourth time hand-running, why not +take Bill here? He's a good feller, don't drink much, and he's got a +heart of gold and a brand of his own—six horses and one calf at the +last round-up. Besides, if all that ain't enough, he's gonna be our +next sheriff. What more could a girl want?" +</P> + +<P> +"She'd want him to ask her first," said Hazel, not a whit put out. +</P> + +<P> +Riley turned to Billy in mock surprise. "Ain't you asked her yet, +Bill? Shucks, whatsa matter with you? You make me sick, and she don't +like it either. G'on—propose. I'm with you. We all are. And she +expects it, can't you see? G'on, Tommy Tucker, sing for your supper." +</P> + +<P> +But Tommy Tucker firmly refused to sing. Instead he seized the jibing +Mr. Tyler by the ankle and skidded him off the step. +</P> + +<P> +"Ow-wow! You poor flap!" bawled the erstwhile humorist, who had picked +up a splinter. "Leggo my leg, or I'll roll you!" +</P> + +<P> +But it was Riley Tyler who was rolled, and rolled thoroughly. +</P> + +<P> +"You boys stop that!" directed Hazel, appearing in the doorway with a +bucket. "Acting just like overgrown kids! You ought to be ashamed! +Bill, I'll take that bucket of water now, and Riley, how about fetching +in an armful of wood for your auntie?" +</P> + +<P> +The two men started to obey, but stopped short in their tracks. +</P> + +<P> +Billy cocked a listening ear. "Wasn't that a shot?" +</P> + +<P> +"Down the draw," responded Riley. +</P> + +<P> +"Near the Hillsville trail," was Hazel's opinion. "There goes another, +and another." +</P> + +<P> +"It's no hunter," declared Billy. "I can hear horses galloping." +</P> + +<P> +Within five minutes they three saw a horse come galloping. He was +tearing up the draw. The man on his back was half-turned about in the +saddle, a rifle at his shoulder. He fired. They could not see what he +was firing at. There was a bend in the draw concealing what was behind +him. +</P> + +<P> +But they could hear the galloping of the other horses quite plainly. +The drum of the racing hoofs grew louder. Three horses swept round the +bend in the draw. They were followed by two others. The pursuers +uttered a yell as they sighted the house. The pursued fired twice +without effect. There was a crackle of shots from the five horsemen. +Apparently none took effect on either the pursued or his mount. +</P> + +<P> +Billy regarded the pursued's mount with critical eyes. "That horse is +about done." +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah," acquiesced Riley. "Not another mile left in him." +</P> + +<P> +It was but too evident that the horse was in distress. He rolled a +little in his stride. Once he stumbled. The rider caught him up with +a jerk. The man turned a desperate, determined face toward the house +in the draw ahead of him. He was not fifty yards from the house. The +draw was wide. He sheered his horse to one side. The animal +staggered, crossed his legs and turned a complete somersault. The +rider flew from the saddle, turned over in the air and struck hard on +his head and right shoulder. The horse lurched to his feet and stood +trembling. The man lay still. +</P> + +<P> +The pursuing horsemen were coming along at their tightest licks, but it +was Billy and Riley Tyler who were the first to reach the fallen man. +Hazel, kilting her skirt in both hands, had run with them. +</P> + +<P> +Billy stooped and turned over the sprawled-out citizen. The man, a +square-jawed youngster with a stubby brown mustache, lay breathing +heavily. His sun-burnt skin was a little white. Hazel pushed Billy to +one side and sat down beside the young fellow. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me," she said quietly, and took his head in her lap. "Riley, get +me some water quick and the whisky bottle on the shelf over the +fireplace." +</P> + +<P> +Riley darted toward the house. +</P> + +<P> +The five riders dashed up and flung themselves from their saddles. +They were Rafe Tuckleton, Jonesy, the Tuckleton foreman, Ben Shanklin +and two more of the Tuckleton outfit. Billy faced them, his thumbs +hooked in his sagging belt. +</P> + +<P> +"Caught him!" Rafe ejaculated with satisfaction, striding forward, his +men at his heels. +</P> + +<P> +"He don't look shot any," said Jonesy. +</P> + +<P> +"Not a hole in him," Billy told them. "He'll be all right in a minute." +</P> + +<P> +Tuckleton laughed harshly. "He's due for a relapse about a minute +after that. Jonesy, get your rope. That spruce up there on the flat +will be fine." +</P> + +<P> +Hazel uttered a gasp of horror. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you expect to hang him for, Rafe?" demanded Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"Caught him branding one of my calves," was the ugly reply. "Reason +enough?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't believe it!" cried Hazel. +</P> + +<P> +"You know him?" Rafe inquired contemptuously. +</P> + +<P> +"I never saw him before in my life. But he doesn't look like a +rustler. He's got a good face." +</P> + +<P> +The Tuckleton outfit was moved to mirth. +</P> + +<P> +"A good face!" yelped the fox-faced Ben Shanklin, slapping his leg. "A +good face! That's a fine one!" +</P> + +<P> +"I expect we'll have to turn him loose, boys," Jonesy said +sarcastically, returning from his horse, and shaking out the coil of +rope. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I guess we'll string him up all right," Rafe said with confidence. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't let them, Billy!" begged Hazel. +</P> + +<P> +Billy made instant decision. "'Nds up!" +</P> + +<P> +Which command was backed by a six-shooter trained on the center of +Rafe's abdomen. The way the Tuckleton hands flew upward and locked +thumbs above the Tuckleton hat was gratifying. But the Tuckleton face +was empurpled with rage. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," remarked Billy, "one of you may hit me, but if I go Rafe +goes with me." +</P> + +<P> +"It's all right, boys," Rafe assured his hesitating followers in a +voice thick with anger. "Lemme argue this thing." +</P> + +<P> +"There'll be no hanging here," said Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"You bet not!" chimed in the voice of Riley Tyler from a position +thirty yards distant on the right. +</P> + +<P> +Riley had returned with the water and whisky. He had been sufficiently +thoughtful to bring with him a double-barreled shotgun. He stood, the +firearm held level with his hip, the blunt twin muzzles gaping at the +Tuckleton outfit. +</P> + +<P> +"Hazel," said Riley, "I wanna borrow this shotgun for a few minutes. I +found it leaning inside the door. Ben, I wish you'd come over here and +take this water and whisky to the lady. I'm stuck here, sort of." +</P> + +<P> +"You go ahead, Ben," said Billy. "Don't lemme detain you." +</P> + +<P> +Ben went slowly. He plumped whisky and bucket on the ground beside +Hazel and then began to sidle casually toward the house. +</P> + +<P> +"You come right back," urged Riley, gesturing with the shotgun. "The +best place for you is right beside Jonesy. He's gettin' lonesome for +you already, ain't you, Jonesy?" +</P> + +<P> +Jonesy spat upon the ground. Ben slouched back to his comrades. While +this byplay had been going on, Tuckleton had been talking at Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"Would you mind repeating all that?" said Billy, when Ben had rejoined +the group at Rafe's back. "I didn't catch some of it." +</P> + +<P> +Tuckleton glared, his little eyes hot with rage. "I said that man's a +cow thief and we're gonna stretch him!" +</P> + +<P> +"But you said that at first," pointed out Billy. "And I said 'no' +then. I haven't changed my mind." +</P> + +<P> +"Since when have you been dry-nursing rustlers?" snarled Rafe. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know he's a rustler." +</P> + +<P> +"I said he was, didn't I?" +</P> + +<P> +"You said so, sure. But you might be mistaken." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't make mistakes like that. And, anyway, all my boys here saw +him branding that calf." +</P> + +<P> +"We sure did," corroborated Jonesy. "Feller had a fire all lit, and +was heating a running-iron when we jumped him." +</P> + +<P> +"Did the calf have its mammy along?" was Billy's next question. +</P> + +<P> +No one answered. Billy, however, did not remove his eyes from Rafe's +face. The pause was becoming almost embarrassing when the five +Tuckletonions made reply with a rush. Two of them said "Yes," and the +other three said "No." +</P> + +<P> +"There seems to be a difference of opinion," said Billy. "Don't you +know whether the cow was along?" +</P> + +<P> +"She wasn't along," declared Jonesy, sticking to his original assertion. +</P> + +<P> +"But Rafe said she was," said Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"I made a mistake," Rafe hastened to assure him. +</P> + +<P> +Billy nodded in triumph. "Then you do make mistakes. I always knew +you did. Funny how you and Jonesy saw things so different and all. +Ben didn't see any cow either, and Tim Mullen and Lake did." +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe I made a mistake too," said Lake sullenly, taking his cue from +his employer. +</P> + +<P> +"How about you, Tim?" persisted the questioner. +</P> + +<P> +Tim looked furtively from his employer to his foreman and back again +before answering. +</P> + +<P> +"Speak up, Tim," directed Billy, "speak up. You did or you didn't. +Yes or no?" +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe I made a mistake," was Tim Mullen's final decision. +</P> + +<P> +"They seem to have come over to your point of view, Jonesy," Billy +observed dryly. "How about you? Did you make a mistake too?" +</P> + +<P> +But Jonesy was not to be caught. "The cow wasn't along. I oughta +know." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't need to be so fierce about it. I was just askin' questions. +If this feller had a fire and was heating a running-iron, I suppose he +had a calf handy." +</P> + +<P> +"I said we caught him <I>with</I> a calf," insisted Rafe Tuckleton. +</P> + +<P> +"That's right, so you did. Was the calf hog-tied?" +</P> + +<P> +"Naturally." +</P> + +<P> +"And when you saw this stranger and jumped him, I suppose you came +boiling along right after him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure did." Thus Rafe Tuckleton. +</P> + +<P> +"None of you stopped anywhere, huh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, no, of course not. It wouldn't be reasonable, would it, if we +were chasin' him, to get off and fiddle around?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, it wouldn't be reasonable," admitted Billy. "Then if none of you +got off to turn the calf loose, the calf must still be there—calf, +fire and running-iron?" +</P> + +<P> +Rafe looked a little blank at this. So did the others. Jonesy was the +first to recover his spirits. +</P> + +<P> +"Unless somebody else turned it loose," suggested Jonesy brightly. +</P> + +<P> +"But the fire and running-iron will still be there." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course they will," Rafe Tuckleton declared heartily. "Of course +they will. But it just occurs to me that this man may have had a +friend with him we didn't see. And that hog-tied calf and fire and +running-iron—that last may have been a cinch ring, Bill—are evidence +that'll hang this man. Jonesy, suppose now you ride back to the fork +of that split draw south of Saddle Hill, where we saw this man's fire, +and see that nobody destroys the evidence before we get there. Ben, I +think you'd better go with Jonesy." +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Billy decidedly. "Jonesy and Ben will stay right here." +</P> + +<P> +"Remember," called Riley, "that this Greener is double-barreled." +</P> + +<P> +"But see here—" Rafe began desperately. +</P> + +<P> +"No see about it," interrupted Billy. "You'll all stay right here with +us till Tom Walton gets here." +</P> + +<P> +"But suppose somebody destroys the evidence," worried Rafe. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't guess they'll destroy all of it," said Billy cheerfully. "You +see, Rafe, we want to go with you to the fork of that split draw south +of Saddle Hill." +</P> + +<P> +Rafe's blazing eyes were fairly murderous. His men muttered behind +him. But they made no hostile move. They realized that Rafe would +never forgive them if they did. He would not be able to. +</P> + +<P> +In the meantime Hazel had been alternately bathing the senseless one's +forehead and dribbling drops of whisky between his teeth. +</P> + +<P> +"He's coming round," she said suddenly. +</P> + +<P> +The man opened his eyes, groaned, grunted, and sat up. He blinked his +eyes rapidly several times and smiled pleasantly at Hazel. +</P> + +<P> +"That was a jolt I got," said he. "Is there whisky in the bottle?" +</P> + +<P> +He took a long and healthy pull, drove in the cork with the heel of his +hand, wiped his lips and then seemed to see Rafe Tuckleton and his men +for the first time. +</P> + +<P> +"I seem to remember those bandits giving me the chase of my young +life," he remarked, nodding his head. "I don't know why. I don't know +why my unknown friend with the six-shooter and my other equally unknown +friend with the scatter-gun are holding them up, but I'm glad they're +doing it. Still, why? Why all this fuss and these feathers?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know either," replied Billy, continuing to watch Rafe +Tuckleton and his men like the proverbial hawk, "but we hope to find +out. When a couple of friends of mine get here, we aim to find out." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER SIX +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CROSS-PURPOSES +</H4> + +<P> +"... and my name is John Dawson," continued the stranger, "and I'm on +my way to visit my uncle at Jacksboro." +</P> + +<P> +"Uncle! Jacksboro!" exclaimed Jonesy. "Pretty smooth and thin." +</P> + +<P> +Tom Walton took no notice of Jonesy. "Where'd you work last?" +</P> + +<P> +"Cross T in Redstone County." +</P> + +<P> +Tom Walton nodded. "Turberville ranch? Left ribs cattle, left +shoulder and jaw horses?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, Tasker's," corrected John Dawson. "Left hip cattle and horses, no +jaw brand." +</P> + +<P> +"I know," said Tom Walton gently. "I knew it was Tasker's. I had +to—be sure." +</P> + +<P> +"Whatsa use of this gassing?" demanded Rafe. "I tell you, Tom, we +caught this feller branding one of my calves, and I'll gamble he's the +boy been doing all the rustling on your range too." +</P> + +<P> +"You might be right. I don't know. But he tells a straight story." +</P> + +<P> +"They all do. He's a rustler. Take my word for it." +</P> + +<P> +"But he said in the beginning," objected Tom, "that he never was near +that split draw." +</P> + +<P> +"We saw him, I tell you!" +</P> + +<P> +"All right. Soon as we eat, we'll all ride over to the draw and take a +squint at the evidence." +</P> + +<P> +"What for? Ain't my word enough?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't believe in gamblin' with a man's life," said Tom smoothly. +</P> + +<P> +"Better be sure than sorry," said Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"I won't be sorry none to hang him, the cow thief!" +</P> + +<P> +"If I had my gun I'd argue that with you," remarked the prisoner +pleasantly. +</P> + +<P> +Rafe was understood to damn all creation. Oh, he was wild. +</P> + +<P> +"Dinner!" called Hazel from the kitchen door. +</P> + +<P> +"Too bad the sheriff ain't here," grumbled Rafe, on the way to the +house. +</P> + +<P> +"It is too bad," Tom Walton flung over his shoulder. "But I sent Roy +for Sam Prescott. He'll meet us on the Hillsville trail." +</P> + +<P> +Roy was the half of his outfit. The Walton ranch was a little one. +Even in big seasons Tom could not afford to employ more than three men. +In winter he let them all go. What little work there was to be done he +managed to do himself. Small rancher though he was, Tom Walton was not +a nonentity in the community. Folk trusted him. He was known to be +honest. +</P> + +<P> +After dinner the whole party, excepting Hazel, took horse and rode down +the draw to the Hillsville trail. Rafe and his outfit would have +ridden to the trail at once. But Billy Wingo carefully shepherded them +from it. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll keep off the trail," said Billy. "This Dawson man says he's +never been off the trail till he got chased off by you fellers. We may +want to examine that trail for tracks later." +</P> + +<P> +The Tuckleton men muttered and swore, but they kept away from the +trail. Soon after the party reached the vicinity of the trail, Roy, +Sam Prescott and two of his men trotted into sight. Billy rode to meet +them and turned them from the trail before they reached the spot where +John Dawson said he had left it. +</P> + +<P> +Sam Prescott listened in silence to the respective stories of Rafe +Tuckleton and John Dawson. He seemed unimpressed by either. When he +had heard all they had to say, he dismounted and examined the hoofs of +Dawson's horse. Then he and Riley, closely followed by the others, +rode along the edge of the trail scrutinizing the tracks upon its dusty +surface. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's where he says he left the trail all right," observed Bill. +"You can't mistake the point of that near fore shoe. He says Tuckleton +and his boys rode at him from over yonder, but if they chased him +all-away from that split draw like they say they did, there wouldn't be +a single track here. They'd all be on the other side of those +cottonwoods." +</P> + +<P> +He jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward said cottonwoods growing +about a hundred yards to the south. +</P> + +<P> +"Let's go over yonder where he said they came from," said Sam Prescott. +</P> + +<P> +They all went over yonder. There they found the tracks of five horses. +Not only that, but in a near-by depression behind some red willows they +found where five horses had stood a considerable time. +</P> + +<P> +Sam Prescott picked up in turn the hoofs of every Tuckleton horse. +</P> + +<P> +"These five horses were standing here at least two hours," remarked Sam +Prescott, staring at Rafe. +</P> + +<P> +The latter said nothing. Really, there was nothing to say. +</P> + +<P> +Led by Sam Prescott and Billy, the party followed the tracks of these +five horses back to the trail and into the draw leading to the Walton +ranch. +</P> + +<P> +"You see," said Billy to Sam Prescott. "Those horses were coming on +the dead jump. It's just like Dawson says. They were chasing him." +</P> + +<P> +Although Billy's voice was loud enough for all to hear, none of the +Tuckleton outfit took it upon himself to deny the statement. It may be +said that they were growing a trifle discouraged. +</P> + +<P> +"Le's go to the split draw," resumed Billy, when Sam Prescott had +openly agreed with him. "Maybe we'll find that calf and the fire and +the running-iron. But I expect that fire will be out by this time." +</P> + +<P> +"I guess likely." Thus Sam Prescott, and turned his horse. +</P> + +<P> +But they did not find the calf and the extinct fire and the +running-iron. There was nothing in the split draw even remotely +resembling any of these. +</P> + +<P> +"Come to think of it," said Rafe, weakly attempting a last defense, +"maybe it was another draw." +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe it was," admitted Sam, turning to young Dawson. "Maybe it was, +but I'm satisfied it wasn't. It was a good thing for you, young +feller, that Billy Wingo and Riley Tyler were on the spot when your +horse fell." +</P> + +<P> +"I know it," responded young Dawson heartily. "I'm not forgettin' it. +And maybe I can return the favor some bright and sunny day. Now if I +can have my gun, I'll just have a word or two with the man you call +Tuckleton." +</P> + +<P> +"No words," said Sam Prescott firmly. "Not a word. This thing has +gone far enough. There'll be no shooting round here. Rafe and his +outfit are goin' home now, and you're riding with me back to Tom's +ranch. And to-morrow morning I'll see you off to Jacksboro. Rafe, I +don't want to hurry you——" +</P> + +<P> +Rafe Tuckleton and his outfit took the hint. +</P> + +<P> +"And you mean to tell me they can get away with a deal like that?" +demanded John Dawson. +</P> + +<P> +Sam Prescott smiled wearily. "What could they be arrested for—always +supposing you could get the sheriff to arrest 'em, which he wouldn't." +</P> + +<P> +"Well——" +</P> + +<P> +"There y'are. Of course you could call it attempted assault. What's +that? Under the statute, a week in jail. And who'd convict 'em?" +</P> + +<P> +Tom Walton laughed bitterly. "You don't know this county, Mr. Dawson. +Anything can happen here." +</P> + +<P> +"Seemingly it can," said Mr. Dawson in frank disgust. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"You see," said Rafe, "I'd figured we'd have to find somebody to lynch +for rustlin' so that infernal Tom Walton wouldn't be suspectin' us alla +time. Shindle ran across this Dawson party in Hillsville and guessed +he'd fill the bill, he being a stranger and all." +</P> + +<P> +"So Skinny rode ahead and let you know he was coming, huh?" queried Sam +Larder. +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah. Oh, damn the luck! Who'd have expected Wingo and Tyler to be +at Walton's?" +</P> + +<P> +"They did put a crimp in your plans, sort of," assented Larder. +</P> + +<P> +"And now Tom Walton is more suspicious than ever," contributed Tip +O'Gorman. +</P> + +<P> +"I can fix that Wingo, though," snarled Rafe Tuckleton. "He'll never +get elected sheriff now." +</P> + +<P> +Tip smiled. "Won't he?" +</P> + +<P> +"No he won't he!" +</P> + +<P> +"That's just the thing will cinch his election. I'm gonna play it up +strong in the campaign." +</P> + +<P> +"What! Why, he tried to show us up!" +</P> + +<P> +"And succeeded in doing it, according to your tell. That's all right; +Rafe, you were a little too raw, you know. I've cautioned you about +being more careful. You wouldn't take advice and you'll have to take +your medicine—this time. I'll explain matters to Bill, where you +stand and everything. You'll find it won't happen again." +</P> + +<P> +With which Tuckleton was forced to be satisfied. +</P> + +<P> +That night Tip O'Gorman had a long talk with Billy Wingo. Tip did not +tell him all he knew, by any means. Such was not his custom. To +understand Tip one had to do a deal of reading between the lines. But +when Tip went home, he carried with him the belief that Billy +understood perfectly the desires and aims of the county machine and +would be a willing worker. +</P> + +<P> +Billy sat looking up at the ceiling for quite a long time after Tip was +gone. Finally he laughed silently. +</P> + +<P> +"Tip, you're an old scoundrel," he said aloud, "but I can't help liking +you, just the same. I hope I don't have to step too hard on your toes." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER SEVEN +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +RAFE'S IDEA +</H4> + +<P> +"Tell you what, Jonesy," said Rafe, "this ranch needs a mistress." +</P> + +<P> +Jonesy laughed as at a pleasantry and continued to talk of the +mischance in the matter of young Dawson. +</P> + +<P> +"I mean it," interrupted Rafe, wagging his head. "I'm tired of living +single." +</P> + +<P> +"Well," said Jonesy, "you can always get some petticoat to live with +you for a while." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't mean a floozie. I mean a sure-enough lady like." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, one of <I>them</I>, huh? I dunno, Rafe. I married a good woman once, +and take it from me they sure cramp a feller's style." +</P> + +<P> +"It depends on the woman. There are women and women. If a feller is +careful who he picks, he don't run a bad chance. Me, I got my eye on +young Hazel Walton." +</P> + +<P> +Jonesy looked his astonishment. "Her?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +"After this Dawson business?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +"She wouldn't look at you." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you fool yourself. Why wouldn't she look at me, I'd like to +know? I got money. She could wear good clothes and have help in the +kitchen. What more could a woman want?" +</P> + +<P> +Jonesy shook his head. "This Dawson business has queered you there, +and you can bet on it." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, that's easy explained—to her." +</P> + +<P> +"H-m-m-m, well, maybe so. I dunno, she looks to me like one girl who +knows her own mind. And there's Tom Walton who don't like us, either. +You gotta think of all these things." +</P> + +<P> +"I have. The more I think of it, the more I think she'll do." +</P> + +<P> +"Funny you never noticed it before. She's been around with her uncle +several years now." +</P> + +<P> +"I never even gave her more'n a short look till I seen her holding that +Dawson man's head in her lap, and then stickin' up for him the way she +did. I tell you, she looked mighty handsome." +</P> + +<P> +"She's a lot younger than you." +</P> + +<P> +"What's a few years between man and wife? Besides, I ain't so old. I +ain't forty yet." +</P> + +<P> +"You will be next year, and I'll bet she ain't twenty yet." +</P> + +<P> +"She'll last all the longer." +</P> + +<P> +It was mid-morning next day, when Hazel was making butter, that a rap +sounded on the kitchen door. +</P> + +<P> +"Come in," she called continuing to turn steadily the handle of her box +churn. +</P> + +<P> +It was Rafe Tuckleton who opened the door and walked in. Hazel's eyes +narrowed at sight of the man. Rafe Tuckleton! What on earth did he +want? +</P> + +<P> +"Uncle's out," she said shortly. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't come to see him," explained Rafe, with a smile he strove to +make ingratiating. "I came to see you." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know what you can want to see me about." +</P> + +<P> +"I have my reasons," said Rafe vaguely. +</P> + +<P> +Hat in hand, he started to sidle to a chair. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't they have any doors where you live?" Hazel inquired sharply. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," Rafe wheeled hastily and closed the door. He set a trifle to the +young lady's account. He was not accustomed to being talked to this +way. The snip! +</P> + +<P> +He gained the chair at last, sat down, crossed his legs and crowned a +sharp and bony knee with his hat. +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah," he intoned, pulling one horn of his crescent-shaped mustache. +"I come to see you." It never occurred to him to offer to turn the +churn-handle for her. In his estimation women were made for the +especial comfort and delectation of men. Why put oneself out? Quite +so. +</P> + +<P> +Hazel continued to turn the handle in silence. +</P> + +<P> +"Makin' butter?" was Rafe's next remark. +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all," Hazel replied sweetly. "I'm washing blankets." +</P> + +<P> +As humor it was not subtle. But neither was the man subtle. He +laughed aloud and slapped his knee. +</P> + +<P> +"Pretty good. Got a tongue in your head, ain't you?" +</P> + +<P> +Again he pulled his mustache and favored her with what he conceived to +be a most fetching leer. He succeeded in making her yearn to hurl the +churn at him. +</P> + +<P> +"You've seen me," she said suddenly, raising her dark eyes to his face. +"Why not move right along?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's all right," he said easily. "You're only mad at me account of +that business the other day. Nothing at all, that wasn't. Just a li'l +mistake. We all make them. You mustn't hold it against me." +</P> + +<P> +"But I do hold it against you!" she cried vehemently. "You tried to +murder him!" +</P> + +<P> +Rafe raised a bland hand, palm outward. "Not a-tall. You've got it +all wrong. I might have known you would. Women never do get things +straight." +</P> + +<P> +"I got this straight all right, and you might as well know I haven't a +bit of use for you, and I don't want you in my kitchen. So there!" +</P> + +<P> +"Now listen, li'l girl," he said persuasively. "You don't understand +me a-tall, I tell you. I may look hard—a rough diamond but I'm the +pure quill underneath, and I like you." +</P> + +<P> +Hazel was so surprised that she stopped churning. She stared at him, +saucer-eyed, her mouth open. +</P> + +<P> +Rafe nodded his head at her. "Yeah, I like you. I have liked you +a-uh-long time. And I've got a proposition to make you. How'd you +like to marry me?" +</P> + +<P> +Hazel's expression registered immediate distaste. "I wouldn't like. +Not for a minute. No." +</P> + +<P> +Rafe considered it necessary to explain matters more fully. "I mean +marry me all regular and go to live at my ranch. You wouldn't have to +work hard. You could have the washin' done and have help in the +kitchen. I'm a mighty easy feller to get along with too, once you get +to know me." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want to get to know you!" Hazel had resumed her churning, but +her negation was no less decisive. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd be good to you. Give you all the dresses and fixings you want—in +reason. Say, I'd even have one of these cabinet organs packed in for +you. New furniture, too—in reason. I'll be generous. I've got +money, and I'd sure be willing to spend it on a girl like you." +</P> + +<P> +"You needn't bother." +</P> + +<P> +He removed his, hat from his knee, uncrossed his legs and dropped the +hat on the floor. He propped his hands on his knees and surveyed her, +his head on one side. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't know what you're refusing," he told her. "Marry me and you +won't have to work like this. Nawsir. I'm a rich man, I am. Here, +let's talk it over." +</P> + +<P> +He rose to his feet and came toward her. She promptly reached behind +her and possessed herself of the singing kettle. +</P> + +<P> +"If you touch me," she said hysterically, "I'll douse you with boiling +water!" +</P> + +<P> +"There, there," he said, with a light laugh, "I didn't mean to scare +you. Set the kettle down, there's a good girl." +</P> + +<P> +But the good girl had other ideas. "You get out of here. I don't want +you around." +</P> + +<P> +Her show of temper caused his own to flare up. "There's no use for you +to get mad. None a-tall. You act like I'd insulted you instead of +doing you a honor." +</P> + +<P> +At which her sense of humor came to her rescue and she laughed in his +face. He picked up his hat and faced her, scowling. +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't mad," he told her. "Not a bit. It don't pay to get mad with +a woman. But I want you to know I'm comin' back for another answer. I +ain't satisfied you mean 'no.' And, anyway, I want you, and I'm gonna +have you. That's all there is to it. You think it over." +</P> + +<P> +He nodded stiffly, still scowling, and started toward the door, but +paused with his hand on the latch. When he turned and came back to the +table, she instantly retreated to the stove and laid her hand on the +kettle. +</P> + +<P> +"You needn't go to pick up that thing," he said, both fists clenched on +the tabletop. "I ain't gonna hurt you. I want to know something. +Billy Wingo comes here, doesn't he?" +</P> + +<P> +"He comes—yes. Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +"You like him?" +</P> + +<P> +"What's that to you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Do you like him?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's a friend of mine." +</P> + +<P> +"A girl don't flush up that way over a friend. I know. And I've +heard, too. They say you like Bill Wingo a lot. They say you were +going with Nate Samson till you met Bill. Is that right?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's none of your business." +</P> + +<P> +"Lemme tell you something, young lady. Don't you think for a minute +that Bill Wingo feller can give you one tenth what I can. Just because +he was elected sheriff last week don't signify. Yours truly is the dog +with the brass collar around here, and don't you forget it. You marry +Bill, and you'll regret it." +</P> + +<P> +"If I marry you, I'll regret it,—that's sure." +</P> + +<P> +"Not a bit of it. I'm ace-high in the county now, and I'll go higher +in the territory. You can't keep me down. I'll make money, more'n you +can shake a stick at. You needn't think you'll have to live on a ranch +all your life. Within three years after you marry me I'll take +you—yes, I'll take you to Hillsville to live where you can see folks +all you want. You know Hillsville has almost three thousand people. +You wouldn't be lonesome there. I——" +</P> + +<P> +"It's no use talking," she interrupted, taking care not to remove her +fingers from the kettle. "I wouldn't marry you or anybody else of your +crowd, not if he was the last man on earth." +</P> + +<P> +"'My crowd!' What's the matter with my crowd?" +</P> + +<P> +"Your crowd! Yes, I'd ask, I would! What do you suppose I mean? The +gang that runs this county, that's what I mean! The gang that has a +finger in every crooked land deal and cattle deal, the gang that cheats +the Indians on the government contracts. Yes, and if it hadn't been +for your gang and for what they've done to the morals of Crocker +County, you wouldn't have dared to try and lynch young John Dawson the +way you did! Let <I>me</I> tell you something: The new sheriff will show +you a thing or two. <I>He</I> is honest!" +</P> + +<P> +"Is that so? Honest, is he? You know who elected him, don't you? +<I>We</I> did, and we own him, body and soul and roll. He'll sit up and +talk when we tell him to, and he will lie down and go to sleep when we +tell him to; and if he don't, he's mighty liable to run into a spell of +bad health. Not that we'll want him to do anything he shouldn't. Not +us." Thus Rafe Tuckleton, realizing his temper had carried him away +and he had said too much by half, thinking it well to right matters if +he could, continued hurriedly: +</P> + +<P> +"Those cattle deals you spoke of and the government contracts weren't +crooked a-tall. Just straight business, but of course the fellers we +got 'em away from are riled up and bound to talk. Naturally, +naturally. But don't you get the notion in your head that everything +wasn't all right. Everything was perfectly straight and aboveboard, +you bet. Shucks, of course it was. I could explain it to you mighty +easy, but it would take a lot of time and whatsa use? Politics ain't +for women, or business either, for that matter. You better forget what +you've heard about our crowd. It's just a pack of jealous lies, that's +all, and if you'll tell me the name of who told you anything out of the +way about us, I'll make him hard to find." +</P> + +<P> +"I know what I know," said the stubborn Miss Walton. "You can't fool +me! Not for a minute! And I've listened to you long enough! You get +out of here and don't you come back! Flit!" +</P> + +<P> +She swung the kettle from the stove. Rafe Tuckleton sprang back two +yards. His temper had again gained the ascendancy. He was so mad he +could have beaten her to a frazzle. But there was not a club handy, +and moreover the lady had, by way of reinforcing the kettle, slipped a +butcher knife from the table drawer. +</P> + +<P> +"All right," gritted Rafe, and turned around from the door to shake his +fist at her. "I'll get you, you li'l devil! You needn't think for a +minute you can get away from me by marrying some one else. I don't +give a damn whether it's Bill Wingo or who it is! Within a week after +you get married, you'll be a widow! A widow, y'understand! I'll show +you!" +</P> + +<P> +He went out, slamming the door. Hazel made haste to run around the +table and drop the bar in place. Then she went to the window and +watched the man cross to the cottonwoods where he had tied his horse. +</P> + +<P> +She uttered a sharp "Oh!" of disgust as he jerked at the horse's mouth +and made the animal rear. He brought it down by kicking it in the +stomach. +</P> + +<P> +"What a beast!" muttered she, with a shudder. "What a cruel beast that +man is." +</P> + +<P> +Not till Rafe rode away, quirting his mount into a wild gallop, did she +return to her churning. She found the butter had come, and she removed +the elmwood dasher and poured off the buttermilk. She put the butter +into a long bowl full of water and began to wash and knead it, but not +with her accustomed briskness. She was thinking of what Rafe Tuckleton +had said. He would come again, the brute. She did not want him to. +He had made her afraid. +</P> + +<P> +She shivered a little as she poured off the water in the bowl and +refilled it from the water bucket behind the door. She had no desire +to marry anybody yet. She supposed she would some time, of course. +All girls did eventually. But he would have to be some nice boy she +loved. She guessed yes. +</P> + +<P> +At that very moment a certain nice boy was riding up the draw toward +the Walton ranch. He met Rafe Tuckleton riding away. Rafe gave him a +nasty look. The nice boy smiled sweetly and pulled his horse across +the trail. "Why all the hurry-scurry this bright and summer day?" +</P> + +<P> +It was not a bright and summer day. It was late fall, the clouds were +lowering darkly and there was more than a hint of winter in the air. +</P> + +<P> +Rafe Tuckleton pulled up with a jerk and a slide. "What do you want?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know yet," was the reply, delivered with still smiling lips +but accompanied by a look as chilling as the day. "You been at +Walton's?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yep, I have. Not that it's any of your business." +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe you're right. Let's go back and make sure." +</P> + +<P> +Rafe's blazing rage was so augmented by this naïve suggestion that his +native prudence was almost overcome by the sharp impulse to argue the +matter. But almost is not quite. His coat was buttoned, and his +six-shooter was under his coat. Bill Wingo's six-shooter was likewise +under its owner's coat, but the coat was unbuttoned and—Rafe recalled +another day, a day when he had held his hands above his head while the +muzzle of Wingo's gun gaped at his abdomen. That had been a quick draw +on the part of Billy Wingo. Uncommonly quick. What happened once may +happen again. This is logic. +</P> + +<P> +The logician spat upon the ground. "Because you're elected sheriff +now, you needn't think that you can boss everybody in the county." +</P> + +<P> +"But I ain't trying to boss anybody," denied Bill. "I'm only askin' a +favor of you, only a li'l favor. And I'm hoping you'll see it that +way. I don't <I>want</I> any trouble with you, Rafe," he added, "or with +anybody else." +</P> + +<P> +Rafe hesitated. He stared into Bill's eyes. Bill stared back. Rafe +did his best to hold his eyes steady. But there was something about +that gray gaze, something that seemed to bore deep down into that place +where his sinful soul lived and had its being. The Tuckleton eyes +wavered, veered, came back, clung an instant, then looked away over the +landscape. +</P> + +<P> +"Turn your horse, Rafe," said Billy Wingo in a soft voice. +</P> + +<P> +Rafe Tuckleton turned his horse. They rode back to the Walton ranch in +silent company. Dismounting at the door, Billy was careful to keep his +horse between Rafe and himself. +</P> + +<P> +Billy looked across the saddle at Rafe. "You better knock at the door, +feller." +</P> + +<P> +With extremely bad grace, Rafe obeyed. Following the knock, a window +curtain was pulled aside and Hazel looked out. She nodded and smiled +at Billy. The curtain dropped. Billy heard the grating of the bar as +it was withdrawn from the iron staples. The door had been barred, +then. Why? Was Rafe indeed the qualified polecat Billy had half-way +suspected him of being when he meet him hurrying away from the Walton +ranch? But Hazel's smile had been natural as ever. Bill took comfort +in that fact. +</P> + +<P> +The door opened. Hazel stood wiping her damp hands on her apron. +</P> + +<P> +"'Lo, Hazel," said Bill. "Everything all right?" +</P> + +<P> +Hazel smiled again. She <I>did</I> have beautiful teeth. There was the +fetching dimple too. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, of course everything's all right," she told him. "Why wouldn't +it be?" +</P> + +<P> +Bill noticed that she did not look at Rafe Tuckleton. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's Mr. Tuckleton," said he. +</P> + +<P> +"I see him," shortly. +</P> + +<P> +"And—you're—sure—everything's—all—right?" Bill drawled in a +lifeless voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course I'm sure." +</P> + +<P> +"And—you're—sure everything—has—been—all—right—all day?" +</P> + +<P> +Hazel nodded. "Of course it has. Won't you come in, Billy—before the +kitchen gets all cold?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll put the li'l horse under the shed first. He's kinda warm. Rafe, +don't lemme detain you. You seemed all in a rush when I met you." +</P> + +<P> +Rafe Tuckleton lingered not. +</P> + +<P> +Billy Wingo led his mount under the shed and returned to the house. +Hazel was pouring off the washing water when he entered the kitchen. +</P> + +<P> +"What made you bring Tuckleton back?" she asked pouring fresh water +over the butter. +</P> + +<P> +"I met him coming away from here, and I didn't like the way he looked. +I thought maybe—" He let it go at that. +</P> + +<P> +"He was here for a while," said Hazel, bringing her bowl to the table +and beginning again to knead the yellow mass of butter. "I don't like +that man." +</P> + +<P> +Billy was at the table instantly. "Look here, Hazel——" +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, Billy," she mimicked, lifting calm black eyes to his face. +"Don't you go fussbudgeting. I'm quite capable of managing my +admirers." +</P> + +<P> +"Admirers! Him!" gasped Wingo. +</P> + +<P> +"He proposed to me. I turned him down." +</P> + +<P> +"Shows your good sense," said Billy, going over to the chair lately +vacated by Rafe Tuckleton and sitting down. "But I'd like to know what +he's thinking of, the old jake." +</P> + +<P> +Her amused eyes sought his. "Am I such a poor match as that?" +</P> + +<P> +"You know what I mean," he grumbled. "He's got no right proposing to +you, no right a-tall. Why, he's old enough to be your father." +</P> + +<P> +"So he is. Do you know, I never thought of that?" +</P> + +<P> +"You're foolin' now," grunted Billy. "Tell you, Hazel, what you want +is some young feller with property and all his teeth." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want anybody," she declared, "young or otherwise. Billy, +you're sheriff now—" she continued, changing the subject. +</P> + +<P> +"Not yet," he interrupted. "I don't take office till the first of the +year." +</P> + +<P> +She nodded. "I understand. And I want to ask you a question. +It's—it's—you will say it's none of my business, I expect." +</P> + +<P> +"Anything's your business you want to ask questions about. Fly at it." +</P> + +<P> +"Who elected you sheriff, Billy?" +</P> + +<P> +He regarded her in some surprise. "The voters." +</P> + +<P> +"I know, but who manages the voters?" +</P> + +<P> +"You mean the party machine?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's it. Well now, Bill, suppose the machine put a man in office, +would he have to do what the machine told him?" +</P> + +<P> +"He would, if he was that kind of a man." +</P> + +<P> +She straightened and gave him a level look. "Billy, they say the gang +that runs this county elected you sheriff." +</P> + +<P> +"Who's they—Rafe Tuckleton?" +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind who. What I want to know is do you have to do what that +gang tells you to do?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't have to. Has anybody been saying I'd have to?" +</P> + +<P> +"I—you hear rumors sometimes, Billy. Will you have a free hand, then?" +</P> + +<P> +"So far as my powers extend, I will," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"And you'll use it?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll use it," curiously. +</P> + +<P> +"Is—is that quite safe?" +</P> + +<P> +"Safe?" +</P> + +<P> +"Safe to antagonize the gang?" +</P> + +<P> +"It may not be safe for the gang." +</P> + +<P> +Hazel raised a great gob of butter in her two hands and squeezed it out +slowly between her fingers. "Couldn't you give 'em their way, sort of? +Not in everything. I don't mean that. But just enough to keep 'em +good-natured?" +</P> + +<P> +His curiosity changed to blank amazement. "You know what you're +asking, I suppose," he said coldly. "I thought you didn't like Rafe +Tuckleton?" +</P> + +<P> +"I hate him," was her simple statement. "But I—I'm afraid." +</P> + +<P> +"Afraid? How afraid?" +</P> + +<P> +"Afraid for you." +</P> + +<P> +"Why for me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because—oh, it's so hard to explain!" she almost wailed. "You +misunderstand me so. You think I'm asking favors on their account!" +</P> + +<P> +He believed he detected a sob in her voice. This would never do. +Couldn't have Hazel crying. +</P> + +<P> +"If you'd only explain," he suggested soothingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," she said, her hands busy in the butter, "Sally Jane Prescott +was over here yesterday, and she said what a darn good thing your +election was for Crocker County; how you'd reform it and all that, and +how you'd surely put out of business the gang that's running it now. I +agreed with her, of course, but I never really realized till—till +later what it might mean to you." +</P> + +<P> +She paused. He awaited her pleasure. After a minute's silence she +continued. +</P> + +<P> +"You see, Billy, you've been pretty nice to me—uncle and me. And +you've come to be sort of a—sort of a friend—kind of and—and I—we +don't want to see you hurt," she finished with a rush. +</P> + +<P> +"So that's the reason you think I'd better go easy on the gang." +</P> + +<P> +"It will be safer. You don't have to be too open about it. You can +arrest the people the gang doesn't care anything about." +</P> + +<P> +"That would be hard on the people, I should say." +</P> + +<P> +"It's better than running into danger all the time. I tell you, Billy, +as true as I stand here this minute, if you try to fight the gang, you +won't last out your term." +</P> + +<P> +She clasped her hands and regarded him piteously. When a pretty girl +clasps her hands and regards you piteously, what are you going to do? +Right. You can't help yourself, can you? Neither could Billy. +</P> + +<P> +But when he had kissed her three times on the mouth she pushed him away +and cried distractedly. "You mustn't! You mustn't! You don't know +what you're doing!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes, I do," he assured her and seized her buttery hands. "We'll +be married to-morrow!" +</P> + +<P> +At which she whipped her hands from his grasp and put the table between +them. "No! Go over there and sit down!" +</P> + +<P> +"I won't! I love you! And you love me!" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't," she stormed. +</P> + +<P> +"What did you kiss me back for then?" he demanded triumphantly. "You +did! You know you did! I felt you!" +</P> + +<P> +This was true. But she continued to keep the table between them, +despite his efforts to come around to her side. +</P> + +<P> +"You go over there and sit down—please!" she begged. "Please, please, +pretty please!" +</P> + +<P> +He went slowly. He sat down. He stretched his long legs out in front +of him and teetered his heels on the rowels of his spurs. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, Hazel," he complained, for he was feeling most ill-used, "I +don't understand this a-tall. You lemme kiss you three times and then +you shove me away, and when I ask you to marry me, you run behind the +table. What did you let me kiss you for if you don't love me?" +</P> + +<P> +"I couldn't help myself. You were so quick." +</P> + +<P> +"You kissed me back, too. Don't forget that." +</P> + +<P> +"It was a mistake, all a mistake. You don't love me." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't know a thing about it. I do love you. And you love me, you +know you do." +</P> + +<P> +But by this time she had regained complete control of herself. "I +don't know anything of the kind. Let's forget it." +</P> + +<P> +As if he could forget the pressure of her soft lips! Why, for another +such kiss he would cheerfully have fought a grizzly. For that's the +kind of a kiss it was. +</P> + +<P> +He shook his head. "I can't forget." +</P> + +<P> +Her poor heart almost choked her at the words. She wanted him to kiss +her again, and keep on kissing her till she told him to stop. How +wonderful that would be! But she stifled the desire with an effort of +will that turned her cheeks white. +</P> + +<P> +"You must forget," she told him, her chin wobbling. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me you don't love me, and I'll do my best." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't—" she began and paused. To save her life she could not tell +this man the contrary of what every fiber of her being was proclaiming. +She could not. She compromised. "I don't know," she said tightly. "I +don't know." +</P> + +<P> +"But I know," objected Billy. "You just give me a——" +</P> + +<P> +"No," she interrupted, "don't plague me, Billy, please don't. +Just—just don't ask me again, that's all." +</P> + +<P> +"Is there anybody else?" he demanded. +</P> + +<P> +She shook her head. "No one." +</P> + +<P> +"Then I've got a chance." +</P> + +<P> +But at this she took fright anew. "You mustn't think of it! You +mustn't! I can't marry you now, Billy." +</P> + +<P> +"Now? All right, some other time." +</P> + +<P> +He stooped over as though to pick up something from the floor. +Apparently he overbalanced himself, for he fell forward on his hands +and knees. When he picked himself up he was within arm's length of +Hazel. He reached out two triumphant arms and swept her against him. +A bare instant she struggled desperately. Then with a sigh she relaxed +and put up her mouth to be kissed. +</P> + +<P> +"There, there," he said later, his lips pressed against her hair, "I +knew it would be all right once you let yourself go." +</P> + +<P> +She lifted her body slightly in his arms. "Tell me you love me, +dearest." +</P> + +<P> +Then when he told her, she asked, "How much? More than anything else +in the world? Are you sure?" +</P> + +<P> +What ridiculous questions. Of course he was sure. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you'll do anything I ask, won't you? Promise?" +</P> + +<P> +She raised her head from his shoulder. "Promise?" she repeated, her +warm lips on his. +</P> + +<P> +Even as her arms tightened about his neck, he felt a tightening at his +heart. And the latter was not a pleasant tightening. What did she +mean? He loved her. God, how he loved her dark loveliness, but—what +was she driving at? +</P> + +<P> +"I can't promise till you tell what you want me to do." +</P> + +<P> +"No, say you promise. Say it, say it." +</P> + +<P> +But he would not, and she tried a new angle. "If I tell you, will you +promise?" +</P> + +<P> +"After you've told me," he persisted. +</P> + +<P> +She sat up straight at this and took his face between her two arm palms. +</P> + +<P> +"Billy, you know I love you, don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +Looking into her eyes how could he doubt it. +</P> + +<P> +She resumed. "You know I wouldn't ask you to do anything that wasn't +for your own good, yet you won't promise the first promise I ever asked +you to make." +</P> + +<P> +He shook his head. "I can't." +</P> + +<P> +"All right, I'll have to tell you then, Billy. I've heard +things—about your job. I've heard that if you don't do exactly as the +gang says you'll be kuk-killed. Oh, not exactly in those words, but I +know what was meant. No, I shan't tell you where I heard it. It +doesn't matter anyway. It was bad enough when you—I thought you were +just a friend, but now—now when you're just everything to me, I +cuc-can't bear to have you run any risks. Suppose something happens to +you, what would I do? I'd die, I think. I'd want to, anyway." +</P> + +<P> +At which he tried to kiss away her fears, but these were too +deep-rooted for any such old-fashioned remedy as that to be of any +avail. +</P> + +<P> +"No, no, don't!" she protested, holding his head away by main force. +"Not now. I'm not through yet. Listen. You'll fight the gang, I know +you will." +</P> + +<P> +He nodded a slow head. "I've got to. That's why I took the job of +sheriff." +</P> + +<P> +"I knew it," she said sadly. "But you can resign, can't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I could, but I won't." +</P> + +<P> +"Not if I ask you to?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can't. It would be lying down without a fight, and I've never done +that yet. They'd say I was afraid of 'em." +</P> + +<P> +"What does it matter what they say? You'll have me. We'll be +together." +</P> + +<P> +He put up a hand and stroked the tumbled waves of her black hair. "You +wouldn't love me if I did a thing like that. You'd know I wasn't doing +right." +</P> + +<P> +She shook his face between her hands with gentle earnestness. "Yes, I +would! I would! I know I would! Everything you do is just right! It +would be right if you did it! Don't you see? What does anything +matter so long as we have each other? Why do you have to risk your +life? Oh, take me away, beloved, take me away and I'll marry you +to-morrow!" +</P> + +<P> +Because of what he did then, you'll say he did not love her. But he +did, heart and soul and body, he loved her. Yet he put her resolutely +from him and held her off at the full stretch of his arms. "There's +more to this than you've told me," said he shrewdly. "You're scared. +You're scared bad, but it isn't only the thought of the gang that +scares you. There's something else. What is it?" +</P> + +<P> +At first she would not tell him. He argued with her. +</P> + +<P> +Finally she surrendered. "If you marry me and stay here, you'll be +killed." +</P> + +<P> +He threw back his head and laughed. "Is that all that's worrying you? +We'll be married to-morrow, like I said." +</P> + +<P> +"No, we won't—unless you take me away at once. No, don't kiss me. I +mean it." +</P> + +<P> +"Who told you I'd be killed?" +</P> + +<P> +"I won't tell you." +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me, and I'll make him come here and take back everything he said." +</P> + +<P> +But the recollection of what Rafe Tuckleton and his outfit had almost +succeeded in doing to John Dawson was too fresh in her mind. She did +not dare tell Billy who had told her. She knew right well that if she +did it would simply mean that her lover would be killed the sooner. +The odds against him were great enough as it was. +</P> + +<P> +She shook her head. Her eyes were bright with pure terror. "I can't +tell you!" she whispered in agony of spirit. "I can't!" +</P> + +<P> +"Was it Rafe?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can't tell you!" twisting her head to escape his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"It <I>was</I> Rafe!" +</P> + +<P> +"It wasn't Rafe!" she lied wearily. "It doesn't matter who it was. +Oh, boy, boy, I don't dare marry you if you stay here. And I want to +marry you, dear heart. I love you so! I love you! Oh, let's go away +where we can be happy together! Why won't you be sensible and take the +easiest way out?" +</P> + +<P> +"God knows I would if I could, but I've got to play the hand out. I +can't back down because there may be a li'l danger. You know I can't, +and down deep you don't want me to. Listen. When you saw Jack Murray +was out to bushwhack me, what did you do? Did you take the easiest way +out and go on about your business, or did you jump right in and risk +your life to save mine?" +</P> + +<P> +"That was different," said she piteously, realizing that her cause was +lost, but fighting to the last. "I did it for you. I'd be willing to +die for you any time. Boy! I love you so hard, nothing else matters! +Nothing! I'd lie, steal, cheat and fight for you! Oh, I'm shameless, +shameless! But that's the way I love you! Why can't you give up +everything for me the way I would for you and take me away and marry +me?" +</P> + +<P> +He was more than a little shaken. He had to summon all his resolution +to withstand her pleadings. But he did more. He got upon his feet and +thrust her down into his place in the chair and held her there with one +hand for all she struggled might and main to wind her arms again around +his neck. +</P> + +<P> +"Listen to me," he said in a voice that trembled. "You don't know what +you are asking me to do. If I did it, I'd be a dog, and I won't be a +dog even for your sake. Marry me now and we'll see it through, you and +I together." +</P> + +<P> +She shook her head. "I—I can't," she whispered, and added with most +human logic, "I don't believe you love me!" +</P> + +<P> +At which he was moved to wrath. "It's you that don't love me! You +listen here! I've asked you for the last time to marry me! You turned +me down for some fool notion that isn't worth a hill of beans. All +right, let it go at that. If ever you change your mind, you'll have to +come to me and put your arms around my neck and tell me I was right to +stick it out and you were wrong to want me not to. And if you don't do +it, you're not the girl I took you for, and I wouldn't look at you with +a telescope!" +</P> + +<P> +She sat speechless. Without another word he stooped, swept his hat +from the floor and went out. And, it must be said to his discredit, he +slammed the door behind him. +</P> + +<P> +A long five minutes Hazel was staring wide-eyed at the door. But he +did not come back. She crept to the window. He was riding away down +the draw. He did not look back. He passed out of sight around the +bend. Hazel slid quietly to the floor and, her face buried in her +hands, began to cry as if her heart would break. +</P> + +<P> +For her little world had been shattered and she was left disconsolate +among the fragments. Her man did not understand. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER EIGHT +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE NEW BROOM +</H4> + +<P> +Tip O'Gorman sat comfortably near the red-hot stove. The wind and the +snow were blustering outdoors. It was what the people you yearn to +kill call a bracing day in January. Actually the weather was such that +the well-known brass monkey would have been frostbitten in at least one +ear. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a good old world." Tip sighed luxuriously and wiggled the toes +of his roomy slippers. +</P> + +<P> +Entered then one who changed the pleasing aspect of the good old world. +</P> + +<P> +Judge Driver slammed the door behind him and untied the comforter that +held the hat to his head. He removed the hat and buffalo coat, hung +both on pegs behind the door, sat down and glared at Tip O'Gorman. +</P> + +<P> +"You've done it now," exclaimed Judge Driver. +</P> + +<P> +"What particular thing have you on your mind?" Tip queried equably. +</P> + +<P> +"The sheriff you were so set on having elected! Oh, yes, says you, put +in an honest man. Give the dear people a bone to chew on. And we took +your advice and gave 'em their bone. And now look at the damn thing." +</P> + +<P> +"What's happened to the sheriff?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not a thing. I wish something would. It's what's happening to us +that bothers me. Your fine li'l love of a sheriff is appointing his +own deputies." +</P> + +<P> +"The law gives him that privilege." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't understand. I had picked two deputies for him to +appoint—good safe men. You know that part was left to me, and I fixed +on Johnson and Kenealy. This morning I mentioned their names to the +new sheriff. 'I thank you kindly for your good intentions,' says Bill, +or words to that effect, 'but I have already decided to appoint Shotgun +Shillman and Riley Tyler.'" +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'd say what! I'd say hell, I would! Ain't it nice, ain't it funny, +ain't it a pretty state of affairs? And what are you going to do about +it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Has he appointed 'em yet?" +</P> + +<P> +"They're sworn in by now. He said he was expecting 'em any minute when +I left." +</P> + +<P> +"Shillman's the nearest," said Tip, glancing out of the partly frosted +window pane, "and he lives forty miles away. I wouldn't count on those +boys being appointed to-day. The storm may have kept 'em away." +</P> + +<P> +"No such luck," growled the judge. "They're appointed, all right +enough." +</P> + +<P> +"Think so if it makes you happy," Tip said with a grin. "You're always +such a pessimist." +</P> + +<P> +"Here!" snarled the judge. "Don't you try to ride me, Tip. Say right +out what you mean." +</P> + +<P> +"I did," smiled Tip. "However——" +</P> + +<P> +"Huh," snorted the judge, and put his feet on the table and began to +pull at his lower lip. +</P> + +<P> +"Shotgun Shillman and Riley Tyler," murmured Tip musingly. "Hum-m-m!" +</P> + +<P> +"Can't you think of anything to do but buzz like a bee?" demanded the +irritated judge. +</P> + +<P> +"There's lots of things you can learn from bees," protested Tip +O'Gorman. "Maybe they do buzz some, but they gather lots of honey." +</P> + +<P> +"We'll gather lots of honey, won't we?" snapped the other. "Both +Shotgun and Riley are absolutely honest." +</P> + +<P> +"And sharp—infernal sharp. Don't forget that." +</P> + +<P> +"You take it easy." +</P> + +<P> +"Spilt milk. We've overlooked a bet, that's all." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, that's all is it? I tell you it won't be all. I've got a hunch." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be superstitious. Politics is no place to play hunches." +</P> + +<P> +"Apparently it isn't even a place to play common sense," said the +judge. "If it hadn't been for you and your advice, we wouldn't be in +this fix. You got us in. Now you get us out." +</P> + +<P> +"You make me sick, Tom. You're getting to be a regular old granny. I +tell you there is no rat in the hole. Suppose Bill does appoint two +honest deputies. There is still Bill, isn't there? What are two +deputies going to do against Bill's orders? And Bill will do what I +tell him. Oh, yes, he will. You needn't shake your head. I can +manage Bill Wingo." +</P> + +<P> +"I wish I could be sure of that," worried the judge. +</P> + +<P> +"You can be, old-timer, you can be. I'll manage Bill as per invoice, +so you just bed your mind down and give it a rest. The bottle's in +that cupboard, water's in the kettle, sugar's on the table, lemons in +that box. Help yourself, make punch and be happy. Make enough for +two, while you're about it. Your punch always did taste better than +mine. I never could mix one to taste anything like. Lord knows how +you do it. It's a gift. I hear you had a long run of luck at Crafty's +last night." +</P> + +<P> +Et cetera, words with end and amen. Tip O'Gorman was a skilful +scoundrel. He knew precisely how far to go and he rarely employed a +shovel. For even the dullest have a wit flash now and then. +</P> + +<P> +He soon had the jurist purring. +</P> + +<P> +To Billy Wingo that evening came Tip O'Gorman; a bluff, hearty, +good-hearted Tip; a Tip that told funny stories and was a good listener +himself and laughed at the right place. You've heard it all before +doubtless and know the method: "A chair for Mr. Dugan. He owns the +stockyards. His pockets are full of greenbacks. Let him win as much +as he can and don't forget to tell Patsy to be waiting for him at the +corner with the lead pipe when he goes out." +</P> + +<P> +The old, old game, you see. Shabby, moth-eaten through and through, +fairly obvious; but it works—most of the time. +</P> + +<P> +"That's fine whisky, Bill," observed Tip, cupping an affectionate hand +ground his glass. "No, no, tempt me not, brother. I know when to +stop, if I am old and sinful. A pleasant fire, a comfortable room, a +hot drink, and a cold and winter's night. What more can a man want?" +</P> + +<P> +"What indeed?" said Billy politely. Inwardly he thought, "What the +devil does he want?" +</P> + +<P> +You will perceive that the game was not running true to form. For it +to be successful, the victim must not become a prey to low suspicion. +</P> + +<P> +"Sworn in your deputies yet?" Tip made casual inquiry. +</P> + +<P> +"Not yet. Storm might have kept 'em away." +</P> + +<P> +Then all was not lost. Tip began to feel a mental glow. He had been +counting on the storm. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you appointed 'em?" he put the dread question. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure thing." +</P> + +<P> +"Who are they?" +</P> + +<P> +"Shotgun Shillman and Riley Tyler." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes. Good men, both of 'em, but——" +</P> + +<P> +Tip O'Gorman fell silent. He toyed with his glass. +</P> + +<P> +Billy Wingo regarded him slantwise. That "but." "Yes?" +</P> + +<P> +"But," continued Tip O'Gorman, "I know of better men." +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah?" Rising inflection and a cocked eyebrow. +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah." +</P> + +<P> +"For instance?" +</P> + +<P> +"Johnson and Kenealy." +</P> + +<P> +"Why Johnson and Kenealy? Why not Shillman and Riley?" +</P> + +<P> +"Shillman and Riley never have done anything for the party. Johnson +and Kenealy have." +</P> + +<P> +"What have Johnson and Kenealy done for the party?" +</P> + +<P> +"For one thing, they have always voted right." +</P> + +<P> +"That is one thing, but not a large thing. Other men have voted right +too—frequently. Some too frequently; if you know what I mean." +</P> + +<P> +"Politics, my dear fellow, is not child's play. We do what we must to +win. But it doesn't pay to look a gift horse in the mouth too closely. +He may bite." Tip O'Gorman stared at the new sheriff. +</P> + +<P> +The latter smiled a long, slow smile. "There are muzzles," said Bill +Wingo. +</P> + +<P> +Tip dismissed this with a wave of his hand. "Too big a horse and too +many teeth," said he. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah!" murmured Billy Wingo. +</P> + +<P> +"Come, come, Bill, you're no fool. You know what I'm after. You know +what you owe the party. Johnson and Kenealy must be taken care of." +</P> + +<P> +"Must," observed Billy, "is the hardest word in the dictionary." +</P> + +<P> +"Sometimes it means the most," declared Tip O'Gorman. "This is one of +those times." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah!" +</P> + +<P> +There it was again, that irritating monosyllable. For the first time +Tip O'Gorman began to experience a doubt. +</P> + +<P> +"We expect you to appoint Johnson and Kenealy," he said bluntly. +</P> + +<P> +"And if I don't?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you will—after you've thought it over." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought it over after Judge Driver came to me. And I decided not +to. I prefer my own men." +</P> + +<P> +"Johnson and Kenealy will be your own men." +</P> + +<P> +"That is a question." Billy sat back in his chair and made a church +roof and a steeple with the fingers of his two hands. He raised lazy +gray eyes to Tip's face. "That is a question," he repeated. "They may +be my men and then again—" He ceased speaking, leaving the sentence +unfinished. The church steeple became a gallows. "You see, I can't +risk it," drawled Billy. +</P> + +<P> +Tip O'Gorman carefully set his glass down on the table. "You must," he +remarked softly. +</P> + +<P> +"As I said before," murmured Billy, his drawl drawlier than ever, "must +is a hard, hard word. But I'll tell you what I'll do, Tip," he +continued in a louder, more cheerful tone. "You show me what 'musts' +in the statutes apply to the sheriff's office, and I'll obey every last +one of 'em. When I took office, I made oath to obey and support the +laws, you know." +</P> + +<P> +He smiled at Tip. The latter smiled back. "Lookit here, Bill," he +said in his best and most fatherly fashion, "I like you——" +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose that was why I was elected," interrupted Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"Partly," was the brazen reply. "But there were other reasons, of +course. We needed a good man to win, a man that was on the level, an +honest man, a——" +</P> + +<P> +"Not a crooked man, or a dishonest man, or a pink man, or even a man +with purple spots. So you elected me. I'll take it as a compliment. +Go on." +</P> + +<P> +"A straight man doesn't throw down his friends," said Tip O'Gorman. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure not," declared Billy warmly. "He'd be a pup if he did. I agree +with you, Tip. We won't fight over that." +</P> + +<P> +"You're throwing us down," insisted Tip. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, we're getting down to carpet tacks," said Billy. "But who are +'us'?" +</P> + +<P> +"The party." +</P> + +<P> +"The party?" +</P> + +<P> +"The party." +</P> + +<P> +"But the party and my friends are not necessarily the same thing." +</P> + +<P> +"We elected you." +</P> + +<P> +"That doesn't make you my friends. Understand me, Tip, there are a lot +of folks in the party I like and admire—a lot of 'em. But the folks I +like and admire don't come to me and give me orders, and my friends +don't either. Not that you've been giving me any orders, Tip. You +wouldn't do such a thing." +</P> + +<P> +"It's all right to ride me," said Tip, without losing for a minute his +amiable smile, "but you might better leave off the spurs." +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't riding anything to-day," averred Billy. "There's the bowl. +Dip you out another glassful." +</P> + +<P> +Tip O'Gorman did not accept the invitation. "I wish I could make you +understand," he said slowly, crossing his legs and clasping both hands +around a plump knee. "This is a serious matter, Bill." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure it is," asserted Billy. "You're serious. I'm serious. He, she +or it is serious. Outside of that, it's a fine, large evening." +</P> + +<P> +"Lookit here, Bill, what's your game?" +</P> + +<P> +"Game? What game are you talking about?" +</P> + +<P> +"What do you want? What are you after, anyway?" +</P> + +<P> +Billy made swimming motions with his arms and hands. "Paddle out, +paddle out. You're over my head and getting deeper." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you trying to give me the double-cross?" inquired Tip. +</P> + +<P> +"Now why should I do a fool thing like that?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know. I'm asking." +</P> + +<P> +"What makes you think I'm giving you the double-cross?" +</P> + +<P> +"The first favor I ever asked of you—the appointment of these two men." +</P> + +<P> +"When I was elected, then, it wasn't intended I should have a free +hand?" +</P> + +<P> +"Free hand? Of course, of course." Tip was beginning to find the +atmosphere oppressive. He passed a handkerchief across his beaded brow. +</P> + +<P> +Observing which, Billy said affectionately, "It is hot in here. Shall +I open a window?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nemmine a window," Tip said. "Think a shake, Bill. Is it wise?" +</P> + +<P> +"Wise?" +</P> + +<P> +"You know what I mean." +</P> + +<P> +"Not I," denied the cheerful Bill. +</P> + +<P> +"You can't buck the party." +</P> + +<P> +"There ain't no such word, but just for the sake of argument, why can't +I?" +</P> + +<P> +"It has been done, but——" +</P> + +<P> +"Where are the snows of yesteryear, huh?" +</P> + +<P> +Tip nodded. "Something like that." +</P> + +<P> +"If I don't appoint your men and do appoint mine, what particular form +of devilment would the party feel called upon to put on me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Devilment," grinned Tip. "You don't know us." +</P> + +<P> +"Backward and forward, sideways and from the bottom up. Don't you fool +yourself I don't know you. I been looking over the situation a long +time. It's been a liberal education." +</P> + +<P> +"So that's it," murmured Tip. "Driver told me, but I didn't believe +him." +</P> + +<P> +"The judge sometimes tells the truth." +</P> + +<P> +Tip O'Gorman sighed. He thought he saw what he would have to do. And +he didn't want to do it. It meant one more mouth to feed, and one more +finger in the pie. +</P> + +<P> +"You understand, Bill," said he, "that it was always intended you +should have your share." +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing was ever said to me about any share," said Billy truthfully. +</P> + +<P> +"We occasionally prefer to leave something to the imagination." +</P> + +<P> +"It beats leaving it to the taxpayer," smiled Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, sure." +</P> + +<P> +"But my share you were speaking of, Tip," prompted Bill. "What is this +share—large, small or indifferent?" +</P> + +<P> +"That depends," replied O'Gorman cadgily. +</P> + +<P> +"On the weather, or some one's generosity?" +</P> + +<P> +Was there mirth or something sinister in the gray eyes? Tip O'Gorman +couldn't be sure. But Lord, there was no cause for apprehension. He'd +been making himself unnecessary worry. Bill Wingo was too easy-going +and good-natured to hold out on the boys. He was just making a play +for his legitimate share. That was only right. Not that Tip had +intended in the beginning that Bill should have his legitimate share. +These politicians! +</P> + +<P> +"You see, Bill, it's thisaway," said Tip. "Some years the party makes +more than other years, and——" +</P> + +<P> +"And the years it makes the most," insisted Bill, "are the years I make +the most. Is that it?" +</P> + +<P> +"You get the general idea." +</P> + +<P> +"But not the general idea of what I get," persisted the strangely +obtuse sheriff. "What is the minimum I can expect?" +</P> + +<P> +Tip did not relish being pinned down to cases in this fashion. He +preferred generalities. +</P> + +<P> +"The minimum," repeated Tip. +</P> + +<P> +"And the maximum," suggested Bill. "I might as well know all the +horrible details." +</P> + +<P> +"From three to five thousand dollars," said Tip, watching his +<I>vis-à-vis</I> closely. +</P> + +<P> +Said <I>vis-à-vis</I> looked disappointed. "Small change," he remarked +coldly. "Who gets the other nickle?" +</P> + +<P> +"Your salary is two thousand," Tip told him reproachfully, "and three +to five thousand above that makes five to seven thousand. What more do +you want?" +</P> + +<P> +"Whatever's right," declared the amazing Mr. Wingo. +</P> + +<P> +"That's right—what I told you." +</P> + +<P> +"What did the last sheriff get?" +</P> + +<P> +"I told you it varied." +</P> + +<P> +"I know you told me. Tell me again." +</P> + +<P> +Tip O'Gorman shifted his position in the chair. He was being baited. +He realized it now. A slow anger rose in his breast. But an admixture +of dismay in the anger kept it from boiling over. +</P> + +<P> +He continued to temporize. "Your slice will be worth while, well worth +while. Leave it to us. You can trust me." +</P> + +<P> +"Can I? I wonder." +</P> + +<P> +"Meaning?" O'Gorman's face was cold as his heart was hot. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder. I do it now and then. Habit, I suppose. No harm in it, is +there?" +</P> + +<P> +"Lookit here, you don't doubt me, do you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Unhand me, Jack Dalton! I may be poor—I may starve to death, but I +will never be an old man's plaything. Better death than +dishonor-rur-rur. Don't be so melodramatic, Tip. Who am I to doubt +you? You? What a question!" +</P> + +<P> +The fingers with which Billy Wingo then proceeded to make a cigarette +were steady and sure in every movement. Billy licked the length of the +white roll, smoothed it down and twisted one end. Tip O'Gorman did not +know what to make of him. Or rather he thought he knew too well, which +frequently amounts to the same thing. +</P> + +<P> +"You'd better trust me," rumbled Tip. +</P> + +<P> +"Be reasonable, Tip. You ask for trust and you give me a stone." +</P> + +<P> +"A stone?" +</P> + +<P> +"What else is three to five thousand bucks, I'd like to know. I'm no +child, man. I've got my growth, and I've put away childish things, +including all-day suckers." +</P> + +<P> +"You must take me for one." +</P> + +<P> +"Not you, not in a million years. But—" Mr. Wingo paused and looked +up at the ceiling. His lips moved. He muttered of figures and sums. +</P> + +<P> +Tip O'Gorman awaited his pleasure. What else was there to do? +</P> + +<P> +"I think between nine and ten thousand is nearer the correct amount for +li'l me," Billy said at last. +</P> + +<P> +"What?" screeched Tip, fairly jarred off his balance at last. +</P> + +<P> +Billy made his position plain. "Say ten thousand in round numbers." +</P> + +<P> +"Ten thousand devils!" +</P> + +<P> +"Not devils—dollars." +</P> + +<P> +"You're crazy!" +</P> + +<P> +"It's the least you can do," insisted Billy. +</P> + +<P> +Tip O'Gorman made an odd noise in his throat. After making which, a +dog would have bitten Mr. Wingo. Tip may have been a bad old man, but +he was not a dog. He really dissembled his foamingly murderous rage +very well indeed. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll have to see the rest of the boys," said Tip O'Gorman, and he +actually smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, no," contradicted Billy. "You won't. Why should you? Rafe and +you are the dogs with the brass collars in Crocker County, and you wear +more brass than Rafe, when you come right down to it. What you say +usually goes without question." +</P> + +<P> +"I never said ten thousand for a sheriff before," protested Tip. +</P> + +<P> +"There's nothing like establishing a precedent. Don't be hidebound. +This is the newer generation, and advanced age, you know; one that's +advanced by jumps, if you could only be brought to realize it." +</P> + +<P> +Tip held up an arresting hand. "Don't joke," he said. "I realize what +the blessed age is doing, but doubling the ante this way is more than a +jump—it's a mighty wild leap." +</P> + +<P> +"It can be done," Billy said placidly. "What are impossibilities +to-day become realities to-morrow. Q.E.D. P.D.Q." +</P> + +<P> +Tip O'Gorman raised plump hands to the level of his ears. "I didn't +think when I proposed you for sheriff," he remarked earnestly, "that I +was proposing a road agent too. Oh, you burglar! I do admire a hawg. +Yes, sir. But what can a feller do? Ten thousand goes. About those +deputies—I don't suppose you'll have any objections, now that you've +got what you want, to appointing Johnson and Kenealy?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes, indeed I have—plenty. No Johnson and no Kenealy. Shillman +and Tyler. Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"No. You've got to earn that ten thousand." +</P> + +<P> +"Bribery and corruption, Tip, is a serious crime." +</P> + +<P> +"Bosh! You listen to me, young feller. We're buying you, body, soul +and roll, with that ten thousand cases! You've got to do as we say. +Hells bells, what do you think you are?" +</P> + +<P> +"A stranger in a strange land. Damn strange, too. Tip, you're an old +scoundrel!" +</P> + +<P> +Tip O'Gorman's hand halted half-way to his armpit. +</P> + +<P> +"No, no, Tip, not that," Billy warned him, keeping turned on the other +man's stomach the gun that had suddenly appeared from nowhere. "Don't +turn rusty in here. The carpet is new and so is the furniture. Go a +li'l slow, or a li'l slower, whichever appeals to you." +</P> + +<P> +Tip locked his hands behind his head. "Be sensible, Bill," said he +calmly. "You can't hope to buck us, if that's your idea. You can't." +</P> + +<P> +"Can't I? We'll see." +</P> + +<P> +"What can one man do?" contemptuously. +</P> + +<P> +"One-two-three. Three men. Three men can do a lot. Yep. I've seen +it done." +</P> + +<P> +"Have you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have. But I want to be fair to you, Tip. You'll notice I haven't +removed your gun. I'll return mine where it came from—behind the +waistband of my pants. Now turn your wolf loose." +</P> + +<P> +But Tip O'Gorman merely smiled. "I thank you kindly," said he. "You +mean well; but as you say, the carpet and the furniture are new. It +would be a pity to spoil both them and the evening." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean we'll go outdoors then?" +</P> + +<P> +"<I>We</I> will not, but <I>I</I> will. You will stay here and, I hope, enjoy +one good night's rest." +</P> + +<P> +"One, huh? Do I hear you say one? I do. I get your meaning, thank +you. So good of you. Don't get up. I would a tale unfold. Did you +ever hear the story of Benjy and the bear. No? This is it. Benjy was +out hunting one day and it happened the bear was out hunting too. For +the bear was hungry, and the bear saw Benjy before Benjy saw the bear. +And after the dust had cleared away and all, the bear was bulgy and the +bulge was Benjy." +</P> + +<P> +"Huh," snorted Tip O'Gorman, "what does that prove?" +</P> + +<P> +"It proves that it's better to be the bear than Benjy. At least, +that's the way it looks to a man up a tree. I made up my mind some +time ago that if I got tangled up in a situation like that I'd be the +bear and not Benjy." +</P> + +<P> +Tip O'Gorman stared with an odd expression at Billy Wingo. "You <I>have</I> +changed," he remarked with conviction. "I wonder——" +</P> + +<P> +"Give it a name," begged Billy, when Tip failed to complete the +sentence. +</P> + +<P> +Mr. O'Gorman shook his bullet head. "No, I got other fish to fry." +</P> + +<P> +He got up heavily and began to pull on his overcoat. +</P> + +<P> +When he was gone, Billy Wingo crossed the room unhurriedly and barred +the door. He threw a quick glance at the blankets nailed across the +windows ostensibly to keep out the drafts. All tight. No one could +look in. +</P> + +<P> +"All right, boys," he said in a conversational tone. "You can come out +now." +</P> + +<P> +The door of an inner room opened. Two men emerged. One was a long, +lean citizen with a long, lean face barred by a heavy grizzled +mustache. The other was shorter, of equally lean build, and +considerably younger. The older man was Shotgun Shillman, the younger +was Riley Tyler. +</P> + +<P> +In Riley's hand was a thin block of paper. A pencil stuck up behind +his ear. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you get it all?" queried Billy, sitting down in his chair and +hunching it close to the table. +</P> + +<P> +"Most of it," Riley replied. "All the important part, especially where +he tried to buy you up. Gee, you've got him now. Send him over the +road any time." +</P> + +<P> +"But it's only Tip," said Billy, taking the block of paper from Riley +and riffling through the scribbled leaves. +</P> + +<P> +"Arresting him would sure throw a heap scare into the others," Riley +grinned. +</P> + +<P> +"And that is what I want to avoid," said Billy. "There's no use in +scaring off the flock by downing one bird. We'll just file away Tip +O'Gorman's remarks for future reference. We can afford to wait. +Where's that Bible? I'll swear you boys in right away." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER NINE +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE DISTRICT ATTORNEY +</H4> + +<P> +It was the next day that Arthur Rale, the district attorney, called on +the new sheriff. He was a heavy-jowled, heavy-handed, heavy-bodied +individual, with black hair, close-set eyes, and, what was curiously at +variance with those heavy jowls, a long and pointed nose. +</P> + +<P> +Billy Wingo was expecting the district attorney to pay him a visit. +For Shotgun Shillman had been told that Tip O'Gorman, Rafe Tuckleton +and Judge Driver had spent the morning closeted with that gentleman. +</P> + +<P> +Billy Wingo was cleaning a Winchester when the district attorney +knocked and entered. +</P> + +<P> +"Si'down, Arthur," invited Bill, indicating a chair with the barrel of +the rifle. +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney returned the salutation gruffly. Billy smiled +sweetly down at the rifle stock he was hand-rubbing. Mr. Rale stamped +his feet, hung up his hat and coat and sat down heavily in the chair. +Resting both fists on his knees, he fixed Billy with a hard eye. +</P> + +<P> +"What's this I hear?" he wished to hear. +</P> + +<P> +"I dunno," said truthful William. +</P> + +<P> +"I hear you've appointed Shillman and Tyler deputies," Rale said +accusingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Seems to me I <I>have</I> done something like that," admitted Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"You've got to cancel their appointments." +</P> + +<P> +"Got to?" +</P> + +<P> +"Got to." +</P> + +<P> +"I must be gettin' deaf," drawled Billy. "Seems like I heard you say +got to." +</P> + +<P> +"You heard me right," declared Rale, with a vicious snap of strong, +white teeth. "You cancel those appointments and put in Johnson and +Kenealy instead." +</P> + +<P> +"Everybody seems to want those two fellers," said Billy, wagging a +puzzled head. "I don't understand it." +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney leaned forward. His broad, flat face was +venomous in its expression. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here," he said harshly, "you like Hazel Walton, don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +Whang! In that confined space the crash of the gun was deafening. The +district attorney, coughing in the smoke, picked up himself and his +chair from the ground. He had fallen over backward at the shot, struck +the back of his head and now his actions were purely mechanical. +</P> + +<P> +"Dazed you like, didn't it?" Billy queried in a soft voice. "You did +hit pretty hard. Luck is with you to-day. I'll bet if you went down +to Crafty's, you'd bust the bank and Crafty's heart." +</P> + +<P> +Rale did not take the palpable hint. He sat down again and looked +uncertainly at Billy Wingo. He had courage, this district attorney, +the species of courage, you understand, that to function properly must +have a shade the better of the break, that bets always on a sure thing +and never on an uncertainty. +</P> + +<P> +Rale had been knocked off balance mentally and physically. He did the +wrong thing. +</P> + +<P> +"You tried to murder me," he blurted out. +</P> + +<P> +Billy shook a solemn head. "You're mistaken. If I'd tried to murder +you, I'd have done it. Accidents will happen, though, even to the most +careful fellers. Yeah. You were speaking of the Waltons, Arthur. I +didn't quite catch what you said." +</P> + +<P> +He gazed expectantly at the district attorney. It seemed to the latter +that the barrel of the rifle was in a line with the third button of his +vest. Certainly the muzzle looked as large as a mine opening. Was the +rifle cocked? Billy Wingo's large hand covered the breech. Billy +moved the large hand a trifle. Yes, the rifle was cocked. The +district attorney's eyes strayed downward. At Billy's feet was a spent +shell. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here," said Rale, "if that shot was an accident, why did you flip +in a fresh cartridge?" +</P> + +<P> +"How do you know I worked the lever?" demanded Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"Because the spent shell's on the floor between your feet." +</P> + +<P> +"You've been reading those detective stories again. Arthur. It would +look mighty bad for me if you were to pass out in here to-night. +You're a big man and a heavy man. And the ground is frozen harder than +rock. Bet I'd have to use a pick. I hope, Arthur, you're not thinking +of doing anything to make me use a pick." +</P> + +<P> +Billy had uttered these sinister words in a mild and plaintive tone. +The expression of his countenance was even milder and more plaintive. +The district attorney found it difficult to believe that he had heard +aright. Yet he had heard the report of the rifle aright. There could +be no mistake about that. +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney sat rigidly erect. He cleared his throat. He +wished his heart would stop pounding so hard. Odd, too, that it should +seem to have moved out of its usual position to another that was +already occupied by his windpipe. Breathing and speaking were rendered +difficult. Quite so. +</P> + +<P> +He cleared his throat again. "Wingo," he said, "are you threatening +me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Threatening you?" Billy said in a shocked tone. "Certainly not. +Wouldn't think of such a thing." +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney tried again. "Wingo, I don't know what to do +with you. I——" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't do anything," suggested Billy. "I'd feel better about it, too." +</P> + +<P> +"Huh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah, I would. I've got a new job here, Arthur, and I guess it will +keep me busy—busy enough, anyway. And how am I going to swing it and +do justice to the taxpayers, if well-meaning fellers like you are alla +time experimentin' with me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Wingo," said the district attorney sternly, "stop this tomfoolery! +Instantly! You have played the buffoon long enough." +</P> + +<P> +"All right," smiled Billy. "I'll be good." +</P> + +<P> +"That's better. Much better. Keep to that tone and we'll get along, +we'll get along." +</P> + +<P> +Again the district attorney cleared his throat. +</P> + +<P> +"Lord, Lord," thought Billy Wingo, "what a foolish thing this man is!" +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney picked up the thread of his discourse. "We can't +have you upsetting our plans in any way, Wingo. We can't have it, and +we won't have it. I order you to immediately cancel the appointments +of Shillman and Tyler and appoint instead Johnson and Kenealy. Do you +understand?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Billy in a weary voice, "I understand. I understand +perfectly. You can go now." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll go when I have your answer." +</P> + +<P> +"Your mistake. You're going now." +</P> + +<P> +So saying, Billy arose, lowered the hammer of his rifle to the safety +notch and laid the weapon on the table. Then he raised himself on +tiptoe and stretched luxuriously. His arms came down slowly. He +turned a surprised gaze upon the district attorney. +</P> + +<P> +"Haven't you started yet?" he said briskly. "Come, come, get a-going." +</P> + +<P> +Even as he spoke he leaped with cat-like agility upon the district +attorney where he sat in his chair and wrenched the right arm of that +surprised gentleman around behind his back. With his left hand, +despite the struggles and protesting roars of the captive, he removed a +six-shooter from a shoulder holster and a derringer from a vest pocket. +</P> + +<P> +"You must be scared of some one," observed Billy Wingo, as the +derringer followed the six-shooter to a place on the table. "Arise, +pushing your stomach ahead of you, and depart in peace." +</P> + +<P> +But the district attorney was averse to departing that way. "You will +regret this outrage!" he bellowed, his ripe cheeks and the veins in his +neck swollen with passion. +</P> + +<P> +"So will you," said Billy, twisting the man's arm ever so slightly. +"You are in a serious position. If you'd only realize it, and be +reasonable, we'd all be happier. I don't want to break your +arm—unless I have to. Observe, Mr. Man, how easily I could do it." +</P> + +<P> +So saying, he pushed the district attorney's arm somewhat farther up +his back. The district attorney groaned. Billy eased the pressure. +The district attorney began to curse. Billy, boosting him with his +knee, assisted him toward the door. +</P> + +<P> +With his left hand Billy withdrew the bar from the staple, opened the +door, swung his right foot and kicked the district attorney out into a +snowdrift. After him Billy tossed his coat and cap. Then he closed +the door and shoved the bar into place. +</P> + +<P> +"And that's that," said Billy Wingo. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TEN +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +A SHORT HORSE +</H4> + +<P> +"You took your own time about coming," grunted Rafe Tuckleton. +</P> + +<P> +Dan Slike crossed his knees and stared at Rafe and Skinny Shindle. "I +always take my own time," said he, in a voice as blank and +expressionless as his ice-blue eyes. "Why hurry?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because you should have hurried," nagged Rafe. "Y'oughta come when I +wrote you last summer. This Tom Walton has gone on living all fall, +and here it is January and he ain't dead yet." +</P> + +<P> +"That's tough," sympathized Mr. Slike and wagged a belying foot. +</P> + +<P> +Skinny Shindle, looking somewhat worried, went to the door, opened it +and looked out into the short hall. Satisfied that the breed cook was +busy in the kitchen, he closed the door and returned to his chair. +</P> + +<P> +"It's worse'n that. Tom ain't the only li'l job I want you to attend +to. There's the sheriff, Billy Wingo." +</P> + +<P> +"That will be extra." +</P> + +<P> +"Extra?" +</P> + +<P> +"You haven't any idea I'm gonna do two jobs for the price of one, have +you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well——" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, nothin'. I ain't in the business for my health, you can gamble +on that. If you're looking for charity, you're roping at the wrong +horse." +</P> + +<P> +"No, no, nothing like that," Rafe hastened to say. "I'll do whatever's +right and fair. You can trust me." +</P> + +<P> +Dan Slike shook a slow head. An amused twinkle lightened those blank +eyes. "Oh, yes," he said. "I'm almost sure I can trust you. Yeah. +Almost." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" blustered Rafe Tuckleton. +</P> + +<P> +"Folks I talk to don't generally need any dictionary," said Slike. +</P> + +<P> +"Huh," grunted Rafe, content to let it go at that. "Anyway, you'll be +well paid." +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't come alla way from the Jornada just to hear you say I'd be +well paid. Your 'well paid' and my 'well paid' might be two different +things. Sometimes you and I don't talk the same language." +</P> + +<P> +Rafe Tuckleton considered a moment. "Five hundred dollars apiece for +Tom and the sheriff," said he, looking at Slike from beneath lowered +eyebrows. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll bargain for 'em separately," said Slike. "One thousand for Tom, +payable in advance." +</P> + +<P> +"No," denied Rafe. "Too much." +</P> + +<P> +"Aw right," assented Slike cheerfully. "I'll be pulling my freight for +New Mexico to-morrow. What you gonna have for dinner?" +</P> + +<P> +"Let's talk it over. One thousand dollars is a lot of money for a li'l +job like rubbing out Tom Walton." +</P> + +<P> +"If it's a li'l job, why don't you attend to it yourself?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I can't. Impossible. Why, man, consider my position." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, I understand. You'd rather live than have Tom Walton kill you. +Don't know that I blame you, Rafe. You always were a sensible jasper." +</P> + +<P> +Slike's eyes dwelt on Rafe's face with tolerant contempt. The red +color of Rafe's leathery cheeks was not entirely due to the heat of the +cannon-ball stove. No. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not a gunfighter," disclaimed Rafe quickly. "Never was. That's +your job." +</P> + +<P> +"And I am a gunfighter. Always was. And it's my job. And I intend to +get my price for my job. One thousand in advance, or the deal's off." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not a rich man," protested Rafe. "I lack ready money. So does +Mr. Shindle here. Say five hundred now and the rest in the spring." +</P> + +<P> +"I know how rich you are," said Slike. "And I can make a fair guess +how you and Mr. Shindle stand for ready money. You can raise the +thousand without too much trouble, I guess. Anyhow, it goes." +</P> + +<P> +"You drive a hard bargain." +</P> + +<P> +"A man in my business can't afford to be squeamish." As Slike spoke +his eyes narrowed. +</P> + +<P> +"But——" +</P> + +<P> +"No buts. You want Walton killed——" +</P> + +<P> +"Sh-h! Not so loud," cautioned Skinny Shindle. "Removed is a better +word than killed, anyway." +</P> + +<P> +"Aw, hell," sneered Dan Slike, "you make me sick. I've got no use for +a jigger that don't call a cow by its right name. I dunno the first +thing about removing. But I'll kill anybody you say. I ain't a bit +particular. Not a bit." Here Slike bent on Skinny Shindle the full +measure of a most baleful regard. +</P> + +<P> +The strangely squeamish Shindle strove manfully to stare down the other +man, but dropped his eyes within the minute. This appeared to please +Mr. Slike. He smiled crookedly and turned his attention to Tuckleton. +</P> + +<P> +"Rafe," said he, "my time is money. I can't stand here higgle-hoggling +with you from hell to breakfast. One thousand, or you get somebody +else to do the job." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose I'll have to do as you say," Rafe grumbled. "And the same +amount for the sheriff." +</P> + +<P> +"Not-a-tall," denied Slike. "Not a-tall. Do you think I'm gonna rub +out a sheriff for a thousand cases? You must have mush for a brain! +Killing a rancher is a short hoss, but a sheriff is another breed of +cat. Besides, he's got two deputies, to say nothing of the feelings of +the county. Killing this sheriff for you means I gotta leave the +county on the jump. Do you think I'm gonna run the risk of being +lynched for a measly thousand dollars? If you do, take another think. +Take two of 'em! Me, I'll take two thousand for your man." +</P> + +<P> +"Two thousand dollars for simply shooting a sheriff?" +</P> + +<P> +"Again lemme remark that if the business was as simple as you say it +is, you'd do it yourself. Two thousand in advance." +</P> + +<P> +"But that's three thousand in all." +</P> + +<P> +"You're a wonder at arithmetic. I make three thousand too." +</P> + +<P> +"But look here, Dan, we——" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm looking," interrupted Slike, "and three thousand dollars is all I +can see. You gotta expect to pay for your mistakes, Rafe. If you +didn't want to have this sheriff hold office, what did you elect him +for? You told me your political outfit was responsible." +</P> + +<P> +"How could we tell he'd turn out this way? We took it for granted he'd +do what the party wanted, and the first card out of the box he appoints +his own deputies." +</P> + +<P> +"Good men with a gun?" +</P> + +<P> +"Both of 'em," Rafe nodded absently. +</P> + +<P> +"Wingo's no slouch himself," Shindle supplied without thinking. +</P> + +<P> +"And that's the kind of bunch you want me to go up against for a +thousand dollars!" exclaimed Dan Slike. "You fellers sure have your +nerve!" +</P> + +<P> +Slike teetered his chair back on two legs and laughed loudly, but +without cheer. Rafe and Skinny found themselves somewhat chilled by +the sardonic merriment. They looked one upon the other. Slike caught +the look and laughed anew. +</P> + +<P> +"You're a fine pair," he said loudly, "a fine pair. Letting a +two-by-four sheriff run you. Ha-ha, it's a joke!" +</P> + +<P> +"You go slow, you hear!" directed Skinny Shindle. +</P> + +<P> +Dan Slike's eyes slid round to survey Skinny. "Me go slow?" he +drawled, "Who'll make me? You? Not you or Rafe either. Wanna know +why? Because I'm the best man in the room, that's why. Wanna argue +the matter?" +</P> + +<P> +Apparently neither Skinny nor Rafe cared to argue. At least they made +no audible reply to the challenge. +</P> + +<P> +Dan Slike nodded a satisfied head. "Now that's settled, let's go back +to business. About that three thousand—yes or no?" +</P> + +<P> +Skinny looked at Rafe. Rafe looked at Skinny. Skinny shook his head. +Rafe nodded his. Dan Slike, missing nothing of the byplay, smiled +delightedly. His thin lips curled into a crooked sneer. +</P> + +<P> +"There seems to be a difference of opinion," said Dan Slike. "Give it +a name." +</P> + +<P> +"Three thousand is too much," averred Skinny Shindle. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll only have to pay half of it," said Rafe. +</P> + +<P> +"But this payment in advance—I don't like it," objected Skinny Shindle. +</P> + +<P> +Dan Slike's boots came down from the table. They came down with a +certain amount of speed, yet curiously enough they made not the +slightest noise as soles and heels struck the floor. Dan Slike's chair +creaked as his body turned ever so slightly sidewise. +</P> + +<P> +"Shindle," said he softly, "you ain't thinking I wouldn't keep my part +of the bargain if I take your money, are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, oh, no," Skinny reassured him hastily. "Of course you would." +</P> + +<P> +"This being so," pursued Dan Slike, "what's the difference whether you +pay me now or later?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, none," admitted Skinny, finding himself fairly cornered. "None +whatever. I—we will pay you what you ask." +</P> + +<P> +"Spoken like a li'l man," fleered Dan Slike, and switched his gaze to +Tuckleton's face. "Second the motion, Rafe?" +</P> + +<P> +"On one condition." +</P> + +<P> +"Let's have it?" +</P> + +<P> +"You finish both jobs within thirty days." +</P> + +<P> +"No, not thirty days, old-timer, nor yet forty-five. Sixty." +</P> + +<P> +"Thirty." +</P> + +<P> +"Sixty days from to-night and the three thousand dollars, half gold, +half bills, in my pocket by noon to-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, hell, all right!" Rafe cried, tossing up helpless hands. "Come +around here to-morrow noon and get your money." +</P> + +<P> +Dan Slike nodded. "Guess I'll be going, Rafe—No, nemmine dinner, I +ain't hungry now." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER ELEVEN +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE TRAPPERS +</H4> + +<P> +"It's the women make half the trouble in the world," mused young Riley +Tyler, who had received the mitten from his girl of the period, the +restaurant waitress, and was a misogynist in consequence. +</P> + +<P> +"You're wrong," said Shotgun Shillman. "They make all of it." +</P> + +<P> +"All?" +</P> + +<P> +"All. And not only that—they make all the good, too. Yep, Riley, you +can put down a bet there ain't a thing happens to a feller—good, bad +or indifferent—that you won't find a woman at the bottom of it. A +good man goes to hell or heaven—it depends on the woman." +</P> + +<P> +"That's right, dead right," corroborated young Riley. +</P> + +<P> +"Those fatal blondes!" grinned Shotgun; for the waitress was decidedly +of that type. +</P> + +<P> +"They're all deceivers," muttered Riley Tyler, reddening to his ear +tips. +</P> + +<P> +"Ain't it the truth!" said Shotgun Shillman. "They can lie to you with +a straighter face than a government mule. Like that jail lady in the +Bible who put the kybosh on a feller named Scissors by nailing his head +to the kitchen floor with a railroad spike. Yeah, her. Hugging him +she was ten minutes before using the hammer. Oh, that's their best +bet; kiss you with one hand and cut your throat with the other." +</P> + +<P> +"That's news," said Riley Tyler. "Where I come from the gent kisses +with his mouth, and if he has to cut your throat he uses the butcher +knife." +</P> + +<P> +"Did that hasher do all those things?" Shotgun asked instantly. +</P> + +<P> +Riley made believe not to hear. Shotgun chuckled. +</P> + +<P> +"Billy's coming back," observed the latter, gazing through the window. +"Where did he go?" +</P> + +<P> +"Walton's, he said." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought he liked Hazel Walton." +</P> + +<P> +"He likes 'em all." Thus Riley, thinking of the scornful waitress who +did not like him. "'Lo, Bill, remember to wipe your feet on the mat. +Li'l paddies all cold?" +</P> + +<P> +"She's a-thawing," replied Billy Wingo, kicking the snow from his +boots. "But I need a large, long, hot drink alla same. Where is that +bottle?" +</P> + +<P> +When the bottle and the three glasses had been returned to their +appointed place between the horse liniment and the spare handcuffs, +Riley moved listlessly to the front window and drummed on the pane. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, the devil," Riley groaned. "Here's work for li'l boys. As if +there wasn't enough to do in summer." +</P> + +<P> +"Good thing to-day's a chinook," remarked Shillman, without interest. +</P> + +<P> +Billy joined Riley at the window. "Looks like Simon Reelfoot. It's +Simon's horse, anyway. It is Simon. I can see his long nose." +</P> + +<P> +Riley squinted at the approaching man. "I wonder what he wants." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought maybe I'd ask him when he comes in," said Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"I would," observed Riley. "That'll show you're interested in your +job. It'll please Simon, too. He'll think you've got his interests at +heart. After that shall I kick him out, or will you let Shotgun bite +him?" +</P> + +<P> +For Simon Reelfoot was not well thought of by the more decent portion +of the community. Men that put money out at high interest and are +careless of their neighbors' property usually aren't. It was said of +him that he still had the first nickel that he ever earned. Certainly +he was not a generous person. Three women, at one time and another, +had been unlucky enough to marry him. Each wife died within two years +of her marriage—murdered by her husband. Not in such a way, however, +that the law could take its proper course and hang Simon by the neck +till he was dead. The murders were done in a perfectly legal manner +and all above-board—overwork and undernourishment. The two in +conjunction will kill anything that lives and breathes. So Simon, if +not a murderer, was at least an accomplice before and after the fact. +A cheerful creature, indeed. There were no children. +</P> + +<P> +Something of all that Simon was and stood for passed through Riley +Wingo's mind as he stood with Riley at the window. +</P> + +<P> +"He always keeps his horses in good condition," said Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"He does—the skunk!" acquiesced Riley. +</P> + +<P> +"Stop calling a honest citizen names," directed Shotgun Shillman. "Mr. +Reelfoot is an upright man. I don't believe he'd rob a child or steal +the pennies off a dead baby's eyes. I don't believe he would—if any +one was looking." +</P> + +<P> +Simon Reelfoot rode up, tied his horse on the lee of the building—he +was always tender of his stock—and entered. +</P> + +<P> +"Howdy," he said glumly. "Cold day." +</P> + +<P> +"If you'd wear something besides that relic of the days of '61 you +wouldn't find it such a cold day," observed the straightforward Shotgun. +</P> + +<P> +At which allusion to his ratty old blue army overcoat Simon's upper lip +lifted. It might almost be said that he snarled silently. +</P> + +<P> +"Feller as poor as I am can't afford to buy buffalo coats," he declared +in the grumbling rumble so oddly at variance with his build. For he +was a little clean-shaven man, this Simon Reelfoot, with a hatchet face +and the watery peering eyes of the habitual drunkard. +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah," he grumbled, staring from one to another of the three officers +with open disapproval. "I ain't got money to buy buffalo coats. I +have to work to earn my living, I do. I ain't got time to sit on my +hunkers around a hot stove come-day-go-day a-taking the county's money +for doing nothin'." +</P> + +<P> +"Which will be just about all from you, Reelfoot," Billy Wingo +suggested sharply. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you can't scare me," said Simon, shaking a lowering and dogged +head. "I say what I think, and if folks don't like it they know what +they can do." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, Reelfoot," pursued Billy, with his most pleasant smile, +"folks naturally know what they can do. But you don't guess now it +gives a feller any pleasure to squash every spider, caterpillar, +hoptoad or snail he runs across. And— But I don't know that I ever +saw any snails in this part of the county. Suppose now we hold it down +to spiders, caterpillars and hoptoads. Yeah. Why kill 'em? Yeah +again. Why put the kibosh on you, Mr. Reelfoot, just because you make +me think of a hoptoad? You may be a bad old man. I dunno that I care. +But I don't like your company. Not a bit. You're a slimy old devil, +and you never wash. Therefore let's hear what your business is so you +can take it away with you in a hurry." +</P> + +<P> +So saying Billy sat down, cocked his feet up on the table and regarded +Reelfoot gravely. Shillman and Tyler stood before the fireplace, their +legs spread, their hands in the their pockets and their faces +expressionless. +</P> + +<P> +Simon Reelfoot's upper lip lifted in the same soundless snarl. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll go when I please," he began, "and——" +</P> + +<P> +"You're mistaken," contradicted Billy, taking out his watch and holding +it open in the palm of his hand. "Not to give it too a coarse a name, +you'll go when I please. Yep. If you haven't begun to state your +official business with the sheriff within forty-five seconds, out you +go, Mr. Reelfoot, out you go." +</P> + +<P> +"You fellers are paid to see that the law is obeyed," growled Simon +Reelfoot. "You can't throw me out." +</P> + +<P> +"'Round and 'round the mulberry bush,'" quoted Billy Wingo. "Reverse. +Try the other way for a change. You're getting dizzy." +</P> + +<P> +"You make me sick, you fellers. Talk! Talk! Talk! That's all you +do. Talk alla time. All right, I will see if you're able to do +anything besides talk. Two of my cows have been shot and there's two +or three strangers baching it in that old shack of Cayler's on Mule +Creek. Cows are worth thirty dollars per right now, and I want you to +find out if them fellers beefed my cattle." +</P> + +<P> +"Been over there yourself?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure I have. They wouldn't lemme get inside the door. Threw down on +me. Bad actors, them two lads." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you said there were three," said Billy Wingo. +</P> + +<P> +"Two or three," snappily. +</P> + +<P> +"Suspicions don't count for much," said Billy. "You know that, +Reelfoot. Have you any evidence against these men?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure I have," was the reply. "The bodies of my two cows and a plain +track of blood and moccasins to within a mile of the cabin." +</P> + +<P> +"Did the trail stop there—within a mile?" +</P> + +<P> +"Feller had a horse tied. He packed on the beef and rode himself. I +trailed the horse to the corral back of the cabin." +</P> + +<P> +"Were you alone?" +</P> + +<P> +"My friend Jack Faber was with me. He can back up everything I say." +</P> + +<P> +"And you mean to tell me, Reelfoot, that you trailed this beef to the +Cayler cabin and then allowed the men inside to get the drop on you and +run you off?" +</P> + +<P> +"They threw down first," Reelfoot insisted sullenly. "They got the +drop. What could we do?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know," replied Billy Wingo dryly. "I wasn't there." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps," put in the irrepressible Riley Tyler, "the parties of the +second part forgot their guns." +</P> + +<P> +"A gun ain't much good when the other feller's got the drop," Simon +said sourly. +</P> + +<P> +"The trick is," observed Billy, his manner that of one stating a newly +discovered fact, "the trick is, Reelfoot, to get the drop first." +</P> + +<P> +Reelfoot gaped at him. Then his jaws closed with a click. But they +reopened immediately in violent speech. "What about my cows?" he +squalled. "What you gonna do about them cattle?" +</P> + +<P> +"We can't unscramble any eggs for you, Reelfoot, not being magicians, +but maybe we can dump the rustlers for you. How will you have +them—shot or half-shot? Now, son, you shut up, close your trap, +swallow your tongue or something. Riley Tyler is the only one allowed +to swear around me. Where do you want to cool off—in here or out in a +snowdrift?" +</P> + +<P> +Simon Reelfoot subsided into a chair. He produced a plug of tobacco +from one capacious bootleg, a clasp-knife from the other, snicked open +the claspknife and haggled off a generous chew. +</P> + +<P> +Billy nodded approvingly. "That's better. Shotgun and I will be with +you in two minutes." +</P> + +<P> +Simon Reelfoot glared out of the window. Billy Wingo, whose eyes, for +all their casualness, had not strayed from Simon for a minute, had not +overlooked the pucker of worry that had appeared between Simon's chin +and straggly eyebrows at the mention of the two minutes. With folk +like Simon it is always well to proceed with caution, to learn the real +reason, not the apparent one at the bottom of every move. Quite so. +Why was Simon worried? +</P> + +<P> +Simon's gaze returned from the world without. It skimmed across Billy +Wingo, dodged around both Shillman and Tyler, and dropped to the floor, +where it fastened upon and clung to the nobbly tips of the Reelfoot +boots. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't guess there's any tearing rush," he mumbled. +</P> + +<P> +Strangely enough or rather naturally enough, Billy experienced no +surprise at the remark. "No hurry, huh?" he observed. "A minute ago +you were in a hot sweat to have us do something right away quick. And +now you ain't. What has changed you, Mr. Reelfoot? I ask to know." +</P> + +<P> +"I want the job done right," was the lame explanation. "If you hustle +off too sudden you might forget something." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you think we're liable to forget?" queried Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"How do I know what? But I know it don't pay to go off half-cocked." +</P> + +<P> +Again Simon Reelfoot's eyes strayed to the window. When the eyes +swiveled back to meet those of Billy Wingo, the pucker of worry had +been wiped from Reelfoot's eyebrows. +</P> + +<P> +"No," he resumed, in a tone that was unmistakably relieved, "it don't +pay to go off half-cocked." +</P> + +<P> +"No, it don't," concurred Billy, wondering greatly, both at the change +in Simon's expression and the relief in his tone. Why? He desired to +know why. And he made up his mind to know why. For among his other +vices, Simon was friendly with Rafe Tuckleton and his precious gang. +</P> + +<P> +Billy Wingo, shoving cartridges through the loading-gate of a +Winchester, slouched casually past the window through which Simon was +looking. He perceived, kicking his way through the snow, Mr. Tom +Driver, the local Justice of the Peace. There was no one else in sight. +</P> + +<P> +"Lordy, how the snow dazzles your eyes," remarked Billy, stepping back +and squinting. "Is that Tom Driver coming here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Where?" inquired Simon Reelfoot, and looked through the wrong window. +Yet when Simon had glanced through the other window a moment before, he +must have seen the judge. Hum-m! Billy Wingo continued thoughtfully +to shove cartridges through the loading-gate. +</P> + +<P> +Entered the judge. "Good morning, gentlemen!" was the judicial +greeting. The judicial eyes absorbed the sheriff's preparations. +"You're not going anywhere, are you, Bill?" he inquired, hooking a +chair up to the table and sitting down after he had hung up his hat and +coat behind the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Reelfoot's had two cows shot," explained Billy. "He thinks he knows +who did it. Shotgun and I are going to see about it." +</P> + +<P> +"Only two cows," said the judge. "Then your presence isn't absolutely +necessary. You can send Riley Tyler instead. I have a little business +to go over with you, Bill—a county matter. And——" +</P> + +<P> +"Is it important?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think it is." +</P> + +<P> +"All right. I'll stay. Riley, I guess you'd better go with Shotgun." +</P> + +<P> +It was pure chance that enabled Billy to catch the gleam of +satisfaction in Reelfoot's eyes. He had just happened to be looking at +the man. Satisfaction, yes. Why? Why was Simon glad chat he, Billy +Wingo, was not going with him on the trail of the beef-killers? +</P> + +<P> +When Shotgun and Riley were gone away with Reelfoot, Billy looked +across at the judge and nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"Fly at it," said he. +</P> + +<P> +Without haste the judge fished some papers from his pocket and opened +them on the table. He did it awkwardly. His fingers might have been +all thumbs. He seemed to have difficulty in finding the paper he +wanted. +</P> + +<P> +Billy Wingo, his eyes drowsy-looking, watched silently. "What's it all +about?" he asked curiously. +</P> + +<P> +"Jake Kilroe," replied Judge Driver. "He's been selling liquor to the +Indians." +</P> + +<P> +"He always has." +</P> + +<P> +"I know he has. And it's a disgrace to the community. It's got to +stop." +</P> + +<P> +Billy stared at the judge even more curiously. For this high and moral +tone he did not understand at all. It was not like the judge. It was +not in the least like the judge. No, not at all. +</P> + +<P> +"Stopping liquor-selling to the war-whoops is none of my job," pointed +out Billy Wingo, "the man you want to see is Henry Black, the United +States Marshal at Hillsville. Besides, what have you got to do with +it, anyway? You're not a Federal judge?" +</P> + +<P> +"But the Federal authorities have ordered me to coöperate with them," +the judge said smoothly. +</P> + +<P> +"Which one asked you?" probed Billy Wingo. +</P> + +<P> +"The second deputy." +</P> + +<P> +"Slim Chalmers, huh? When did you see Slim Chalmers?" +</P> + +<P> +"Day before yesterday." +</P> + +<P> +"Here?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, over at Hillsville." +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't know you'd been out of town," Billy Wingo burrowed along. +</P> + +<P> +"Just got back this morning." +</P> + +<P> +"No trouble getting through?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not a bit. This chinook has thawed the drifts." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you go by stage?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, I rode." +</P> + +<P> +The judge was answering these apparently most unnecessary questions +without a quiver or trace of annoyance. Billy made another cast. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you ride your gray horse?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, the black." +</P> + +<P> +"I hope you wore a coat." The gravity of Billy's tone could not have +been bettered. +</P> + +<P> +"An overcoat?" smiled Judge Driver. "Naturally." +</P> + +<P> +"That's good, that's good. I like to see you looking after your health +thisaway. You'd be a valuable citizen to lose, Judge. I dunno what +we'd do without you. I don't indeed." +</P> + +<P> +What had gone before had been bad enough in all conscience. But this +was even worse. Yet the judge took no offense. He merely smiled +blandly upon Billy Wingo and proffered the latter gentleman his cigar +case. Billy declined with thanks. Whereupon the judge drew a long and +very black cigar from the case and bit off the end. +</P> + +<P> +"It's funny I didn't meet you in Hillsville," mused Billy, turning his +head as if to look at the stove but in reality looking at a mirror +hanging on the wall beside the stove that showed on its face an +excellent reflection of Judge Driver's features. +</P> + +<P> +As he expected, the judge gave him a quick sharp glance, but what he +had not expected was the demoniac expression of hatred that flashed +across the judge's face as summer lightning flashes across the face of +a dark cloud. +</P> + +<P> +Billy Wingo turned a slow head. His eyes met those of the judge +squarely. Gone was the expression of hatred. In its place was one of +courteous regret,—regret that he had been so unfortunate as to miss +his friend Sheriff Wingo in Hillsville. +</P> + +<P> +Billy nodded indifferently. "That's all right. I wasn't in +Hillsville. My mistake. Sorry." +</P> + +<P> +The judge stared in frowning puzzlement. +</P> + +<P> +It was at this juncture that the door opened and Skinny Shindle +entered. He greeted the two men surlily and laid a note on the desk in +front of Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"I stopped at Walton's on my way back from Hillsville," said Shindle, +"and Tom's niece gimme this. She said I was to be sure and give it to +you soon as I could. Seemed worried like, I should say." +</P> + +<P> +"When did she give you the note," Billy inquired casually. +</P> + +<P> +"When I stopped there for a drink. I was only there about five +minutes." +</P> + +<P> +"When was that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, round half-past two." +</P> + +<P> +"And you came straight here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure I did. You don't think I was gonna stop anywhere a day like +this, do you?" +</P> + +<P> +Without another word Shindle pulled his fur cap forward, turned and +walked out. He closed the door with a slam that shook the building. +Billy Wingo opened the note. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent" STYLE="margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%"> +DEAR BILLY: +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" STYLE="margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%"> +Please come out here as soon as you can. Come to-night without fail. +I need you. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +It was signed with Hazel Walton's full name. +</P> + +<P> +Billy folded the note carefully. He did not look directly at the +judge. He looked at him by way of the mirror. He was not unduly +astonished to perceive that the judge was watching him like the +proverbial hawk. +</P> + +<P> +Billy unfolded the note, read it again, then refolded it. He started +to put it into a vest pocket, though better of it, balled it into a +crumple and tossed it into the cardboard box that served for a +waste-paper basket. +</P> + +<P> +He got to his feet, pulled out his watch and glanced at the time. +</P> + +<P> +"Four-thirty-two," he muttered, apparently oblivious to the judge's +presence. "I'll have to hurry." +</P> + +<P> +He crossed the room to an open door giving into one of the inner rooms. +Passing through the doorway, he pushed the door partly to behind him. +Turning sharply to the left he sat down on a cot that creaked. The +foot of the cot butted against the jamb on which the door was hung. +Billy threw himself sidewise and applied his eye to the crack between +the door and the jamb. His feet at the end of the cot were busy the +while, gently kicking the wall and iron-work of the cot. Any one +hearing the noise would have been reasonably assured that Billy Wingo +was employed in God knows what, at a distance from the door of at least +a cot length. What he might be doing did not matter. The point was to +give the judge the impression that he was not close to the doorway. +</P> + +<P> +Evidently the judge was thus impressed. Billy saw him lean forward, +pluck the wadded-up note from the wastebasket and dive noiselessly +across the room to the stove. Without a sound the judge opened the +stove door and dropped the letter on the top of the blazing wood. +Closing the door as noiselessly as he had opened it, the judge returned +to his chair, sat down and crossed one knee over the other. His +expression was that of the cat that has just eaten the canary. Billy +could almost see him licking his demure chops. +</P> + +<P> +Billy returned to the office. He was carrying a box of cartridges and +an extra six-shooter. His regular six-shooter, with its holster and +belt, hung on the wall behind the table. +</P> + +<P> +"About Jake Kilroe now," said Billy, sitting down at the table and +snicking open the box of cartridges, "about Jake Kilroe—what does the +marshal want me to do?" +</P> + +<P> +"Get evidence against him," was the smooth reply. "Enough to convict +him, of course." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course. Not enough to convict him would help us very little. +Yeah. Any suggestions, Judge?" +</P> + +<P> +"What kind of suggestions?" the judge inquired with just a trace of +impatience. +</P> + +<P> +"How I'm to start in—what do you guess? I don't know much about Jake, +y'understand. For instance, where does Jake get his liquor in the +first place?" +</P> + +<P> +"How should I know?" +</P> + +<P> +"I dunno. Thought maybe you might. Judges are supposed to know a lot. +But if you don't, you don't, that's all." +</P> + +<P> +Judge Driver sat up a trifle straighter in his chair. He looked at +Billy with some suspicion. It could not be humanly possible that Billy +was joking with him, yet—— +</P> + +<P> +"I guess I'd better start in this afternoon," continued Billy briskly. +"There's nothing like a quick start. And the marshal would like it +too. Suppose you and I, Judge, go down to Jake's and see what we can +see." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you were going somewhere else," demurred Judge Driver. +</P> + +<P> +"What makes you think so?" +</P> + +<P> +"That note— You said you had to go some place in a hurry." +</P> + +<P> +"Did I? Well, I am. I'm going down to Jake Kilroe's, and you're going +with me, huh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Look here," said the judge, the light of desperation in his eyes, "you +don't have to go down to Kilroe's now. That can wait. The marshal +ain't in such a fright of a hurry as all that. Go on and do whatever +you have to do. I didn't mean—I don't want this to interfere with +your personal business, and I'm sure the marshal wouldn't. He'll +understand. I know he will. You go on and do whatever you have to do, +Bill." +</P> + +<P> +"I will," murmured Billy. "I will. Where are you going, Judge?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I guess I'll be drifting along, Bill," smiled the judge, +half-turning on his way to the door. "You don't need me any longer." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I do too," Billy declared fretfully. "You come on back and set +down. I've got something here I want to read you." +</P> + +<P> +Involuntarily the judge's eyes strayed to the wastebasket. He came +back and sat down. +</P> + +<P> +On the table between the extra six-shooter that Billy had finished +loading and the box of cartridges was a small leather-bound book. +Billy picked up this book and turned to the index. He ran his finger +down the page till he came to that which he sought. +</P> + +<P> +"'Morality, rules of, where consonant with those of law,'" he read +aloud, and turned back to page twenty-eight. +</P> + +<P> +Judge Driver stared at Billy Wingo in some amazement. What on earth +was the sheriff driving at. Rules of morality? Well! +</P> + +<P> +"This book," said Billy, glancing across at the judge, "is a copy of +the grounds and maxims of the English laws, by William Noy, of +Lincoln's Inn, Attorney General, and a member of the Privy Council to +King Charles the First." +</P> + +<P> +"What in God's name," demanded the now thoroughly amazed judge, "has +that to do with me?" +</P> + +<P> +"I want to read you something," persisted Billy. "You know that our +laws were practically taken from the English laws. Our grounds and +maxims are the same as theirs. What's good law with them is good law +with us, and <I>vice versa</I>. You're a judge. You know that as well as I +do. Don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +The judge nodded. "I suppose so." +</P> + +<P> +"It says here," resumed Billy Wingo, "in section thirty-three under +Moral Rules, that the 'law favoreth works of charity, right and truth, +and abhorreth fraud, covin, and incertainties which obscure the truth; +contrarities, delays, unnecessary circumstances, and such like. Deceit +and fraud should be remedied on all occasions.' How about it? Don't +you agree with Mr. William Noy?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's right; but there's nothing new about it. I knew it already." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you'll understand me, perhaps, when I tell you that I intend to +get to the bottom of everything that has gone on here this afternoon." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"I mean that there has been more 'fraud, covin, and incertainties which +obscure the truth' scattered round in this room to-day than by right +there should have been. I don't mind a little. Human beings are odd +numbers, anyway. You've got to take all that into consideration." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't understand you." +</P> + +<P> +"Then, too," pursued the unheeding Billy, "'contrarities, delays, +unnecessary circumstances, and such like,' I despise. They give me a +bad taste in my mouth. Don't they you?" +</P> + +<P> +"They would any one," acquiesced the judge, and made to rise. "Well, +now you've read me what you wanted to, I won't keep you any longer. I +know you must be in a hurry to get away. We'll let the Kilroe business +wait over a few days." +</P> + +<P> +"Sit down, Judge," Billy Wingo murmured softly, his hand resting as if +by chance on the butt of the six-shooter lying on the table. "Sit +down, do." +</P> + +<P> +The judge hesitated. Then with the well-known hollow laugh, he sat +down. He looked at Billy Wingo. The latter looked at him in silence +for a space. +</P> + +<P> +"Judge," he remarked suddenly, "deceit and fraud should remedied on all +occasions. Tell me why you put that letter in the fire?" +</P> + +<P> +The judge continued to sit perfectly still. It might be said that he +was frozen to his chair. Then slowly, almost imperceptibly, his right +hand began to steal upward under the tail of his coat. +</P> + +<P> +"I wouldn't, Judge," continued Billy, "I just wouldn't if I were you." +</P> + +<P> +The judge's hand hung straight by his side. "You're getting in pretty +deep, Bill," he observed with a cold smile. +</P> + +<P> +"But not as deep as you are already," said Billy Wingo, with an even +colder smile. "You haven't answered my question yet—about the burning +of the letter. Why, Judge, why?" +</P> + +<P> +"Give it any name you like," replied the jurist carelessly. "I don't +feel like answering any more questions." +</P> + +<P> +"Yet a li'l while back you didn't mind answering any questions I felt +like asking. Was it to gain time, Judge—to gain time till Skinny +Shindle came in and did his part with the note from Miss Walton? Was +it, Judge, was it? Dumb, huh? Aw right, perhaps you'd rather tell me +why Simon Reelfoot acted about the same way, except Simon was special +careful to make us mad besides—mad when it wasn't necessary to make us +mad if Simon was playing a straight game, but necessary enough if Simon +wanted to gain more time. Yeah, Simon sure beat around the bush time +and again before he came to the point. I expect you were delayed +getting here, huh, Judge? Simon kept looking out of the window alla +time, I remember." +</P> + +<P> +Billy Wingo felt silent and contemplated the judge. The latter stared +back, his face impassive. +</P> + +<P> +"Be advised," said the judge suddenly. "You can't buck us alone. You +should know that." +</P> + +<P> +"I should—maybe," returned Billy Wingo. "But I feel like taking a +gamble with you. So instead of going to Kilroe's, we'll do what the +letter said and go out to Walton's to-day." +</P> + +<P> +The judge lifted his eyebrows. "We?" +</P> + +<P> +"We," confirmed Billy calmly. "You're going with me." +</P> + +<P> +"No," said the judge. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," insisted Billy Wingo. "And what's more, I'll lend you a suit of +my clothes and my white hat and my red-and-white pinto. Which there +ain't another paint pony colored like mine in this county; and just to +make it a fair deal, I'll wear your buffalo coat and your fur cap, and +I'll ride one of your horses,—that long-legged gray, I guess, will be +all right." +</P> + +<P> +The judge's face wore a curiously mottled pallor that gave it the hue +of a dead fish's belly. "Are you insane?" he gasped. +</P> + +<P> +"Not me," denied Billy Wingo. "It's like I said. I'm gambling with +you. I guess we understand each other, Judge. Ain't it luck, you and +I being about of a size? Dressed up in my clothes with that white hat +and all, you'd have to excuse anybody for mistaking you for me. +Ca-a-areful, Judge, careful. Don't do anything we would be sorry for. +And don't take it so to heart; perhaps he'll miss you." +</P> + +<P> +For a space he considered the judge, then he said: +</P> + +<P> +"I guess we're ready for Riley, now." +</P> + +<P> +Despite his professional calm the judge almost bounced out of his +chair. "Riley! Where——" +</P> + +<P> +"In the kitchen with the door open," explained Billy. "He didn't go +with Shotgun and Reelfoot a-tall—that is, not far. Only round the +house to the back door. Reelfoot wasn't completely successful in +separating me from my deputies. You didn't catch me whispering in +Riley's ear while he was getting ready, did you? I thought maybe you +wouldn't. Your back was turned. Moral: Never turn your back when +there's a mirror behind you. Riley, you'd better come in now." +</P> + +<P> +Whereupon there was a noise of bootheels, and Riley entered and smiled +cheerfully upon the discomfited judge. +</P> + +<P> +"Howdy, your honor," said Riley Tyler. +</P> + +<P> +The judge made no acknowledgment of the greeting. He continued to gaze +before him with a set and stony face. +</P> + +<P> +"Riley," said Billy Wingo, without, however, removing his eyes from the +judge, "I guess we'll need another witness. I wonder if you could get +hold of Guerilla Melody." +</P> + +<P> +Riley nodded and went out. +</P> + +<P> +"And that's that," said Billy Wingo, smiling. +</P> + +<P> +The judge's hands gripped the arms of the chair. "You know that the +man Melody is an enemy of mine," he said in a shaken voice. +</P> + +<P> +"I know that he is an honest man," returned Billy Wingo. +</P> + +<P> +"I won't go," the judge declared feebly. +</P> + +<P> +"You said that before," said Billy Wingo, in no wise moved. "You'll go +all right. Yes, indeedy. Do you wanna know why? I'll tell you. You +see, Judge, I know what I'm up against. I know that the only barrier +that stands between me and the graveyard is the lead in this gun. I +like life. I enjoy it. Besides, I'm too young to die and too sinful +and all that. Therefore it's my business to see I ain't cut off in the +flower of my youth, <I>et cetera</I>. You're considerably older than me, +Judge, considerably. The gray is in your hair like frost on a punkin, +and the devil has drawn two mighty mean lines down from your nose to +the corners of your mouth, and the crows have messed up your +eye-corners too, for that matter, and may the Lord have mercy on your +soul, you miserable sinner, because I won't—if you don't do exactly +what I tell you to do. It's my life or yours, and it's not gonna be +mine." +</P> + +<P> +"Baby talk," said the judge, but there was no conviction in his tone. +</P> + +<P> +"You think so? Aw right, let it go at that. Here's the rest of the +baby talk: The first false move you start to make between now and the +time I'm through with you, you get it." +</P> + +<P> +"You wouldn't dare!" +</P> + +<P> +"Wouldn't I? Call me and see. No trouble to show goods." +</P> + +<P> +The judge hesitated. It was obvious that he was of two minds. He +chose the safer course—for the present. +</P> + +<P> +"There is a law in this country—" he began. +</P> + +<P> +Billy Wingo leaned forward, his chin jutting out. His eyes were +unpleasantly cold. They matched his voice when he spoke. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't talk to me of the law," he said. "It's you and your friends +that have made the law in Crocker County a spectacle for decent men. +Law! You've dragged the statutes in the mud till you can't tell 'em +apart from the turnips underground. Law! You've prostituted your +office for a little filthy money here, there and everywhere, till it's +a wonder you're able to live with yourself. How do you do it? Don't +you ever get tired of your own stink, you polecat?" +</P> + +<P> +This was too much. The judge was, after all, a human being. He had +his pride, such as it was, and courage of a kind. He threw himself +sidewise, and at the same time his right hand flipped up under his coat +tail, flipped up and flipped out. +</P> + +<P> +There was a flash and a roar and a spirtle of smoke. The judge's +six-shooter was wrenched from his fingers and sent spinning across the +room. The judge remained upon the floor. There was no feeling in his +right hand. But his right arm felt as if it had been struck with a +spike-maul. +</P> + +<P> +The acrid smoke rose slowly toward the ceiling. +</P> + +<P> +"You can get up, Judge," Billy Wingo said calmly. +</P> + +<P> +The judge rose slowly and collapsed into the chair he had so abruptly +vacated. He held his right hand before his face and waggled it. +Stupidly he looked at it. The flesh of the trigger finger was slightly +torn. It bled a little. +</P> + +<P> +"The bullet didn't touch you," said Billy. "The trigger guard did that +when the gun was twiddled out of your hand. The lead hit the frame in +front of the cylinder. Wait, I'll show you." He crossed the room to +where the judge's six-shooter lay, picked it up and brought it to the +judge for his inspection. +</P> + +<P> +"See how I trust you," said Billy sardonically, holding up the judge's +six-shooter within ten inches of the judge's eyes. "You could almost +grab this gun out of my hand if you felt like it. I really dunno but +what I hope you'll feel like it." +</P> + +<P> +But the judge did not feel like it. He perceived without difficulty +the gray splotch on the frame of the six-shooter that marked the spot +where Billy Wingo's lead had struck, and he felt absolutely no +inclination to gamble further with fate. Not he. No! +</P> + +<P> +Billy tucked the judge's six-shooter into his waistband and ran a hand +over and under the jurist's outer clothing. +</P> + +<P> +"You might be carrying a derringer or something," he murmured in +apology. +</P> + +<P> +But he found no other weapon, and he returned to his seat to await the +arrival of Riley Tyler and Guerilla Melody. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TWELVE +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE TRAP +</H4> + +<P> +Guerilla Melody regarded the judge without expression. "Huh," he +grunted. "Huh." +</P> + +<P> +The judge did not look at him. He had cheated Melody in a cattle deal +the previous year and had since found himself unable to look Melody in +the eye. Some villains are like that. They are usually of the cheaper +variety. +</P> + +<P> +"It's good and dark now," observed Billy Wingo, "and the moon will rise +in another hour. We don't want it to be too high when we strike the +Walton ranch. Why the smile, Judge? Oh, I know. You think we'll be +seen by one of your friends when we're leaving, and he'll get to the +ranch ahead of us. I doubt it, Judge. You know we ain't going by way +of Main Street. No, we're going out back of the corral. The +cottonwoods grow right up close to the back of the corral, and if we +lead our horses and hug the posts, there ain't much chance of anybody +seeing us. No. Come along, Judge, lessee how my clothes fit you." +</P> + +<P> +Within the quarter-hour they rode out of a belt of cottonwoods into the +Hillsville trail, three wooden-faced men and the wretched judge. The +latter rode in front, with head bowed on hunched shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +Where the snow permitted they trotted, but most of the time they were +forced to walk their horses. Four times before they reached the draw +leading to the Walton ranch they floundered through drifts that +powdered the horse's shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +At the mouth of the draw the trail to Walton's was clotted with the +tracks of a few ridden horses. +</P> + +<P> +"I guess," remarked Billy Wingo, "that Skinny Shindle came this way all +right when he brought that note from Walton's." +</P> + +<P> +The judge shivered, but not with cold. He was very miserable and +looked it. +</P> + +<P> +The moon lifted an inquiring face over the rim of the neighboring ridge +and threw their shadows, thin and long, across the green-white snow. +</P> + +<P> +"We turn here toward Walton's, Judge," suggested Billy, when the jurist +continued to ride straight ahead. +</P> + +<P> +The judge pulled up. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not going to Walton's!" he cried aloud. "I'm not going, I tell +you! You can't make me! You can't." +</P> + +<P> +His voice broke at the last word. He threw his arms aloft in a wild +gesture. The features of the face he turned toward Billy were +contorted with emotion. He gibbered and mowed at them in the +moon-light. He looked like an inmate of Bedlam. He was certainly in a +bad way, was Judge Driver. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly he lost his head. He clapped heels to his horse's flanks in +an effort to escape. But both Billy Wingo and Riley Tyler had been +waiting for precisely such a move ever since leaving Golden Bar. Two +ropes shot out simultaneously. One fastened on the red-and-white +pinto's neck, the other settled round the Judge's shoulders. The paint +pony stopped abruptly. The judge flew backward from the saddle and hit +the snow on the back of his neck. +</P> + +<P> +The three friends dismounted and gathered around the judge. Riley +loosened his rope. The judge lay still and gasped and crowed. The +wind had been considerably knocked out of him. When he sat up, he was +promptly sick, very sick. The paroxysm shook him from head to heels. +</P> + +<P> +It was half an hour before he was able to stand on his feet without +support. The three boosted him into the saddle, mounted their own +horses and proceeded along the draw. +</P> + +<P> +Whenever the judge made as if to check his horse, which he did more +than once, Billy Wingo would crowd his horse forward and kick the +pinto. Their progress may be said to have been fairly regular. +</P> + +<P> +A mile from the ranch house they climbed the shelving side of the draw +and rode across the flat to where a straggling growth of pine and +spruce made a black, pear-shaped blot along the smooth white slope of a +saddle-backed hill. The tail of this evergreen plantation ran out +across the flat from the base of the hill almost to the edge of the +draw they had just quitted. A tall spruce, towering high above his +fellows, formed the tip, as it were, of the stem of the pear. +</P> + +<P> +Beyond and below this spruce, where the draw met lower ground and lost +its identity as a draw, was the Walton ranch house. On the flat the +evergreens barred the four riders from the eyes of any one watching +from the house. +</P> + +<P> +The four men reached the trees, rode in among them. Three of them +dismounted and tied their horses. The fourth remained in the saddle. +Said Billy Wingo to the fourth: +</P> + +<P> +"Get down." +</P> + +<P> +The judge got down. Swiftly his hands were tied behind his back, and +his eyes were thoroughly blindfolded with his own silk handkerchief. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, boys," said Billy, lowering his voice, "I guess we know what to +do. You, Judge, won't have to say anything, but if anybody else thinks +he has to say anything, he's got to do it in a whisper, and a skinny +whisper at that. Let's go." +</P> + +<P> +As Billy uttered the last low words Guerilla Melody seized the judge's +right arm and forced him into motion. With Riley Tyler leading the +judge's mount, the three men scuffled in among the trees on the back +trail. +</P> + +<P> +Billy Wingo stood silently in his tracks until the trio were out of +earshot, then he padded to the spruce and halted behind it. He removed +his overcoat. From a voluminous pocket he took what appeared to be a +roll of cloth. He shook out the roll and discovered the common or +garden variety of cotton nightshirt, size fifty. +</P> + +<P> +"If whoever's in the house can pick me out from the snow after I'm +wearing this, I'll give his eyes credit," he muttered, pulling on the +garment in question over his head. +</P> + +<P> +He buttoned the nightshirt with meticulous care, fished a washed flour +sack from a hip pocket and pulled it over his head. A minute or two +later he was joined by Riley Tyler. +</P> + +<P> +"If I didn't know it was you," whispered Riley in a delighted hiss, +"I'd be scared out of a year's growth. Those eyeholes are plumb +gashly." +</P> + +<P> +"I expect," said Billy grimly. "Get on your outfit. I guess you ain't +needed, but we can't afford to take any chances." +</P> + +<P> +Riley Tyler threw off his blanket capote, dragged from an inner pocket +a disguise similar to the sheriff's and hurriedly put it on. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't come till you see the signal," cautioned Billy, "and if you hear +any shots before I give the signal, stay right here where the cover's +good and drop anybody you see running away. Y'understand?" +</P> + +<P> +"You bet." +</P> + +<P> +"Judge swallow it all right?" +</P> + +<P> +"Down to the pole. He thinks we're all three with him." +</P> + +<P> +Billy nodded. "Better move along the draw about twenty yards," was his +parting order. "You can't see the side the cedars are on from here." +</P> + +<P> +Boldly, without any attempt at concealment, he walked straight to the +edge of the draw. Below him barely fifty yards distant were the +snow-covered buildings that were the Walton ranch house, the bunk house +and the blacksmith shop. He could not see the corrals. They lay +beyond the crowding cottonwoods growing beside the little stream that +supplied the ranch house with water. +</P> + +<P> +He half slid, half walked down the side of the draw and headed straight +for the ranch house. He could not see lamplight shining through any of +the windows. But there was a faint glow at the farthest of the windows +in the side of the house. This window he knew was one of three +lighting the front room, a room that ran clear across the house. This +side of the house was clear of young trees and bushes. But on the +other side of the house, the north side, Hazel had planted young cedars +to serve as a windbreak. These cedars grew within a yard of the house. +</P> + +<P> +Without any fear of being discovered, so confident was he that it would +be impossible to see him against the white background, he approached +the blacksmith shop, slid between it and the empty bunk house and came +to the right angle end of the kitchen. His gun was out, be it known, +but he held it behind his back. He wanted no touch of blackness to mar +the hue of his costume. +</P> + +<P> +At the corner of the kitchen he dropped on his knees and one hand. +Here behind the windbreak the snow was no more than two or three inches +deep, and he crawled along the side of the house toward the faintly +glowing window that was his goal, at walking speed. +</P> + +<P> +Crouched beneath the window he laid his ear close to the window sill +and listened. For a space he heard nothing, then feet shuffled across +the floor and there was the "chuck" of a log being thrown on the fire. +Then the shuffle of feet again. +</P> + +<P> +Silence. +</P> + +<P> +Inch by inch Billy raised a slow head above the window sill. When his +eyes were level with the lower crosspiece of the sash, he paused. For +a long time he could see nothing within the room but the fire in the +ruddy jaws of the fireplace with its attendant pile of logs, and a big +chair over which had been thrown a buffalo robe. Then after a time he +saw, beyond the chair, the boot soles of a man lying on the floor. The +body of the man lay in the shadow cast by the big chair. +</P> + +<P> +There was something about those boot soles that told Billy that the man +was dead. +</P> + +<P> +"I figured it would be this way," Billy told himself. "I didn't see +how else it could be. Damn their souls! They don't stop at anything!" +</P> + +<P> +He continued to stare unblinkingly into the room and after a time he +made out the dim lines of another man's figure sitting on the table +beside one of the front windows. The head of this other man was turned +away from Billy. He was watching the draw through the front window. +But there was no life in the draw—yet. +</P> + +<P> +Billy waited. He continued to wait. His feet began to get cold. They +gradually grew numb. The hand that held the six-shooter began to have +a fellow feeling, or lack of it rather, with the feet. He changed +hands and stuffed the chilled hand under his nightshirt into his +armpit. A cramp seized his left knee. He straightened it gingerly and +ironed out the cramp with the back of his gun hand. +</P> + +<P> +The cold crept up both legs. When it reached his middle a cramp fell +hammer-and-tongs upon his right knee, calf and sole of his foot. He +straightened that leg and dealt with it like a brother. +</P> + +<P> +S-s-suschloop! A section of snow several yards square slid off the +roof and avalanched upon him. At the sound the figure at the window +turned as if shot. Billy, by a supreme effort of will, stifled the +impulse to dodge and held his body motionless. He was covered with +snow. Snow was down the back of his neck as well as on the window sill +in front of his mouth. To all intents and purposes and to any eye he +was a pile of snow fallen from the roof. +</P> + +<P> +Swiftly the figure on the table walked across the room to Billy's +window and looked out. Billy remained with considerable less movement +than the proverbial mouse. The snow, while it covered his head, did +not completely conceal his forehead and eyes. But Billy reckoned on +the reflection of the firelight on the window-pane to blind somewhat +the man within. For a few seconds the man stood looking out the window +over Billy's head. The pile of snow he gave but the most passing of +glances. +</P> + +<P> +But to the frozen nucleus of the snow pile it seemed that the few +seconds were hours and that the snow pile was subjected to the most +searching scrutiny. +</P> + +<P> +The man returned to his post on the table by the front window, and +Billy breathed again. He had been unable to distinguish the man's +features. The light from the fire was not strong enough. +</P> + +<P> +After another century of waiting Billy perceived that the fire was +again burning low. There was a small spurt of sparks as the remnant of +the log fell apart. The man slipped from the table and strode across +the room to the pile of logs and sticks beside the fireplace. +</P> + +<P> +This was the moment for which Billy Wingo had been waiting. He +scrambled on hands and knees to the front corner of the ranch house. +Whipping a box of matches from a hip pocket, he lit one in a cupped +hand. +</P> + +<P> +He let the match burn his fingers before flipping it down. He stood at +gaze, straining his eyes down the draw toward the Hillsville trail. +Even as he looked a dark object detached itself from some bushes +several hundred yards distant and moved toward the house. +</P> + +<P> +Billy returned to his post at the window. Slowly he raised his head to +the level of the lower crosspiece of the sash. When his eyes again +became accustomed to the darkness of the room he saw that the man was +no longer near the fireplace. He was standing at the front window, +staring down the trail. +</P> + +<P> +On account of the soft snow Billy did not hear the approaching horse +until it had almost reached the ranch house door. When the horse +stopped the man inside the ranch house moved quietly to the door and +stood at one side of it. His hand moved to his leg and came away. +</P> + +<P> +The rider dismounted. Billy heard him rattle the latch of the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't shoot!" he heard him say in an agonized whisper. "Don't shoot, +for Gawd's sake!" +</P> + +<P> +Billy, watching at the window, saw the man in the room fling open the +door. For an instant the tall and hatless form of Judge Driver showed +black against the expanse of snow framed in the doorway. Again came +the plea for mercy—a whisper no longer, but a wild cry of "Don't +shoot! Don't shoot! It's me! Driver!" as the judge, realizing only +too well that any such outcry was tantamount to a confession of guilt, +plunged into the room. Obviously his purpose was to escape the fire of +the avenging rifles that he had every reason to believe were somewhere +in the brush along the draw. He was acting precisely as Billy had +reckoned he would act, and there was not the slightest danger of Billy +or any of his men shooting him. But a very real danger lay behind the +ranch house door. The judge's only chance lay in convincing the man +behind the door in time. +</P> + +<P> +He convinced him. The man yanked him roughly into the room and slammed +the door shut. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank Gawd! Thank Gawd!" babbled the judge, sinking back against the +door, "I thought you'd shoot me!" +</P> + +<P> +"I damn near did," remarked the man, whose voice Billy now recognized +as that of a late arrival in town, named Slike. "If you hadn't jerked +your hat off so's I could see your face, I would have. When will Wingo +get here, and didja get him to come by himself all right? Huh? Why +don't you answer? Whatsa matter? Isn't he coming or what? By Gawd, +<I>you're wearing his clothes</I>! Where is he?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's here!" gurgled the judge. +</P> + +<P> +"Where?" Slike's voice was a terrible snarl. +</P> + +<P> +"Here—up on the flat." +</P> + +<P> +Slike promptly seized the judge by the throat. "Then you led him here. +What are you trying to do—double-cross me?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, no!" gulped the judge, pulling at the other's wrists. "I couldn't +help it! He forced me to come!" +</P> + +<P> +"Then you did lead him here, damn your soul! You white-livered cur, do +you think I'm gonna hang on your account? What did you tell him? +Answer me, damn you!" +</P> + +<P> +To the accompaniment of a string of most ferocious oaths, Slike shook +the judge as the terrier shakes the rat. The judge fought back as best +he could. But he was no match for this man of violence. Tiring at +last, Slike flung him on the floor and kicked him. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd oughta stomp you to death!" he squalled. "What did you tell him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing! Nothing!" cried the judge. "He must have guessed it!" +</P> + +<P> +Dan Slike laughed. It was a laugh to make you flinch away. The hair +at the base of Billy Wingo's neck lifted like the hackles of a fighting +dog. +</P> + +<P> +"Guessed it!" yelped Slike. "Guessed it! Aw right, let it go at that. +How far away is he?" +</P> + +<P> +But the judge had his cue by now. "He's two or three miles back," he +said faintly. "If you start now you can get away." +</P> + +<P> +"You know damn well there's too much snow," snapped Slike. "How many's +he got with him?" +</P> + +<P> +"One—two." +</P> + +<P> +Slike kicked the judge in the short ribs. "How many? Tell the truth!" +</P> + +<P> +"Tut-two." +</P> + +<P> +"Three in all, huh? and you and me are two—say one man and a half, +anyway. Two to one call it. What's fairer than that, I'd like to +know? We'll finish it out in the smoke right now." +</P> + +<P> +"What?" There was considerably more than pained incredulity in the +judge's tone. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll shoot it out with 'em here, I said. I ain't kicked all the +fighting blood out of you, have I? If I have I can soon kick it in +again. Here, come alive, you lousy pup! Get the gun off that feller I +downed. It's on his leg yet. His Winchester is over there in the +corner. It's loaded, and there's two boxes of cartridges on that +shelf. Bring 'em all over here. Then you take that window and I'll +take this one. We'll give 'em the surprise of their young lives. Get +a wiggle on you, Judge. You've got a brush ahead of you. Fight? You +can gamble you'll fight! It's you or them, remember!" +</P> + +<P> +"Suppose he comes bustin' in the back way?" quavered the judge, +perceiving that he had indeed fallen between two stools. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll try to take care of him. But he'll come the other way, I guess." +</P> + +<P> +But Slike guessed wrong, for Billy Wingo, judging that the +psychological moment had arrived, shoved his gun hand through a window +pane and shouted, "Hands up!" +</P> + +<P> +"You dirty Judas!" yelled Slike and, firing from the hip, he whipped +three shots into the judge before he himself fell with four of Billy +Wingo's bullets through his shoulder and neck. +</P> + +<P> +Shot through and through, Judge Driver dropped in a huddle and died. +</P> + +<P> +Slike, supporting himself on an elbow, mouthed curses at the man who he +believed had betrayed him. The murderer's supporting arm slid out from +under and he collapsed in a dead faint, even as Billy Wingo, with +window glass cascading from his head and shoulders, sprang into the +room. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER THIRTEEN +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +OPEN AND SHUT +</H4> + +<P> +"Well," said the district attorney, "you can't hold this man on any +such biased evidence as this." +</P> + +<P> +"But you see I am holding him," pointed out Billy Wingo. +</P> + +<P> +"They'll get him out on a writ of habeas corpus." +</P> + +<P> +"They? Who's they?" +</P> + +<P> +"His friends. I suppose the man has friends." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes," acquiesced Billy, "the man has friends. Too many friends." +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney looked away. "You'd better let him escape—or +something," he suggested brazenly. "We—we mustn't be made ridiculous, +you know." +</P> + +<P> +"We? We? Don't get me mixed up with you, Rale. I'm particular who I +bracket with, sort of. Another thing, the last time you were in here +you went out on your head, remember. Well, lemme point out that you're +here, I'm here, so's the door, and history is just the same thing over +again." +</P> + +<P> +The close-set little eyes wavered. "I tell you, Wingo, the case looks +black for you too." +</P> + +<P> +Billy Wingo rolled and lit a placid cigarette before he spoke. "Black? +For me?" Inquiringly. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid so." +</P> + +<P> +"You mean you hope so. Go on." +</P> + +<P> +"There are a great many strange things about the whole affair. For +instance, why was Judge Driver wearing your clothes when the bodies +were found? If, as you say, you saw the whole thing, why did you not +prevent the murder? How do we know that you did not kill both Tom +Walton and the judge and then lay the blame on this stranger?" +</P> + +<P> +"You don't know," admitted Billy. "That's the worst of it. But you +will know. Yeah, you will know." +</P> + +<P> +"I intend to look into your side of the case very closely, Wingo," +declared the district attorney. "It may be that everything has not yet +been told." +</P> + +<P> +"There is more in this than meets the eye," nodded Billy. +"Considerable more." +</P> + +<P> +"If you persist in holding this man for a hearing," said Rale +impressively, "it may—will, I should say—involve you. I'd hate to +see you get into trouble." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll bet you would," Billy concurred warmly. "You'd hate it like you +do your left eye. But I'm gonna gamble with you. I'll hold the man +till the judge decides what to do." +</P> + +<P> +"In that case, I'll send for Judge Clasp at once." +</P> + +<P> +"Why Judge Clasp? Why bother that old gent?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because Driver's dead," the district attorney explained impatiently. +"We have to have a judge to hold the hearing." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I know all about that. I've sent for one." +</P> + +<P> +"Who?" +</P> + +<P> +"Judge Donelson." +</P> + +<P> +"But he's the Federal judge, and he lives way over in Hillsville," +objected Rale. "Judge Clasp is nearer. In a case of this kind when +the judge of a district is unavailable, the nearest judge takes over +the district. The statutes——" +</P> + +<P> +"The statutes say 'any judge,'" interrupted Billy Wingo. "On this +point I am quite clear. I looked it up to make sure. 'Any judge' +means 'any judge.' Nothing else. And you know that Judge Donelson is +a territorial as well as Federal Judge. Technicalities can't pull your +wagon out of this hole, Arthur, old settler." +</P> + +<P> +"I shall send for Judge Clasp at once," bumbled Arthur, old settler. +</P> + +<P> +"If you send right away, he should be here by day after to-morrow. +Yep, day after to-morrow at the earliest." +</P> + +<P> +"Judge Donelson can't get here till the day after that," said Rale +triumphantly. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, he can't, can't he?" smiled Billy. "Unless he has an accident +he'll be here to-morrow. You see, Arthur, I started Riley Tyler off to +Hillsville ten minutes after I arrested Slike. That's why I'm gamblin' +that Judge Donelson will get here first." +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney openly lost his temper. "I don't regard the +evidence as given sufficient for indictment. I shall ask the judge not +to hold him." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't do anything rash, Arthur. Remember the hearing will be at the +Walton ranch to-morrow afternoon." +</P> + +<P> +"The Walton ranch! It'll be held here in Driver's office, that's where +it will be held." +</P> + +<P> +"Not a-tall. I want Judge Donelson to see the layout. Then he'll be +able to tell better what's what. The Walton ranch to-morrow afternoon. +Don't forget." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Your Honor, I don't see how this man can be held," protested the +district attorney. "I claim that the sheriff's testimony is biased. +How do we know that it wasn't the sheriff himself who murdered both men +and wounded Slike?" +</P> + +<P> +"You can easily see, Judge," put in the coroner smoothly, "How flimsy +the evidence is against the prisoner. It is practically his word +against the sheriff's The prisoner has explained everything—how he was +coming to the ranch on business and was arrested by the sheriff the +minute he stepped inside the doorway. Why, your Honor, it's the +plainest open-and-shut case I ever saw. Absolutely nothing to it." +</P> + +<P> +"The coroner's right," boomed the district attorney. "And I hereby ask +that Dan Slike be released from custody and——" he paused dramatically. +</P> + +<P> +"Well—" prompted Judge Donelson, his old eyes inscrutable. +</P> + +<P> +"And I feel it my duty to charge the sheriff, William H. Wingo, with +the murder of Thomas Walton, the murder of Judge Driver, and assault +with intent to kill upon Daniel Slike." +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't the coroner's jury bring in a verdict of 'at the hands of +persons unknown'?" inquired Judge Donelson. +</P> + +<P> +"They did," admitted the district attorney, "but it was in direct +opposition to the evidence. Indeed, the coroner instructed the jurymen +otherwise." +</P> + +<P> +"Then he exceeded his duty. But that by the way. The jury brought in +a 'persons unknown' verdict. However, I do not agree with the jury." +</P> + +<P> +"I knew you would not," the district attorney cried triumphantly. +</P> + +<P> +"No, I believe the person is known. Sheriff, will you tell us in your +own words, how you happened to be on hand in time to be a witness of +the murder of Judge Driver?" +</P> + +<P> +Like so many trained seals those present turned their heads to stare at +the sheriff. Some eyes were friendly, some noncommittal, but the +majority were unfriendly. This was because the crowd consisted largely +of county office-holders. Billy gave a straightforward and detailed +account of everything that had led up to the murder of Judge Driver. +</P> + +<P> +As he concluded his story Judge Donelson nodded a slow head. "Why did +you not immediately enter the ranch house after you looked in the +window and saw the boot soles of the dead man?" +</P> + +<P> +"Judge," said Billy, with a whimsical smile, "suppose now you went out +hunting and you wanted to get more than one deer and had only one +cartridge, what would you do—shoot the first deer you saw or wait till +you got two in line?" +</P> + +<P> +"I see," nodded the Judge. "I see. Still, Sheriff, there is the word +of Dan Slike. It would have been better had you had another witness." +</P> + +<P> +"Another witness," said Billy. "If that's all you want I have one. +Riley Tyler, stand up." +</P> + +<P> +The younger deputy stood up and was duly sworn. He deposed that the +sheriff's match signal to Guerilla Melody to send the judge down to the +house had been also a signal to him, Riley Tyler, to come down from the +flat and take position under the window directly opposite the one at +which the sheriff was posted. All this had taken place according to +plan. Riley Tyler had heard every word uttered by both the judge and +Dan Slike and had also seen Slike shoot the judge. Furthermore he had +talked with the Federal deputy marshal in Hillsville and learned that +the marshal had never even thought of asking Judge Driver to approach +the sheriff concerning the alleged bootlegging activities of Jake +Kilroe. +</P> + +<P> +Riley Tyler concluded his testimony and sat down, taking occasion as he +did so to wink at the district attorney. The latter glared back with +frank dislike. +</P> + +<P> +"The evidence I have just heard," said Judge Donelson, "is clear. +There is no shred, jot or tittle of it that throws suspicion on Sheriff +Wingo. I will hold Daniel Slike for the grand jury. If Judge Driver +were alive, I would hold him as accessory before and after the fact. +Do you still think, Mr. Rale, that Mr. Wingo should be held?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why—uh—uh——" stalled the district attorney. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me," persisted Judge Donelson, "exactly what you think?" +</P> + +<P> +But the district attorney did not dare tell Judge Donelson anything +like that. Instead he said, with a smile he strove to make natural and +pleasant: +</P> + +<P> +"Hold Mr. Wingo? Certainly not. I have misjudged him. I am sure he +will not bear malice against me." +</P> + +<P> +"Hold it against Mr. Rale?" said Billy, with the straightest face in +the world. "Certainly not. I have misjudged him. But I am sure he +will not bear malice against me." +</P> + +<P> +Even the judge smiled. +</P> + +<P> +Dan Slike, lying on an improvised bed of blankets in the corner of the +room, raised his head. "You'll never hang me, y'understand," said Dan +Slike. "And you ain't got a jail in the territory big enough to hold +me after I get shut of these scratches. I'll see you later, Sheriff." +</P> + +<P> +Dan Slike added a curse or two and relapsed into silence. Not a +likable person, Mr. Slike. No, not at all. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"This," said Rafe Tuckleton, "is a helluva note." +</P> + +<P> +"It's all your fault," the district attorney recriminated bitterly. +</P> + +<P> +"You did most of it," flung back Rafe, always an enthusiastic player at +the great game of passing the buck. "You know damn well——" +</P> + +<P> +"Who thought of it first?" interrupted the district attorney. "Who was +the bright li'l feller, I'd like to know?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you try to ride me," snarled the genial Rafe. "Dontcha do it." +</P> + +<P> +"Aw, shut up; you gimme a pain! Gawd, and I'll bet your parents +thought you was just too cunnin' for anything. It's a shame they let +you live. To think of all the fatal accidents that might have happened +to you, and didn't, almost makes a feller lose his faith in Providence. +'Oh, yes,' says you, 'Wingo will walk into the trap with his eyes shut. +It'll be just too easy.'" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, the first part worked all right," protested Rafe Tuckleton. +"Dan downed Walton without any trouble. How could I tell Driver would +slip up on his part? I'm glad Slike downed him. Served him right for +being a fool. Reelfoot did his part all right, too." +</P> + +<P> +"How do we know Reelfoot did? How do we know what happened before the +fraycas at Walton's? We don't. We don't know anything except that Tom +Driver is dead, Dan Slike wounded in the calaboose, and Skinny Shindle +has skedaddled." +</P> + +<P> +"Skinny tell any one where he was goin'?" +</P> + +<P> +"He did not. Soon as he heard that infernal Bill Wingo had pulled +through without a hole in him, Skinny saddled his horse and went +some'ers else a-whoopin'. And I don't think he expects to come back. +Oh, it's a fine mix-up all round, a fine mix-up." +</P> + +<P> +"Sh-sh," cautioned Rafe. "Somebody coming—oh, it's you, Tip. 'Lo." +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah, it's me, Tip," said O'Gorman, closing the door carefully and +sitting down on the only vacant chair. "Look here, Rafe, what did I +tell you about downing Tom Walton?" +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't downed Tom Walton," denied Rafe sullenly. +</P> + +<P> +"You had it done," insisted O'Gorman. +</P> + +<P> +"How do you know I did?" dodged Rafe. +</P> + +<P> +"By the way it was gormed up." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose now if you'd planned it——" +</P> + +<P> +"I wouldn't have planned it in the first place. I told you to keep +your paws off, and now look at the damn thing." +</P> + +<P> +"It wasn't my fault," barked back Rafe. +</P> + +<P> +"Can't you say anything different?" the district attorney threw in +drearily. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't even seem able to obey orders any more," said Tip O'Gorman. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't have to take orders from you," flared up Rafe. +</P> + +<P> +"No, you don't have to. Nobody has to do anything they don't want to. +But we've decided, Rafe, that hereafter you sit on the tail-board. You +don't pick up the lines again, see." +</P> + +<P> +"Who's we?" demanded Rafe. +</P> + +<P> +"Craft, Larder and myself." +</P> + +<P> +"You can't do anything!" Contemptuously. +</P> + +<P> +"No? For one thing, we can keep you from shipping so much as a single +cow." +</P> + +<P> +"How?" +</P> + +<P> +"Our ranges surround you on three sides, and where we don't fit in, the +mountains do. You can't drive through the mountains, and we won't let +you drive through us. That's how." +</P> + +<P> +"Huh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah, it's root, hog, or die, feller. You gonna be good?" +</P> + +<P> +"I—I suppose so." +</P> + +<P> +"Good enough. One slip on your part and you know what happens, Rafe. +Bear it in mind, and it'll be money in your pocket." +</P> + +<P> +"You talk like a minister." +</P> + +<P> +"I wish I was one, preaching the funeral sermon over your grave. Lord, +what a stinking skunk you are, Rafe!" +</P> + +<P> +"Look here——" +</P> + +<P> +"Blah! You are a skunk. So crazy after money you had to go and hurt +li'l Hazel Walton. Damn your soul, I told you not to do anything to +hurt her! And you bulled right ahead! You lousy packrat, you've +broken that child's heart! She thought the world and all of her uncle, +she did. I tell you, Rafe, you ain't fit to drink with a Digger or eat +with a dog!" +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't gonna fight with you," declared Rafe Tuckleton. +</P> + +<P> +"I was hoping you would," averred Tip. "There'd be one tom-fool less +to worry about if you did." +</P> + +<P> +"No, I can wait," said Rafe with a feline grin. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I'll be watching you, you rattle-snake," nodded Tip. +</P> + +<P> +"Go easy, you two!" snapped the district attorney, as a dog in the next +room began to bark. "There's somebody comin' up the path." +</P> + +<P> +The squabble went dead. +</P> + +<P> +"Good thing the wind's yowlin' its head off to-night," observed Tip +O'Gorman. "I forgot myself for a shake." +</P> + +<P> +Rafe Tuckleton looked at the floor. There was venom in his heart and +death in his thoughts. +</P> + +<P> +Tip O'Gorman fingered out the makings. +</P> + +<P> +He was shaking in the tobacco when Billy Wingo opened the door and +strode without ceremony into the office. He was followed by Riley +Tyler. The latter slammed the door behind him and set his back against +it. +</P> + +<P> +"Three li'l friends together," said Billy, his eyes gleaming at them +beneath the peak of his fur cap. "I saw your light as I was passing, +Arthur, and I thought I'd sift in and thank you for all those kind +words of yours yesterday. I appreciated 'em, you bet. You too, Rafe, +did about as well as could be expected. Tip is the only one I can't +thank." +</P> + +<P> +He smiled lazily on Tip. The latter grinned back. +</P> + +<P> +"It ain't my fault you can't," returned Tip cryptically. +</P> + +<P> +Billy nodded, although naturally he did not grasp the other's meaning, +and said, "Got another li'l matter for you gentlemen. Finding you all +together thisaway is gonna save me trouble. I'm in luck to-night." +</P> + +<P> +"Aw, spit it out!" Rafe directed rudely. +</P> + +<P> +Billy looked pained. "Our long-faced li'l playmate seems all fussed up +over something. Well, boys will be boys, I suppose, and burned fingers +now and then have got to be expected." +</P> + +<P> +He paused and regarded them gravely. Rafe's answering stare was +darkling, the district attorney's uncomfortable, while Tip's was +impersonal. +</P> + +<P> +"I hope you boys are feeling generous to-night," resumed Billy. +</P> + +<P> +Rafe Tuckleton stole a glance at O'Gorman. Generous? +</P> + +<P> +"The fact is," went on the calm voice, "I'm takin' up a collection—a +collection for Tom Walton's niece, Hazel." +</P> + +<P> +Billy thought that at the mention of the ranchman's name both the +district attorney and Tuckleton stiffened their slouching bodies, but +he could not be positive. The lamp on the table gave a poor, weak +light. +</P> + +<P> +"Her uncle's gettin' downed thisaway will be a bad blow for her. He +was all she had. Y'understand now—the girl won't ever know that this +is any benefit like. She mustn't ever know. It's insurance on Tom's +life, see? Sam Prescott was keepin' the policy for him in his safe. +Tom must have forgot to tell her about it. That's what Sam's going to +tell her. How much will you boys give?" +</P> + +<P> +Tip O'Gorman did not hesitate. "You can put us down for a thousand +apiece." +</P> + +<P> +"<I>What!</I>" chorused the district attorney and Rafe Tuckleton. +</P> + +<P> +The sheriff cocked an eyebrow at the two men. "You think it's too +little? Well, I guess maybe you're right. A thousand is enough for +Tip here, but you two are rich men. Say twice that—two thousand from +each of you will be about right." +</P> + +<P> +The two rich men were speechless. But only for a moment. +</P> + +<P> +"Two thousand!" gasped Rafe. "Not a nickel." +</P> + +<P> +"Not a thin dime!" contradicted the district attorney. +</P> + +<P> +"Say not so!" said Billy Wingo. +</P> + +<P> +Tip O'Gorman nodded. "'Say not so,' is right." +</P> + +<P> +Billy looked at the speaker approvingly. "I'm glad Tip agrees with me. +I'll take the money in gold, greenbacks and silver. No drafts." +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney squealed like a stuck pig. "No nothing, you +mean! Whadda you think we are?" +</P> + +<P> +"A couple of rascals," was the prompt reply. "And there's a tax on +rascals. <I>That li'l girl has got to be taken care of</I>." +</P> + +<P> +Billy's voice was earnest. But a sardonic devil looked out of his +eyes. He yearned with a great yearning for the district attorney and +Rafe Tuckleton to join battle with him. He knew that he could easily +take care of both. Tip O'Gorman was the unknown quantity. One could +never be quite sure what Tip was thinking. One thing, Tip was neither +a murderer nor a dealer in murder. That had never been Tip's way. And +something told Billy that in the present crisis Tip would keep his +hands off. The issue lay strictly between Rafe, the district attorney +and Billy Wingo. +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney by a great effort recovered his mental balance. +"You are threatening," he bumbled lamely. +</P> + +<P> +"Not a-tall," returned Bill. "I only said you and Rafe are a couple of +rascals. What's fairer than that, I'd like to know?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's blackmail—extortion," the district attorney trotted on. +</P> + +<P> +"Blackmail and extortion to subscribe money for the support of a girl +whose uncle has been murdered? No, no, you don't mean it, Arthur, old +settler. You mean that you and Rafe will be glad to do your parts. +That's what you mean." +</P> + +<P> +"No." Thus Rafe Tuckleton. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—and again yes. Three times in fact. Rafe, how about that last +deal of yours with the Indian agent? Remember it? The agent, +y'understand, gets drunk sometimes, and a drunk will talk. Ever +thought of that?" +</P> + +<P> +If Rafe had not thought of that, he thought of it now. +</P> + +<P> +"And how about that last bribe you took?" pressed Billy, turning +accusingly on the district attorney. +</P> + +<P> +The immediate shrinkage in the form of the district attorney was +plainly visible to the naked eye. He went a trifle paler too. +</P> + +<P> +"Do I get the two thousand apiece for Hazel Walton, Arthur?" demanded +Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"Why-uh—yes, yes, of course. I'd always intended to contribute. I +was just fooling. Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"And you, Rafe?" +</P> + +<P> +Rafe Tuckleton nodded a reluctant head. "I'll pay." +</P> + +<P> +"That's fine," said Billy heartily. "I'll be around to-morrow for the +money." +</P> + +<P> +Rafe Tuckleton did not attempt to demur at the shortness of time as he +had done with Dan Slike. He recognized the utter futility of arguing +with a man like Billy Wingo. +</P> + +<P> +"By the way," said Billy, staring hard at Rafe Tuckleton, "I wonder if +it was any part of Dan Slike's plan to kill Miss Walton too?" +</P> + +<P> +Rafe's face went wooden. "How should I know?" +</P> + +<P> +Billy nodded. "I was just wonderin'. No harm in that, I suppose. +Lucky she wasn't there alla same." +</P> + +<P> +"It was lucky," stated Tip O'Gorman. "Do you know I've been doing a +li'l wondering myself. Why wasn't she there?" +</P> + +<P> +"She just happened to be visiting the Prescotts'," replied Billy Wingo, +his eyes on Rafe's face. +</P> + +<P> +Rafe did his best to return the stare, but his eyes would drop despite +his best effort. +</P> + +<P> +"You know that letter from Miss Walton Judge Driver threw in the +fire—the one you heard me telling Judge Donelson about?" went on +Billy. "Yeah, that one. It might have fooled me—I'm only human, you +know, if——" +</P> + +<P> +"You're too modest," Tip interrupted dryly. +</P> + +<P> +"If it hadn't been for one or two li'l things," resumed Billy. "The +handwriting was a fine imitation—you couldn't beat it. But I knew she +hadn't written it." He paused, and began to roll a cigarette. +</P> + +<P> +Rafe Tuckleton passed his tongue across his lips. The district +attorney looked down at his locked hands. Of the three Tip O'Gorman +was the only one to remain his natural self. +</P> + +<P> +"G'on," urged Tip, "give it a name." +</P> + +<P> +"You see," said Billy, "Skinny Shindle told me Miss Walton gave him the +note about 2.30 P.M. Now on that afternoon I happened to be at the +Prescott ranch. Miss Walton was there visiting Miss Prescott. I +didn't leave the Prescotts' till nearly three o'clock, and Miss Walton +was still there and intending to spend the night. That's how I knew +she couldn't have written that note." +</P> + +<P> +"Nine miles from Prescott's to Walton's," said Tip. +</P> + +<P> +"Nearer ten," corrected Billy. "Skinny was sure careless. So were +several other men. You've got to make things fit." +</P> + +<P> +He nodded kindly to the company and abruptly departed with his +companion. +</P> + +<P> +"I wonder what he meant by 'making things fit,'" mused the district +attorney, following five minutes' silence. +</P> + +<P> +"I dunno," Rafe mumbled in accents of the deepest gloom, "but you can +put down a bet he meant something." +</P> + +<P> +"He did," declared Tip O'Gorman, "and I'm telling you two straight, +flat and final, you ain't fit to play checkers with a blind man. It +makes a feller ashamed to do business with you, you're so thumb-handed, +tumble-footed foolish. At the time the note was written from Walton's +the girl was at Prescott's. Oh, great! And he knew it alla time. And +you two jokes wondered why your scheme fell through! You know now, +don't you? Gawd! What a pair you are! Oh, I've always believed that +a man makes his own li'l hell. Whatever devilishness he does on this +earth he pays for on this earth. You fellers are already beginning to +pay." +</P> + +<P> +Thus Tip O'Gorman, the moralist. He departed wrapped in a virtuous +silence. He did not dare let the others know the actual worry that +rode his soul. He knew it was only a matter of time when Billy Wingo +would be camping on his trail too. Lord, how he'd been fooled! He had +never suspected that the sheriff possessed such capabilities. And how +had the sheriff learned of that flour deal between Rafe and the Indian +agent. The flour supposed to have been bought through another man. +Rafe had not appeared in the affair at all, yet Billy Wingo knew all +about it. +</P> + +<P> +And the bribe taken by the district attorney. There was another odd +chance. Besides the two principals, Rafe Tuckleton and himself, Tip +had not supposed that any one knew of the matter. It was very +mysterious. +</P> + +<P> +Tip could have kicked himself. He alone was the individual responsible +for the whole trouble. If only he had not proposed the election of +Billy Wingo— But he had proposed it, and now look at the result! +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Bill," said the greatly impressed Riley Tyler on the way to the +office, "what's this about that deal of Rafe's with the Indian agent? +You never said anything about it before." +</P> + +<P> +"Good reason," grinned Billy, "it just occurred to me." +</P> + +<P> +"Occurred to you?" puzzled Riley. +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah, I don't actually know of any deal between Rafe and that thief of +an agent; but knowing Rafe and knowing the agent, I guessed likely they +had been mixed up together in a business way. Seems I guessed right. +Same with the district attorney, only easier. If he's taken one bribe, +he's taken forty. Wouldn't be Arthur Rale if he hadn't." +</P> + +<P> +Riley Tyler chuckled. "Poker is one fine game," said Riley Tyler. +</P> + +<P> +At the office they found Shotgun Shillman. +</P> + +<P> +"What luck?" asked Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"Plenty," was the reply. "We went to the Cayley cabin first. Nobody +livin' there. Ashes in the fireplace might have been a week or a month +old. But the balsam tips in the bunks were older than that. They were +last summer's cutting—all stiffer than a porcupine's quills." +</P> + +<P> +"As I remember that cabin," reflected Billy, "the balsam grew all +around it." +</P> + +<P> +"They still do. We found a quarter of beef hanging on a stub back of +the house. 'There,' says Simon, 'there's proof for you.' 'Yes,' I +says, 'let's see the cow it came off of.' 'Whatsa use?' says Simon. +</P> + +<P> +"'Lots,' I says. 'C'mon.' He did reluctant, bellowing alla time how +we'd oughta follow the tracks leading away from the house toward the +Hillsville trail a mile away." +</P> + +<P> +"Were those tracks made by one man?" inquired Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"Looked so to me—anyway, we went along on the line of tracks leading +to the dead cow. It had been shot all right enough. It oughta been +shot. It had big-jaw." +</P> + +<P> +"'You mean to tell me them fellers cut that quarter off a big-jaw cow?' +I says to Simon. 'Sure,' he says. 'Aw right,' I says. 'Let it go at +that.' I poked around to find the other cow. Simon raising objections +alla time to me wastin' so much time and trying to get me off the +trail. Oh, he didn't care a whoop about me finding the second cow. +Wasn't one enough? Oh, sure, to hear him talk! But I found the cow. +It hadn't been shot a-tall. Died of the yallers last fall. And it had +just about half rotted before freezing weather set in. 'I suppose,' I +says sarcastic, 'both cows were killed about the same time.' 'You've +guessed it,' says Simon, bold as brass. 'Now all you gotta do is chase +right along back to the cabin and take up the trail like I wanted you +to do in the first place and trail 'em down.' He acted real +disappointed when I left him standin' there and came away. I'd have +arrested him right then only you said not to." +</P> + +<P> +"Good enough," approved Billy. "Plenty of time to arrest him later. I +want to give him plenty of rope. One of these days I'll get a subpoena +from Judge Donelson and serve it on him. That'll give him plenty of +time to think things over between now and the trial." +</P> + +<P> +"Simon ain't the kind to take things easy," mused Shotgun Shillman. +</P> + +<P> +"He'll fret his head off. About the time Slike is well enough to stand +prosecution, Simon Reelfoot will be ready to bust." +</P> + +<P> +But the well-known best-laid plans are more breakable than the equally +well-known best-laid eggs. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER FOURTEEN +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +WHEN THIEVES FALL OUT +</H4> + +<P> +"I tell you, Rafe," said Reelfoot in a panic, "they suspect me—they +think I'm mixed up in this murder business." +</P> + +<P> +"Accessory before and after the fact," slipped in the district +attorney. A reptile himself, he relished the wrigglings of another +reptile. "If they prove it on you, you'll be hanged sure as Dan Slike +will hang." +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't the only one they can prove it on," snarled Simon Reelfoot. +</P> + +<P> +"Who have you got in mind?" Rafe Tuckleton said in a colorless voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Both of you, for instance," Reelfoot informed him. +</P> + +<P> +"You do us a grave injustice." Thus the district attorney solemnly. +</P> + +<P> +Rafe Tuckleton shook his head at Simon. "Wrong tree. You don't know +anything about us." +</P> + +<P> +Simon Reelfoot gaped at both of them. "Why, we fixed it up between us. +You know we did. You even wanted two cows killed so's to make it look +lifelike to the deputies." +</P> + +<P> +Rafe looked at the district attorney. "The man's mad." +</P> + +<P> +Simon's teeth snapped together like a cornered coyote. "If you're +trying to put this thing all off on me—" he began, and stopped. +</P> + +<P> +"We're not trying to put anything off on you," the district attorney +told him silkily. "There's nothing to put off on you anyway. Not a +thing. You're nervous, that's all, Simon. Your imagination is working +overtime." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure is," corroborated Rafe. "You don't think we've got anything to +do with the murder of Tom Walton, do you, Simon?" +</P> + +<P> +The Reelfoot jaw dropped. The man stared helplessly at Rafe and the +district attorney. "Whatell did— Say, what else was all that +rigamarole for then?" +</P> + +<P> +"What rigamarole?" Oh, so patient was the voice of Rafe Tuckleton. +</P> + +<P> +Reelfoot gulped. "You had me go to Wingo's office, and rile him up, +and spin him a lot of jerkwater stuff about my rustled cows, so's to +get him and his deputies all ready to go away with me, when Driver was +to come in with that stuff about Kilroe and keep Bill in town while the +deputies went with me. Well, you know how only Shillman went. But I +couldn't help that. Anyway, I suppose you thought you was foxy not to +tell me the rest of the story about Skinny Shindle and the fake letter +and so forth. Gents, you was foxy. Yeah, you was foxy. But I'm foxy +himself. I can put two and two together and make four any day." +</P> + +<P> +He paused and glared at the pair of them. "I wondered what it was all +about. Yeah, I wondered, and I asked you and you said it was to keep +Bill Wingo from mixing into a li'l stock deal. Stock deal!" Here +Simon spat upon the floor. "Stock deal!" rushed on Simon. "You never +said it was murder." +</P> + +<P> +Rafe Tuckleton and the district attorney exchanged wooden looks. +</P> + +<P> +"Now that you mention it," said Rafe, "I don't believe we did." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you didn't like Tom Walton," observed the district attorney. +</P> + +<P> +Simon Reelfoot swore a string of oaths. "I didn't like him, not a bit. +But I don't want to be hung for helping having him killed." +</P> + +<P> +"That would be unfortunate," murmured the district attorney. +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't sorry he was killed, of course," Simon fretted on, unheeding. +"That part was all right, but I didn't want to be mixed up in it. +There's no sense in doing a thing like that if you're gonna be caught. +And I don't mean to be caught! You didn't have no right to get me into +this deal without telling me all the circumstances first," he concluded +weakly. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you think you've been badly treated?" purred the district +attorney. +</P> + +<P> +"I know it," declared Simon. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry." +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't come here for sympathy." +</P> + +<P> +"What did you come for?" +</P> + +<P> +"Protection. What do you s'pose? You've gotta protect me." +</P> + +<P> +"Listen to him, Rafe. Says we gotta protect him. That new brand of +whisky at George's Place is certainly awful stuff. If you'll take my +advice, Simon, you'll go a li'l easy on it till your system gets used +to it." +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah, sosh up by degrees like," offered Rafe. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here," said the exasperated Reelfoot, "either you fellers pull +suspicion off o' me, or I go to Wingo with the whole story." +</P> + +<P> +"What'll that get you?" demanded Rafe. "Nothin', just nothin'. Wild +tales of dead cows and separatin' Bill from his deputies and all ain't +evidence. Nawsir. Think again, brother, think again." +</P> + +<P> +"And, anyway," tucked in the district attorney, "what was wrong with +the wild tale? It came straight enough. There were the tracks and +there were the cows. Who can say your story wasn't the truth?" +</P> + +<P> +"I tell you, they <I>know</I> it ain't the truth." +</P> + +<P> +"How do they know?" +</P> + +<P> +Simon did not make immediate reply. It was the worst thing he could +have done. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" prompted Rafe. +</P> + +<P> +"They—uh—uh—they know it." +</P> + +<P> +"How, I asked you?" +</P> + +<P> +"They didn't—Shillman got suspicious over the cows." +</P> + +<P> +"Why did he get suspicious over the cows?" +</P> + +<P> +Simon Reelfoot wriggled in his chair. "Well—uh—I—he did, that's +all." +</P> + +<P> +Rafe leaned forward. His face was sharp with suspicion. "<I>Why did +he?</I>" +</P> + +<P> +"I—I——" Simon stammered, and bogged down right there. +</P> + +<P> +"C'mon," directed Rafe inexorably. "Spit it out." +</P> + +<P> +"One of the cows had big-jaw," admitted Reelfoot. +</P> + +<P> +Rafe sucked in his breath. +</P> + +<P> +"What did the other one have?" almost whispered the district attorney. +</P> + +<P> +"The other one died of the yallers last fall," said Reelfoot in a voice +that matched the district attorney's. "But," he added hastily, "it +come on to freeze soon after. I—I sort o' hated to kill two <I>good</I> +cows." +</P> + +<P> +"Seeing that two good cows were all you were putting up in return for +the benefits you would derive from the—uh—political situation, you +could have afforded to lose them." Thus the district attorney, staring +at Reelfoot. +</P> + +<P> +The latter looked with sullen foreboding at Rafe. The Tuckleton face +was bloated with rage. +</P> + +<P> +"So that's how it is!" he choked out. "You had your orders and you +muddled them out of rank meanness! Too stingy to kill a couple of +healthy cows, you hadda risk everything with one that died last year +and another with big-jaw! And then, after you've got 'em suspectin' +you good and strong through what's first, last, and only your own +fault, you come to us for help!" +</P> + +<P> +"Where else could I go?" queried Reelfoot sulkily. +</P> + +<P> +"To hell for all I care, you half-witted fool! A big-jaw steer! And +the other one half rotten, I'll bet!" +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't think he'd notice it," defended Simon. +</P> + +<P> +"You didn't think! No, I'll gamble you didn't! You never have! You +couldn't! My Gawd, you deserve to be hung! I hope you are!" +</P> + +<P> +"You forget, Rafe," said the district attorney, "that you and I don't +know what all Mr. Reelfoot is driving at." +</P> + +<P> +But Rafe Tuckleton was too angry to keep up the farce any longer. "I +hope the fool's hung!" he panted. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll take care not to go alone," said Reelfoot, pressing his +advantage. "You fellers will have to see that I'm protected or I'll +tell what I know." +</P> + +<P> +"Blah!" blared the district attorney. "You wouldn't dare snitch!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll dare more than that to save my skin," Reelfoot declared hardily. +</P> + +<P> +Rafe Tuckleton returned to the charge. "What in so-and-so and +such-and-such did you do such a fool trick for? Don't you +know—couldn't you—oh, whatsa use?" +</P> + +<P> +"You oughta told me all the circumstances," persisted Reelfoot. "That +was <I>your</I> fault. If I'd knowed, I could have managed better." +</P> + +<P> +"I expect—you couldn't," said Rafe Tuckleton, with an appreciable +pause after each word. +</P> + +<P> +"What you gonna do about it?" Reelfoot wanted to know, fidgeting in his +chair. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll be taken care of now, you needn't to worry." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, fine, fi-ine. That helps a lot, that does, with either Bill Wingo +or one of his deputies over to my place about every other day, snoopin' +round and talking to my men." +</P> + +<P> +"They do that, do they?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, they do that." +</P> + +<P> +"What of it?" demanded Rafe. "They can't find out anything, can they? +You weren't fool enough to let on to your men—your foreman or anybody, +were you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure not. But——" +</P> + +<P> +"But what?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't like 'em slouchin' round this way. You dunno what'll happen. +They might find out somethin' you can't tell." +</P> + +<P> +"If you didn't tell any of your men, you're safe," soothed the district +attorney, "so long as you keep your upper lip stiff. You're just a +li'l nervous, that's all, Simon. Nothing to worry you a-tall. Here, +have another drink. Rafe, shove the bottle over, will you?" +</P> + +<P> +Rafe Tuckleton pettishly obeyed, muttering under his breath. It was +only too painfully obvious that Reelfoot's remarks had upset him, and +he didn't care who knew it. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, Simon," he said suddenly. "You wanna leave right here your +notion that you'll snitch if it comes to the squeak." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll think about it," said Simon, setting down his glass deliberately. +</P> + +<P> +"Because," Rafe continued, as though there had been no interruption, +"you wanna remember it's almost as easy to kill two men as it is one." +</P> + +<P> +"I'd thought of that," said Simon, "and I brought two of my men with me +to-night. They're down at the saloon waiting for me now." +</P> + +<P> +"A lot of good they are down there," sneered Rafe. +</P> + +<P> +"But they can do you and Arthur here a lot of harm later—if anything +happens." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you trust us?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not so far as I can throw a calf by the tail," was the candid reply. +"I'm goin' now. You fellers scratch your heads over what I've said. I +ain't gonna go to the pen for anybody, and you can stick a pin in that." +</P> + +<P> +When Simon was gone, the district attorney and Rafe sat in silence +while a man, had one been so inclined, might have counted three +hundred. Neither looked at the other. Rafe fiddled with his glass on +the tabletop. The district attorney rolled a slow cigarette. +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney was the first to break the silence with, "Simon's +got a bad case of nerves." +</P> + +<P> +"We oughtn't to have used him," said Rafe. "First thing you know the +tom fool will say or do something we'll all be sorry for. I didn't +think he was like that." +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe we'd ought to have told him all of it from the beginning." +</P> + +<P> +"Not that. No, he'd never have gone in it then. He ain't got nerve +enough. I'm afraid Reelfoot's days of usefulness to us are over." +</P> + +<P> +"He's done good work in the past." +</P> + +<P> +"The past ain't now. And I tell you, Arthur, if Simon gets any more +jumpy than he is now, he'll kick the kettle over. You hear me, he'll +do it, the pup!" +</P> + +<P> +Rafe allowed the district attorney two full minutes to mull over this, +then he continued: +</P> + +<P> +"We gotta get rid of him." +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney looked over at Rafe, his upper lip lifting. "I +suppose we gotta." +</P> + +<P> +"We'll work the old game over again." +</P> + +<P> +"Not on your life! We turned it once! And that was one too many." +</P> + +<P> +"We had bad luck, that's all. Just a li'l hard luck. Look here, +didn't Simon say either Bill or one of his deputies were always +snooping round his ranch? All right, what more do we want? We can fix +it so's to get rid of two birds at a clip. And it'll work this trip. +We'll do it all right." +</P> + +<P> +"We'll have to." The district attorney smiled grimly. +</P> + +<P> +Rafe Tuckleton gazed speculatively upon his friend. "How about Tip +O'Gorman?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" +</P> + +<P> +Rafe came flatly to the point. "How about gettin' rid of him, too?" +</P> + +<P> +But this was going too fast for the district attorney. He shook his +head. "No. Too dangerous." +</P> + +<P> +"Now look here," said Rafe, leaning forward and tapping the district +attorney's knee with a persuasive forefinger, "you're forgetting that +all this trouble we're having is due to Tip O'Gorman. If it hadn't +been for him wanting a 'safe' man, Jack Murray would have been elected, +and everything about now would be fine as frawg's hair in January." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, we had to give 'em one honest man," said the district attorney +cynically. "The voters were getting ideas." +</P> + +<P> +"Rats," snorted Rafe. "What if they were? I don't give a damn what +Tip or anybody says, we were strong enough to elect our whole ticket. +Huh? No 'maybe' about it. I know. Tip's an old woman, I tell you. +He's gettin' too big for his boots. He needs a lesson." +</P> + +<P> +"Who'll give him one?" +</P> + +<P> +"We will." +</P> + +<P> +"No. Not for a minute. I know Tip. I ain't locking horns with that +gent." +</P> + +<P> +"Whatcha afraid of? He can't do anything." +</P> + +<P> +"Can't, huh? Aw right, let it go at that. Not any for me, thanks." +</P> + +<P> +Again Rafe's persuasive forefinger came into action. "Say, Tip ain't +any grizzly bear, feller. He's only a two-legged man like you and me. +He can be put where he belongs." +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney remained unconvinced. "I hear you say it." +</P> + +<P> +"Ain't you got any nerve a-tall?" +</P> + +<P> +"Where Tip is concerned, not much," was the frank reply. "I've seen +that man in action." +</P> + +<P> +"Action nothin'. That's just what's the matter with that man—not +enough action. He'll go so far and no farther. He don't want anybody +wiped out if he can help it. You saw what a fuss he made over Tom +Walton's killing. Lord! He made me sick! You might 'a' thought Tom +was a good friend of his. I tell you, Arthur, that sort of +squeamishness don't get you anywhere. Nawsir. You gotta go the whole +hog or you'll wind up in the calaboose. You bet I ain't for any of +them half-way plans. It's kill a bull every time, or I don't shoot. +Tip O'Gorman must go." +</P> + +<P> +"Lessee what Sam Larder and Crafty say," the district attorney offered +uneasily. +</P> + +<P> +"No, not them, either of 'em," Rafe declared firmly. "They're friends +of Tip's." +</P> + +<P> +"You tell 'em just like you told me," suggested the other. "Maybe you +could persuade 'em." +</P> + +<P> +Rafe shook a decided head. "Not a chance. I know them. They're soft +and bull-headed where Tip's concerned. They think he's hell on the +Wabash, you know that. Those three stand together always. No, Arthur, +if we shove this deal through, we gotta do it alone." +</P> + +<P> +But the district attorney remained dubious. "It's too big an order." +</P> + +<P> +"Not by a jugful it ain't. Gimme the bottle." +</P> + +<P> +Rafe poured out a stiff four fingers. He drank it slowly. Then he had +another. His eyes began to gleam redly. Suddenly he stood up and +struck the table with his fist. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll show 'em," he exclaimed. "Tip needn't think he can gimme orders! +Won't let you ship cows if you get your leg over the pole again, says +O'Gorman, Larder and Craft. Just as if I'd done something out of the +way instead of tryin' to put one more polecat out of the world. I'll +show 'em! Say, Arthur, whatsa matter with buckin' Larder and Craft +after we put Tip out of business?" +</P> + +<P> +"Wait till we do," replied the district attorney, who foresaw many +difficulties in the proposed operation. "And if you ask me, I don't +know how we're going to do it." +</P> + +<P> +Rafe Tuckleton scratched a tousled head. "Jonesy might shoot him +cleaning' his gun," he proffered. +</P> + +<P> +"Why don't you do it yourself?" +</P> + +<P> +Rafe showed the requisite amount of contempt for such a foolish +question. "It's more'n possible Tip might start cleanin' his own gun +about that time. And I <I>could</I> spare Jonesy if I had to." +</P> + +<P> +"Jonesy might not want to take the chance. You haven't thought of +that, have you?" +</P> + +<P> +Rafe, by way of reply, took another drink. When he set the bottle +down, the district attorney picked it up, held it against the daylight, +then looked reproachfully at his friend and put the bottle away in the +cupboard. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell you what we can do," said Rafe. "We can have Simon do it." +</P> + +<P> +"Simon Reelfoot?" +</P> + +<P> +"Who else. Sure. Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +"You're crazy. Simon may be a fool, but he has more sense than that." +</P> + +<P> +"Simon drinks a skinful sometimes. Ever see him when he gets that way? +He acts very rowdy. Yeah. I'm almost certain if, when Simon was under +the influence thataway, he was told that Tip had found out about his +share in the Walton killing and was making threats against him, that +Friend Simon would just naturally hop out and fill Tip full of holes." +</P> + +<P> +"But I thought you were saving Simon for Wingo? The sheriff's more +important than Tip just now." +</P> + +<P> +It was evident that the district attorney was becoming more and more +worried at the prospect of giving Tip his quietus. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll have to figure out something else for Wingo," said Rafe. Then +he brought his open palm down on his knee with a crack like a pistol +shot. The district attorney jumped in his chair. "I got it!" cried +Rafe. "I got it! It just came to me when you said 'Wingo.' We'll get +the three of 'em at one lick." +</P> + +<P> +"I knew I didn't put that bottle away soon enough." +</P> + +<P> +"Rats. My head's clear as a bell—two bells, by Gawd! Listen. We'll +get Simon and that foreman of his drunk. We'll sick the pair of 'em on +Tip O'Gorman. They'll put the kibosh on Tip, and the word will be +passed for the sheriff. He will go to make the arrest and they'll plug +him. Being drunk, they'll be desperate and won't care what they do." +</P> + +<P> +"Suppose the deputies go with Bill?" +</P> + +<P> +"We'll have to fix it so they won't. Oh, it'll be natural this time. +We'll wait till they're taking somebody over to Hillsville, or gone to +make an arrest or something." +</P> + +<P> +"But the sheriff may swear in a posse to help chase 'em." +</P> + +<P> +"There won't be any chase. For a chase you gotta have horses, and +we'll take away their horses first thing. No, it's a cinch Bill Wingo +will go to arrest 'em by his lonesome. He's that kind." +</P> + +<P> +"And we took him for a mark," was the district attorney's bitter remark. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't," lied Rafe. "I always knowed what he was." +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney did not contradict this statement. Nothing was +to be gained by a fight with Rafe Tuckleton. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER FIFTEEN +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE BEST-LAID PLANS +</H4> + +<P> +March had come in a-roaring. Almanac-wise it was passing out +a-bleating. Except in the high places the snow was going fast. The +frost was coming out of the ground, making it necessary for the +Hillsville stage to employ eight horses instead of six. The gray geese +were flying northward. Here and there on the southern flanks of the +lean hills the grass showed bravely green. That uncomfortable person, +Dan Slike, was well enough to stand his trial. Spring was in the air, +but winter still held sway in the heart of Billy Wingo. He had not +been able to make up his difference with Hazel Walton, or rather she +had not made up her difference with him. Manlike, or mulelike, +whichever you prefer, Billy Wingo was stubbornly determined that the +girl should make the first move. True, he had seen her. It was also +true that he had gone out of his way to see her. Always his reception +had been friendly, but not the least cordial. Obviously she had not +forgiven him his outburst. +</P> + +<P> +Whenever he thought on what he was pleased to consider his +ill-treatment at her hands, he was prone to rail at the foolishness of +women. He did not stop to reflect that there was another side to the +shield. Certainly not. The woman was clearly and wholly in the wrong. +Adam, I believe, was the first man to express this opinion. His sons +have been following in his footsteps ever since. +</P> + +<P> +Came a night of heavy rain and wind. Billy Wingo, a lamp on the table +at his elbow, was reading a Denver newspaper. A sudden gust drove a +spatter of rain across the windows. There was a soft thump followed by +a sliding sound against the outside door. Some one uttered in a +woman's voice a muffled wail. +</P> + +<P> +Billy went at once to the door and lifted the latch. The wind pushed +it back against him and flung a spray of wet into his face. There was +something lying on the doorstep and sill, something that moved a +little. Billy let the door fly open. The something was apparently a +woman in distress. Billy bent down, endeavoring to slip his hands +under her shoulders. But the woman was heavy and her clothing was very +wet and slippery. Billy bent a little lower and—Smash! +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"He's coming out of it," a voice was saying. "I saw his eyelids +flicker." +</P> + +<P> +"You hit him a mite too hard," declared another voice. "Y'oughta used +a club instead of that wagon wrench." +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't know how hard his head was," offered a third voice, "and we +can't afford to take chances. You know that. Anybody, he's coming +along all right, so what's the odds?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's ruined that pillow," complained the first voice. "And I know +he's bled on through the sheets into the mattress. Spoil the mattress, +that will. Cake the feathers all up. Make 'em nubbly." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't be so dainty, Sam," laughed the second voice. "You're so +all-fired fat what's a rough mattress to you? Sleep on the floor, and +you wouldn't know the difference." +</P> + +<P> +Billy kept his eyes shut, although he was now completely conscious. +His head ached like forty. Seemed as if the whole top had come off and +dozens of little devils were inside hammering like mad. He believed he +knew the owners of those three voices. Sam Larder, Felix Craft and Tip +O'Gorman. He opened his eyes. Yes, he was right. There they were, +the three of them. But it was daylight, and a day of sunshine too. +And the last thing he remembered was a night of wind and rain. +</P> + +<P> +Tip gave back his look with a smile. Sam Larder and Felix Craft did +not smile. Their faces were serious. +</P> + +<P> +"Glad to see you're coming round," said Tip O'Gorman. "Here, let me +fix that bandage. Looks as if it might be slipping. How you +feel—pretty good?" +</P> + +<P> +"Pretty good—considering," replied Bill. +</P> + +<P> +"That's fine, fine. Want a li'l something to eat?" +</P> + +<P> +"Rather have a drink." +</P> + +<P> +The cool water revived him like wine. He lay back on the pillows +greatly refreshed. He thought his head ached a little less, perhaps. +</P> + +<P> +"Where am I and how did I get here?" +</P> + +<P> +"You're in my house," said Sam Larder. "You were—uh—brought here." +</P> + +<P> +"After the roof feel on me?" said Billy, fingering the bandage round +his head. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you see," said Tip, in some embarrassment, "we knew you wouldn't +have accepted our invitation unless you were knocked silly first. But +I—I planned the whole thing, Bill—I didn't intend to keep you +senseless as long as this. It's a matter of ten hours since you were +hit. I didn't know but what maybe we were due to lose you, after all." +</P> + +<P> +"That would have been a pity," said Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"Wouldn't it? Yeah. Don't blame me for that crack, though. I told +Crafty not to use anything made of iron. But I'm afraid he used his +own judgment." +</P> + +<P> +"I always do," said Felix Craft. +</P> + +<P> +"Who was the woman?" inquired Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"I was the woman," replied Craft demurely. +</P> + +<P> +"That was one on me. But I'm still wonderin'. You fellers went to a +lot of trouble to carry me clear out here. I suppose it's too much to +hope you were seen doing it." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't guess we were seen," said Tip. "We kind of took care not to +be. +</P> + +<P> +"How long do you count on boardin' me, Sam?" +</P> + +<P> +"Just a li'l while," was the reply. +</P> + +<P> +"No longer than is necessary," slipped in Tip, with emphasis on the +last word. +</P> + +<P> +"Necessary, huh. <I>Necessary</I>. I suppose you fellers think you'll be +able to get Dan Slike off by kidnappin' me. You forget there's Riley +Tyler." +</P> + +<P> +"We know there's Riley Tyler," said Tip, "like we know Riley and +Shotgun went to Hillsville yesterday and won't be back for three-four +days. And about Dan Slike we don't care three whoops in hell. To tell +you the truth, Bill, I'm surprised you don't know us better than that. +<I>We</I> three didn't have any hand in that Walton business." +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't really think you did," said Billy frankly, "but knowing how +you and Tuckleton——" +</P> + +<P> +"No, no, Bill," interrupted Tip hastily, "don't go fussin' about Rafe. +That's a cat with another tail entirely. Your business right now this +minute is with us. Our business is with you. Here we are. Here's +you." +</P> + +<P> +But Billy was apparently paying no further attention to Tip's words. +He was looking at the ceiling. He was smiling. He chuckled. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know," he said, glancing sidewise at Tip, "when I was a kid, I +often wondered how it would feel to be kidnapped. I had a idea it +would be romantic sort of. But it ain't, not a mite. I feel like I'd +been on a tear—head, y'understand, and mouth all furry and <I>thirsty</I>! +Where's that pitcher? Oh, I can sit up all right." +</P> + +<P> +He swung up to a sitting position with a lurch. "Here's how," he said, +reaching for the pitcher. +</P> + +<P> +He drank his fill and again lay down, supporting his head on a bent +elbow. +</P> + +<P> +"Crafty," he said severely, "why for are you monkeying with that gun?" +</P> + +<P> +"I thought I had it hidden behind the table," replied Craft, +shamefacedly depositing a six-shooter on the table in front of him. +</P> + +<P> +He folded his arms behind the gun, but Billy noticed that the fingers +of his right hand were touching the wood of the butt. +</P> + +<P> +"The truth is," said Tip, "that we intend to watch you pretty closely. +But you haven't any kick coming. You ain't gagged or hogtied even." +</P> + +<P> +"Seeing that Sam's house is a mile out of town and a good eight hundred +yards west of the Hillsville trail, gaggin' me and tying me up are +hardly necessary. Sam, that water sure gave me a appetite. I feel +considerable better. Suppose now you send along the chambermaid with +several eggs, more or less, let 'em lay, and two-three-four slices of +nice ham, and some fried potatoes, and bread and butter, and a li'l jam +if you have it—if not, I'll take what you've got handy and some +coffee, black, with sugar. Better have her bring a full pot of coffee. +And Samuel, my own dear boyhood friend, will you send along the +golden-haired chambermaid?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's the way," approved Tip, smiling, as Sam Larder slumped +kitchenward. "Make a joke of it. No sense in taking it to heart." +</P> + +<P> +"Tip," said Bill, "I always knew you were an old scoundrel." +</P> + +<P> +Tip looked hurt. "The scoundrel perhaps, and only <I>perhaps</I>, mind you, +but I deny the age. I'm only a short fifty." +</P> + +<P> +"Plenty of time for you to be hung yet," admitted Bill. "Felix, old +settler, that gun of yours is pointing right at me. Is it easy on the +trigger?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mighty easy," said Felix Craft, altering slightly the angle of the +weapon's barrel. +</P> + +<P> +Billy hitched himself up to a sitting position. By means of the bed's +two pillows he made himself comfortable against the wall. +</P> + +<P> +"You spoke of some business," he said. "Le's hear it." +</P> + +<P> +Tip cleared his throat. "It ain't much. All we want is for you to +leave us alone." +</P> + +<P> +"Seems to me you asked me something like that before," mused Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"And your answer was unsatisfactory." +</P> + +<P> +"What kind of an answer did you expect?" +</P> + +<P> +"We expected you'd be a sensible man, the sort of feller who wouldn't +throw down his friends." +</P> + +<P> +"You said that before, too." +</P> + +<P> +Tip nodded. "We still think maybe you can be brought to see our side +of it." +</P> + +<P> +"We don't want to do anything we'd all be sorry for," Felix Craft +nipped in significantly. +</P> + +<P> +"Hear the clanking chains," said Billy. "The man's threatening me, I +do believe." +</P> + +<P> +Craft returned his stare woodenly. +</P> + +<P> +"You see," Tip remarked, "we expect to do a li'l business this year." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you think this will be a good year for business?" Billy cocked a +questioning eyebrow. +</P> + +<P> +"We hope so, we hope so," pronounced Tip. "I'll be open with you, +Bill. If you keep on nosing into our affairs the way you've started +in, we'll lose money. Couldn't help but lose it. You didn't take +office till the first of January and business won't be done in any +volume till well into the year——" +</P> + +<P> +"When the ground is hard," interrupted Billy, "and the volume of +business won't be apt to leave telltale tracks. I get the innards of +your meaning." +</P> + +<P> +"Exactly. So you see how absolutely necessary it is for us to be sure +that you won't horn into any of our li'l deals." +</P> + +<P> +"We intend to be sure," declared Craft. +</P> + +<P> +"Tip," said Billy, "that man is threatening me again. You stop him. +He makes me nervous. Sometimes I almost think he means it." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid he does mean it," said Tip. "I—we don't want to do you +any harm, Bill, physically or otherwise. You understand, that, don't +you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Seein' that you keep on tellin' me so over and over, I'll try and +believe it. But what I want to know is if you decide finally to do me +harm, physically or otherwise, what kind of harm you'll do. Will you +drop me over the cliff on a dark and moonlight night and dash my +quiverin' body to death on the cruel rocks below, or will you slip a +li'l wolf poison into my morning coffee, or will you just cut my throat +or what? I'd like to know. Honest, I would. My curiosity is standin' +on its hind legs." +</P> + +<P> +"It's no joke," Tip told him seriously. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course it ain't. Who said it was. Not me. I'm serious as lead in +your lung. Likewise I'm scared to death. If I was standin' up you'd +hear my knees clacking together. Not to disappoint you I'll shake the +bed. There! How's that?" +</P> + +<P> +He grinned at them disarmingly. They did not return the grin. +</P> + +<P> +"Might as well tell him now," suggested Craft. +</P> + +<P> +Tip nodded. "I was going to. Bill, you left your office in Golden Bar +last night." He paused, looking up at the ceiling. +</P> + +<P> +"You needn't try to make me think you're making it up as you go along," +Billy fleered with a wink. "I know better. Flap along, flap along." +</P> + +<P> +"You took your rifle with you and both your guns," resumed Tip. "You +went to the stable and saddled your red-and-white pinto and rode out of +town." +</P> + +<P> +"Right down Main Street, I suppose, where everybody could see me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing so coarse as that. You were careful to strike the shelter of +the cottonwoods that grow so close to the rear of your corral." +</P> + +<P> +Bill's eyes widened with well-feigned enjoyment. He was reasonably +sure he knew what was coming. "I'll bet somebody saw me, alla same." +</P> + +<P> +"Several people saw you, saw you so plainly that they could swear to +your identity on the witness stand." +</P> + +<P> +Billy leaned forward interestedly. "They <I>could</I>, but would they?" +</P> + +<P> +"All five of 'em would." +</P> + +<P> +"Five, huh? Don't you think that's a good many folks to have on hand +so providentially, a night like last night? Raining and blowing for +Gawd's sake, remember? You don't want to override this thing—whatever +it is." +</P> + +<P> +Felix Craft laughed sardonically. "We won't. Don't you worry any +about that, Bill. We've thought it out pretty average careful." +</P> + +<P> +"That's good. I'd be sorry to see you fellers make any mistakes. +Go'n, Tippy, old settler. You've got to where me and my gallant steed +are a-skulking in the underbrush with half the town watching us like +lynxes. What did I do next?" +</P> + +<P> +"You haven't done it yet. And whether you do it or not all depends on +yourself. If you stay stubborn, then this afternoon you'll hold up the +Hillsville stage." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't lemme forget myself too much. Will I wear a mask?" +</P> + +<P> +"Naturally—and your horse will be seen, your red-and-white pinto that +everybody knows. It's something like the trick you worked on Driver +and Slike. We listened very careful to your testimony at the hearing. +We're grateful to you for the idea, Bill." +</P> + +<P> +Bill tossed away all credit with a wave of his hand. "Oh, you clever +fellers would have thought of something just as good. Trust you. +Next." +</P> + +<P> +"Everybody on the stage will be able to swear to your clothes and your +horse and your guns. One of your guns has a brass guard. That gun +especially will be remembered." +</P> + +<P> +"You do think of everything," Bill said in admiration. "But does it +sound natural that I'd be using my horse, especially such a +conspicuous-lookin' horse as that red-and-white pinto, right where +everybody in the stage could see him? Even if I am crazy enough to +hold up the stage, you've gotta give me credit for a li'l sense." +</P> + +<P> +"I said there wouldn't be any coarse work," averred Tip. "Your horse +will be tied in a li'l patch of woods put of sight of the stage, but +just about the time you're lining the passengers up on the trail, your +horse will bust out of the li'l patch of woods and show himself plain +for everybody to take a look at." +</P> + +<P> +"Somebody will have to drive him out. Suppose <I>he's</I> seen, too?" +</P> + +<P> +Tip shook a lazy head. "Not him. He won't be seen. It will all look +mighty natural like an accident. Somethin' scared the horse, that's +all." +</P> + +<P> +"After I've robbed the stage what do I do?" +</P> + +<P> +"There you have me," confessed Tip. "I don't know what you'll do. You +might ride away and keep going for several weeks. That would be the +sensible thing to do." +</P> + +<P> +"Or I can ride back to Golden Bar and be arrested by my own deputies +for stage robbery. I don't suppose anybody would believe it if I said +I was kidnapped." +</P> + +<P> +Tip smiled slightly. "They might. You never can tell what people +would believe." +</P> + +<P> +Billy drew his knees up to the level of his chin and hugged them. +</P> + +<P> +"No," he drawled, "too fishy. Folks don't kidnap folks nowadays—only +in books. Shucks, I'll bet you fellers were counting on just that +particular snag in human nature. Looks like you've got me, don't it?" +</P> + +<P> +Tip nodded his head. "Looks like it." +</P> + +<P> +"You've only got yourself to blame," said Felix Craft, studying the gun +on the table so handy to his fingers. +</P> + +<P> +"True," acquiesced Billy. "I've only got myself to blame. So what +care I for poverty or precious stones? Look here, fellow citizens, who +is going to take my part in this stage hold-up?" +</P> + +<P> +"I will," said Craft modestly. "I rode your pinto out of town last +night, and I think I made a good impression. Yeah, I'm sure I did. +And I have more than a sneaking idea I can get away with the hold-up." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't doubt it," said Billy. "Don't doubt it for a minute. You've +got nerve enough, I know that, and we're about of a size. I—uh—I +<I>thought</I> there was something familiar about that vest you're wearing. +And are those my other pants you have on? The table hides 'em so I +can't tell for sure." +</P> + +<P> +"They are your other pants, and your coat and hat are hanging on a hook +in the kitchen. I had to put your spurs on my boots though. Yours +were too small." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I'm sorry," mourned Billy, genuine concern in his tone. "If I'd +only known— However, suppose some one in the stage puts a hole in +your face right over the eye, Felix. Have you thought of that?" +</P> + +<P> +Craft nodded. "We have to take some chances." +</P> + +<P> +"That's so. You've got a sporting spirit after all, Crafty. You'd +think running a gambling house so long would have taken it out of you, +sort of. Might be your ranch has saved you. And suppose I don't feel +like having you risk your valuable life, Crafty, what then?" +</P> + +<P> +"Then the deal can be arranged," Tip answered for Craft. "Give us your +word Bill, and you can walk out that door and ride back to Golden Bar +right after breakfast. Right now, if you don't want to wait." +</P> + +<P> +Billy looked incredulous. "You mean to tell me, Tip, that you'd take +my bare word?" +</P> + +<P> +"You're whistling we would," Tip declared heartily. "Everybody knows +your word is good." +</P> + +<P> +"I've never broken it yet, but don't you see, once broken, what good is +it?" +</P> + +<P> +"But if you give it, you wouldn't break it. We know you." +</P> + +<P> +"But if I give my word to you to do this thing, I will have broken +it—to the territory. When I took office I made oath to obey and +uphold the laws. I guess maybe you forgot that." +</P> + +<P> +Tip looked a trifle dashed. "Well—" he began. +</P> + +<P> +"You see," interrupted Billy, "If I broke my word to the territory, I'd +break it to you likely. Anyway, what guarantee have you that I +wouldn't?" +</P> + +<P> +"Looks like there was only one trail out," Craft said briefly. +</P> + +<P> +"Gimme something to eat first," Billy implored, rubbing his empty +stomach. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll do that much for you," said Tip. "And while you're eatin' you +think it over. There's a lot to be said for what we want you to do. +Think how easy it is, Bill. Just go a li'l slow is all we want. And +think what you get by it—complete freedom otherwise and that ten +thousand a year easy money we spoke of a while back. Ten thousand +ain't to be sneezed at these days. I dunno where you'd make it any +easier." +</P> + +<P> +"Neither do I," Billy admitted frankly. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't want to go to jail now, do you, Bill?" wheedled Tip. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure not," was the prompt answer. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course you don't. And if you decide to accept our offer, Bill, the +secret will be left behind right in this room. No one will ever know +anything about it. To your friends you will be one of the straightest +sheriffs Crocker County ever had. Oh, I know what you're thinking of. +You're afraid of what Hazel Walton might think. But——" +</P> + +<P> +"Let's leave her out of this," Bill struck in sharply. +</P> + +<P> +"All right," acquiesced Tip, with a slight cough, "we will. Alla same, +Bill, who's to ever know what you did?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'd know for one," Billy observed simply. "And suppose I tell +somebody? You know I never could keep a secret." +</P> + +<P> +"I told you how it would be, Tip," remarked Craft. "He's too damn +honest for any use." +</P> + +<P> +Billy nodded his gratitude. "Felix, I thank you. At least you are a +friend of mine." +</P> + +<P> +"You forget me," said the disappointed Tip. "If it hadn't been for the +ground-and-lofty talking done by yours truly, you, William, would have +already gone where the good Indians go. I can tell you, Felix and Sam +are downright disgruntled with you." +</P> + +<P> +"Felix, I take it all back," grieved Billy. "At the first convenient +opportunity I shall drop a li'l arsenic in your coffee or a li'l lead +pill in your system. I dunno which yet. And that goes for you too, +Sam." +</P> + +<P> +"What's that?" queried Sam, entering with a large platter of ham, eggs +and potatoes and setting it down on the table. When Bill had +explained, he smiled grimly. "Yep," said Sam Larder. "You've been a +thorn in our well-known side for some time. Trimming you off the +parent stem would do you—and us—a heap of good." +</P> + +<P> +"I see," remarked Billy, sliding from the bed and hooking up a chair to +the table, "I see that the patient is not yet out of danger. But the +doctors have not completely despaired of his life. How about it, Tip? +You haven't given me up yet, have you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Bill," said Tip irritably, "you're a fool." +</P> + +<P> +"But not a damn fool," returned Bill with his mouth full. "You'll have +to admit there is a method in my madness." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER SIXTEEN +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +OBSCURING THE ISSUE +</H4> + +<P> +"Well," said Felix Craft, attempting a pleasantry, "how do I look?" +</P> + +<P> +"You look," said Billy, following a meticulous survey of his +questioner's attire, "you look like Mr. Felix Craft, our genial gambler +and non-resident ranch owner." +</P> + +<P> +"Shucks, I was hoping I'd look like you. I'd sure enjoy making a good +appearance. Maybe the mask will make a difference." +</P> + +<P> +"Mask won't disguise your voice any." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll talk like I had a cold. Oh, I won't have any trouble making +folks think it's you." +</P> + +<P> +Felix Craft spoke with tremendous confidence. More than the occasion +warranted, thought Billy Wingo. +</P> + +<P> +"Why don't you wear my star?" suggested Bill. "Then folks would sure +think it was me." +</P> + +<P> +"Too raw, and you know it. Even you wouldn't do a fool thing like +that." +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks for the compliment," Billy said humbly. "Suppose now you get +plugged, Felix?" +</P> + +<P> +"I won't get plugged. Not me," declared Craft, pulling the six-shooter +with the brass trigger guard and making sure that the hammer rested on +an empty chamber. +</P> + +<P> +"What makes you think you won't be plugged?" persisted Billy. +</P> + +<P> +Craft darted a quick look at his questioner. "Because I know I won't. +I'll have the drop on 'em, don't you see? Nobody will dare cut down on +me." +</P> + +<P> +"How do you know they won't?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure, that's all." +</P> + +<P> +"What makes you so sure?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because I am, that's why!" was the snappish reply. Then in a +pleasanter tone Craft continued, "Because, Bill, I've figured out my +chances carefully. Not once in a thousand times do stage passengers +resist a road agent." +</P> + +<P> +"How about the Wells-Fargo guard?" +</P> + +<P> +"He ain't riding this trip." +</P> + +<P> +"How do you know he ain't?" +</P> + +<P> +"Now don't you worry how we know, Bill. We know, and you can bet on +that. It's like I told you, we've figured this thing out to the last +li'l detail. We——" +</P> + +<P> +"You bet we have," cut in Tip quickly. "For the last time, Bill, +hadn't you better change your mind?" +</P> + +<P> +"I couldn't change it for the last time till I'd changed it at least +two other times, Tip," Billy drawled, one-half his brain busy trying to +fathom why Tip should have interrupted Craft so brusquely. Tip never +did anything without reason. Never. And why was Craft so unnaturally +sure that he could hold up the stage without being shot? Unnaturally, +exactly. Because Felix Craft was one not given to explaining anything +he did. Yet in this instance he had taken the trouble to explain at +some length. Why? +</P> + +<P> +Billy tilted back on the rear legs of his chair, cocked his heels up on +the table and stared at the ceiling. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, how about it?" Tip demanded impatiently. "You going to be +sensible?" +</P> + +<P> +Billy waved a hand for silence and then sang in a whining bobtail bass: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Barney Bodkin broke his nose:<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">Want of money makes us sad;</SPAN><BR> +Without feet we can't have toes;<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">Crazy folks are always mad;</SPAN><BR> +A nickel candle's very small;<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">Many fiddlers can't play jigs;</SPAN><BR> +One that's dumb can never bawl;<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">Pickled pork is made of pigs.</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Ain't that a nice song?" Billy broke off, glancing round him for +praise. "Lot of truth in that song, too. Especially that part about +crazy folks. They always are mad—like you and Felix, Tip, and our fat +friend, Mr. Samuel Larder. Why all the delay, Felix? If you really +are gonna to be a bold bad man, go'n and be one. Don't dally round +here any longer. Suppose you miss the stage? You'd be disappointed. +So would I. Because I don't want anything to prevent you from having a +fair crack at it. I'd like you to have every chance—but I forgot, you +ain't taking any chances, are you? This is a sure thing." +</P> + +<P> +Billy, through half-shut eyes, was watching the men he was talking to. +He was watching Sam Larder especially. For Sam was not a good poker +player. Never had been. His plump features were too expressive. And +now the open-faced Sam was looking at Billy with a slightly worried +expression. Furthermore, the worry was tinged with some astonishment. +At least, so it seemed to Billy. Again why? +</P> + +<P> +Here were three men, each of whom within five minutes had done that +which was not wholly warranted by the apparent facts. He again had +cropped up and out those unnatural circumstances so ably dwelt upon by +Mr. William Noy. As has been said, the law abhors such things and +seeks a remedy. There is always a remedy; and investigation, patient +and thorough, will always find it. Billy rather prided himself on +being a patient and thorough investigator. +</P> + +<P> +Nevertheless he did not fail to realize that he was in a tight hole. +He felt the pinch already. So he smiled at the three men his sunniest +smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Looks like a wild night on the canal," he said calmly. "I expect the +mules are pinning back their ears. Yeah. Going, Crafty? Well, be +good and—oh, say, Crafty, ain't Jerry Fern the stage driver this trip?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know," was the short reply. +</P> + +<P> +"But you knew everything else," complained Billy, making a mental note +of another unnatural circumstance. "Seems like you'd oughta know this, +too." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I don't," Craft tossed back over his shoulder, as he flung out +of the house. +</P> + +<P> +The door slammed. Billy looked at Sam Larder and grinned. "If this is +Jerry Fern's trip, and I'm most sure it is, Felix will be out of luck. +Jerry is one stage driver who will always give a bandit a battle." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I guess Crafty will get the drop on him all right," Sam Larder +averred easily,—too easily by half. +</P> + +<P> +"I can see," said Billy with strange placidity, "I can see that I've +got to get out of here." +</P> + +<P> +Both Sam and Tip laughed,—Tip heartily, Sam with a false note. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, anyway," resumed Billy, "I've got my choice of hitting the trail +or being arrested." +</P> + +<P> +Tip shook his head. "You haven't any choice—none." +</P> + +<P> +"Huh?" Surprisedly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah. You see, we talked it over again while you were asleep a while +back, and we decided if you couldn't see our way of it and be sensible +like we want, that we'd better just put you where you won't be mislaid. +Givin' you your choice of ridin' away or bein' arrested like I said at +first would be a bad move. If you chose to hit the trail— You're a +sport with ideas, Bill, and you might think up one to put the kybosh on +us. But if you're in jail, your ideas won't help you much. See?" +</P> + +<P> +"I see I ain't gonna get a chance for my alley a-tall. Who'll arrest +me—my own deputies?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, we'll do that. Here's the story: Your horse gave out and Sam +caught you trying to rustle a pony out of his corral. Sam threw down +on you, held you up and when we, Sam, Crafty and I, y'understand +searched you, we found on you a couple of pocketbooks and Jerry Fern's +watch. See?" +</P> + +<P> +"I see, all right. I see you haven't been quite open with our friend +Mr. Craft." +</P> + +<P> +"How do you make that out?" +</P> + +<P> +Billy hunched his shoulders. He was observing the marked unease that +spread upon the countenance of Sam Larder. Tip was forced to repeat +his question. +</P> + +<P> +Billy gazed at him vacantly. "Huh? How—uh—oh, you want to know how, +do you? Is that it? Yeah. Well, I'll tell you. Here you knew alla +time that Jerry Fern was going to drive the stage this trip and yet you +didn't tell Crafty. He didn't know who was the driver when I asked +him, remember? You should have told him, Tip. Skin game not to." +</P> + +<P> +Tip laughed. Was the laughter forced? Billy thought it sounded as if +it were. But he couldn't be sure. Not with Tip O'Gorman. For Tip was +a good poker player. Still—— +</P> + +<P> +Billy wagged a forefinger at Tip. "Why didn't you tell Crafty, you +careless child?" +</P> + +<P> +"Crafty knew, all right," Tip stated. "He was just joking with you, I +guess." +</P> + +<P> +"I guess so too," drawled Billy Wingo. "I guess so too." +</P> + +<P> +He stood up and started to walk casually toward the door. +</P> + +<P> +"That will be about far enough," said Tip. +</P> + +<P> +Billy's hands fell away from the latch. "If that gun goes off, it'll +make a fine mess on the floor." +</P> + +<P> +"You come back and sit on the bed again," directed Tip, the six-shooter +trained unwaveringly on the captive's abdomen. "Of course," he added, +"you might try the windows. But even if I didn't drill you three times +where you live while you were doing it, you can't wiggle through those +windows. Your shoulders are too broad and the sashes are too narrow. +That's why we picked this room. Only one in the house with small +windows." +</P> + +<P> +"I'd noticed that," said Billy, returning to the bed. "How about a +drink, Tip? I'm thirsty." +</P> + +<P> +"Sam will get you a drink," said Tip. +</P> + +<P> +Billy smiled. "Why not you? Can't you trust me with Sam? Think I'll +corrupt his morals or something?" +</P> + +<P> +"There's no telling what you'll do, Bill, and as I may have told you +once or twice we can't afford to take any chances." +</P> + +<P> +"When am I going to be arrested for rustling one of Sam's horses?" +</P> + +<P> +"Soon after Crafty gets here." +</P> + +<P> +Billy's face assumed a peevish expression. "Say, look here, Tip, I +don't just cotton to the idea of havin' Sam the one to throw down on me +and hold me up. I've got my pride, such as it is, and I'd hate for +folks to go round blatting that a slow-pulling sport like Sam Larder +held me up. Can't you make it yourself, Tip? You've got a reputation. +I dunno that I'd feel so bad about it if it was you." +</P> + +<P> +"Shucks, Bill, you're too sensitive. I'm afraid we'll have to let the +scheme go through as it lays. I don't believe in changing any part of +a plan once I've started to carry it out." +</P> + +<P> +"There's something in that," admitted Billy. "I'm a li'l superstitious +that way myself. Ain't Sam taking a goshawful time to that drink? +Maybe you better step out and look for him." +</P> + +<P> +Tip grinned. "I hear him comin' now." +</P> + +<P> +"Sam," said Billy, when the owner of the house appeared with the drink, +"Sam, how about a li'l hot something to eat? I know it's only the +shank of the afternoon, but I'm hungry and I probably have a long hard +night ahead of me." +</P> + +<P> +"You have, all right," concurred Sam. "All your own fault, too. But I +expect you know what's best." +</P> + +<P> +Sam eased his fat self into a chair and began to construct a cigarette. +</P> + +<P> +Billy elevated his eyebrows. "Say. I thought I asked you for +something to eat?" +</P> + +<P> +Sam ran his tongue along the side of the cigarette. "I heard you, but +I don't cook a thing till supper. That's flat. I been in and out of +that kitchen all day, and I've got enough, you bet you." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't have to cook anythin' yourself. Let your cook do it." +</P> + +<P> +"I let him go to town for the day." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't s'pose you could persuade one of your boys to throw a li'l +bite together for me, now, could you?" +</P> + +<P> +Sam shook a decided head. "I couldn't, Bill. There ain't a boy on the +place. I sent them all down on the Wagonjack to fence off a quicksand." +</P> + +<P> +Billy closed his eyes to conceal the satisfaction in their depths. Not +a man on the place! Which was just what he had been working to find +out. But the odds were still two to one, and an armed two to a +weaponless one at that. When Craft returned, they would be three to +one, provided Billy still was a prisoner. +</P> + +<P> +He surveyed his captors through drop-lidded eyes. Sam Larder was +looking out of the window. But Tip was on the alert, even as he had +been from the beginning. And Billy knew well that Tip would not +hesitate to shoot. Most decidedly the future did not look bright and +shining. But Billy's was a confident nature. +</P> + +<P> +"What's that?" queried Tip. +</P> + +<P> +"What do—oh, that! Simon says 'thumbs up,' you mean? It doesn't mean +anythin' serious, Tip. Just another way of saying, 'Faint heart never +won a bet in its life' and 'It's always darkest 'round midnight.' +Don't mind if I take a snooze, do you, Tippy, old boy?" +</P> + +<P> +Billy rolled over on his stomach, rammed his head into the pillow and +completely relaxed his body, but, although his breathing soon became +deceptively regular, he was far from being asleep. He was thinking as +purposefully as ever he had in his life. He had to escape. <I>He had +to</I>! To permit his enemies to do this thing was intolerable. There +was a way out. Every strait, no matter how close and awkward it may +be, has its way out. +</P> + +<P> +He built many plans while he lay there. But there was a flaw in each +and every one of them. His brain was still feverishly busy when Felix +Craft returned about the middle of the afternoon. +</P> + +<P> +As the door opened and Craft entered, Billy sat up. "Have a nice +time?" he drawled. +</P> + +<P> +"Went through like clockwork," replied Craft, slumping into a chair +beside the table. +</P> + +<P> +"Not even a li'l teeny-weeny hole in you anywhere?" Billy demanded +hopefully. "Hell, I shore had a better opinion of Jerry Fern than +that." +</P> + +<P> +"Jerry didn't do any fightin' to-day," said Felix. "Handed over his +watch like a major." +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah, Tip said you'd take his watch. Funny you didn't know Jerry Fern +was driving this trip when I asked you. Tip knew." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I knew all right," Craft said carelessly. "Lord A'mighty, I'm +hungry. My stomach is sticking to my backbone closer than a postage +stamp to a letter. I ain't had a thing to eat since breakfast. Got +any more eggs and ham, Sam?" +</P> + +<P> +"If you want anything to eat, you can cook it yourself," said Sam. +"It's like I told Bill here, I ain't goin' into that kitchen till +suppertime." +</P> + +<P> +"That's always the way," grumbled Craft, kicking his chair back. "Here +I ride from hell to breakfast and back—and I wanna say again that +having that hold-up fifteen miles from here was too much of a good +thing. Just as well have had it two or three miles away. It wouldn't +have made a bit of difference, not a smidgin, by Gawd." +</P> + +<P> +"You know, Felix," defended Tip, "that we had it fifteen miles away so +the give-out horse of Bill's would look more natural." +</P> + +<P> +"Damn his give-out horse," snarled Craft, moving stiffly toward the +hall leading to the kitchen. "I wish it had give out before I was +born." +</P> + +<P> +"So you found out how rough-gaited the pinto was, did you, Felix?" +Billy observed sweetly. "Do you know, I had an idea you would. Yeah. +You don't ride enough, that's whatsa matter. Stick too close behind +your faro box, you do. Y'oughta try the open air and the range more. +Tell you, Felix, I'll gamble you'll do more ridin' and less card +playin' in the next sixty days than you ever did in any two months of +your life before. In round numbers I'll bet you ride more than six +hundred miles in the next two months. Go you a hundred even. The bet +payable in Golden Bar sixty days—say any time after the first day of +June." +</P> + +<P> +"Humor him, Crafty," suggested Tip, glad of the diversion. "Sometimes +they turn real violent." +</P> + +<P> +"Make it five hundred even," said Craft, who was nothing if not +commercial. +</P> + +<P> +Billy smiled pityingly. "You poor feller! But you've asked for it. +Five hundred she is. It'll have to be a finger bet, because I haven't +a cent with me." +</P> + +<P> +"Your word's good," said Craft and went on his way. +</P> + +<P> +"How about you fellers?" Billy pursued brightly. "Any chance of my +turning a honest penny? I'll go you both the same as Crafty. I +suppose my word's good." +</P> + +<P> +"Better than gold," declared Tip, "but I don't see how you're going to +check up on anybody's riding." +</P> + +<P> +Billy waved a complacent hand. "That's the least of my troubles. How +about it? You fellers want to bet? No? Aw right, my loss is your +gain. Tippy, I wonder if you'd mind opening the door and hollering to +Felix to fry me up a mess of eggs while he's at it? Tell him to let +'em lay. That's the way I like 'em. I thank you. Tip, you've made a +mistake." +</P> + +<P> +"How?" +</P> + +<P> +"Having that hold-up fifteen miles away and then having me arrested +here so close to Golden Bar. You poor flap, is it reasonable to +suppose I'd hold up the Hillsville stage and then come scamperin' right +home, especially when I knew my horse had been seen? You'll find the +judge and jury lookin' cross-eyed at that li'l bit. Yeah, flaw in your +title, Tippy. Y'oughta be more careful." +</P> + +<P> +"Bill's right," said Sam Larder unexpectedly. "I always thought +fifteen miles away was too far, and I know the jury will think it's +funny he came right back to Golden Bar. That don't look natural. +Nawsir." +</P> + +<P> +"Blah!" snorted Tip. "You never thought anything about it till Bill +pointed it out to you, and at that, he's wrong. And anyway, he ain't +arrested yet. We can always rub out Bill if we feel like it. This is +one county that has plenty of good places to leave a man—places where +he won't be found for years and years, and not then, judging by the way +the coyotes scatter a feller's bones. Have you thought of that, Bill? +You'd better. So far I've been dead against making you hard to find, +but if you keep on trying to show me where I'm wrong, maybe I'll accept +your view of the case." +</P> + +<P> +This was plain speaking. Billy accepted it at its face value. Tip was +good-hearted enough. He had proved it. But he was desperate. He had +proved that, too. +</P> + +<P> +Billy smiled engagingly at Tip. "Shucks, I was only talking to you for +your own good," he said in an injured tone. "And here you go and get +all het up. You make me more tired than a day's work." +</P> + +<P> +"We may make you tireder," was the grim return. +</P> + +<P> +When Felix Craft brought the eggs, he drew up at one side of the table +and Billy at the other. The platter of eggs was between them. Tip +looked on from his seat near the fireplace. Sam lounged comfortably in +his chair. +</P> + +<P> +Billy looked with a dissatisfied air upon the eggs. "Ain't there any +bread, Felix? One thing I like is to sort of smush a piece of bread +round my eggs till it gets all gooey and good. A li'l butter on the +bread wouldn't hurt neither." +</P> + +<P> +So Felix made another trip to the kitchen. When he returned with the +bread and butter, Billy discovered that the pepper had been overlooked. +</P> + +<P> +"For Gawd's sake use salt on 'em!" implored Felix. "I never use +pepper, I don't. Salt is just as good. Healthier, too." +</P> + +<P> +"But I don't like salt," protested Billy. "I've got no manner of use +for it. I want pepper, I do." +</P> + +<P> +"Use salt," mumbled Craft, stoking busily. +</P> + +<P> +Billy pushed right back from the table and refused to be comforted. "I +want some pepper! Whatsa matter with you jiggers—tryin' to starve me +to death? Sam, you lazy lump of slumgullion, get me some pepper, will +you?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, I won't. I'm too comfortable and you're too finicky." +</P> + +<P> +Bill glanced across at Tip. "You going to refuse me too, Tip, old +citizen?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Tip with a weary air, "I suppose not." +</P> + +<P> +He arose and betook himself to the kitchen. Returning with a large +old-fashioned tin pepper pot he thumped it down upon the table in front +of the captive. "There y'are. Now, stop your squalling." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you, Tippy, I will. Yeah." +</P> + +<P> +Billy scraped up to the table as Tip turned away. "What's the matter +with this pepper pot, anyway?" +</P> + +<P> +Tip turned to look. Billy picked up the pepper pot slowly and stared +hard at it. Felix Craft craned his neck. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't see anything the matter with it," said Craft. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you?" murmured Billy, his fingers busy with the removable top. +"Look here." +</P> + +<P> +Sam Larder did not move, but both Tip and Craft obeyed. In fact, they +obeyed with such good will that the handful of pepper that Billy +instantly swept into their faces dusted up their nostrils as well as +into their eyes. +</P> + +<P> +In throwing the pepper Billy had employed his left hand. This left +hand had not completed the motion before Billy was reaching for the +platter of eggs with his right hand. +</P> + +<P> +It was unfortunate for Sam Larder that he was a slow-going gentleman. +The platter struck him edgewise over the eye when his six-shooter had +barely cleared the holster. The six-shooter thudded to the floor. Sam +and his chair went over backward and lay together in a tangle amid the +fragments of broken platter and the remains of several eggs. On the +way down some of the eggs painted Sam's countenance and part of his +shirt a bright yellow. But Sam made no attempt to rise and scrape +himself off. He was unconscious. +</P> + +<P> +Billy, arriving in Sam's immediate neighborhood a split second after +Sam struck the floor, scooped up the fallen six-shooter and wheeled +back to face his other two enemies. But they were too occupied with +their very real misery to be an immediate menace. Felix Craft was +sitting on the floor, clawing at his eyes and swearing continuously. +Tip, coughing and sneezing, was not swearing. Perhaps he had not +sufficient breath. At any rate, he was on his feet, arms spread wide, +feeling his way along the wall toward the door giving into the hall. +</P> + +<P> +Billy cat-footed up behind Tip and snatched away his six-shooter. Tip +spun round at the touch, but Billy dodged away from the clutching hands. +</P> + +<P> +Bang! a revolver bullet cut a button from his vest and tucked into the +wall at his elbow. Billy's sudden movement had saved his life. He +leaped back another two yards to get out of the smoke and crouched, +balancing his tense body on the balls of his feet. +</P> + +<P> +He saw beyond the table Felix Craft with a gun in each hand. The +gambler's face, despite the tears that overflowed his eyes and ran down +his cheeks, was fairly murderous. +</P> + +<P> +"Tip! Where are you? Don't you move, Bill," Craft was saying, the +barrels of his two guns weaving to and fro uncertainly. "Get away from +that door, Bill. Don't you try and get away. I can see you." +</P> + +<P> +Billy leaned forward, picked up a fork from his set-out on the table +and flung it across the room. It fell with a clatter. Craft fired at +the sound. The next instant Billy kicked him under the chin and +flattened him out. +</P> + +<P> +"First time I ever saw a feller shoot by ear," observed Billy, calmly +divesting Craft of his gun belt and exchanging Sam's six-shooter for +his own gun with the brass-trigger guard. "He did pretty good, +considering. Tip, don't you try to bluff me, like Crafty, that you can +see. Hey! do you want to be the third senseless man in this room?" +</P> + +<P> +Tip answered the question by halting his groping way toward the +speaker. He stood still, his body swaying, his muscular fingers locked +in the palms of his hands. Billy stooped over the senseless Craft and +whipped off his neckerchief. +</P> + +<P> +"Put your hands behind you, Tip," he directed. +</P> + +<P> +"Damfi will!" Tip declared. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want to whang you over the head, Tip, but I'll have to if you +won't be good. Stick 'em behind you." +</P> + +<P> +Tip hesitated, then suddenly he thrust his hands behind him. Billy +slipped around him, laid his six-shooter on a chair seat and drew the +handkerchief beneath Tip's crossed wrists. The next instant Tip had +whirled about, Tip's knees were between his legs and Tip's long arms +were wrapped round him in an under-hold. +</P> + +<P> +Tip was essaying the wrestling chip Cumberland men call the swinging +hype. It is a crack chip and when well done is disastrous to an +opponent. But it must be well done—the right arm under, hyping with +the right leg and striking outside with the left. Fortunately for +Bill, Tip, although his right arm was under in a strong hold, had made +the mistake of sticking his left knee between Bill's legs. He struck +outside with his right leg and missed. With the right arm under, he +had not the leverage he should have had. +</P> + +<P> +Billy, fighting for his life, dropped his arms—back-heeled Tip and ran +over him. Thump! The wrestlers, Tip underneath, landed full upon the +senseless back of Felix Craft. Tip freed a hand, writhed his body +sidewise and struck viciously at Billy's unprotected stomach. He +struck too low and the blow glanced off Billy's hipbone. Billy, +striking in turn, drove a smashing right against the point of Tip's +chin. Tip merely grunted and struck again at Billy's stomach. Billy +parried the blow with his left and brought up his knee with the +laudable intention of kicking Tip in the abdomen. +</P> + +<P> +Blinded though he was, Tip apparently sensed what was impending, for he +crowded his body against Billy and struck outside with all his might. +In an instant Tip was on top and Billy underneath. The older man +jammed both thumbs into Billy's windpipe and wrenched himself astride +Billy's body. The strangling Billy spread wide his legs, hunched up +his knees, planted both feet against Tip's ribs and straightened his +legs with a jerk. Tip's hands were torn loose from Billy's throat and +Tip himself crashed backward against the wall. +</P> + +<P> +Billy scrambled to his feet and without the slightest hesitation +clipped Tip over the head with the barrel of his six-shooter. Tip +remained where he was. Billy stood over him, pistol poised, till he +made sure he was senseless. Then he took pains to make fast the trio's +respective arms and legs with strips torn from a nightgown belonging to +Sam. He likewise removed his spurs from Craft's heels to his own. +</P> + +<P> +This being done, he stripped Tip and Sam of their gun belts, gathered +up all the guns and ran out into the kitchen. Here, on the floor, +Craft had thrown his saddle, bridle and saddle blanket. Bill added the +lot to his burden and sped out to the corral. The pinto was there, +looking very tired. Bill hastily unstrapped his rope and dropped the +loop over a rangy-bodied chestnut with good legs and a mule stripe. +This animal he bridled and saddled, left it standing and ran back to +Sam's storeroom for another set of horse equipment. It was his +laudable intention to pack the unconscious Felix into town and jail him +for the stage-coach robbery. It was a bold plan, but Billy always +rather favored the bold plan. The plan had not occurred to him till +almost the instant of throwing the pepper so he had had no time to +thoroughly mature it, but it seemed to contain more elements of success +than any other because it would forestall his enemies' scheme so +neatly. With Craft in jail and wearing the clothing worn by the +robber, to which clothing the complaisant Jerry Fern and his passengers +would undoubtedly be prepared to swear, it would be hard indeed, if +Bill could not fasten the robbery on him, Craft. +</P> + +<P> +He swore bitterly as he pulled taut the cinch strap of the second +horse. Fastening the robbery on Craft was one thing, obtaining his +indictment and conviction were decidedly two others. What though Judge +Donelson would do his best to see justice done, the doing of said +justice would rest in the laps of twelve men, each and every one of +them the opposite of good and true. But at least he, Billy Wingo, +would not be the victim of an outrageous conspiracy. There was that +much gained. +</P> + +<P> +He led the two horses to the kitchen door and went within to fetch out +Felix Craft. +</P> + +<P> +It must have been his good angel who caused him to look through the +front window. He looked and saw a cloud of horsemen scouring toward +the ranch house. Sam's field glasses were on the shelf above the +window. He opened the window, snatched up the glasses and focussed +them on the approaching riders. He immediately recognized, to his +great disgust, half a dozen of Sam Larder's punchers. Obviously they +had completed the fencing-off of the quicksand sooner than expected. +</P> + +<P> +"This," said Billy, dropping the glasses and leaving the room at speed, +"is no place for me." +</P> + +<P> +At the first sight of the riders he had abandoned the plan of taking +Felix Craft to town. He would be hard put to escape himself. A +burdened led horse was an impossibility, even if he had had time to +carry out Craft and tie him to the saddle. The punchers would be at +the ranch house in another sixty seconds, and if they should discover +him with their bound and unconscious employer and two of his friends, +they would shoot first and ask questions later. Any one would,—under +the circumstances. +</P> + +<P> +Billy topped his mount, struck in the spurs and fled. The other horse +he perforce left standing. +</P> + +<P> +As he flashed past the corner of the building, one of Larder's punchers +raised a yell. Some well-meaning fool fired. Zung-g! the bullet +buzzed overhead. Smack! Zung-g! Smack! Several bits of lead either +ripped past his ears or tucked into the posts of the corral he was +skirting. It was borne in upon him that the Larder employees were +mistaking him for a horse thief, or some one worse. +</P> + +<P> +He leaned over his saddle horn and began to ride. From the Larder +corral to a clump of trees on the edge of a draw was a long hundred +yards. As Billy galloped in among the trees he glanced over his +shoulder. The corral concealed the horsemen. He pulled up at the edge +of the draw, slid down the bank in a shower of stones and dirt, turned +sharp to the left at the bottom and tore ahead. A mile farther on he +looked back. No one was in sight yet. +</P> + +<P> +"Ropin' themselves fresh horses," was his muttered verdict. "Damitall, +running away was about the worst thing I could have done, after all! +But what else was there to do, I'd like to know? If I'd stayed I'd +have been plugged for a holdup and now I'm a heap likely to be lynched +for a horse thief and a hold-up both." +</P> + +<P> +He knew what he might expect from the brisk Larder outfit after Sam had +given it his careful version of the stage robbery. +</P> + +<P> +"And that goes double for the rest of the county," he said to himself, +staring ahead over the flattened ears of his racing horse. "It looks +like a cold day for Billy Wingo. I'll have to do some almighty tall +hustling, that's a cinch." +</P> + +<P> +Two miles and a half from the clump of trees at the back of Larder's +corral he turned his horse and scuffled up the right-hand bank of the +draw. At the top he looked back. He could see the clump of trees +quite plainly and below it, in the bottom of the draw, were several +black beads. He counted four beads. No doubt the remaining beads were +spreading out to right and left to head him off. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank Gawd for the mule stripe," he muttered piously, trotting onward. +"We'll diddle 'em yet, old-timer." +</P> + +<P> +Old-timer cocked an ear. His muscles were moving rhythmically, his +long free stride was steady and collected. His breathing, while +audible, showed no catchiness or other sign of distress. He was good +for many miles yet, this chestnut with the mule stripe. +</P> + +<P> +"Alla same, I've got to have another horse," Billy decided. "The +quicker this feller gets back on the Larder range the better." +</P> + +<P> +He didn't quite know how to get another horse. When he came in town to +assume the duties of his office he brought with him from his ranch two +horses besides the red-and-white pinto. His remaining horses he had +turned out into the hills, upon whose tops, when the snow flew, they +could grub up a living without too much difficulty. These hills lay +sixty miles away beyond the Tuckleton range, and every horse on them +would be carrying a grass belly. +</P> + +<P> +"Not one of 'em fit for hard riding right off the reel," he told +himself, and cursed a little. "Looks like Sam Prescott was my one best +bet." +</P> + +<P> +He came to a stream and rode in it till almost sunset when he left it, +dismounted beside a tall cottonwood and shinned to the top. To his +earnest satisfaction he saw, hopelessly distant and following utterly +wrong lines, the tiny black beads that were his pursuers. +</P> + +<P> +"And that's that," said Billy Wingo, rustling groundward rapidly. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +WHAT HAZEL THOUGHT +</H4> + +<P> +Nate Samson, weighing sugar for Hazel Walton, looked at her sidewise. +"Heard the news, Hazel?" +</P> + +<P> +She removed her gaze from the flyspecked window and stared abstractedly +at Nate. "What news?" +</P> + +<P> +Nate swelled his chest with satisfaction. Some people enjoy being the +bearers of evil tidings. Besides, Nate had stopped going to see Hazel. +Somehow he had been made to feel that his visits were not the bright +spots in her drab existence that he had considered them to be. There +was more than a little malice in Nate's make-up. And the news—— +</P> + +<P> +"Somebody killed Tip O'Gorman in his own house last night." +</P> + +<P> +Nate's hand pushed the sliding weight several notches along the scale +beam. Red Herring, the town marshal, slouching with seeming +aimlessness against a showcase at the other end of the counter, +covertly watched the girl. +</P> + +<P> +"Somebody killed Tip O'Gorman in his own house last night," said Nate. +</P> + +<P> +Hazel wondered why Nate's eyes never left her face. "Tip O'Gorman! He +was one of Uncle Tom's friends. Who did it?" +</P> + +<P> +Nate's eyes were fairly devouring her. The man looked positively +pleased. "They don't know yet. But—" He paused. +</P> + +<P> +She waited. What was he goggling and boggling at? "Well?" +</P> + +<P> +"They found Bill Wingo's quirt on the floor beside the body and right +inside the door a snakeskin hat-band the whole town knows belongs to +Bill." +</P> + +<P> +Hazel's cheeks began to glow. "That doesn't prove anything," she +declared in a level voice. "Bill owns three quirts to my knowledge, +and he hasn't worn that snake hatband since last July. It began to +stretch then and was always working up off the crown, and he couldn't +tighten it without ruining the skin, so he stopped wearing it." +</P> + +<P> +"It worked off the crown once too often last night," offered Nate. +</P> + +<P> +Hazel's black eyes were glittering through slitted eyelids. Really, +Nate Samson should have been warned. +</P> + +<P> +"You think Bill did it?" asked Hazel Walton. +</P> + +<P> +Nate nodded. "So does everybody else." +</P> + +<P> +This was not strictly true. Billy Wingo had several warm friends. +</P> + +<P> +"At any rate," Nate pursued with relish, "there's a warrant out for +Bill." +</P> + +<P> +"Another warrant!" Hazel's hand moved imperceptibly nearer a +broad-bladed cheese-knife that lay on the counter. +</P> + +<P> +"Another warrant. You bet another warrant. That makes three counts +he's wanted on—stage robbery, rustling that chestnut horse of Sam +Larder's and now this murder. I always said Bill Wingo was too good to +be true." +</P> + +<P> +Hazel Walton made no further remark. She reached for the cheese-knife. +Nate Samson ducked under the counter. The cheese-knife whirred within +an inch of his prickling scalp and stuck quivering in the edge of a +shelf. +</P> + +<P> +"Liar!" announced Hazel in a loud, unsympathetic tone. "I'm only sorry +I haven't a gun with me. Talking like that about a man you're not fit +to say hello to. Here, I don't want any of this stuff! You can keep +it." +</P> + +<P> +So saying, she toppled over her whole pile of wrapped purchases and +marched out of the store. The marshal followed her to the door. He +returned to his post at the counter a minute later. +</P> + +<P> +"It's all right, Nate," he said. "She's gone over to the other store." +</P> + +<P> +Nate Samson emerged slowly. His pouchy cheeks were pale with fear. +There was a dew of perspiration on his forehead. +</P> + +<P> +"She—she threw a knife at me," said Nate Samson. +</P> + +<P> +"It's stuck in the shelf behind you." Thus the marshal with +indifference. +</P> + +<P> +"That's assault with a deadly weapon," averred Nate, freeing the deadly +weapon and putting it carefully out of reach of other possibly petulant +customers. "Why didn't you arrest her, Red?" +</P> + +<P> +"She missed you, Nate. She'd have had to cut you some before I could +arrest her. 'Threaten or Inflict a wound,' the statutes say, and she +didn't do either. No." +</P> + +<P> +"But she might have," grumbled the discomforted Nate. "If I hadn't +dodged, she'd have split my head open." +</P> + +<P> +"That's so," the marshal assented with relish. "Do you know, Nate, I'm +glad it happened. I dunno that I'd have thought of it if I hadn't seen +her buzz that knife at you." +</P> + +<P> +"Thought of what?" fretted Nate, stopping to gather up the parcels that +had cascaded over his head to the floor. "What you talking about, +anyway?" +</P> + +<P> +The marshal settled himself to elucidate. "I know that Bill had cut +you out with Hazel and——" +</P> + +<P> +"No such thing," Nate contradicted sharply, with a reddening cheek. +"No such thing. You got it all wrong, Red. I stopped going to see +Hazel because it was so far and all. I—uh—I got tired ridin' all +that distance." +</P> + +<P> +"All right," the marshal gave in pacifically, "you stopped goin' to see +her because it was so far from town. Bill started going to see her, +and he went to see her right smart for a spell." +</P> + +<P> +"He didn't go any more than that good-for-nothing flibberty-gibbet of a +Riley Tyler or any other of half a dozen chaps," declared Nate. +</P> + +<P> +"Aw right, aw right, have it your own way for Gawd's sake! If you +don't shut up, I won't tell you what I think!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll tell you what I think! I think I'm a idjit to let you stop +around my store alla time and fill your fat stomach to the neck with my +prunes and dried peaches and sweet crackers, It would be bad enough if +you took the salt fellers, but not you. Oh, no, not a-tall. Mr. +Herring has to have sweet ones!" +</P> + +<P> +"I like them best," Mr. Herring said matter-of-factly. "Lessee, where +was I? Oh, yeah, you had gotten wore to a frazzle by the distance to +the Walton ranch, and Bill had started goin' in that direction, +himself. Then this winter sometime he stopped goin' to see Hazel, +didn't he?" +</P> + +<P> +"She got tired of him—naturally." +</P> + +<P> +"You dunno what happened. Neither do I know. But that they had a +fight is as good a guess as any, and Love's young dream went bust. We +all thought so, didn't we, and while we were trailin' Bill we didn't +take Hazel into consideration a-tall. But what happens to-day when you +run down Bill to her face. She slings a knife at you so prompt and +free you almost lost four fifths of your looks. She said things too, +and all going to show that they've made it up and she's in love again +with Bill. Well then, if she's in love with Bill, he's either coming +to see her off and on or else she knows where he is." +</P> + +<P> +"Not necessarily. It don't follow a-tall." +</P> + +<P> +"You've soured on the girl, that's all the matter with you. I tell +you, Nate, if a girl as pretty as Hazel Walton is in love with a +feller, do you think for a minute he wouldn't come to see her +sometimes, or anyway let her know where he is? Why, you poor flap, +he'd be a wooden man if he didn't do one or both of those things. And +Bill Wingo ain't anybody's wooden man. Not that boy. He's an +upstandin' citizen with all his brains and legs and arms and fingers +and feet, and that's the kind of hairpin he is." +</P> + +<P> +"All that's a heap interesting, but let's hear the point of the +joke—if there is one." +</P> + +<P> +"The point is that if a gent was to watch Hazel Walton and her +traipsings to and fro, by and by he'd get news of Bill Wingo. And I'm +a great li'l watcher myself—especially when there's two thousand +dollars reward, like there is for Bill. It's worth some trouble. Tell +you, Nate, I'm glad I dropped in here this morning." +</P> + +<P> +"You're marshal," pointed out Nate. "You can't leave town." +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't supposed to work all night—only day-times and part of the +evening. It's a cinch Bill won't make any social calls in daylight and +it's a cinch the distance from town to Walton's won't tire me out like +it has you." +</P> + +<P> +"Putting it that way," said Nate, suddenly perceiving an opportunity to +make a little easy money, "putting it that way, maybe I'll go too." +</P> + +<P> +"It ain't necessary," protested the marshal, alarmed at the bare +thought of dividing a profit. "I can manage it myself." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll help you, though." +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, whose scheme is this, huh?" +</P> + +<P> +"You may have thought of it," conceded Nate, "but she was my girl +first, and I got as much right to go out there again and see her as you +have, and I got as much right to that two thousand dollars as you have." +</P> + +<P> +The marshal swore frankly. "I'll never tell you anything again. +Taking advantage of a feller this way. I thought you were my friend." +</P> + +<P> +"I am. We'll go out together, huh?" +</P> + +<P> +"We will not," contradicted the marshal. "So you can just as well stop +stretching your mouth about it." +</P> + +<P> +"Is that so? Is <I>that</I> so?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, that's so. This is my private party, and you wanna keep paws +off." +</P> + +<P> +"Aw, go sit on yourself!" +</P> + +<P> +"Remember what I told you," the marshal said in part and took his +departure. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Arrived home, Hazel unhitched and unharnessed, turned the team into the +corral and carried her purchases into the kitchen and dumped them on +the table. She hung up her man's hat on one of the hooks that held the +Winchester, and fluffed the hair about her temples by the aid of the +mirror that hung below the Terry clock her uncle had brought West with +him. She had always liked the Terry clock,—from the cheerful painted +pumpkins and grapes that graced the patterned top to the peculiar +throbbing ring it gave on striking the hour, she liked it. +</P> + +<P> +And on a day the old clock was destined to repay that liking full +measure, pressed down and running over. +</P> + +<P> +While she was fixing her hair, the clock struck three. +</P> + +<P> +Silently she unwrapped her bundles and stored away the contents in +crock and box and drawer. A tidy person, Hazel. Then, because she was +still in a temper with Nate Samson, she changed her dress, donned a +pair of overalls and began to scrub the kitchen floor. +</P> + +<P> +"Liar!" she said aloud, scraping a vigorous brush under the dresser. +"Liar! I hope your old store burns up!" +</P> + +<P> +So occupied was she with her thoughts and her work that she failed to +hear the approach of a rider. +</P> + +<P> +"'Lo, Hazel," was the rider's greeting delivered across the doorsill. +</P> + +<P> +Hazel's brush stopped swishing to and fro. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Sally Jane," she said smilingly, supporting herself on one arm +and pushing back the hair that had fallen over her hot face. "Put your +horse in the corral and come on in." +</P> + +<P> +"I tied him to the wagon," said Sally Jane. +</P> + +<P> +Out of respect for the wet floor she jigged on her heels across to a +chair and seated herself, hooking her heels in a rung. Sally Jane +looked at Hazel with speculation in her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"You look mad, dear," Sally Jane said. +</P> + +<P> +"I am," declared Hazel, and began to sizzle anew. "Just listen," she +continued, hopping up to seat herself on the table, "to what I heard in +town this morning. Nate told me—" +</P> + +<P> +"——there now," she concluded. "What do you think of that for a +put-up job? Why, it's not even clever." +</P> + +<P> +"No," agreed Sally Jane. "Too many articles belonging to Bill. Either +the quirt or the hatband, but not both. I'd like to know how they got +hold of them." +</P> + +<P> +"They?" +</P> + +<P> +"Or he. It may have been one man, and it may have been more than one. +You can't tell. Tip had enemies—several. But I'm afraid the gang +won't take that into consideration,—much. All they'll be able to see +is the quirt and the hatband. And on top of what's happened already! +Confound it, Bill shouldn't have disappeared this way. All his friends +know he didn't—couldn't have either held up the stage or really +rustled Sam Larder's precious horse, which, by the way, was found mud +to the ears near Sam's corral this morning. Fact, Dad told me. But +why didn't Bill stay and face the music? That's what I'd like to know. +He should have known he'd only hurt himself by running off this way. +That's where he made one big mistake." +</P> + +<P> +At which Hazel jumped right off the table. Her black eyes snapped. +"He didn't make any mistake!" she cried. "He did just right! I know +he did. If he ran—went away—he had a good reason and you can't tell +me different, Sally Jane Prescott!" +</P> + +<P> +The older girl threw out a hand in mock alarm. "There, there, honey, +calm down. I didn't mean anything against your precious Bill. Not a +thing." +</P> + +<P> +"He's not my precious Bill," denied Hazel with vigor. "He's just a +good fuf-friend." +</P> + +<P> +Sally Jane looked at her shrewdly. "What makes you think your—friend +didn't make a mistake in going away?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because he couldn't make a mistake if he tried. That's why." Oh, the +defiance in the voice of Hazel. +</P> + +<P> +"Heavens above, child! Men are only human beings and human beings make +mistakes. Bill's a man, and he's liable to make mistakes like any +other one of them." +</P> + +<P> +"Not Bill," Hazel contradicted flatly. "He—he's different. He——" +</P> + +<P> +Alarums and excursions without—the gallop of several horses, shouts of +men, the jingle and stamp of riders dismounting at the door. Entered +then Felix Craft and Sam Larder with drawn guns, in their rear the +district attorney, likewise with weapon displayed. +</P> + +<P> +"Whose horse is that?" Craft demanded, fixing Hazel with a baleful eye. +</P> + +<P> +"If you mean the one tied to the wagon," replied Hazel, "it belongs to +Sally Jane Prescott." +</P> + +<P> +"What of it?" demanded Sally Jane, appraising the trio with a cool +glance. +</P> + +<P> +"Visitors in my kitchen take off their hats," reminded Hazel severely. +</P> + +<P> +The three men sheepishly removed their hats and sheathed their firearms. +</P> + +<P> +"That's better," said Hazel. "You don't know how silly you looked, +rushing in here brandishing your guns that way. I was quite frightened +for a minute." Here she giggled and winked at Sally Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"We thought maybe Bill Wingo was here," said Craft. +</P> + +<P> +"And what made you think Bill Wingo was here?" asked Hazel. +</P> + +<P> +"That horse outside," he replied, watching her shrewdly. "Do you mind +if I search the house?" +</P> + +<P> +"I certain do mind!" cried Hazel. "You dare search this house! Just +you try it!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll bet the man's here," struck in the district attorney, pushing to +the front. "Good thing we surrounded the house first. If you've got +Bill Wingo hidden anywhere, you give him up, do you hear, Hazel?" +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Walton to you, do you hear, Rale?" +</P> + +<P> +He eyed her a moment venomously. +</P> + +<P> +"Gettin' particular, ain't you?" he sneered. "Any one would think—" +His tongue ceased suddenly to wag as she dipped the floor brush in the +dirty water of the bucket and drew back her arm. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" prompted Hazel, her eyes beginning to glitter with a dangerous +light. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing," capitulated the district attorney and tried to smile. "I +was thinking of a joke I heard last night, Miss Walton." +</P> + +<P> +"That's better," approved Hazel. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here," said the district attorney, "if Bill Wingo ain't here, +what did you go to town for to-day and buy all those supplies?" +</P> + +<P> +Genuine astonishment showed on Hazel's countenance. "Those supplies +were my regular supplies. Don't you suppose I buy something to eat +once in a while?" +</P> + +<P> +"Queer you should have come in and got that stuff the day after Tip +O'Gorman was murdered." +</P> + +<P> +"We figure," said Sam Larder, "that Bill Wingo will have to eat right +along, and that unless he's left the country, it's natural he'll get +his supplies from his friends, and we know that you drove in town and +bought supplies this morning." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I've told you who I bought 'em for," snapped Hazel. "Anything +else?" +</P> + +<P> +"There is," said the district attorney smoothly. "We're going to +search the house." +</P> + +<P> +"You won't take my word that Bill Wingo isn't here?" demanded Hazel. +</P> + +<P> +"In a matter like this we can't," replied the district attorney. +</P> + +<P> +"One moment," murmured Hazel, stepping back. +</P> + +<P> +The next instant she had jerked her Winchester off the hooks and cocked +the hammer. "Now," she resumed, holding the weapon level with her +belt, "now go ahead and search the house." +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney, with a haste that was ludicrous, slid behind the +fat bulk of Sam Larder. Even Felix Craft smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"She's bluffing," declared the district attorney. "I'll go out and get +the marshal." +</P> + +<P> +He departed hurriedly, to return almost immediately with Red Herring. +The latter, sheepish as to the face and with shambling legs, advanced +into the room. The district attorney pointed dramatically at Hazel. +</P> + +<P> +"Arrest her," he directed. +</P> + +<P> +"Huh?" remarked the marshal, eyeing Hazel's artillery. +</P> + +<P> +"Arrest her, I said. To threaten with a deadly weapon is a statutory +offense." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I dunno," balked the marshal. +</P> + +<P> +"Go on and arrest her. I'll back you up." +</P> + +<P> +"Will you?" Absolutely no enthusiasm on the part of the marshal. +</P> + +<P> +"G'on! What are you waiting for?" barked the exasperated district +attorney. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm waiting for her to put up her gun," was the truthful reply. +</P> + +<P> +"What you afraid of? She won't shoot. She's only bluffing, I tell +you." +</P> + +<P> +"You arrest her then. I ain't none sure I got a right to. I'm only +supposed to make arrests in town. You better get one of the deputies +to arrest her, Arthur, I—I'd rather you would." +</P> + +<P> +The marshal oozed outdoors. The district attorney said something. +</P> + +<P> +"No more of that," Sam Larder enjoined him. "You stop your cussin', +you hear. There's ladies present." +</P> + +<P> +"Where?" the district attorney demanded, staring about him insolently. +</P> + +<P> +"My father will ask you what you mean by that," said Sally Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't mean you," mumbled the angry man, perceiving that he had gone +a little too far. "I—I was a li'l hasty, I guess. No offense, +ladies, I hope." +</P> + +<P> +He achieved a clumsy bow and again faced Hazel. "Now, look here, you +can't go on acting this way, you know. You're only hurting your own +case. Be reasonable, be reasonable." +</P> + +<P> +"And let you poke all through my house!" she snapped him up. "Not +much. I don't want any trouble, but I'll have to shoot the first man +that goes beyond this room." +</P> + +<P> +"Told you you'd get her all stirred up," said Sam Larder. +</P> + +<P> +"We didn't want you to come along anyway, Rale," contributed Felix +Craft. "You're too buffle-headed for any human use. Y'oughta take +things more easy with the girl. If you'd left it to us, everything +would have been all right." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose busting in with your guns pulled is one way of taking it +easy." +</P> + +<P> +"I notice you had yours out," supplied Felix. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought the man might be here, same as you," defended the district +attorney. +</P> + +<P> +"Which is why you let us go first," sneered Sam. +</P> + +<P> +"When you're quite through bickering among yourselves—" drawled Hazel. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish you'd point that rifle somewhere else," the district attorney +remarked uneasily. +</P> + +<P> +"It's all right where it is," was the instant return. +</P> + +<P> +"I could arrest you, you know, if I wanted to," he pointed out. +</P> + +<P> +"I heard you say something like that to the marshal," nodded Hazel. +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney stared a moment. +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" he muttered finally and strode to the door. "Hey, Red!" he +called. "Come here a minute, will you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Now I ain't gonna arrest her for you and that's flat!" announced a +sulky voice without. +</P> + +<P> +"Nobody's asking you to. Come in, man, come in." +</P> + +<P> +The marshal sidled in, stumbling in his efforts to keep one eye on the +district attorney and the other on Hazel's Winchester. +</P> + +<P> +"You were in Nate Samson's store this morning, weren't you, Red?" It +was more of a statement than a question. +</P> + +<P> +The marshal immediately gave the district attorney the full benefit of +both eyes. "Huh?" +</P> + +<P> +"You were there when this girl, Miss Walton, made some purchases, +weren't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah," admitted the marshal. +</P> + +<P> +"When Nate told her of the murder and the warrant sworn out again Bill +Wingo, what did she do?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why—" stuttered the marshal. +</P> + +<P> +"She flew into a rage, didn't she? She threw a knife at Nate, didn't +she?" +</P> + +<P> +"Who told you all this?" the marshal wished to know. +</P> + +<P> +"Nate told me." +</P> + +<P> +"Damn Nate, that's all I got to say," pronounced the marshal, disgusted +at the duplicity of a former friend. "I was wonderin' where you got +the notion so sudden of coming out here. Damn that— Excuse me, Miss, +for cussin'. What's that you want to know, Rale? Yes, I was there and +she slung a knife at Nate. With any luck she'd had hit him and serve +him right, the flat-tongued snitch." +</P> + +<P> +"There now," exclaimed the triumphant district attorney, "you hear +that, Miss Walton? You drove into town the morning after the murder. +When you are told of the murder and the warrant, you fly into a passion +and try to kill the inoffensive storekeeper who told you the news. Not +content with this, you throw what you've already bought at the +storekeeper and make your purchases at the other store. I have learned +that among the purchases were twelve boxes of .45-90 rifle cartridges +and six boxes of .45 caliber Colt cartridges. I have reason to believe +that these cartridges are not intended for your personal use. In fact, +I am positive you bought them for the murderer, William H. Wingo." +</P> + +<P> +The marshal glanced quickly at the district attorney. He himself had +not been aware of the ammunition item. The marshal inwardly cursed the +district attorney and Nate Samson. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," boomed the district attorney, when Hazel did not instantly +speak, "what have you to say?" +</P> + +<P> +"Plenty," said she then. "I bought those cartridges for my personal +use. This Winchester is a .45-90 and my six-shooter is a .45. I guess +I've got a right to buy ammunition now and then if I like." +</P> + +<P> +"Rats!" snarled the district attorney, stiff in his conceit. "What +does a girl want with two hundred and forty rifle cartridges and three +hundred revolver cartridges? Those revolver cartridges especially? +You won't have use for 'em in ten years. You bought them for Bill +Wingo. You can't fool me! You know where he is, you know you do, and +I know you do, and I intend to put you in jail as a suspicious +character until you tell us where he is." +</P> + +<P> +"What a filthy animal you are, anyway, Rale! I didn't know such things +as you lived!" Thus Sally Jane, her upper lip fairly, curling with +disgust. +</P> + +<P> +"When I get back to Golden Bar, Miss Walton," fumed the district +attorney, unmoved by the insult, "I intend to swear out a warrant for +your arrest, and have it served by deputy sheriffs. If necessary, I +shall swear in deputies other than the two men, Shotgun Shillman and +Riley Tyler, for the purpose of serving this warrant. I intend to have +the law obeyed." +</P> + +<P> +"She ain't busted any law that I can see," struck in Sam Larder gruffly. +</P> + +<P> +Neither he nor Felix Craft had intended to go as far as an actual +arrest of the girl. They were bad enough, in all conscience, but they +drew the line somewhere. +</P> + +<P> +Felix Craft shook his head. "No arrest, Arthur. That don't go." +</P> + +<P> +"I can arrest her, I tell you," insisted the district attorney. +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Craft firmly. "Miss Walton," he went on, turning to the +girl, "we were a li'l excited when we came in here. Seeing that horse +outside and all, we got the idea that maybe Bill was here. Will you +give us your word he isn't?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, certainly," she said. "Bill isn't here, I give you my word." +</P> + +<P> +"Fair enough," said Craft. "We'll be going. Come along, Arthur, move." +</P> + +<P> +He and Sam hustled the district attorney out between them. Craft +called in the cordon of horsemen that had surrounded the ranch-house. +</P> + +<P> +"Crawl your horse, Arthur," ordered Craft. "What you waiting for?" +</P> + +<P> +Arthur, swearing heartily, did as directed. "I don't see why you don't +want me to have her arrested," he said in part as they rode townward. +"A few days in the cooler——" +</P> + +<P> +"No sense in it," declared Craft. "A lot of folks in the county +wouldn't like it either, she being a woman and a good-lookin' one +besides. You leave her alone." +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah," slipped in Sam, "wait till you get some real evidence against +her. Suspicion ain't anything." +</P> + +<P> +"It would be enough for me to arrest her all right," persisted the +district attorney. +</P> + +<P> +"Blah! You couldn't hold her a week," averred Craft, "and you know it. +And lemme tell you, I don't believe she knows any more about Bill Wingo +than I do. You know they busted up this winter some time." +</P> + +<P> +"Changed your tune mighty sudden," sneered the district attorney. "On +the way out you were as sure as the rest of us we'd get some kind of a +clue at Walton's. Those cartridges——" +</P> + +<P> +"Dry up about those cartridges!" exclaimed Felix. "You got cartridges +on the brain." +</P> + +<P> +Then the wrangle became general. +</P> + +<P> +Hazel, standing in the doorway, watched the cavalcade disappear around +the bend in the draw. +</P> + +<P> +"I guess," she said, taking a box of cartridges from the top shelf and +snicking open the sealing with a finger nail, "I guess I'd better load +this rifle." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE BARE-HEADED MAN +</H4> + +<P> +"But I rode over here especially to bring you back with me to stay a +while, a long while, as long as you like and longer." Thus Sally Jane, +looking injured. +</P> + +<P> +Hazel shook her head. "Can't, dear. Honestly, I'd like nothing better +than to go a-visiting, but I've just got to look after the ranch." +</P> + +<P> +Sally Jane gazed at her friend a moment in silence, then: "You don't +really have to stay here, Hazel. You only think you do. You'd much +better come over and stay with us. You know I'd love to have you, and +this is no place for you all alone by yourself this way. Suppose——" +</P> + +<P> +"Who'd hurt me?" interrupted Hazel. "Anyway, I'm not going to be +driven off my own ranch by anybody. I'm going to stay here until I +find a buyer for the place." +</P> + +<P> +"But that may be a year," objected Sally Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"It may be several years. Money's awfully tight just now, the +Hillsville cashier said, the last time I was over." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't care, somebody—some man ought to be here. Can't you get Ray +back earlier than usual?" +</P> + +<P> +Hazel shook her head. "I don't want to, Sally Jane. He went east to +Missouri to visit his folks, and I'm not going to spoil his good time. +He'll be back in time for the spring round-up, though." +</P> + +<P> +"That won't be till next month," objected Sally Jane. "Anything might +happen in the meantime. Land alive, just look at this afternoon!" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, look at it. Not a thing happened to hurt, did it? Lord, Sally +Jane, men are the easiest things in the world to handle when you know +how." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't give them half enough credit," said Sally Jane dryly. +"Scratch a man and you'll catch a savage every time. Beasts!" +</P> + +<P> +"Rats!" remarked Hazel, and gave her head a toss and turned her +attention to practical things. "<I>Look</I> at this clean floor! <I>Look</I> at +the dirt they tracked in! Oh, the devil! I could swear!" +</P> + +<P> +She fetched a fresh bucket of water and began to scrub the floor anew. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going," announced Sally Jane. "Once more, Hazel, won't you change +your mind and visit with us for a while?" +</P> + +<P> +Hazel shook her head. "I only wish I felt able to. But you don't have +to go yet. Stay to supper, do. Let the male parent get his own supper +for a change. It won't hurt him. And there'll be a fine old moon +to-night about eight." +</P> + +<P> +"I promised Dad French bread for to-night, or I would. I can't +disappoint him. So long. Ride over first chance you get." +</P> + +<P> +When Sally Jane was gone, Hazel hurried to finish the scrubbing of the +floor. When she had wrung out the last mop rag and hung it to dry +behind the stove, she fed the chickens and horses, took the ax and +bucksaw, went out to the woodpile and sawed and split a man's size jag +of stove wood and kindling. +</P> + +<P> +In the red glory of the sunset she returned to the house with her arms +piled high with wood. She made sufficient trips to fill the woodbox, +then started a fire in the stove, put on the coffeepot and ground up +enough coffee for four cupfuls. She liked coffee, did Hazel Walton. +</P> + +<P> +Bacon and potatoes were sputtering in their respective pans on the +stove before it was so dark that she was forced to light the lamp. +</P> + +<P> +She had slipped back the chimney into the clamps and was waiting for it +to heat so that she could turn up the wick when the faintest of creaks +at the door made her look up. +</P> + +<P> +She did not move, just stood there staring stupidly at the bareheaded +man that blocked the open doorway. For the bareheaded man was Dan +Slike, his harsh face rendered even less prepossessing than usual by a +week's stubble of beard. A six-shooter was in Dan Slike's hand, and +the barrel was pointing at her breast. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't go makin' any move toward that rifle on the hooks back of you," +said Dan Slike, slipping into the room and closing the door behind him. +"If you do, I'll have to beef you. I don't wanna hurt you—I ain't in +the habit of hurting women, but by Gawd, if it comes to me or you, why +it'll just naturally have to be you. Dish up that grub a-frying there +on the stove. I'm hungry. Get a move on." +</P> + +<P> +At that she turned in a flash and reached for the Winchester. She had +it barely off the hooks when Dan Slike was beside her. With his left +hand he seized the gun barrel and shoved it upward. And as he did so, +he smote her across the top of the head with his pistol barrel. +</P> + +<P> +A rocketing sheaf of sparks danced before her eyes and her knees gave +way. She sank to the floor in a dazed heap. He dragged the Winchester +from her failing grasp as she fell. +</P> + +<P> +He began to work the lever of the rifle with expert rapidity. A +twinkling stream of cartridges twirled against his chest and fell to +the floor. Carefully he gathered all the cartridges and dropped them +into the side pocket of his coat. The unloaded rifle he leaned against +the door jamb. +</P> + +<P> +Hazel slowly raised her body to a sitting position. She clung to a leg +of the table for support. She passed a hand very tenderly across the +top of her head. She felt a little nauseated. +</P> + +<P> +Dan Slike, watching her with hard, bright eyes, strode to the stove and +poured himself out a cup of coffee. He spaded in a spoonful of sugar +and stirred the mixture meditatively. But he did not cease to watch +her. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll be all right in about ten minutes," he said calmly. "I didn't +hit you so awful hard. I didn't go to. Gawd, no! I figure always to +be as gentle with a woman as I can. No sense in bein' rougher than you +got to be, I say." +</P> + +<P> +He drank the coffee slowly, with evident enjoyment. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing like coffee when your cork's pulled," he rambled on, sloshing +round the last of the coffee in the bottom of the cup. "It beats +whisky, but now that I've had the coffee I don't care if I do. Got a +bottle tucked away somewhere, li'l girl?" +</P> + +<P> +She was still unable to speak. Her mouth had an odd, cottony feeling. +She shook her head in reply to his question. +</P> + +<P> +"Is that so?" he said in the chatty tone he had been using. "I guess +maybe you're mistaken." +</P> + +<P> +He set the cup down on the table, reached down and twisted his fingers +into her hair. With a yank that brought the tears springing to her +eyes, he said: +</P> + +<P> +"About that bottle now—ain't you a mite mistaken? What's the matter? +Cat got your tongue?" +</P> + +<P> +Again he pulled her hair, pulled it till the tears ran down her cheeks, +and she moaned and cried in purest agony. +</P> + +<P> +"C'mon!" directed Dan Slike. "Quit your bluffin', you triflin' hussy! +You ain't hurt a-tall. And I can't stay here all night while you sit +on the floor and beller. Stand up on your two legs and bring me that +bottle. And no monkey business either. Say, have you got a +six-shooter? Answer me, have you?" +</P> + +<P> +"No! No! I haven't! I haven't another gun." She told him this lie +in such a heart-breaking tone that he was constrained to believe her. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll have to take your word for it," he grumbled. "But you remember, +girl, the first false move you make with a knife or anything else, I'll +blow you apart. Damn you, get up!" +</P> + +<P> +With which he gave her hair such a terrific twist that the exquisite +pain expelled all her initial fear of him, and she leaped at him like a +wildcat, her nails curving at his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Dan Slike dodged backward, set himself and swung his right fist without +mercy. He was no boxer. The accurate placing of blows was beyond him. +So it was that the swing intended for her jaw landed on her cheekbone, +a much less vulnerable spot. Nevertheless the smash was enough to send +her spinning sidewise over a chair and piled her sicker and dizzier +than before in a corner of the room. +</P> + +<P> +She lay still and panted. +</P> + +<P> +"You see how it is," he pointed out. "You ain't gainin' a thing by +fighting me. Might as well be sensible first as last. But lemme tell +you if you keep on a-fussin' at me thisaway, I'll sure have to be rough +with you." +</P> + +<P> +He sat down on the edge of the table and rolled a cigarette. Lighting +it he drew in a slow luxurious lungful. +</P> + +<P> +"One thing I gotta say for your sheriff," he observed behind a barrier +of smoke, "he gimme plenty of tobacco while I was his guest. I can't +say but he took right good care of me—for a sheriff." +</P> + +<P> +His incarceration having deprived Dan Slike of conversational +opportunities, he was now experiencing the natural reaction. He was +talking too much. +</P> + +<P> +"Fed me well too," he resumed. "Oh, I ain't complainin'. I—Hell, +your grub's beginnin' to burn. I'll just move those frypans back. +Feelin' any better, girl?" +</P> + +<P> +He came and stood over her, hands on hips, and looked down at her +grimly. She shrank away, her wide eyes fixed upon him in fright and +loathing. +</P> + +<P> +It was evident that he found his survey of her satisfactory, for he +kicked her in the side. Not hard. Simply as an earnest of what lay in +store for her in case she chose to continue contumacious. "Get up," he +commanded. +</P> + +<P> +The nausea and most of the dizzy feeling had evaporated. She was +perfectly able to get up, but it was intolerable that she should do the +bidding of her uncle's murderer. She continued to lie still. +</P> + +<P> +"Get up!" he repeated, and kicked her again—harder. +</P> + +<P> +She got up, gasping, a hand at her side. She felt as though one of her +ribs was broken. His long fingers fastened on the tender flesh of her +shoulder. He shoved her across the room. She brought up against the +stove. Instinctively she thrust out a hand to save herself. Her bare +palm smacked down upon the hottest stove lid. +</P> + +<P> +She sprang back with a choked cry and clapped the burned hand to her +mouth. +</P> + +<P> +Dan Slike laughed merrily—for him. "Serve you right. You're too damn +pernickety, anyway. Aw, whatcha blubberin' about, cry-baby? Dontcha +know enough to put some bakin' soda on the burn and tie a rag round it? +Ain't you got any brains a-tall? Pick up that kettle! Just pick it +up!" +</P> + +<P> +Her unburned hand fell away from the kettle. She had seen the +six-shooter flash out at his last words. She knew now that this man +meant what he said. He would kill her, even as he had killed her uncle. +</P> + +<P> +With a shudder that began at her knees and ended at the nape of her +neck she went to the cupboard and took out a carton of baking soda. +</P> + +<P> +"Here," he said roughly, when he saw that she was making a poor job at +bandaging, "here, you can't tie that one-handed. Lemme." +</P> + +<P> +He bandaged the hand, made fast the bandage with a too-tight knot. He +obviously lingered over the business, deriving pleasure from her state +of terror. +</P> + +<P> +It has been shown that Hazel was not lacking in courage. Indeed, she +had more than the average woman's share of it. But this man staggered +her mentally. She did not know what he would do next and was in a +panic accordingly. +</P> + +<P> +"Scared stiff," he remarked, as he twirled her about and headed her +toward the stove. "You don't like me a-tall, do you? Nemmine. Lessee +how your grub tastes." +</P> + +<P> +She had set the table for herself before he came in. He sat down at +her place, his eyes bright upon her. Fumblingly she filled a plate +with bacon and fried potatoes. She brought him another cup of coffee +and placed the condensed milk and the sugar within his reach. +</P> + +<P> +"Spoon," he said shortly. +</P> + +<P> +She took the one from the cup he had just drunk from and handed it to +him. He caught her wrist. The spoon fell with a clatter. +</P> + +<P> +"You're so scared of me, you can't hardly breathe," he said calmly. "I +don't like li'l girls to be scared of me, so you can just get you +another plate and cup and saucer and sit down there on the other side +of the table and eat your supper with me." +</P> + +<P> +To eat supper with her uncle's murderer! Here was a grotesque jape of +fate. It was unthinkable. Absolutely. The man divined something of +what was passing in her mind. +</P> + +<P> +"All in the line of business, li'l girl," he said, with a backward jerk +of his head toward the front room where he had killed her uncle. "I +didn't have a thing against him—personally." +</P> + +<P> +"There were dishes here on the table," she babbled hysterically. "They +found them here after—after—showing how he'd fed you first, and——" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure he fed me," he interrupted. "I was hungry, hungrier than I am +now. Alla same, you gotta eat supper with me. I want you to, and I +always get what I want." +</P> + +<P> +He twisted her wrist to emphasize his wish. She uttered a little moan. +"Don't! Oh, don't hurt me any more! I'll do what you want." +</P> + +<P> +Beaten, body and soul, she went to the cupboard and got herself plate +and cup and saucer, knife and fork and spoon. Her six-shooter was in +the next room, hanging in a holster on the wall. A loaded shotgun +stood at the head of her bed. But it is doubtful that even if the +weapon had been within short reach, she would have dared attempt to use +either. Dan Slike had scared her too much. +</P> + +<P> +She sat down opposite the man and tried to eat. It required every atom +of will power to induce her throat muscles to permit her to swallow. +Dan Slike watched her with savage satisfaction. He found the situation +intensely amusing. To murder her uncle and later eat a meal with the +niece. What a joke! +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't forgotten about that bottle," he remarked suddenly, pushing +back his chair. "You thought it had slipped my mind, I guess, didn't +you? I always have a drink after meals, or my victuals don't set good." +</P> + +<P> +Without a word she went to the cupboard and brought back a bottle of +whisky. He took it from her and held it up against the lamplight. +</P> + +<P> +"This is only half full," he said severely. "You got another round +somewhere?" +</P> + +<P> +It was fright and not the lie that made her stammer. "Nun-no." +</P> + +<P> +Oddly enough, he saw fit to believe her. Perhaps it was because he had +just eaten and was at bodily ease with the world. She stood before +him, arms limp, eyes on the floor. He drew the cork from the bottle +and took a long pull. +</P> + +<P> +"Good whisky," he vouchsafed between the third and fourth drags. "I'll +take what's left with me—if you don't mind." +</P> + +<P> +He was going then! Her poor terrified heart beat with a trifle more +spirit. She looked up. Their eyes met. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't look so happy!" he snarled. "Maybe I'll take you with me!" +</P> + +<P> +He eyed her discomfiture with a sinister look. He uttered a short bark +of a laugh. "Dontcha fret. I ain't got time to fuss with any female. +Not that I would, even if I had time, so don't go flatterin' yourself +any. Women ain't in my line. You're all a squalling bunch of Gawd's +mistakes, every last one of you, and you can stick a pin in that. +Women? Phutt!" +</P> + +<P> +So saying, Dan Slike turned his head slightly and spat accurately +through the open draft into the stove. An engaging gentleman, Mr. +Slike! +</P> + +<P> +"I saw two mules and a horse in the corral when I came by," he resumed, +dandling the whisky bottle on his knee. "Looks like a good +horse—better than the one I left up in the timber. I'll ride your +horse and lead the other. Where do you keep your saddle and bridle? +In the shed, huh? Aw right, you can show me when we go out. Listen, I +expect to-morrow some time you'll have a few gents a-callin' on you. +Yeah, to-morrow. It'll likely take those Golden Bar citizens till +about then to pick up my trail. You needn't to look too hopeful. +Those jiggers don't know they're alive. I saw 'em scatterin' off +hell-bent the wrong way before I ever started this way, you bet. Why, +hells bells, I even topped a horse behind a corral with the woman right +in the house gettin' supper, and she never knowed it. Tell you, girl, +I'm slick. And if I didn't have more sense in the tip of my finger +than all those fellers and their li'l tin sheriff and his li'l tin +deputies, I'd be a heap ashamed of myself. Say—about that sheriff; I +heard folks talkin' in the street this afternoon and they said the +sheriff had skedaddled because he'd murdered a sport named O'Gorman. A +fi-ine sheriff he is, to slop around turnin' tricks like that. A +fi-ine sheriff, and you can tell him I said so." +</P> + +<P> +He drove in the cork with the heel of his hand and slipped the bottle +into a side pocket of his coat. Standing up, he tapped her smartly on +the shoulder. "Get me that hat over there on the hook. I left town in +such a hurry I clean forgot to fetch mine along." +</P> + +<P> +Silently she brought the hat. +</P> + +<P> +"Why do you women always wear hats too big for you?" he grumbled, after +trying it on. "I couldn't keep this thing on my head." +</P> + +<P> +She had brought an Omaha newspaper from town that day. It lay +outspread on the table. He tore off a half page, plaited it neatly and +stuffed the thickened strip in behind the sweatband of the hat. +</P> + +<P> +"It will fit me now," he said briskly, pulling on the hat. "Gimme +those cantenas and saddle pockets hanging on the wall." +</P> + +<P> +She obeyed stumblingly. Into the cantenas, from her store of +provisions, he packed bacon, coffee, a sack of flour a third full, a +tin can full of salt, another can filled with matches, a salt pack full +of sugar, several cans of tomatoes and peaches, a frying-pan and a +small can of lard. In the saddle pockets he stowed away the twelve +boxes of rifle cartridges, the six boxes of revolver cartridges and a +knife, fork and spoon. The long-bladed butcher knife he nonchalantly +slipped down his boot-leg. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll tie the coffee pot on the saddle," he said, buckling the billet +of a cantena flap. "It's too wet to go in here. Can't take a chance +on spoiling my flour. C'mon, le's go find the saddle." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER NINETEEN +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE PERSISTENT SUITOR +</H4> + +<P> +"You see," said Dan Slike, as he topped his mount, "I ain't really been +hard on you. I didn't ask you for a nickel. I only took what I +needed. And if you hadn't fought me like you did, I wouldn't have laid +a finger on you. Think of that and be happy." +</P> + +<P> +He whirled the horse and rode away toward the lower ground behind the +house, the coffeepot clacking rhythmically against the barrel of the +Winchester Hazel had vainly hoped he would forget to take with him. +</P> + +<P> +Hazel remained standing beside the corral gate. Suddenly she was +conscious of a great weariness. She was as one who has traveled a +day's journey without food. Her arms and legs were leaden. Her head +ached, her body ached, her spirit ached. +</P> + +<P> +With dragging steps she returned to the house. From the cupboard she +brought forth the bottle of whisky she had lied to save and poured a +stiff four fingers into a teacup. She drank off the liquor in three +gulps. But she was so spent that, other than a fit of coughing, there +was no effect. +</P> + +<P> +The lamp was burning low and fitfully, filling the kitchen with a smell +of burning wicking. She had forgotten to refill it that morning. She +put away the whisky bottle, turned out the lamp and filled it by the +faint light from an opened draft-chink. But in reaching for the +chimney, she knocked it to the floor and broke it. +</P> + +<P> +Apathetically, every movement mechanical, she found another chimney and +adjusted it in the clamps. A smell of burned hair suddenly filled her +nostrils. A lock of hair had fallen against the lamp chimney. She put +her hand to her head. Her hair was in a slovenly tangle over one ear. +She did it up any way and skewered it fast with a few pins. +</P> + +<P> +Crunch! The remains of the lamp chimney crackled under foot. She +brought out the dustpan and brushed and swept up the pieces. She +carried the broken glass out to the trash pile. When she returned to +the kitchen, there was a man standing in the middle of the room. +</P> + +<P> +Nothing had the power to surprise her now. She would not have been +amazed had the devil himself popped into the room. The man turned at +her entry. He was Rafe Tuckleton. He glowered down at her. She shut +the door and put away the dustpan and brush behind the wood-box. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you want?" she asked lifelessly. +</P> + +<P> +"Who's been here?" he demanded, pointing an accusing finger at the +table. "Two plates, two cups, two saucers—who you been entertaining?" +</P> + +<P> +Entertaining! Good Lord! Hazel sat down on the wood-box and laughed +hysterically. +</P> + +<P> +He was around the table and confronting her in three strides. "Who's +been here?" he kept at her. +</P> + +<P> +"Dan Slike," she said with a spasmodic giggle. +</P> + +<P> +"You're a liar," he told her promptly. "Dan Slike didn't come this +way. He—he went another way. There's a posse on his trail now. +You've had Bill Wingo here, that's whatsamatter." +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't," she denied, wagging her head at him. "Dan Slike was here, +I tell you." +</P> + +<P> +"The hell he was. You must think I'm a fool. Bill Wingo's been here, +I tell you. Think I don't know, huh, you deceivin' hussy! Trying to +make small of me, carryin' on with other men, huh?" +</P> + +<P> +She said nothing. It is doubtful if she heard him, for all his roaring +voice and gesturing fists. Billy Wingo! <I>Her</I> Billy—once. He had +loved her too—once. What a queer, queer world it was. Everybody and +everything at cross-purposes. Yet there was a reason for it all. Must +be. Even a reason for Rafe. She looked up at Rafe. He was glaring +down at her with a most villainous expression on his lean features. +</P> + +<P> +"How long has Bill Wingo been gone?" he demanded. +</P> + +<P> +"It wasn't Bill," she insisted doggedly. "It was Dan Slike, and he's +been gone maybe half an hour." +</P> + +<P> +"Say, whatsa use of lyin' to me? You're an odd number, by all +accounts, but you ain't so odd you could sit here and eat and drink and +carry on with your uncle's murderer. You can't tell me <I>that</I>." +</P> + +<P> +She was regarding him with curious eyes. "I thought you always said +Dan Slike didn't kill my uncle?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well—uh—you see, everybody else seems to think he did. +And—ah—maybe I was wrong. Anyway, say I was. For all I know to the +contrary, he did kill your uncle. What's fairer than that, I'd like to +know? You think he killed Tom Walton, don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +She continued to stare at Rafe. "I know he did." +</P> + +<P> +"Then how do you expect me to believe you ate supper with him? You're +foolish. You had Bill Wingo here, and we'll settle this Wingo business +right now. You see, don't you, how you can never marry the feller? +This Tip O'Gorman murder has queered him round here for keeps. Sooner +or later he'll hang for it. You'd look fine wouldn't you, the widow of +a——" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't say it," she cut him short. "Billy Wingo is no murderer. He +fights fair, which is more than I can say for you. However, you can +set your mind at rest. I'm not likely to marry Billy Wingo, or anybody +else." +</P> + +<P> +"Then what do you care whether I call him a murderer or not, if you +don't love him?" he probed. "I thought a while back you had taken my +advice and busted it off with Bill, but now after hearin' what you +tried to do to Nate Samson, and all that ammunition and grub you bought +to-day, the day after Tip was killed, why I began to think maybe you +was startin' in to play the Jack again. I told you last fall I was +gonna have you myself. You ain't forgot it, have you?" +</P> + +<P> +His eyes, savage and mean, held hers steadily. "I come over here, +to-night to get you. I'm taking you back with me to-night to my ranch. +To-morrow you can marry me or not. It'll be just as you say." +</P> + +<P> +"You're taking me to your ranch!" she gasped. "<I>Me?</I>" +</P> + +<P> +He nodded. "You, nobody else." +</P> + +<P> +She laughed harshly without a note of hysteria. "You're two hundred +years behind the times. Men don't carry off their women any more." +</P> + +<P> +"Here's one that will," he told her. "You're going with me, +y'understand. And you needn't stop to wash your face or change into +petticoats either. I'm not letting you out of my sight. If you wanna +take any extra duds along, you can wrap 'em up. What's the answer—you +going willing or will I have to tie you up in a bundle?" +</P> + +<P> +"You idiot, even your friends wouldn't stand you turning such a trick +as this! I'll bet you couldn't get your own men to help you. That's +why you had to come alone." +</P> + +<P> +His suddenly bloating features gave evidence that her shot had told. +Bending down, he shook her shoulder roughly. And now for the first +time she smelt his breath. It was rank with the raw odor of whisky. +So that was what had given him the wild idea of carrying her off by +force. The man was drunk. Sober, he was bad enough. Drunk, he was +capable of anything. +</P> + +<P> +She reached stoveward for the lid lifter. Rafe seized her wrist and +jerked her sidewise. +</P> + +<P> +"None of that!" he snarled. "Gonna get your clothes or not?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll get them," she said calmly. "Let go of my wrist." +</P> + +<P> +If she could win into the next room where the six-shooter was hanging +on the wall, it might be possible to—but he did not release her wrist. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll go with you," he told her with a leer. "You're too slippery a +customer to trust alone." +</P> + +<P> +As he turned with her, the lamplight fell full on his face, and she saw +that his eyes were bloodshot! He also saw something that had hitherto +escaped his notice. He saw the whisky bottle on the shelf in the +cupboard. She had neglected to close the cupboard door. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll have a short drink first," he said, and dragged her to the +cupboard. +</P> + +<P> +He was holding her left-handed. She was on the wrong side to reach his +gun. Nevertheless she swung her body in front of him and snatched +wildly at the pistol butt. +</P> + +<P> +He did not divine her intention but thought she was trying to keep him +away from the whisky. The result was the same, for he wrenched her +back with a twist that started the tears in her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Holding the bottle in one hand, he drew the cork with his teeth, spat +it out and applied his lips to the bottle neck. He swallowed long and +generously. Hazel saw his Adam's apple slide up and down a dozen +times. At such a rate the man would be a fiend in no time. +</P> + +<P> +"Let me get my clothes," she begged. +</P> + +<P> +Anything to get him away from the liquor. But Rafe was not so easily +separated from his old friend. +</P> + +<P> +"Wait a minute," he said peevishly, lowering the bottle and fixing her +with his bloodshot gaze. "Don't be in such a hurry. Here, have one +yourself." +</P> + +<P> +He thrust the bottle toward her. She took it from him, held it to her +mouth and then the bottle seemed to slip from her fingers. She +snatched at it, juggled it a split second and—the bottle smashed in +bits on a corner of the stove. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she cried, quite as if she had not contrived the +catastrophe on purpose. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll make you sorrier!" Rafe exclaimed and without more ado cast both +arms around her. +</P> + +<P> +He was striving to kiss her and she, face crushed against his rough +shirt, fought him like the primeval female every woman becomes in like +circumstances. Her right hand clawed upward at his face. Her left +arm, doubled between their two bodies, she strove to work free so that +she could grab his gun. +</P> + +<P> +Rafe received three distinct clawings that considerably altered the +appearance of one side of his face, before he was able to confine those +active fingers. +</P> + +<P> +"Here!" he bawled in a fury. "I'll fix you!" +</P> + +<P> +He tried to seize her by the throat and his thumb slipped by mistake +into her mouth. She promptly clamped down hard on the thumb. With a +yell, Rafe released his grip on her body and worked a thumb and ring +finger into her cheeks in a frantic effort to force open her locked +jaws. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly she opened her mouth. Rafe sprang back a yard, shaking a +bleeding thumb and swearing, and as he sprang she dragged the +six-shooter from his holster. +</P> + +<P> +Her palm swept down to cock the gun. But Rafe was as quick to see his +danger as Dan Slike had been. He made a long arm as he hurled himself +at her and knocked the barrel to one side at the moment of the shot. +Before she could fire again, he had torn the weapon from her grasp and +flung it across the room. +</P> + +<P> +"You tried to murder me!" he panted. "You tried to murder me!" +</P> + +<P> +She dived headlong beneath his arm, but he caught the slack of her +overalls as she went by and dragged her to a standstill. She +immediately butted him in the stomach with her head. He stumbled back +but caught her arm. Her head flashed down and her teeth fastened on +his wrist. Again he broke the grip of her teeth by the application of +ring finger and thumb to her cheeks, and then he reached purposefully +for her throat and began to strangle her in dead earnest. +</P> + +<P> +She kicked and thrashed about like a wild thing in a trap,—as indeed +she was. Her nails scratched desperately at his arms. She might as +well have been petting him. Tighter and tighter became the choking +grasp of those long fingers. She could not breathe. Her temples were +bursting. Her head felt like a balloon. With her last flare-up of +failing strength, she kicked him on the knee-cap. +</P> + +<P> +He jumped back against the wall, dragging her with him, and began to +shake her as a dog does a rat. And then the old Terry clock did that +for which it surely must have been originally made. For, as his +shoulders struck the wall, his head knocked away the support of the +bracket that held the clock. Involuntarily he ducked his head. It was +the worst thing he could have done, giving, as it did, the clock an +extra foot to fall. It fell. One corner struck him fairly on the +temple and knocked him cold as a wedge. +</P> + +<P> +When Hazel's reeling senses had reëstablished their equilibrium, she +found herself on the floor, lying across the inert legs of Rafe +Tuckleton. She raised herself on her two arms and looked at him. He +was breathing very lightly. It occurred to her that it would not worry +her overmuch if he breathed not at all. +</P> + +<P> +She dragged herself on hands and knees to where he had thrown his +six-shooter. She picked it up and threw out the cylinder. Evidently +Rafe was accustomed to carry his hammer on an empty chamber, for there +were four cartridges and a spent shell in the cylinder. She ejected +the spent shell, crawled back to the senseless Rafe and plucked two +cartridges from his belt. +</P> + +<P> +She loaded those two empty chambers and cocked the gun. Then she +pulled herself up into a chair at the table, and leaning across the +cloth, trained the six-shooter on Rafe's stomach. +</P> + +<P> +And as she sat there watching a senseless man through the gunsights, it +suddenly seemed to her that she was not one person, but two,—herself +and a stranger. And the Hazel Walton that had gone through the +evening's adventures was the stranger. She herself apparently stood at +one side observing. But she saw the room and its contents with new +eyes, the eyes of the stranger. It was a most amazing feeling, and she +was oddly frightened while it lasted. +</P> + +<P> +Slowly the feeling passed as her muscles renewed their strength, and +her jangled nerves steadied and quieted. She came back to herself with +a jerk as Rafe Tuckleton stirred and put his hand to his head. She saw +the hand come away covered with blood. That side of Rafe's head being +in the shadow she had not previously noted that it had sustained a +shrewd cut. +</P> + +<P> +Rafe groaned a little. He rolled over and sat up, his chin sagging +forward on his chest. He moved his head and looked at her vacantly. +The blood ran down his cheek and dripped slowly off his chin. +</P> + +<P> +The light of reason glared of a sudden in Rafe's eyes. She could see +that he was absorbing the situation from every angle. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll give you five minutes to pull yourself together and get out," she +announced clearly. "If you're still here by the time I've counted +three hundred I'll begin to shoot." +</P> + +<P> +Rafe started to go by the time she reached sixty. With the six-shooter +pointing at the small of his back, her finger on the trigger, step by +step she drove him out of the house to where he had left his horse. +</P> + +<P> +Hazel watched him ride away and after a little become at one with the +moonlit landscape. She walked back to the house. She felt that she +was taking enormous strides. In reality she was stepping short and +staggering badly. She went into the kitchen. She closed the door, +dropped the bar into place and fell into the nearest chair. +</P> + +<P> +"My God!" she said aloud, "I wonder what will happen next?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TWENTY +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +A DISCOVERY +</H4> + +<P> +"I tell you I ain't satisfied," nagged the district attorney. +</P> + +<P> +"Say something new," growled that amiable person, Felix Craft. +</P> + +<P> +"If you fellers weren't blinded by a pretty face, you'd see it like I +do." +</P> + +<P> +"The girl said those cartridges were for her own personal use," pointed +out Sam Larder, scratching a plump ear. "I believe that girl." +</P> + +<P> +"You can't believe any girl most of the time," denied the district +attorney. +</P> + +<P> +"And where a girl's feller is concerned, you can't believe her any of +the time. Sam, can't you understand a girl will lie just for the fun +of it, if she hasn't any other reason. It's female nature to act that +way. You've got to take it into consideration and make allowances +accordingly, when dealing with a woman. You can't trust 'em, damn 'em, +one li'l short inch." +</P> + +<P> +Sam grinned at Felix. "Ain't he got a pleasant nature." +</P> + +<P> +"Milk of human kindness has curdled in him complete," declared Felix. +</P> + +<P> +"Never you mind about any milk of human kindness. I ain't got a +smidgin of it with a girl like Hazel Walton, the lying hussy." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know, Arthur," said Sam solemnly, "I don't believe you like +that lady." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't," admitted the district attorney, and wondered why both men +laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"Be a Scotchman," advised Sam Larder, "and give her the benefit of the +doubt." +</P> + +<P> +"I'd like to give her a good swift week or two in jail," snarled the +district attorney. "That would bring her to her senses. That would +make her talk." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you can't do it," said Felix, weary of the argument. "So why +waste your breath?" +</P> + +<P> +"Tell you what I can do," said the district attorney, brightening with +hope. "I can go out to Walton's and question her some more." +</P> + +<P> +"Good Gawd, ain't you had enough ridin' for one day?" said Sam. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm good for a li'l bit more." +</P> + +<P> +Felix laughed. "I had to laugh to-day. First time you ever went out +with a posse, I guess. Guess they must have thought you were crazy." +</P> + +<P> +"I know damwell Shotgun and Riley Tyler thought so," declared Sam. +"They kept a-looking at you almighty hard." +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney nodded. "They're a suspicious pair, those two. +I'll give you fellers credit. If it hadn't been for you, I'd never +have been able to bluff it through! I don't think anybody suspects +anything out of the way." +</P> + +<P> +"Only that you're a damfool, Arthur. And they don't suspect that. +They're absolutely sure of it." +</P> + +<P> +"Alla same," said Felix, "it's a good thing Sam Prescott wasn't along. +It would have been just like him to make out those tracks we followed +were a day old instead of one hour." +</P> + +<P> +"I was worried some," admitted the district attorney, "when Shotgun +Shillman said they were too old to be the marks of Dan Slike's horse." +</P> + +<P> +"That didn't bother me," declared Felix. "I knew it would be all right +if we could contradict him fast enough and loud enough before anybody +else could agree with him. Folks are like sheep thataway. They'll +most always believe the boys makin' the most noise. No, Shotgun didn't +bother me any. What made me feel like scratching my head was where the +tracks crossed the stage trail. There were the hoof-marks and +wheeltracks of the stage overlying the horse-tracks we were following. +I drew a long breath when I had 'em blotted out, you can gamble on +that." +</P> + +<P> +"Was that why you rode ahead and twisted your horse round and round on +the trail so funny?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure that was why. Why else do you suppose?" +</P> + +<P> +"I never thought of the stage passing," said the district attorney. +</P> + +<P> +"No, you wouldn't, of course not. I don't see, Arthur, when you made +those tracks so careful in the first place you couldn't have kept off +the stage trail. It wasn't necessary, and it mighty near put the +kibosh on the whole deal." +</P> + +<P> +"I wanted to end the trail in the west fork of the Wagonjack," defended +the district attorney. "It seemed like a good place." +</P> + +<P> +"It was—only for the stage trail being in the way," said Felix warmly. +"If that infernal Wildcat Simms had come up half-a-minute earlier he'd +seen how those horse tracks lay, same as I did. Oh, lovely! Wouldn't +it have been a joke?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, it ended all right, anyway," offered the district attorney +pacifically. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't like to have that Slike jigger get off that-away," grumbled +Sam Larder. "I'd like to see him hung, the lousy murderer! I wish we +could have worked it some other way." +</P> + +<P> +"There wasn't any other way," the district attorney hastened to assure +him. "We couldn't risk having Slike tried. He'd have snitched on Rafe +Tuckleton, sure as fate. It was the only thing for us to do, and you +know it." +</P> + +<P> +Sam nodded. "I know, but——" He left the sentence unfinished. +</P> + +<P> +"Now that we've got Dan out of the way," the district attorney pattered +on, "we've got to glom onto Bill Wingo, and the sooner the quicker. +Me, I'm going out to Walton's to-night and question Hazel some more. +You boys don't have to go, you know. I can get hold of somebody, I +guess." +</P> + +<P> +"We'll go," said Sam Larder decidedly. "I ain't a heap attracted by +your methods with the ladies, and I intend to see the girl gets a +square deal." +</P> + +<P> +"Me too," chimed in Felix Craft. +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney was none too well pleased and showed it. "I'll +get two other jiggers then," he grumbled. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not another posse?" suggested the sarcastic Mr. Larder. "Us three +might not be able to handle her by ourselves." +</P> + +<P> +"Suppose Bill Wingo is there, then what? We took a big bunch before +and——" +</P> + +<P> +"And got damwell laughed at by the whole town for our trouble," snapped +Sam. "Serves us right. Wild goose chase, anyway, and to-night will be +another. C'mon, if you're goin'." +</P> + +<P> +The moon was high in the heavens when the three men came to the mouth +of the draw leading to the Walton ranch. A quarter-mile up this draw +they came upon a man standing beside a horse. This man they surrounded +immediately. He proved to be the town marshal, Red Herring, engaged in +the prosaic business of tightening a slipped cinch. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you doing here," demanded the district attorney. +</P> + +<P> +"Same thing you're doing," the marshal returned sulkily. +</P> + +<P> +"It ain't necessary for you to be watching the Walton ranch," said the +crotchety district attorney. +</P> + +<P> +"I got as much right to the reward as the next one, I guess," flared +the marshal. "If I wanna watch the ranch, I guess I got a right to do +that too. You don't want to cherish any idea that you own the earth +and me too, Artie Rale!" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you can ride along with us if you want to," condescended the +district attorney. +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks," said the marshal, with sarcasm, "I kind of thought I would, +anyway." +</P> + +<P> +Two hundred yards short of the bend in the draw that concealed the +ranchhouse from view the district attorney's horse which was leading, +snorted at something that lay across his path, and shied with great +vigor, coming within a red hair of throwing the district attorney off +on his ear. +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney swore and jerked the animal back. Then he +dismounted hurriedly and ran forward to view at close range the object +that had startled the horse. +</P> + +<P> +The three others pulled up and followed his example. +</P> + +<P> +"My Gawd!" shrilled the district attorney. "It's Rafe Tuckleton!" +</P> + +<P> +It was indeed Rafe Tuckleton. There he lay on his back, his legs and +arms spread-eagled abroad, his body displaying the flattened appearance +a corpse assumes for the first few hours after death. Rafe's throat +had been slit from ear to ear. His head was cut open and lay in a pool +of blood. His face was scored with scratches. There was blood on his +coat and vest and shirt, they found on examination. The district +attorney ripped open the shirt and found four distinct stab wounds in +the region of Rafe's heart. From one of these wounds protruded the +broken end of a broad-bladed knife. +</P> + +<P> +"Pull it out," urged Sam Larder, with a slight shudder, his fat face so +white that it showed green in the moonlight. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't," said the district attorney. "Jammed in between his ribs, I +guess. That's what busted her. See if you can find the handle, Red." +</P> + +<P> +"There it is," pointed out the marshal. "Right by his elbow." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yeah," said the district attorney, picking up the knife handle. +From force of habit he fitted the broken part of the knife remaining +attached to the handle to the part protruding from the wound. Of +course they fitted perfectly. +</P> + +<P> +The marshal ran his hand along Rafe's naked waist. Then he lifted one +of Rafe's arms and let it go. The arm snapped stiffly back into +position. +</P> + +<P> +"Been dead about two hours," proffered the marshal. +</P> + +<P> +"About that," agreed Felix. "What you lookin' at, Arthur?" +</P> + +<P> +"This," replied the district attorney, holding up the handle of the +butcher knife. +</P> + +<P> +With his fingers he traced two initials on the wood. The initials were +T.W. +</P> + +<P> +"You can't tell me," said the district attorney belligerently, "that +this butcher knife didn't come from the Walton ranch." +</P> + +<P> +Sam Larder stated his belief at once. "She couldn't have done it, +Arthur. Why Rafe's carved up like an issue steer. She——" +</P> + +<P> +"She's a woman," interrupted the district attorney. "And a woman will +do anything when her dander is up. And we know what this particular +woman will do when she's mad. Didn't she try to split open Nate +Samson's head when he was hardly more than joking with her? Didn't she +throw down on us with a rifle without any excuse a-tall? I tell you +this Hazel Walton is a murderess, and I'm going to see her hung." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you?" said Felix Craft. "Seems to me you've overlooked a bet. +Didn't we run across Red Herring at the end of the draw?" +</P> + +<P> +"Now look here, Craft," cried the marshal. "You can't hook this +killing up with me! I can prove I was in Golden Bar an hour ago. I +can get people to swear I was." +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney nodded. "Red's innocent of this, all right. He +couldn't have done it. It wouldn't be reasonable. He always was +friendly with Rafe, and this was a grudge killing. It couldn't have +been robbery, because nothing of Rafe's was stolen; watch, money, it's +all here. It's Hazel Walton, and you can stick a pin in that. C'mon, +let's go." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap21"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE DISTRICT ATTORNEY'S NIGHTMARE +</H4> + +<P> +Behind the corral of Guerilla Melody, at the tip end of Golden Bar, +Main Street, a small spring bubbled to life amid rocks. It was the +custom of Guerilla Melody to slip out to this spring for a long cool +drink of fresh water each night before going to bed. +</P> + +<P> +On the night of the first of April, Guerilla, having spent a short but +profitable poker evening with several friends in a saloon, reached the +spring at eleven o'clock. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you were never coming," announced a peevish voice from the +black shadow of a large rock. "I've been waiting here since nine +o'clock." +</P> + +<P> +"You talk much louder, Bill," said Guerilla calmly, "and you'll wait +here a while longer—say about twenty years longer or fifteen, if the +judge feels good-natured. Man alive, ain't you got <I>any</I> sense?" +</P> + +<P> +"I was lonesome," Billy excused himself. "I've got to talk to +somebody. And anyway, a feller hardly ever gets more'n ten years for a +hold-up where nobody's killed." +</P> + +<P> +"But where somebody is killed the penalty is worth considerin'," +pointed out Guerilla Melody. "And Tip O'Gorman was found yesterday +morning lying on the floor of his front room dead as Julius Cæsar, with +your quirt beside him, and your snakeskin hatband inside the door." +</P> + +<P> +"Tip killed! Tip!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Tip, and on account of the quirt and the hatband there's a +warrant issued for you for the murder, and two posses are out looking +for you." +</P> + +<P> +"I saw them," said Billy placidly. "I thought it was on account of the +stage hold-up. And they think I downed Tip?" +</P> + +<P> +"Half the town's sure you did, and half is sure you didn't, and the +other half is straddlin' the fence." +</P> + +<P> +"That makes three halves," Billy said dryly. "Golden Bar must have +considerably increased in population since I left." +</P> + +<P> +"You know what I mean," snapped Guerilla, irritated at what he chose to +consider callous flippancy on the part of his friend. "And Tip ain't +the only one cashed. Rafe Tuckleton passed out last night." +</P> + +<P> +"How?" +</P> + +<P> +"Throat cut, head cut, and three knife cuts through his heart. Hazel +Walton is in jail charged with the job." +</P> + +<P> +Billy Wingo stiffened where he sat. Hazel Walton in jail! For an +instant he couldn't realize it. His fingers closed on Guerilla's +forearm. +</P> + +<P> +Guerilla jerked away the arm. "You don't need to cut my arm in two," +he remonstrated, tenderly fingering the member in question. "I didn't +have nothing to do with it. Lord A'mighty, Bill, I'll bet you squeezed +a muscle out of place." +</P> + +<P> +"My mistake," apologized Billy. "I forgot myself for a minute." +</P> + +<P> +"Then I don't want to be around when you remember yourself. I——" +</P> + +<P> +"What evidence is there against Hazel?" Billy cut in sharply. +</P> + +<P> +"In the first place there's the knife that killed Rafe," said Guerilla, +seating himself beside his friend in the shadow of the rock. "Butcher +knife with T.W. on the handle that Hazel admitted was hers when they +showed it to her. But she said Dan Slike had taken the knife—stuck it +in his boot when he left. Then there was Rafe's own gun which Hazel +had lying on her kitchen table, showing he'd been there. She admitted +that too, but said he'd attacked her, and she'd managed to get hold of +his gun after the clock fell on him, and drive him out." +</P> + +<P> +"Rafe attacked her, huh? And she drove him out?" Billy leaned back +against the rock in order to steady his shaking body. When he spoke, +he found some difficulty in keeping his voice down. "<I>He attacked her +and she drove him out</I>! Then what in hell is she arrested +for—defending herself?" +</P> + +<P> +"Now, listen, Bill, you know me. I believe anything that girl says, no +matter what. But there are some other people harder to convince. The +district attorney, and he's got a good many others stringing their +chips with his, says how this story of Rafe's attacking her ain't true. +That Rafe wouldn't hurt her on a bet, because he liked her too much. +And to back that up, here's Rafe's foreman, Jonesy, steps up and swears +Rafe told him he was going to see Hazel last night and ask her to marry +him. Hazel says Rafe was drunk when he came to see her, and Jonesy +says he wasn't. So there's that." +</P> + +<P> +"Weren't there any tracks round Rafe's body to show——" +</P> + +<P> +"You know yourself there was a li'l freeze last night and the ground +stiffened up some, and I guess the district attorney and the three +others who found Rafe were so flustered they walked all over the ground +round Rafe and wiped out every sign there was." +</P> + +<P> +"Who was with the district attorney?" +</P> + +<P> +Guerilla told him and resumed the thread of his discourse. "When the +district attorney and the other witnesses examined the Walton premises, +they found plenty of evidence that there'd been a fight, and they found +a lot of supplies gone, cartridges, grub and such, Hazel had bought in +town the morning before." +</P> + +<P> +"Is that all?" asked Billy when Guerilla paused. +</P> + +<P> +"Lemme get my breath," Guerilla begged indignantly. "The whole +business is so tangled and mixed up it's hard to tell it straight. No, +it ain't all. The district attorney says those supplies were bought +for you and they were taken by you. Hazel's ridin' horse, the one used +to be her uncle's, that's gone too—with you." +</P> + +<P> +"If Rale thinks I was at Hazel's, it's reasonable to assume I might +have had a hand in killin' Rafe my own self. That goes double for Dan +Slike, seeing he had the knife last." +</P> + +<P> +"It's reasonable all right enough, but then you and Dan Slike ain't +noways available, and Hazel is right handy. Rale admits you might have +done it, and he keeps yawpin' the evidence is strong against Hazel, and +he would be false to his oath of office if he didn't put her in jail." +</P> + +<P> +"False to his oath of office! Rale!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah, ain't it a joke?" contemptuously. +</P> + +<P> +"But how did Slike get hold of the butcher knife, that's what I want to +know? He didn't have it on him when I arrested him last January." +</P> + +<P> +"That's the damndest part of the whole deal, Bill. Hazel says Dan +Slike came to her place before Rafe did, and it was him took the +supplies and her horse and her hat and that very same butcher knife +which gave Rafe his come-uppance. Slike beat her almost senseless too, +she said." +</P> + +<P> +Billy Wingo looked up at the stars. His lips moved. But no sound +issued. After a moment he said, in an oddly dead tone of voice, "How +did Slike escape?" +</P> + +<P> +"Far as anybody can tell, he made him a key somehow and unlocked the +jail door and walked out. Anyway, Riley Tyler found the door open +yesterday afternoon and Dan's cell empty. And the district attorney +lost a horse and saddle." +</P> + +<P> +"The district attorney, huh?" +</P> + +<P> +"The district attorney." +</P> + +<P> +"It was to some people's interests to have Dan Slike escape," Billy +said musingly. +</P> + +<P> +"You bet it was, and I'm gamblin' somebody let him out all right, +but—well, I dunno. Anyway, Rale, he led the posse that trailed Slike, +him and Felix Craft. Nobody could have been more energetic than those +two." +</P> + +<P> +"If they were so energetic and there was any kind of a trail, which +there should have been, because it was a warm afternoon, it's queer +they didn't run up on Slike at Hazel's." +</P> + +<P> +"That's the funny part of it. The trail led in the opposite direction +toward Jacksboro. The posse followed it clear to the West Fork of the +Wagonjack, where they lost it on the rocky ground on the other side." +</P> + +<P> +"Slike might have doubled back." +</P> + +<P> +Guerilla Melody shook his head. "Not without gettin' caught—if he +rode to the West Fork first. Besides, Hazel says he came to her house +a li'l after sunset, and he escaped, near as we can figure out, between +three and four. So you see he'd never have had time to make it to +Walton's from the West Fork by sunset." +</P> + +<P> +"Did Hazel say how long he stayed?" +</P> + +<P> +"About an hour." +</P> + +<P> +"An hour! Then Slike knew he wasn't being followed. He never went to +the West Fork a-tall." +</P> + +<P> +Guerilla nodded a grave head. "I never was sure he did, especially +after Shotgun Shillman told me when he got back that the tracks they +followed to the West Fork looked a damsight older than they had a right +to, always supposin' they were made that afternoon. Oh, you can't +blame Shotgun, Bill, or Riley either. The district attorney was in +charge of the posse, and him and Felix and the rest of his friends said +it was the wind a-blowing so hard made the tracks look old. And there +was a tearin' breeze, worse luck." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know somethin', Guerilla? It wouldn't surprise me a whole lot +to find out the district attorney his own self made that trail to the +Wagonjack." +</P> + +<P> +"It would surprise me if you <I>found it out</I>. You ain't catchin' him so +easy. Not that feller." +</P> + +<P> +"Leave it to me. And he provided Slike with the horse too. You'll +see." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure hoping I do. I'd like nothing better than to see Art Rale +stretching the kinks out of a new rope." +</P> + +<P> +"Stranger things have happened. I guess I'd better go see the district +attorney." +</P> + +<P> +Guerilla Melody chuckled as one does at a pleasantry. +</P> + +<P> +"I mean it," pronounced Billy. "He needs a li'l straight talk, and +he's going to get it prompt and soon. Luckily he likes fresh air." +</P> + +<P> +"Fresh air?" puzzled Guerilla. +</P> + +<P> +"Leaves his window partly open at night," explained Billy. "Which +being so, I'll be out of luck if I can't creep in and give him the +surprise of his life." +</P> + +<P> +"He may not have gone to sleep yet. I'll find out." +</P> + +<P> +Before Billy could stay him, Guerilla was gone. Fifteen minutes later +he returned. +</P> + +<P> +"He's abed, snoring like a circular saw working on a knotty log," +Guerilla informed him. "But there's a light in the kitchen." +</P> + +<P> +"That means his housekeeper's up—probably settin' bread for to-morrow. +Ain't she quite a friend of yours, Guerilla?" +</P> + +<P> +The darkness veiled Guerilla's blush. "I see her now and then." +</P> + +<P> +"Then go see her now," urged Billy. "It's kind of late for an evening +call, but you can tell her some kind of a lie. If she likes you, +she'll believe it. You go see her and keep her in the kitchen for the +next thirty minutes. Then meet me here." +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney, lying on the broad of his back in bed, suddenly +snored his way into a nightmare. He dreamed that he was in the woods, +that he had lain down upon an inviting bank and that a ninety-foot pine +had fallen upon his chest, to the prejudice of his breathing. He +squirmed and wriggled but the tree was immovable. It was slowly +crushing the walls of his chest. The district attorney gasped—awoke, +and discovered to his horror that his bad dream was partly true. There +was something roosting on his chest. If not a tree, it was at least +confoundedly heavy. Furthermore, adding as it were to the interest of +the occasion, a something chilly and hard was rooting into the angle of +his chin and neck. +</P> + +<P> +The something on his chest spoke in a carefully restrained whisper. +"Keep very quiet." +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney would have shivered had he been able to move that +much. He knew that voice. It belonged to Billy Wingo. +</P> + +<P> +"You shouldn't have left your window open," pointed out Billy. "Your +insane love for fresh air will be the death of you yet." +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney did nothing but gasp faintly. +</P> + +<P> +"Would it be more comfortable if I sat on your stomach instead?" asked +the oppressor prodding the other man in the throat with his gun muzzle. +</P> + +<P> +"I—I—cuc-can't breathe!" the district attorney choked out. +</P> + +<P> +"Just a minute," said Billy, feeling beneath the pillows, but finding +no weapon, he slid from the district attorney's chest to the side of +the bed. "You didn't expect to see me so soon, did you, Arthur?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," was the truthful reply, "I didn't." +</P> + +<P> +"I was counting on that. I hear you arrested Miss Walton." +</P> + +<P> +"I—er—I had to," explained the district attorney, beginning to feel +that, in the matter of Miss Walton, he had perhaps been a trifle hasty. +</P> + +<P> +"Fool mistake. You didn't have any evidence against her a-tall." +</P> + +<P> +"But—" began the district attorney. +</P> + +<P> +Billy cut him short. "No evidence a-tall. Not a smidgin. No. You +were too previous, Arthur, with your duty and your oath of office. +Damn your duty, damn your oath of office. I've got a sneaking idea, +old settler, that you are cluttering up the face of the earth. Be +reasonable now, don't you think so yourself?" +</P> + +<P> +But this was more than the district attorney was willing to admit. +"I'll tell you what I think," he grunted. "I think if Hazel Walton +didn't kill Rafe Tuckleton then you did." +</P> + +<P> +"About <I>Miss</I> Walton there ain't any ifs, nary an if. She didn't do +it. There is a reasonable doubt that I did, several reasonable doubts, +in fact. Anyway, Arthur, try keeping your suspicions to yourself to +oblige me, will you? Lord knows one murder and a stage hold-up are +enough crimes to be charged with at one time." +</P> + +<P> +"You thought you were very clever," sneered the district attorney, +"getting that girl to pack your supplies out from town for you. Didn't +have nerve enough to do it yourself. Had to hide behind a woman's +skirts and get her in trouble, didn't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"You mean about the horse and cartridges and grub that Slike took from +Walton's?" +</P> + +<P> +"I mean about the horse and cartridges and grub that you took from +Walton's. Slike had nothing to do with that. Slike didn't go to +Walton's. He went north to the West Fork, where we lost his trail." +</P> + +<P> +"You're sure of this?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure? Of course I'm sure. Didn't I trail him to the river myself. +Didn't— Say, where'd you get your information?" +</P> + +<P> +"A li'l bird told me. But he asked me not to mention his name. Sorry." +</P> + +<P> +The district stared helplessly into the shadowy features of the man at +his bedside. The moonlight shone in at the open window through which +Billy had entered. The rays touched a corner of the bed, turning the +bedpost to shiny ebony and the counterpane to dull silver. The +district attorney could hear the murmur of his housekeeper's voice in +the kitchen. Some man then, was in the kitchen with her. Lord! if he +dared yell for help! +</P> + +<P> +As though sensing what was passing in the mind of the district +attorney, Billy jabbed the gunsight up under the man's chin. "Don't +gamble with me, Arthur. Think how your friends would miss you." +</P> + +<P> +But Arthur had already decided against doing any gambling. "What do +you want?" he whispered. +</P> + +<P> +"I've been hoping you'd ask me that. It gives me an opening and shows +you're willing to be reasonable. Yeah. Arthur, I want you to set Miss +Walton free." +</P> + +<P> +"You go to hell," was the sharp return. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't understand," said Billy, in his lightsome whisper. "You're +thinking because I'm talking to you so bright and merry that I don't +mean what I say. Listen—" the whisper lost its airness and became a +ruthless, snarling growl—"listen to me. Because of what you've done +to her, it's all I can do to keep from strangling the breath out of you +here and now. If I talked to you the way I feel like talking to you, +I'd lose my temper and you'd lose your life. I'm trying to hang on to +both—for now. Don't make it any harder for me than you have to." He +paused. "About Miss Walton," he continued in his former tone. "I'll +give you your choice. Let her go, and I won't down you by Sunday +night." +</P> + +<P> +"Huh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sunday night. If she isn't out of jail and the warrant against her +withdrawn by noon to-morrow, I give you my word that I'll down you on +or before midnight Sunday. And I have a habit of keeping my promises." +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney knew this to be true. But he was a wriggler by +nature. "I—" he began. +</P> + +<P> +"You can do it," interrupted Billy. "You have the power." +</P> + +<P> +"I can't," denied the wretched man in the bed, now more than ever aware +that he had made a mistake in arresting Hazel, yet not at all clear in +his mind how to set matters right without being ridiculed into +political extinction. Yet if he didn't set matters right, he would +lose his life. Metaphorically speaking, he eased himself down between +the horns of the dilemma and considered. "I can't," he repeated after +a moment of silence. "I can't let her go after arresting her. Judge +Donelson wouldn't understand it. The Governor would remove me from +office." +</P> + +<P> +"You're a liar. Judge Donelson would understand it all right if you +explained it carefully. So would the Governor. They are human beings, +even if you aren't." +</P> + +<P> +"Well," bumbled the district attorney, "maybe I <I>could</I> manage it. But +look here, what's the use of me letting her go? You couldn't run away +with her. <I>You'd</I> be caught, sure as fate, and then where would you +be?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't intend to run away with her or without her. Only a fool runs +away. A man of sense stays comfortably in the background waiting for +the cat to jump." +</P> + +<P> +"You ran away," pointed out the district attorney. +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all. I'm staying comfortably in the background, waiting for +the cat to jump." +</P> + +<P> +"But—" The district attorney stopped abruptly at the word. +</P> + +<P> +Billy Wingo smiled. The district attorney saw his white teeth gleam in +the darkness. "But you can't understand if I stayed in the vicinity +why I haven't been caught," he completed the sentence for the other +man. "I realize your posses have been very active." +</P> + +<P> +"Shotgun Shillman and Riley Tyler are in league with you! They led the +posses astray on purpose. I'll get their hides for this!" +</P> + +<P> +Billy quieted the district attorney with a gesture that drove the man's +head almost through the pillow. +</P> + +<P> +"There goes your snap judgment again," complained Billy. "Shotgun and +Riley are doing their duty. They've done their damndest to catch me. +You hurt my feelings when you hint that I may be tampering with them. +You don't really think I have, do you, Arthur? Both Shotgun and Riley +are straight as strings, aren't they, Arthur?" +</P> + +<P> +The gun muzzle pressed ever so gently upon Arthur's Adam's apple. +"They are," he apologized. "Both of 'em." +</P> + +<P> +"And you'll free the girl to-night?" +</P> + +<P> +"To-night? Why not to-morrow?" +</P> + +<P> +"To-night. I don't like her having to sleep in that calaboose. You +let her out and tell Shotgun Shillman to take her to Sam Prescott's +right away—right away, to-night, y'understand?" +</P> + +<P> +"All right," capitulated the district attorney. "I'll do it if I lose +my job. But you needn't go swarmin' off with any idea that you'll +cheat the gallows. You'll swing, my bold boy, for that O'Gorman +murder. There's nothing you can do to me that will fix up that +business for you—not if you were to kill me here and now. Judge +Donelson wouldn't allow me to withdraw that warrant, even I wanted to. +The evidence is too strong." +</P> + +<P> +"So you really think I downed Tip?" Billy asked curiously. +</P> + +<P> +"I know it." +</P> + +<P> +"And held up the stage? Unofficially, Arthur, are you holding that +against me, too?" +</P> + +<P> +"You held up the stage. Jerry Fern saw your horse. So did all the +passengers. Your clothes were identified, too. Jerry told the +passengers to pay particular attention to your clothes and the brass +guard on your gun and be able to describe 'em later. They did, and +everbody in town recognized 'em. Oh, we've got you." +</P> + +<P> +"So clever of you—and cleverer of Jerry Fern. He told the passengers +to remember what I wore, did he?" +</P> + +<P> +"Naturally," said the district attorney hastily. "It was the obvious +thing to do." +</P> + +<P> +Billy nodded. "Of course it was. Bright man, Jerry. Tell you, +Arthur, suppose I bring back Dan Slike, would that help me in—my +trouble?" +</P> + +<P> +"How do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"You want Dan Slike caught, don't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course I do." +</P> + +<P> +"Liar," Billy said to himself. Aloud he remarked. "You've come +around, I see. You really believe now that Dan Slike killed Tom Walton +and Judge Driver?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly, he killed them," avowed the district attorney. "And when +he's caught we'll hang him." +</P> + +<P> +"That's the proper spirit, Arthur. I have a theory that, since it +seems certain that Dan Slike didn't go to Walton's after he escaped, he +went north to the Medicine Mountains." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"You followed his trail north to where the West Fork swings due west +and there you lost it, didn't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, then, it's certain Slike didn't follow the Fork down. That +would bring him to the country east of here, and Tom Read County is no +place for a murderer. Now, what he did was ride the rocky ground along +the Fork till it swung north again, when he'd either swing north with +it straight for the Medicine Mountains, or else ride a li'l west of +north and hit the Medicines away to the westward of Jacksboro. And in +the Medicines you might as well look for a needle in a bale of hay. +He'll lie low there for a spell, probably during spring and summer. +You may depend on it, that's what he's done." +</P> + +<P> +"I believe you're right," agreed the district attorney, striving to +inject a note of excitement in his whisper. "I'll have a posse riding +that way to-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +"Not a posse. Too many men in a posse. He'd be able to keep out of +their way, Slike's no ordinary murderer, Rale. Remember that. He's a +killer from Killersville, and he probable knows more about keeping out +of sight than a grizzly bear. But one man would have a chance to get +him. He wouldn't be expecting one man, do you see?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't see what you're driving at." +</P> + +<P> +"I mean I'll make a bargain with you, Rale. I'll trade you Slike for +myself. You will prosecute these cases against me, if I'm caught. It +lies with you whether I get a chance for my alley or not." +</P> + +<P> +"How?" +</P> + +<P> +"You could fail to take advantage of points as they come up. You +could. You're clever enough, Gawd knows. Now, in the O'Gorman deal +I'd plead not guilty. I killed Tip in self-defense, see? Well, you +could let me prove I did mighty easy. Same with the hold-up. I'll get +me a clever lawyer who'd take advantage of some flaw in the indictment. +You would draw up that indictment. I don't believe we could risk flaws +in both indictments, could we?" +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney could hardly believe his wicked ears. It simply +was not possible that Bill Wingo could be such a simpleton as to +believe that. "Flaws in both indictments would be a li'l too raw," +said the district attorney, almost suffocating in the effort to +dissemble his glee. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, well, all right. In the O'Gorman murder trial, you'll let me +prove my case, and in the other you'll stick in a flaw. The Tuckleton +case you can't do a thing with. There's not enough evidence, so you'll +have to let it drop. What do you think of the proposition, Dan Slike +for Bill Wingo? You can make a record with Dan Slike too. He hasn't a +friend in the county. Another thing. That last bribe of yours I +mentioned a while ago. I'll throw in what I know about that for good +measure with Slike." +</P> + +<P> +"But why stand your trial at all?" fenced the district attorney. "Why +not try to escape?" +</P> + +<P> +"You forget that not ten minutes ago you told me I couldn't possibly +escape. You were wrong, naturally. But I don't want to escape. If I +did, I'd have these things hanging over me the rest of my life. No +matter where I went, I'd always be looking for a warrant waiting for me +at every bend in the trail. No, the only sensible way out is to get +this thing over with and settled as soon as possible. I don't want to +leave Crocker County. I like it here." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," murmured the district attorney, believing that he knew the reason +why Billy Wingo did not care to leave the county. It was a good and +sufficient reason, and he expected to release it from jail that very +night. +</P> + +<P> +"But you'd have to get supplies from time to time," he said leadingly. +"Your description is in every town by now." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll only go to Jacksboro when I have to buy anything," explained +Billy, "and as it happens, I never was there but once and that was five +years ago. If I let my beard and hair grow, who'd know me? It would +take somebody from Golden Bar to recognize my voice, and I'll take care +to keep out of the way of anybody from Golden Bar. Oh, it'll be safe +enough. I'll make my camp somewhere on Coldstream Creek and work all +through the Medicines from there. I'll get Dan and bring him back. +How about it now—willing to make it easy for me at the trial?" +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney could hardly control his voice. At last the +devil had delivered his enemy into his hands. Now he could pay him +back for kicking him out into the snow. You bet he could. "I'll do as +you suggest," he said, "and drop the Tuckleton case in so far as you +and Miss Walton are concerned, and I'll let you win on the other two +counts—provided you bring back Dan Slike." +</P> + +<P> +"Fair enough. In the meantime I want a free hand. You'll have to call +off the posses that are out after me. You can do that without exciting +suspicion. Look how long they've been out." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll manage it," declared the district attorney. "You think the +Coldstream is a good place to camp?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure it is. I've been there before." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't risk going to any other town than Jacksboro." +</P> + +<P> +"I won't," said Billy. "Be sure of that. Well, I guess I'd better be +draggin' it. You'll be wanting to let Miss Walton out. By the way, +don't forget that I'm not leaving the neighborhood till I hear that +Miss Walton is safe at Prescott's and the warrant against her +withdrawn. Just bear that in mind, Arthur." +</P> + +<P> +"I will," Arthur said warmly. "Shall I suggest to Miss Walton that a +letter would be sure to reach you at Jacksboro—under an assumed name, +of course?" +</P> + +<P> +"It would be hardly worth while," replied Billy. "Unless I catch Dan +Slike sooner, I don't expect to be in Jacksboro under a month. Yeah, a +month, anyway." +</P> + +<P> +"A month, huh? Here's wishing you luck." +</P> + +<P> +Billy failed to observe the brazenly outstretched hand. "Thanks," he +drawled. "So long." +</P> + +<P> +But in spite of the agreement it was noticeable that he kept the +district attorney covered till his bootsoles touched the ground beneath +the window. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you crazy?" demanded Guerilla Melody when he had heard all, or +thought he had, rather. "You don't actually sure-enough trust him, do +you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly not," Billy replied calmly, flicking the ash from his +cigarette. "Certainly I don't trust him. That's why I told him what I +did." +</P> + +<P> +Guerilla Melody screwed a forefinger into the side of his head. +"Wheels, wheels, wheels, hear 'em buzz." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't understand, Guerilla. You're all right lots of ways, and +I'm your friend, and don't let anybody tell you different, but you +haven't any brains, not a brain." +</P> + +<P> +"Now, look here," began indignant Guerilla, "if you——" +</P> + +<P> +"Shut up and listen," Billy cut him short. "I ain't going to the +Medicine Mountains a-tall." +</P> + +<P> +"Where <I>are</I> you going?" +</P> + +<P> +"South—after Dan Slike. Don't you see, this fool district attorney +won't think of skirmishing after me <I>south</I> of Golden Bar. But I'll +bet he'll have posses combin' the Medicines within seven days. And if +I haven't read him wrong, he'll have a warrant for the Tuckleton murder +issued for me, too." +</P> + +<P> +Guerilla nodded a grave head. "With Miss Walton out of it, he'll have +to cinch it on to somebody else. But I don't see yet how finding Dan +Slike, always supposin' you do find him, is going to help you any. +You'll still have to stand your own trial. And you ain't thinkin' that +Arthur Rale——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, angels ever bright and fair! The man doesn't see it yet! I +intend to bring in the murderer of Tip O'Gorman and the man who held up +the stage, too, while I'm at it. In words of one syllable <I>that</I> is my +plan." +</P> + +<P> +The expression on the face of Guerilla Melody was one of awe diluted +with doubt. "All by your lonesome?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe I'd better go with you?" offered Guerilla. +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Bill decidedly, "I'd rather you were here in Golden Bar. +Then you can tell me the news now and then. Outside of you and Shotgun +and Riley, there ain't a soul in town I can trust, and for official +reasons I can't go near the deputies. So I guess you're elected, +Guerilla." +</P> + +<P> +"Aw right," said his friend. "You're the doctor. Have another drink?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not to-night. Look at the time. Here we've been gassin' a solid +hour. I didn't have any business coming into your house anyway. Never +can tell who might walk in on us." +</P> + +<P> +"You better wait till I find out from Riley if Rale kept his word about +Hazel Walton." +</P> + +<P> +"I won't have to wait here for that. When you come back from talking +to Riley, if everything is O.K. and Hazel has started with Shotgun for +Prescott's, you set a lamp on your kitchen table and open and close +your kitchen door four times. If Rale hasn't moved, open your kitchen +door and stand in the door-way for half a minute. I'll be watchin' +from the ridge— Huh? Sure, I've got field glasses. Borrowed a pair +from Sam Prescott same time I borrowed a horse. So long, Guerilla!" +</P> + +<P> +Guerilla Melody blocked off the light of the lamp with his hat while +Billy opened the door and vanished into outer darkness. +</P> + +<P> +Twenty minutes later, Billy, sitting his horse on the crest of the +aforementioned ridge, saw a rectangle of light at the tip end of town, +show and go out four distinct times. He clucked to his horse and moved +quartering down the slope in the direction of the Hillsville trail. +His goal was Prescott's, his intention to obtain from Hazel a detailed +account of what had happened at the ranch the night of the Tuckleton +murder. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap22"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE HUNCH +</H4> + +<P> +The time was an evening in the first week in May; the place was the +Arkansas Saloon in Willow Bend, Redstone County, the man was Billy +Wingo, wearing a sevenweeks' beard and an air of preoccupation. He was +draped against the bar, making rings on the bar top with the wet bottom +of his whisky glass. +</P> + +<P> +The weather was unseasonably warm, and the big double-burner reflector +lamps in the saloon raised the bar-room temperature at least fifteen +degrees. Billy felt the salty moisture running down into his eyes. He +pushed back his hat and with a fillip of his fingers slatted off the +perspiration. +</P> + +<P> +He did not see a man at the other end of the bar look up at his sudden +movement. Nor, when he departed after his second glass, did he know +that the other man was following until he had passed out into the +street. Then, with that sixth sense men who carry their lives in their +holsters so frequently develop, he knew it. Hence, quite naturally, +instead of going directly to the hotel hitching-rail where his horse +was tied, he sauntered with apparent aimlessness round the corner of +the saloon, along the blank side wall and round the next corner. +</P> + +<P> +In the darkness behind this corner, gun in hand, he waited. The other +man slid round the corner in his wake and ran plump into the muzzle of +the Wingo six-shooter. +</P> + +<P> +"Were you looking for me?" Bill asked in a low tone. +</P> + +<P> +The man, having shown that he was no shorthorn by promptly throwing up +his hands, laughed low. "I was looking for you," he said, still +chuckling, "but not the way you mean." +</P> + +<P> +"Your voice sounds familiar," said the sceptical Billy. "Suppose you +step over here into the light from this window. Keep your hands up." +</P> + +<P> +"Glad to—both ways," agreed the man, obeying instantly. "Satisfied +now?" +</P> + +<P> +"You can put 'em down," said Billy sliding his gun back into the +holster as soon as the light fell on the man's face. "I thought you +went up to Jacksboro to visit your uncle." +</P> + +<P> +"I did," said John Dawson. "But I thought I'd drift back for the Cross +T round-up. On my way south I stopped at Golden Bar." +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah. I was looking for a gent name of Tuckleton. I saw where he was +buried." +</P> + +<P> +"I guess you heard something while you were there, huh?" +</P> + +<P> +"I heard something in Jacksboro, too. That's why I followed you. +Let's go where we can talk private." +</P> + +<P> +On a log, in the darkness, behind the dance hall, they sat down to talk +"private." +</P> + +<P> +"What did you hear in Jacksboro?" Billy asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I heard a posse talk—six men. I met 'em over on Coldstream Creek +three-four times." +</P> + +<P> +Billy uttered a light laugh. "I figured it would be that way." +</P> + +<P> +"They seemed to think you'd oughta been camping on Coldstream." +</P> + +<P> +"What kind of a warrant did they have?" +</P> + +<P> +"All kinds. Two murders and a stage hold up." +</P> + +<P> +"Was one of 'em on account of Tuckleton?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yep. I didn't know whether to hold it against you or not." +</P> + +<P> +"You needn't. It wasn't me." +</P> + +<P> +Dawson grinned his appreciation. "I'm glad. If you had it would have +always been between us. I had figured on playing even-Steven with +Tuckleton myself." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm looking for the man who killed him. If I don't find him I needn't +go back to Golden Bar." +</P> + +<P> +"I heard you'd been suspended from office," said Dawson bluntly. +</P> + +<P> +"I hadn't heard it yet, but I expected it. Anybody else appointed?" +</P> + +<P> +"Shotgun Shillman, pro tem." +</P> + +<P> +"I almost wish it was somebody else," he said whimsically. "Shotgun is +a friend of mine, and energetic as a bear with a bee tree. He'll maybe +dump me before I do what I want." +</P> + +<P> +"If he's a friend of yours——" hinted Dawson. +</P> + +<P> +"He'd arrest his own brother, if there was a warrant issued against +him. He's that kind." +</P> + +<P> +"A conscience is a heavy load to pack," said the cynical Dawson. "Me, +I believe the end justifies the means. It don't matter much what trail +you follow, so you get there. Can I help you any?" +</P> + +<P> +"How?" +</P> + +<P> +"I dunno—any old way. You did me one good turn, and I'm not +forgetting it. Anything I got you can have any time anywhere." +</P> + +<P> +"Now, that's right clever of you," said Billy, somewhat embarrassed at +the other's gratitude. "But I don't guess you can help me any." +</P> + +<P> +"Try me," urged Dawson. +</P> + +<P> +"The man who killed Tuckleton is a man named Dan Slike, who broke out +of jail just before he was going to be tried for another murder. The +only way you can help me is by telling me where he is, and I expect you +can't do that." +</P> + +<P> +"Not right off the reel," admitted Dawson. "Ain't you picked up any +trail of this sport?" +</P> + +<P> +"I've cut his trail five different places, Bow Bells, Gunsight, +Dragoon, Shadyside, and the Rafter L. I figured he'd come here after +leavin' the Rafter L—it's only thirty miles. But I guess he didn't. +Leastwise nobody seems to have noticed anybody of his description." +</P> + +<P> +"You haven't described him to me yet," pointed out Dawson. +</P> + +<P> +Billy began. "—and maybe a black beard by now," he concluded. +</P> + +<P> +"Bow Bells, Gunsight, Dragoon, Shadyside and the Rafter L," repeated +Dawson, rasping a hand across his stubbly chin. +</P> + +<P> +"South, y'understand, till he reached Shadyside, and then he headed +northeast to the Rafter L. What I'd like to know is what made him +change direction thataway?" +</P> + +<P> +"He ain't in any hurry to leave the territory, that's a cinch." +</P> + +<P> +"Not after he left Shadyside, anyway." +</P> + +<P> +"Something happened there to head him." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure. But whatever it was it wasn't visible to the naked eye. Rafter +L, the same way. He stopped there for dinner and rode away without +spending the night." +</P> + +<P> +"He may have gone to Marquis." +</P> + +<P> +Billy nodded. "He may. But Marquis is more north than east. That's +why I came here first. Anyway, to-morrow morning I'm riding to +Marquis, and if he ain't there I'll sift through the country between +Marquis and Dorothy. There are several ranches in between those two +towns." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll go with you," announced Dawson. +</P> + +<P> +Billy surveyed his neighbor in surprise. "You. What for?" +</P> + +<P> +"For him—exercise—any old thing you like, that is, if it ain't a +private party." +</P> + +<P> +"You can sit in if you want to," said Billy slowly, more glad to accept +an ally than he cared to admit. "But you've got a job." +</P> + +<P> +"The job can wait. Round up's over, so it won't hurt the ranch to lose +my valuable services for a spell. To-morrow we go to Marquis, huh?" +</P> + +<P> +By mid-afternoon the following day Billy Wingo was riding into Marquis +from one direction and Dawson was riding in from another. As apparent +strangers they believed they could do better work. Before six o'clock +Billy had judiciously canvassed every saloon in the place and had +learned absolutely nothing. Either Slike had not entered Marquis, or +else he was wearing a disguise. In the twilight, in the brush beyond +the far-flung skirmishline of empty tin cans and bottles that surrounds +every cow-country town, he met his friend Dawson. The latter had +worked the stores and the dance hall, but he had nothing to report. +The following day Billy journeyed by the one road to Dorothy, while +Dawson traveled by a more circuitous route that would take him past two +ranch houses where there might be information to be picked up. Billy +Wingo, without pushing his horse, reached Dorothy too late for the +regular dinner at the hotel. Adjoining the Carnation Saloon was a +two-by-four restaurant. He entered the place, sat down at the +oilcloth-covered table and gave his order to the good-looking young +woman who was evidently cook, hasher and washer combined. +</P> + +<P> +In one corner of the restaurant an eight-year-old girl was squatting on +the floor and bathing two wooden dollies in a tin wash-basin. A small +dog waggled in from the street, sniffed respectfully at Billy's boots, +then hunted along a crack in the floor with his nose till he came +within reach of the eight-year-old, who promptly seized him by his +short tail and dragged him, ki-yiing his protests, to her bosom. +</P> + +<P> +"You need a bath," said the eight-year-old. "I'll wash you." +</P> + +<P> +Gripping her victim firmly by one ear and his tail she plumped him +splash into the washbasin. To the dog's eternal credit he made no +attempt to bite her, but he wriggled and squirmed and threw his body +about, and ever he lamented loudly. +</P> + +<P> +The good-looking young woman poked her head in from the kitchen. +"Winnie, you leave Towler be. You know he doesn't like to be teased. +Why don't you go on giving Emmaline and Sally Jane their baths. There! +Now, see what's happened—basin upset and water all over the floor. +That's the third time to-day I've had to mop up after you." +</P> + +<P> +Little Winnie was a damsel of parts. "I'm sorry, auntie. I'll mop up. +Towler, you git." +</P> + +<P> +Towler got. Winnie began to sop up the water with a floor rag which +she wrung out in the washbasin. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll finish giving you your bath, Sally Jane, soon as I get fresh +water. Emmaline is nice and clean, but you're a dirty, dirty girl, +Sally Jane." +</P> + +<P> +Sally Jane! There it was again. Merely a coincidence, of course, but +it was odd to run across this combination of proper names. Billy began +to take more than a passing interest in the eight-year-old. +</P> + +<P> +The little girl resumed her animated monologue. "I tell you what, +Sally Jane, if you don't keep yourself cleaner, I'm gonna go back to +calling you Maria again." +</P> + +<P> +Then it was that the hunch came to Billy Wingo. +</P> + +<P> +"Winnie," he said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and +wearing his most engaging smile, "Winnie, that Sally Jane dolly is sure +one fine-looking lady." +</P> + +<P> +Winnie regarded him with an indulgent eye. "She's my favorite, Sally +Jane is." +</P> + +<P> +"Sally Jane is a pretty name too." +</P> + +<P> +"I like it." +</P> + +<P> +"You haven't always called her Sally Jane, have you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not always. I used to call her Mariar. My auntie says Mariar sounds +like a cat talking, but I liked it till I heard Sally Jane, then I +liked Sally Jane best." +</P> + +<P> +"And when did you hear the name Sally Jane?" +</P> + +<P> +"Long, long ago." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" Disappointment on the part of Billy Wingo. Farewell, hunch. +Nevertheless he essayed a forlorn hope. "How long?" +</P> + +<P> +"Most a week." +</P> + +<P> +Most a week! Billy had forgotten that child-time runs faster than +grown-up time. The hunch pricked up its little ears and began to +return. "Where did you hear that name?" +</P> + +<P> +"Man in the Carnation. He was drunk, and he went round talking to God +in the saloon. I heard him through the window. Lots of men do that. +My Auntie says they'll frizzle when they die." +</P> + +<P> +"They ought to," pronounced the righteously indignant Bill. "Did this +man say anything, about Sally Jane?" +</P> + +<P> +"Lots." +</P> + +<P> +"In the saloon?" +</P> + +<P> +"At the woodpile out back. I was making a li'l doll-house behind it, +and he came and lay down beside the woodpile to sleep it off." +</P> + +<P> +Oh, the wisdom of the frontier child. +</P> + +<P> +"Weren't you afraid?" probed Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"Nah. Why, you needn't ever be afraid of a drunk man. They can't hurt +you if you keep out of their way. I've seen lots of drunk men, I have, +in my time." +</P> + +<P> +Billy was somewhat overwhelmed. "That's fine," he said lamely. "Did +you run away when the drunk man came out to the woodpile to sleep it +off?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nah. Ain't I said I ain't scared of drunks? I didn't run away. I +stayed right there on the other side of the woodpile listening to the +drunk man." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you said he went to sleep." +</P> + +<P> +"He talked in his sleep," patiently explained the amazing Winnie. +</P> + +<P> +"What did he say?" +</P> + +<P> +"Lots." +</P> + +<P> +"Did he say anything about Sally Jane?" +</P> + +<P> +"He said he loved her." +</P> + +<P> +"Anything else?" +</P> + +<P> +"He said he was gonna marry Sally Jane, by Gawd, and nobody else was +gonna do it but him." +</P> + +<P> +"Did he talk about any men?" +</P> + +<P> +"He talked about Bill." +</P> + +<P> +"Bill who?" +</P> + +<P> +"Bill Wingo." +</P> + +<P> +"Now, we're gettin' there. Did he say anything particular about Bill +Wingo?" +</P> + +<P> +"He said he was gonna shoot him." +</P> + +<P> +"What for?" +</P> + +<P> +"For being sheriff, or something. I don't remember that exactly." +</P> + +<P> +"You've remembered enough. What kind of a looking man was this drunk?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, he was an old, old man." +</P> + +<P> +"Old, huh? How old?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, about your age." +</P> + +<P> +Billy began to feel like Methuselah. "What did he look like in the +face?" +</P> + +<P> +The winsome Winnie looked at him critically. "Something like you in +the face. Sort of scrubby-looking and dirty—except maybe his whiskers +wasn't so long as yours." +</P> + +<P> +"What color were the whiskers?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, black." +</P> + +<P> +"Was his hair black?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yop, his hair was black." +</P> + +<P> +"Was he a li'l, short, runty feller?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nope, he was a big, tall feller, skinny sort of." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you hear his name?" +</P> + +<P> +"His friend called him Damn-your-soul sometimes and Jack sometimes." +</P> + +<P> +So Jack Murray had gathered unto himself a friend. This was +interesting, especially as Jack was apparently still cherishing plans +for revenge. If Jack and the anonymous friend were in the vicinity of +Dorothy, it behooved a man in Billy's position to look to himself. +</P> + +<P> +Billy had no illusions about Jack Murray. The man was perfectly +capable of making another try at him from ambush. He did not believe +that Jack would "snitch." Such procedure would indubitably attract too +much public attention to Jack. He couldn't afford that. Not with +three thousand dollars on his head. +</P> + +<P> +"Is the drunk with the black hair and whiskers around town?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"They ate dinner here yesterday." +</P> + +<P> +"They—oh, he and his friend?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yep, him and his friend." +</P> + +<P> +Billy got up and went to the door of the kitchen. "Excuse me, ma'am, +do you remember a tall, black-haired feller and a friend with him who +ate in here yesterday noon?" +</P> + +<P> +Oh, yes, the good-looking girl remembered perfectly both men. Billy +thought that it would be as well to have a description of the friend. +Would she describe him. She would and did. The description was that +of Slike, Slike with a short beard. The man's eyes, she said, seemed +to bore right through her. They gave her the creeps. +</P> + +<P> +Billy believed he had heard enough for the time being. +</P> + +<P> +After dinner Billy went up and down Main Street, scraping acquaintance +with storekeepers, saloon keepers, the hotel proprietor and the town +marshall. By five o'clock he had established the fact that two ranches +of the neighborhood, the TU and the Horseshoe were at loggerheads, and +that the Horseshoe was hiring gunfighters; that the black-haired man +called Jack and his friend, whose name no one knew, had been engaged in +conversation with the Horseshoe foreman; that the following day they +had told a bartender that they had offers of good jobs at one hundred a +month apiece; and that finally, a wolfer had met them on the range +riding in the direction of the Horseshoe ranch. +</P> + +<P> +That night Billy and Dawson disappeared from Dorothy. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap23"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE GUNFIGHTERS +</H4> + +<P> +Crack! Crack! Crack! the voices of the Winchesters drifted faintly +down wind to the ears of Billy and Dawson. Billy, fearful that some +one else had seen their quarry first, swore frankly. +</P> + +<P> +"Cheer up," said Dawson. "It may be just the chance we're lookin' for. +They've stopped shootin'." +</P> + +<P> +Billy remained pessimistic. He had been disappointed so often. But it +was the chance they were looking for, after all. +</P> + +<P> +Five minutes later from the edge of a flat-topped hill, they were +looking down upon a scene that has had many counterparts in the history +of the West. +</P> + +<P> +Below the flat-topped hill a wide stretch of rolling ground reached +away to a semi-circle of low hills. A quarter-mile out from the base +of the hills a tiny fire smoked fitfully. Beyond the fire lay a +hog-tied calf. Beyond the calf, a man sprawled behind the body of a +pony. He was aiming a rifle at another man ensconced below a cutbank +bordering a small creek that meandered with many windings across the +rolling country. This second man was not blatantly visible. Even with +the glasses it was difficult to make him out. For cottonwoods grew +above the cutbank and the man lay in deep shadow. +</P> + +<P> +Between this man and the man behind the pony were three hundred yards +of ground as flat as a floor. Billy swept the background of the +cutbank man with his glasses. "There are two horses tied behind a +windfall alongside those rocks. Where's the other man?" +</P> + +<P> +"There's the other man," said Dawson, pointing toward a gap in the +cottonwoods alongside the creek fifty yards down stream from the +cutbank. "What's he doing—drinking?" +</P> + +<P> +Billy turned his glasses on the spot indicated. "He ain't drinking," +he said soberly. "His head's under water." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure hoping he ain't Dan Slike," Dawson said matter-of-factly. +</P> + +<P> +"Me too. What——" +</P> + +<P> +For the man behind the cutbank was climbing up among the +cottonwoods—climbing up and walking out into plain sight of the man +behind the pony. Not only that, but, the rifle across the crook of his +elbow, nursing the butt with his right hand, he began to walk directly +toward him. Still the man behind the pony did not fire. +</P> + +<P> +"He's cashed all right," Billy remarked suddenly. "He looked so +natural he fooled me for a minute. Let's go down across the creek. +We're in luck to-day." +</P> + +<P> +They ran down the reverse slope of the flat-topped hill, cut across the +creek and approached the horses tied behind the windfall. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid we'll just naturally have to kill Dan, after all," grieved +Billy. "He won't ever surrender. I——" +</P> + +<P> +"Tell you," said Dawson, "loosen the cinches; then no matter which +horse he tops he'll jerk himself down. Then maybe while he's all +tangled up with himself and the saddle——" +</P> + +<P> +"Catchem-alivoes ourselves," said Billy, with a hard grin, and tossed +up the near fender of one of the saddles. +</P> + +<P> +When both saddles had been carefully doctored, Billy and his friend +retired modestly behind some red willows. +</P> + +<P> +Soon they heard a scramble and a splash in the creek. Dan Slike was +coming back. Through the screen of leaves they watched him coming +toward them. They heard his voice. He was swearing a great string of +oaths. Billy crouched a trifle lower. His six-shooter was out, but +not cocked. Dawson had followed his example. +</P> + +<P> +Slike jammed his Winchester into one of the empty scabbards and untied +the bridle reins of the horses. Holding the reins in one hand, he +gripped a saddle horn and simultaneously stuck toe in stirrup. Ensued +then a mighty creak of saddle leather, a snort, a plunge, and Slike +found himself on his back on the ground with one foot higher than his +head. A gun barrel appeared from nowhere and smote him smartly over +the ear. Oh, ye sun, moon and stars! Total darkness. +</P> + +<P> +Billy sprang to the heads of the capering horses. "Take his hat off, +Johnny!" he cried. "See what you find under the sweatband!" +</P> + +<P> +When Slike emerged into the full possession of his senses, he was the +most disgusted man in the territory. +</P> + +<P> +"You gave us quite a run," Billy observed smilelessly. +</P> + +<P> +Slike damned everybody. "You needn't have tied my hands too," he added. +</P> + +<P> +"We can't afford to take chances. Do you feel like admitting that the +district attorney helped you break jail?" +</P> + +<P> +Slike glared defiantly. "Nothin' to say," declared Dan Slike, the +unrepentant. +</P> + +<P> +"That's your privilege. Suppose now we heave him up on his horse and +go see what happened." +</P> + +<P> +They freed his feet, mounted him on the horse that was not packing the +rifle and proceeded. Behind the gap in the cottonwoods, fifty yards +below the spot under the cutbank where Slike had lain, they found the +body of the man with his face in the water. Billy dragged out the body +and turned it on its back. +</P> + +<P> +"What you cussin' for?" inquired Dawson. +</P> + +<P> +"This feller ain't Jack Murray," cried the perplexed Mr. Wingo. "It's +Skinny Shindle." +</P> + +<P> +"Looks like we must have missed a bet somewhere," said Dawson. +"Plugged him plumb center, didn't he?" he added, alluding to the +red-and-blue bullet hole squarely between the staring eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"I got the other sport," snarled Slike. +</P> + +<P> +"Where's Jack Murray?" demanded Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"What difference does that make?" flung back Dan Slike. +</P> + +<P> +It was evident that Slike was not in a confiding mood. +</P> + +<P> +Nobody said anything further. They left Skinny Shindle lying beside +the little creek and went on to where the other dead man lay beside the +embers of the branding fire. +</P> + +<P> +"That's a TU horse," said Dawson, glancing at the brand on the pony's +hip. +</P> + +<P> +Billy turned the dead man face upward. He whistled. "Here's an odd +number, Johnny. This feller is Simon Reelfoot's foreman. You've heard +me speak of that low-lived persimmon, Simon Reelfoot. This boy is +named Conley. Been with Reelfoot for years. I'd sure like to know why +he's riding for the T.U." +</P> + +<P> +Came then a puncher riding on his occasions. At sight of the three men +and the calf and the fire, he spurred toward them. A hundred yards +away he suddenly pulled up and slipped to the far side of his horse. +</P> + +<P> +"I know him," said Dawson. "Used to ride for Tasker once. C'mon, +Tommy, what you scared of? It's me, Johnny Dawson." +</P> + +<P> +Tommy at once remounted and rode in to them. "'Lo, Johnny," he said, +with a straight mouth. "Did that man with his arms tied kill Daley?" +</P> + +<P> +"Is that his name?" asked Billy, flicking his thumb toward the dead man. +</P> + +<P> +"Jim Daley," said Tommy. "Did he?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, I killed him," Slike truculently answered the question. "What +about it?" +</P> + +<P> +At that instant Billy demonstrated that the hand is sometimes quicker +than the eye. +</P> + +<P> +"He'll die anyway," he said mildly. "You better let us do it." +</P> + +<P> +"I pass," surrendered Tommy, removing his hand from the butt of his +six-shooter. +</P> + +<P> +"Daley got one before he went," said Billy, returning his six-shooter +whence it came. "He's back there on the bank of the creek if you want +to look." +</P> + +<P> +"This is sure hard on Daley," observed Tommy, dismounting to turn loose +the calf. "He told me he came north for his health." +</P> + +<P> +"North?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah, couldn't stand the climate in Arizona, he said," amplified +Tommy, loosening the knot. "Git up, feller, pull your freight. Life's +sure funny. I'll bet that calf's the first Daley ran our iron on. He +only joined the outfit last week. Let's go see if I know the other +feller." +</P> + +<P> +Since the place where the dead man lay was on their back trail, they +went with Tommy, the TU boy. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure, I know him," declared Tommy, after one look at the dead face. +"He's named Brindley—been with the Horseshoe since February." +</P> + +<P> +Which simple statement explained the presence of Skinny Shindle, but +left Jack Murray completely to the imagination. After all, decided +Billy, Jack Murray did not matter, and promptly forgot him. Had he +known how important a place the slippery Mr. Murray actually held in +the scheme of things, he, Billy Wingo, would not have been so casual. +</P> + +<P> +"We gotta make a heap of trail," said Dawson to Billy, when Tommy had +departed in suspicious haste. "That damn Tommy is going to the ranch +for the rest of his bunch. First thing we know we'll lose our +prisoner." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't hurry on my account," said the sardonic Slike. "If I gotta be +hung, lemme be hung and no fuss about it. I don't want to ride all the +way north again." +</P> + +<P> +"We need you, Dan," said Billy briefly. "No hanging goes yet a while." +</P> + +<P> +Forthwith they began to "make a heap of trail." It may as well be said +at once that they saw no further signs of Tommy or any other of the TU +boys. +</P> + +<P> +Toward dawn next day the horses showed signs of tiring. "Mine won't +last another five miles," said Johnny Dawson. +</P> + +<P> +"This is as good a place as any," said Billy briefly. "We'll stop +here." +</P> + +<P> +They dismounted Slike and stripped and hobbled the horses. Slike had +not enjoyed the long night ride. He was disposed to be peevish. "I +want a smoke," he demanded. +</P> + +<P> +Billy ceased pounding coffee and fixed him with a hard eye. "You won't +get it," he said shortly. +</P> + +<P> +"Helluva way to treat a prisoner," snarled Slike. "You done better by +me when I was in jail." +</P> + +<P> +"Lots of things have happened since. But don't you fret. I'll give +you what you deserve in about five minutes. I missed out on it +yesterday, but I'll try to see you don't lose anything by the delay." +</P> + +<P> +"Huh?" puzzled Slike. +</P> + +<P> +"You remember going to Miss Walton's ranch," elaborated Billy in a +cold, monotonous tone. "You beat her." +</P> + +<P> +"Hell, nothin' to that. I only pulled her hair a few times and slammed +her once or twice." +</P> + +<P> +"You kicked her, too." +</P> + +<P> +"Not hard, though. Besides, I had to. She was stubborn. My Gawd, you +wouldn't begin to believe how stubborn that girl was!" +</P> + +<P> +Billy laid aside the rock with which he had been pounding coffee. "I +guess the coffee can wait better than I can." +</P> + +<P> +He stood up limberly and unbuckled his cartridge belt and dropped it +beside Johnny Dawson, who was slicing bacon. Then he crossed to Slike +and untied the knots of the rope that bound him. Slike stretched his +arms and legs but made no offer to rise. Billy nudged him in the ribs +with the toe of his boot. +</P> + +<P> +"What's that for?" roared Slike, scrambling to his feet. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to give you the best licking you ever got. You've had it +coming a long time, and now you're going to get it." +</P> + +<P> +"Is that so?" sneered Slike. "Is that so? You expecting to do all +this without help?" +</P> + +<P> +Fists doubled, Billy started for Slike. The latter side-stepped and +feinted Billy into a position between himself and Dawson. Slike +crouched. His right hand flashed downward. The fingers fumbled at his +bootleg. Billy ran in, expecting to beat Slike flat. +</P> + +<P> +"Look out!" cried Dawson, as Slike's hand shot up and out, accompanied +by the vicious twinkle of steel. +</P> + +<P> +But Billy, coming in with the speed of a springing wildcat, slipped a +bootsole on a rock and fell. Slike's thrust sped past his head so +close that Slike's knuckles brushed his ear. +</P> + +<P> +Billy got one foot under himself and threw up an arm in time to catch +on the turn the wrist of Slike's knife hand. Slike promptly changed +hands. But Billy caught the other wrist, not, however, before the +knife had narrowly missed slicing the flesh on his floating ribs. +Slike's head dipped forward and he sank his teeth in Billy's shoulder. +Billy drove a knee into Slike's stomach and Slike unclamped his teeth +with a gasp. Over he went. Billy stayed with him. +</P> + +<P> +Dawson, who had dropped bacon and frying-pan at the first blow, saw his +opportunity and lunged down to wrench away Slike's knife. Which was +not at all to Billy's mind. +</P> + +<P> +"Let it alone!" gasped the warrior. "He ain't giving me a bit o' +trouble." +</P> + +<P> +The reluctant Dawson obeyed. +</P> + +<P> +Slike, his body writhing like that of a scotched snake, could not budge +his pinned-down knife hand. Inch by inch Billy dragged his own body +forward and upward until he was resting on his knees with Slike between +his legs. +</P> + +<P> +"Leggo that knife!" he directed. +</P> + +<P> +Slike's reaction was humanly natural. At least, there were no hobbles +on his tongue. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, all right, if you say so," Billy told him, and rejoiced to +perceive the top of a small rock not six inches from Slike's knife hand. +</P> + +<P> +He forced the knife hand inward toward the rock. Then he proceeded, +with all his might, to batter the back of Slike's hand against the +pointed top of the rock. Slike's face changed at the first blow; at +the second he involuntarily groaned; at the third his fingers unclosed. +The knife tinkled on the rock. +</P> + +<P> +Billy pounced on the knife, threw it yards away and scrambled to his +feet. "Get up, Slike! Stand on your feet! Come and get it!" +</P> + +<P> +Whatever other thing Slike was, he was certainly no coward. Instead he +was a glutton for punishment. He jerked himself to his feet and ran +headlong into a straight-arm blow that made his nose bleed and his neck +ache. As has been said, Slike had no science. Neither had Billy. In +which respect the fight was equal. But Slike was only fighting for +himself. Billy was fighting not only for himself but to revenge +Slike's treatment of the girl he loved. +</P> + +<P> +When he flattened Slike's nose, pleasure ensued—for Billy. It was joy +to his heart when the next blow landed on Slike's right eye and laid +him all along the grass. Three times Billy knocked Slike down, and +three times the killer hopped to his feet and came back for more. But +after the third knockdown it was noticeable that Slike was appreciably +slower and considerably more cautious. His face was a sight. One eye +was completely closed. His nose was broken, his lips cut and two teeth +were missing. +</P> + +<P> +Slike came to a halt in front of Billy, blew a bubble of blood from his +lips and wiped his good eye with the back of his hand. He swayed on +his legs. But this display of weakness was more apparent than genuine. +Billy, watching Slike's one good eye, was not misled thereby. There +was no hint of weakness in Slike's eye. Indeed, there was strength and +hatred a-plenty. +</P> + +<P> +Accordingly, when Slike suddenly lowered his head and dodged in under +Billy's guard with the evident intention of starting another "snatch +and wrastle," Billy was ready, very ready. His uplifted knee met Slike +full in the face. Slike straightened instantly, and Billy hooked his +right to the point of the chin. Slike didn't need that last blow. The +knee blow had already given him a clean knockout. +</P> + +<P> +He took the ground limply and lay motionless. Billy stood and looked +at him and blew upon his skinned knuckles and suddenly realized that it +was a good old world, after all. There might be some mean citizens +scattered here and there. But they always got their come-uppances in +the end. +</P> + +<P> +Dawson joined him. "Sure looked like a mule had kicked in his +dashboard. I dunno when I ever saw a more complete job. That face +don't look genuine a-tall." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sure ashamed of myself," muttered Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"Whyfor? You did just right. I'd have done the same in your place. +You got no call to be ashamed." +</P> + +<P> +"Not for licking him. That was all right. But I searched him and let +him hide out a butcher knife on me in his bootleg—<I>in his bootleg</I>." +</P> + +<P> +"That handle was down inside the leather. You couldn't see it. I +didn't." +</P> + +<P> +"I should have found it alla same," fretted Billy. "There's no excuse +for such carelessness—none." +</P> + +<P> +He went across to where he had thrown the knife and picked it up. He +caught his breath. On the handle of the butcher knife the letters TW +were cut deep into the wood. +</P> + +<P> +When, for the second time that day, Slike recovered consciousness, +Billy showed him the butcher knife. +</P> + +<P> +"How many butcher knives did you take from Walton's?" he demanded. +</P> + +<P> +"One," replied Slike. +</P> + +<P> +"And is this the one?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure it is. Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, hells bells!" exclaimed Billy, "then you didn't kill Rafe +Tuckleton." +</P> + +<P> +"First I knew he was dead," Slike said thoughtfully. "As a rule, I +don't kill my customers," he added, with a grin rendered more horrible +by his battered and bloody features. "I can't afford to. Maybe you +killed him yourself. How about it? Aw, right! Go to hell then! And +I want to say right here you tied my arms and legs too tight! There +ain't no feelin' in any of 'em!" +</P> + +<P> +Billy paid Slike no further attention. His brain seemed to find it +difficult to function. "She said he only took one knife," he told +himself stupidly and sat down to think it over. +</P> + +<P> +He had caught Slike. But he was no nearer the solution of the +Tuckleton murder than he was in the beginning. His theory that Slike +had killed Tuckleton was smashed to smithereens by the discovery of the +Walton butcher knife in Slike's bootleg. Unless Slike had taken two +knives. But Slike had not taken two knives. According to Hazel's +testimony, he had taken only one. +</P> + +<P> +It was then that Billy suddenly realized that he should have known +better in the first place than to connect Slike with the murder of +Tuckleton. Dan Slike was too experienced a longhorn to leave +incriminating evidence behind him if he could help it. And if he had +killed Tuckleton, he would at least have taken away the handle of the +knife. But the handle had been left beside the body for any one to +pick up. Manifestly, then, it had been left there with the design to +throw suspicion upon a person other than the murderer,—for instance, a +person intimately connected with the Walton ranch. +</P> + +<P> +Obviously the Tuckleton murder and the O'Gorman murder were parallel +cases. In both, clues had been left to manufacture circumstantial +evidence against the wrong person. While it did not necessarily follow +that the same brain and hands had planned and carried out both murders, +yet the point was worth considering. For it was absolutely necessary +to lay at least Tuckleton's murderer by the heels. There were no two +ways about that. Because if he were not caught, it would only be a +matter of time before Rale, by reason of his peculiar temperament, +would recover from his fright, decide to risk the wrath to come, and +once more turn the cold light of suspicion upon Hazel Walton. And that +would entail her arrest sooner or later. Indeed, to Billy Wingo the +future bore the appearance of a mighty boggy ford. +</P> + +<P> +Mechanically he began to play mumbletypeg with the butcher knife—palm +of hand, back of hand, right fist, left fist, and had progressed as far +as his left pinky in the movement known as off fingers of each hand +when he sat back and stared at the knife quivering in the turf. He +thought he saw a gleam of light. The very fact of the two knives, each +a match of the other, was as obvious a contrariety as any that ever +delighted the soul of Mr. William Noy. Attaching to the demise of Rafe +Tuckleton was another contrariety, several others in fact. Billy +checked off the various contrarieties on his fingers. The gleam of +light became a ray, the ray broadened to the bright light of complete +understanding. +</P> + +<P> +He hugged his knees and smiled the pleasant self-satisfied smile of the +proverbial cat that has just received the canary into its midst. "I +got him! I got him where the hair is short. It's one complete cinch." +</P> + +<P> +Early one morning several days later the sheriff <I>pro tem.</I> of Crocker +County was roused by rappings on the office door. Being an experienced +man, Shotgun Shillman did not open the front door. He went round the +back way with his gun in his hand. But his caution was needless. For, +on circling the house, he found no one at the front door but Dan +Slike—a hatless Dan Slike flat on his back in the dust, tied hand and +foot, and with a gag in his mouth. Looped around Dan's ankles was one +end of a lariat. At the other end of the lariat stood Hazel Walton's +riding horse. +</P> + +<P> +Later in the day Guerilla Melody called on Nate Samson, asked the +storekeeper several apparently aimless questions and leafed through the +cutlery pages of Nate's hardware catalogue. Still later in the day +Johnny Dawson rode out of Golden Bar. Only two people besides himself +knew that he was bound for the railroad and a telegraph line. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap24"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +CONTRARIETIES +</H4> + +<P> +"There's a lot of this stuff I don't understand," said Guerilla Melody +the day after Dawson's return from the railroad. "Why did Conley go +south? Reelfoot and he were almighty friendly. Got drunk together and +everything. And Conley ain't committed any crime round here that I +know of." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm betting he did, alla same," said Billy. "Or else why was he so +particular to tell those TU boys he was from Arizona? Folks don't hide +where they come from without a reason. We know there have been two +murders committed here by unknown murderers. It never occurred to me +till you said Conley hadn't committed any crime that you know of that +maybe—" He left the sentence unfinished. +</P> + +<P> +Guerilla looked bewildered. "What did Conley have against Tip?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know," said Billy. "But I intend to find out." +</P> + +<P> +"That's the trick," chipped in Dawson. "In cases like this it pays to +dig into the innards of everything you don't understand. You're almost +sure to find out somethin'." +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe friend Simon can tell us somethin'," Billy said. "Let's go. +It'll be sunrise in two hours." +</P> + +<P> +Simon Reelfoot, riding the range that day, met a horseman who said he +was strayman for the Wagonwheel outfit north of the West Fork. Did +Simon know where Park Valley was? Simon knew, and gave the strayman +minute directions. +</P> + +<P> +"Shucks," said the strayman, "I can't carry all that in my head. +Here's a envelope and a pencil. Make a li'l map like, will you?" +</P> + +<P> +Simon was not an adept with the pencil. To use either it or a pen +required the most perfect concentration and his tongue in his cheek. +Wondering greatly at the strayman's claimed inability to remember a few +simple landmarks, Simon took the pencil and envelope and bent over his +saddle horn. +</P> + +<P> +"Here," he said, after three minutes' work, holding out the envelope, +"This ought to fix you up." +</P> + +<P> +To this horror, the well-known voice of Billy Wingo at his back +concurred readily. "It ought to," said Billy Wingo. "We're obliged to +you, Simon. Kindly clasp your hands over your hat." +</P> + +<P> +The envelope and pencil fell to the ground as Simon obeyed. The +strayman dismounted and picked them up. +</P> + +<P> +"You oughtn't to have given him that envelope," Billy admonished the +strayman. "It has the confession in it. You got to be more careful." +</P> + +<P> +"I will," said the strayman humbly, and tucked the envelope into his +pocket. +</P> + +<P> +Simon stirred uneasily on his saddle. Confession! Whose confession? +He recalled that there had been several folded sheets of paper in the +envelope. Of course, Simon could not know that these sheets were +white,—innocent of either handwriting or printing. But Simon's +conscience was a helpful little thing. And Simon's mind was prone to +jump at conclusions. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll just take your gun, Simon," murmured Billy. "I don't think you'd +do anything reckless, but you might. Slide off easy. That's it. You +look kind of bewildered, Simon. Don't know how I got here, do you? +Easy, like eatin' pie. While you were hard at work with your pencil, +Guerilla and I were tippytoeing out of that stand of timber behind us a +ways. You shouldn't be so trusting of strangers, feller. <I>Keep your +paws up</I>! Just because I've felt you all over and haven't found an +extra gun or knife doesn't signify you can do as you please. You stand +right still and steady. Johnny, let's have that envelope. My friend +will watch you, Simon, while I glance over this." +</P> + +<P> +Billy took the envelope, fingered out the sheets of paper and unfolded +them. His lip moved as he solemnly looked them over. It was apparent +to Reelfoot that he was refreshing his memory. +</P> + +<P> +"Simon," Billy said, glancing up suddenly, "why did Conley go South?" +</P> + +<P> +Simon's leathery face assumed a richly jaundiced hue. "I—I dunno!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, you do," Billy insisted, striking the sheets of paper with his +fist. "We found Conley. He was working for the TU when he died." +</P> + +<P> +Simon's face went even yellower. "I told him not to go," muttered +Simon Reelfoot. +</P> + +<P> +"Conley talked before he died," said Billy. "He told me some +interesting things about himself—and you. We've got you dead to +rights, Simon." Here Billy stuffed the sheets of paper into his +trousers pocket and gripped Simon by the throat. "You damned murderer, +what did you kill him for?" +</P> + +<P> +At the fierce clutch of Billy's fingers, Simon's shaking legs refused +to uphold him longer. He fell on his knees. "I—I didn't kill him!" +he spluttered. "He was dead when——" +</P> + +<P> +"You lie! You killed him! Conley said so! You tried to throw the +blame on me by leaving behind—" Billy's voice trailed off into +silence. +</P> + +<P> +"That was Conley's idea!" screamed the panicky Reelfoot. "He got the +hatband and quirt one day when nobody was in the office. I didn't have +anything to do with it! Conley shot him, too!" +</P> + +<P> +"Conley shot him too, huh? Then you shot Tip your own self?" +</P> + +<P> +"He was gonna squeal! He was gonna get me mixed into that Walton +murder! They told me he was! He—he pulled first, I tell you! It was +an even break! I was drunk! I didn't know what I was doing! Oh, my +Gawd!" +</P> + +<P> +Billy flung the groveling Simon from him. "This ought to be enough for +you." +</P> + +<P> +Guerilla wagged an admiring head as he set about securing the arms of +the wretched Reelfoot. "Gotta give you credit, Bill. I never thought +it would work." +</P> + +<P> +"I did," said the strayman, Johnny Dawson. "I've seen it done before. +Most folks are sheep when it comes to a bluff." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't tie him too tight, Guerilla. Might as well ask him some more +questions." +</P> + +<P> +That evening there was another prisoner in the Golden Bar calaboose. +"If they keep on coming in like this," said Shotgun Shillman to Riley +Tyler, "we'll have to build an addition to the jail." +</P> + +<P> +"The more the merrier," grinned Riley Tyler. "Listen to that +skunkified Reelfoot! You'd think he was having the horrors, the way +he's carrying on." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you hear what he said about leaving a lantern outside the cell all +night, account of Tip haunting him in the dark?" +</P> + +<P> +Riley nodded. "I heard. His nerve has gone completely bust." +</P> + +<P> +"It's funny how he keeps insisting that Bill Wingo was with Guerilla +and that Dawson man when they captured him. Why, everybody knows Bill +Wingo is far, far away." Thus Shotgun Shillman, his tongue in his +cheek. +</P> + +<P> +"Damfunny," Riley assented with a wink. "Especially when Guerilla and +Dawson said they hadn't seen a sign of Bill, not a sign. You might +almost think Simon Reelfoot was mistaken." +</P> + +<P> +"You might," chuckled Shotgun Shillman. "I wonder, speaking as man to +man, and not as sheriff <I>pro tem.</I> to his deputy, where Bill is anyway." +</P> + +<P> +"Probably in town this minute. It would be just like him." +</P> + +<P> +"Guessin' thataway is bad business," Shotgun reproved Riley. "Besides, +you're mistaken. If we thought Billy was in town, it would be our duty +to hop out and arrest him, wouldn't it? You bet it would. So we don't +think he's in town. That is certain sure. You wanna mix a li'l common +sense with your job, Riley. You're too half-baked by a jugful. You +keep on expressin' opinions so free and easy, and first thing you know +folks will think we ain't so anxious to arrest Bill." +</P> + +<P> +"Some of 'em think so now," said the unimpressed Riley. +</P> + +<P> +"Ain't that the public all over!" exclaimed the justly indignant +Shotgun. "Tell you, an honest officer of the law is never appreciated, +never. Is that bottle empty, Riley?" +</P> + +<P> +In the meantime Billy Wingo was calmly eating his supper in the house +of Guerilla Melody. On Guerilla's bed Dawson was snoring the sleep of +exhaustion. +</P> + +<P> +"What next?" asked Guerilla Melody, when Billy was lighting his +after-supper cigarette. "With Tip's murder settled and knowin' who +killed Tuckleton——" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly doesn't help us any with the stage holdup," cut in Billy. +"Before we spring the joke in the Tuckleton deal, I've got to do a li'l +more work on the hold-up. Dumping Rafe's murderer won't do me a heap +of good while I'm breaking rock for twenty years at Hillsville. Don't +look so glum, Guerilla. There's a trail out. There always is." +</P> + +<P> +At the tail of the woods a convivial voice in the street broke into +boisterous song. "Who's that?" asked Billy. +</P> + +<P> +"It's Jerry Fern," said Guerilla indifferently. "He's drunk again." +</P> + +<P> +"Ain't it kind of new for him? He never used to drink much." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, he can't stand prosperity." +</P> + +<P> +"Prosperity?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yep. Aunt died, left him some money. He ain't drove for nearly a +month." +</P> + +<P> +"The lucky devil. Big legacy?" +</P> + +<P> +"I dunno how much. Fair size, I guess. Must have been for Crafty to +lend him money to play with." +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't get so excited," cautioned Guerilla, with a nervous glance over +his shoulder. "You've no idea how your voice carries. Even if you +don't mind being dumped, I do. And I don't care three whoops about +spending two or three years in jail for giving aid and comfort to——" +</P> + +<P> +"Shut up, for Gawd's sake!" begged Billy. "Do you know Crafty's been +lending money to Jerry?" +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't I see him with my own eyes more than once? But——" +</P> + +<P> +"Say, don't you see anything else yet?" +</P> + +<P> +"I see you, but that ain't sayin' much." +</P> + +<P> +"Guerilla, if you weren't so serious you'd be funny. But don't get +down-hearted. I'm as foolish as you are, every bit. Why, when they +had me corraled in Sam Larder's house, and Crafty blatted right out +loud that he didn't know Jerry Fern was driving that trip and Tip and +Sam said later that they knew Jerry was, I had the answer to the puzzle +if I had the sense to follow it up. Especially when it turned out +later that Jerry, who always gives a bandit a battle, didn't even try +to lock horns with Crafty. But I never caught the connection till you +said Crafty was lending money to Jerry. Lending him money! Do you +think you can get Jerry Fern in here and make him drunk?" +</P> + +<P> +"When?" asked Guerilla, beginning to get a glimmering. +</P> + +<P> +"To-night. Now. I want to get Jerry so full he'll talk. Tell us all +he knows, see?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll make him drunk," Guerilla said earnestly. "And I'll make him +talk, or there ain't a drop of virtue in Old Crow." +</P> + +<P> +Guerilla flipped on his hat and departed. +</P> + +<P> +Half an hour later Guerilla returned, bringing his sheaves with him. +And, oh, the sheaves were merry and, oh, the sheaves were drunk. +Guerilla himself was giving an admirable imitation of a roistering +blade. +</P> + +<P> +"Meet my friend, Mister Johnny Dawson," said Guerilla, waving an +expansive hand toward the erstwhile strayman. +</P> + +<P> +"Huh, h'are you, Misher Juh-johnny Duh-duh-daw-son," said Jerry Fern, +solemnly shoving out a wavering paw and missing the mark by eighteen +inches. "Washer name of other tut-tut-twin?" +</P> + +<P> +For a bad moment Dawson feared that Billy Wingo had been foolish enough +to come in from the other room. Then he understood. "His name's +Eliphalet," he made reply, solemnly turning to the empty air on his +right. +</P> + +<P> +Jerry Fern again pumphandled the empty air. "Pup-pup-pleased meetcha," +he stuttered. "Cuc-cuc-cuc-can't pup-pronounce name, but thash all +ri'. All li'l friends tut-together. Wheresh bottle? You gug-got +bub-bub-bottle, Guh-guh-gil-Guerilla?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sit down," urged Guerilla, steering Jerry to anchor. "Here's your +bottle." +</P> + +<P> +Jerry Fern clasped the bottle to his bosom and sang a lusty stave. +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"Rye whisky, rye whisky,<BR> +Rye whisky, I cry.<BR> +If I don't get rye whisky<BR> +I surely will die."<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Like the boy in the story, Jerry could sing without stuttering. But +when he began again to talk, his enunciation was worse than ever. +"Buh-buh-buh-whistle for the crossing—but I ain't gug-gug-gargle gonna +die. Nun-nun-not me. I gug-got rye whuh-whisky." +</P> + +<P> +He put the bottle to his lips and went through all the motions of +taking a hearty pull. "Fuf-funny," he said, holding the bottle at +arm's length. "Wuh-wuh whisky lul-lul-lost all its taste." +</P> + +<P> +"Take the cork out," suggested Guerilla. +</P> + +<P> +"Cuc-cuc-cork?" smiled Jerry Fern. "I'll tut-take cuc-cork out." +</P> + +<P> +So saying he smashed the bottle neck against the edge of the table, +broke it short off, and drank without ceasing till the bottle was +empty. He held the bottle against the light. He pressed it to his +ear. He shook it. Then he tossed it nonchalantly over his shoulder, +laid his cheek on the table and began to snore. +</P> + +<P> +This would never do. Guerilla and Dawson shook him awake. +</P> + +<P> +"Mush been shleep," mumbled Jerry, knuckling his eyes. "Gimme anuzzer +dud-drink." +</P> + +<P> +"Not yet," said Guerilla firmly. "Is Felix Craft a good friend of +yours, Jerry?" +</P> + +<P> +"Helluva good fuf-fuf-friend," was the instant reply. +</P> + +<P> +"He doesn't pay you enough," prompted the carefully drilled Dawson. +</P> + +<P> +"Thash whu-what I tut-told him!" cried Jerry Fern, pounding the table +with a vehement fist. "I ought tut-tut-to have num-more." +</P> + +<P> +"He's treatin' you mean," said Guerilla. "He ain't goin' to give you +any more money." +</P> + +<P> +"Yesh he wuh-will," insisted Jerry. +</P> + +<P> +"He told me different." Thus Dawson. +</P> + +<P> +"Yesh he wuh-will. Huh-he'll have to gimme all money I want. Pup-put +him in juh-juh-jail if he don't." +</P> + +<P> +Guerilla and Dawson looked toward the doorway giving into the other +room. Then they began to laugh immoderately. "That's a good one," +cried Guerilla, wiping his eyes. "You can't put Felix Craft in jail. +He hasn't done anything wrong." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, ain't he?" flared Jerry Fern with all the drunkard's irritation at +being disbelieved. "I know more abub-bub-bout Fuf-felix Cuc-craft than +you thuh-think. I cuc-can muh-make Fuf-felix Cuc-craft lul-lie +dud-down and rur-roll over." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, you can." With derision. +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah, I cuc-can!" +</P> + +<P> +"What makes you think so?" +</P> + +<P> +"I know all rur-right," vaguely. +</P> + +<P> +This was maddening. Billy, in the other room, yearned to take Jerry +Fern by the scruff of his drunken neck and squeeze the truth out of him. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't know a thing about Felix Craft," persisted Guerilla. "Not a +thing." +</P> + +<P> +"Damn shame he don't pay you enough," chipped in Dawson. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe if I went to him I could get more money for you," suggested +Guerilla. He waited a moment for the meaning of this to sink in before +adding, "What will I tell him." +</P> + +<P> +"Tut-tell him I'll tell if he dud-don't pup-pay." +</P> + +<P> +This sounded promising. "Tell what?" +</P> + +<P> +"Tut-tell whuh-who held up the sush-sush-stage." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, that's nothing," said Guerilla. "Felix told me all about that. +He said you didn't help him out a-tall." +</P> + +<P> +Jerry Fern was instantly up in arms. "I dud-did so," he chattered. +"He knows bub-better. Did-didn't he plan it all out wuh-with mum-me +nun-nun-not to cuc-cuc-cut down on him, and didn't I tut-tell the +pup-passengers to muh-make sure of Bub-bill's clothes and the bub-brass +gug-gug-guard of his six-shu-shooter? Did-didn't I? Did-didn't I? +Yeah, and his huh-horse and all too? Dud-didn't I do all them +thuh-things acc-acc-accordin' to cuc-contract? Did-didn't I? +Cuc-course I did. And if Fuf-felix do-don't pay up, I'll pup-put him +in jail." +</P> + +<P> +"That's right," Guerilla soothed him. "Do anything you want with him." +He went to the door of the other room and whispered, "Has he said +enough, Bill?" +</P> + +<P> +"About," answered Billy, pushing his chair back and standing up. +</P> + +<P> +"But maybe he won't repeat it under oath when he's sober," worried +Guerilla. +</P> + +<P> +"We won't wait that long. We'll sic him on Felix right now. You go +find out where Felix is, will you, Guerilla, and— Here, wait a shake! +Better have Shotgun Shillman and Riley Tyler in on this. Huh? Course +not! Don't tell 'em I'm here. Tell 'em——" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap25"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +JONESY'S ULTIMATUM +</H4> + +<P> +"You can't tell me that infernal Bill Wingo ain't at the bottom of all +this business!" snarled Felix Craft. "Guerilla Melody and that Dawson +friend of his didn't get Slike by themselves any more than I did. I +tell you flat, Bill Wingo was the boss of that job. He was the brains, +and you can't tell me different." +</P> + +<P> +"And there was a time when we thought Bill didn't have any brains," Sam +Larder grieved bitterly. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't," avowed the district attorney. "I always knew——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you!" interrupted Felix with a sneer. "You know it all, you do. +You know so much, maybe you'll explain why Reelfoot says you told him +Tip O'Gorman was gonna tangle him up in the Walton murder and that the +easiest way was for him to down Tip." +</P> + +<P> +"He says Rafe Tuckleton told him that," corrected the district attorney. +</P> + +<P> +"He says you did too," accused Sam Larder. "What did you tell him a +thing like that for?" +</P> + +<P> +"Reelfoot's a liar," declared the district attorney. "I never told him +anything of the kind. Why should I?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know. I'd like to find out." The fat man's stare was bright +with suspicion. +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney bristled. "Good Lord, man, I was always friendly +with Tip." +</P> + +<P> +"You were friendlier with Rafe Tuckleton," pointed out Felix, "and we +all know Tip didn't have any use for Rafe after that Walton deal, and +Rafe knew it." +</P> + +<P> +"It's just possible," put in Sam Larder, "that Rafe put Reelfoot up to +downing Tip." +</P> + +<P> +"In which case," supplemented Felix, "you bein' so friendly with Rafe, +it would be natural for you to help him." +</P> + +<P> +"Next thing you'll be saying I killed Tip." Thus the district attorney +with sarcasm. +</P> + +<P> +"No, because that wouldn't be true. I know you didn't kill him. But +I'm not sure you aren't an accessory before and after the fact." +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney went pale. But he made no attempt to go after +his gun. Not against Felix Craft. Not now at any rate. "I'll settle +this with you later," he began. "I——" +</P> + +<P> +"You'll never settle anything with anybody," Felix flung the insult +with contempt. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll gain nothing by fighting among ourselves," went on the district +attorney evenly. "If we don't stick together, we'll hang together, and +you can gamble on that. If Slike talks——" +</P> + +<P> +"He'll implicate you and Tuckleton," Larder chipped in swiftly. "We're +out of <I>that</I> proposition." +</P> + +<P> +"But we all aided him to escape from jail, so we are all guilty of +felony. If Slike should choose to blat about it—" The district +attorney left the remainder of the sentence to his comrades' +imagination. +</P> + +<P> +"He's right," said Sam Larder suddenly. "We've got to stick together." +</P> + +<P> +"All right," Felix Craft said grudgingly, "I'll wait until we're out of +this muss before I ask you any more questions about egging Reelfoot to +down Tip O'Gorman, Rale. Afterward I'll get the truth out of you if I +have to choke you to death first. Oh, you needn't show your teeth at +me, feller. You won't bite." +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney swallowed hard. "You'll find your suspicion is +baseless, Felix, baseless and unjust. I had absolutely nothing to do +with the murder of Tip O'Gorman. Whoever told you——" +</P> + +<P> +"Nobody told me anything. I——" +</P> + +<P> +"Let it go for now," broke in Sam Larder. "We've got to think of our +skins. And if we don't catch Bill Wingo, they'll be gone skins." +</P> + +<P> +"You bet they will," said the district attorney. "That man at large is +a menace. He'd bushwhack any or all of us three without a moment's +hesitation. He's—he's capable of anything." +</P> + +<P> +"I know he's capable of anything," Sam Larder said with deep feeling, +thinking of Billy's escape from the Larder ranch house. "And I'd give +a good deal to know he was two feet underground. But Gawd knows we +can't do more than we have done to catch him. Felix and me have ridden +ourselves bowlegged combin' the Medicines for him." +</P> + +<P> +"You bet we have," agreed Felix. "There ain't a square foot of those +mountains we don't know intimate. Speaking personal, I've ridden—" +He paused and looked across at Sam Larder. "That bet was I'd ride more +than six hundred miles in sixty days. Remember, Sam? And the sixty +days ain't up yet, and I've ridden more than six hundred already." +</P> + +<P> +"What bet's that?" asked the district attorney chattily, anxious to +reëstablish friendly relations. "Who you bettin' with?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nobody you're interested in," parried Felix Craft, it having been +thought better to keep the district attorney in the dark regarding the +happenings at the Larder ranch house on the day of the stage hold-up. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll go the limit we've covered a thousand miles," groaned Sam. "I've +lost thirty pounds myself. I don't believe Bill ever went near the +Medicines." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, he went there, all right," said the district attorney. "Take my +word——" +</P> + +<P> +A pounding on the office door cut the sentence in half. +</P> + +<P> +"You are certainly jumpy this evening, Rale," Felix Craft said dryly. +"Open the door. Maybe it's our friend Bill." +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney obeyed with caution. Not that he expected Billy. +But then, he did not quite know what to expect. That it would be +something to trouble him he was positive. He was not disappointed. It +was a trio of the Tuckleton outfit, to wit, the foreman, Jonesy, and +two punchers, Ben Shanklin and Tim Mullin. All three were in the worst +of tempers. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, Rale," Jonesy began without preliminary, "you've fooled +with us long enough, and we're sick of it." +</P> + +<P> +"We want action," rapped out Ben Shanklin. +</P> + +<P> +"You can't come any of this high and mighty stuff over me," said the +district attorney, with an eye that flickered in spite of himself. "I +don't know what you're talking about, but if you want anything, you'll +have to ask for it in the right way, and maybe you'll get it and maybe +you won't." +</P> + +<P> +"Is that so?" fleered Jonesy. "We'll see about that. What have you +done in Rafe's case?" +</P> + +<P> +"We hope to land the murderer very soon. We have several clues. +We——" +</P> + +<P> +Jonesy banged his fist down on the table with a force that made the +windows dance. "Shut up! You and your 'we's!' Rafe's murderer is +that damn niece of Walton's, and you know it. You had her in the jug +and you turned her loose. The evidence was insufficient to hold her +on, you said. You said at that time you had evidence against Bill +Wingo and expected to catch him soon. You haven't caught him, and we +want to know what the evidence against him is. What is it? C'mon! +Spit it out!" +</P> + +<P> +"Now look here," temporized the district attorney, "I can't tell +you——" +</P> + +<P> +"You bet you can't," interrupted the angry Shanklin. "'Cause why?' +Cause you haven't any evidence against him! The only evidence you've +got is against Hazel Walton, and you've got enough of that to put her +over the jumps." +</P> + +<P> +"Lemme do the talkin', Ben," directed Jonesy. "Look here, Rale, either +you tell us what evidence you got against Bill Wingo, or you issue a +warrant for Hazel Walton's arrest. One or the other. Take your +choice." +</P> + +<P> +"Say, are you friends of Bill Wingo?" demanded the district attorney. +</P> + +<P> +"You know better than that," snapped back Jonesy. "It's just that +we're gonna know what's what." +</P> + +<P> +"But what good will it do to rearrest Hazel Walton?" +</P> + +<P> +"Then you haven't any evidence against Bill Wingo?" persisted Jonesy. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't say that. I——" +</P> + +<P> +"If you can't tell us what the evidence is, we'll take it you haven't +any. I knew there was some trick in it when you turned Hazel loose. +You and your evidence against Bill Wingo! You lousy liar, you gotta +get up early in the morning to pile us! You listen to me! You issue a +warrant for that girl's arrest immediate!" +</P> + +<P> +"I can't," denied the district attorney. "I haven't the power to issue +warrants. No justice of the peace has yet been appointed to fill +Driver's place, and the nearest judge is Donelson at Hillsville." +</P> + +<P> +"Under the law," horned in Felix Craft, suddenly choosing his side, +"when a felony has been committed, and there is reasonable cause for +believing that the person to be arrested has committed it, that person +may be arrested without a warrant." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you didn't want anything to happen to Hazel Walton," fleered +the district attorney. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want her hurt, that's all. I haven't any objection to her +being tried for the murder of Tuckleton. But I ain't going to have you +haze her around. Understand?" +</P> + +<P> +"There y'are," said Jonesy. "You don't need a warrant for the girl. +All you have to do is to give your orders to Shotgun and Riley. +They'll do the rest." +</P> + +<P> +"But after turning her loose thisaway—" began the thoroughly +frightened district attorney. +</P> + +<P> +"You can rearrest her and have her tried on that butcher-knife +evidence," insisted the stubborn Jonesy. "Just going by what she says +herself, there's enough to fix her clock twice over. You dump her, +Rale, and dump her quick." +</P> + +<P> +"Or we'll fix your clock," inserted Tim Mullin. +</P> + +<P> +The hapless district attorney cast his distressed gaze this way and +that. But every eye that met his either was unfriendly or wrathfully +hostile. Certainly there was no help for him in that room. The +district attorney shuddered. He knew Jonesy and the rest of the +Tuckleton outfit; knew, too, if he did not do as these men of violence +demanded, that they would make him hard to find. On the other hand, if +he obeyed them, Bill Wingo would as surely kill him. The district +attorney shuddered again. +</P> + +<P> +"What you shivering about?" demanded the sarcastic Tim Mullin. +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney squared his afflicted shoulders and did the +obvious,—chose the more remote of the two evils. "I'll send Shotgun +and Tyler to Prescott's to-morrow," he said, rose to his feet and,—the +door flew open, and, Jerry Fern, wild-eyed with liquor, stumbled into +the room. The stage driver rolled straight to Felix Craft and pawed +him. "Fuf-felix," he babbled, "I wan' shush-shome mon-money." +</P> + +<P> +The furious Felix shook him off. But Jerry Fern was nothing if not +persistent. He returned with bellowings. +</P> + +<P> +The grinning faces of Guerilla Melody, Johnny Dawson, Shotgun and Riley +looked in through the open doorway. +</P> + +<P> +"Come along, Jerry," called Guerilla. "We been hunting you all over." +</P> + +<P> +Jerry Fern was not in the least interested in coming along. He had +another and very definite end in view. "Fuf-felix, gug-gimme shome +mum-money!" +</P> + +<P> +Felix bit off a curse. "Look here, Jerry," he said soothingly, patting +the hysterical drunkard on the back, "you go home and sleep it off. +You don't want to go whoppin' round this way at your age." +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney, Jonesy and his two punchers stared. This was +another Felix. The Felix they knew would have knocked the sot down. +</P> + +<P> +"I wuh-wuh-wan' shush-shome mum-money," gargled Jerry, even as Billy's +four friends pushed in through the open doorway. +</P> + +<P> +"You come along with me," urged Felix, gently propelling Jerry toward +the street. +</P> + +<P> +Jerry braced his feet mulewise. "I wuh-won't! I wuh-won't! I +wuh-wan' mum-money you promised me." +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't promise you a nickel," said Felix, wrestling with his +emotions. "But come along, and I'll give you some money if you're hard +up." +</P> + +<P> +"Huh-how much?" +</P> + +<P> +"Plenty. I'll give you what you deserve." There was cream and butter +in the gambler's voice, but there was grisly menace in his restless +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Gug-guve mum-me more than you gug-gave bub-before?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes. C'mon!" +</P> + +<P> +"Wuh-want mum-money now!" yelped the contumacious Jerry, "or I'll +pup-put you in jail!" +</P> + +<P> +At which Felix lost his patience and his head and gave Jerry the bum's +rush through the doorway. Jerry skidded across the sidewalk and slid a +yard on his nose. This annoyed him considerably. He sat up, +supporting himself on a wavering elbow and squalled, "Yuh-you +nun-needn't thuh-think I'm gug-gonna lul-lie for you nun-no longer! If +you dud-don't gug-gimme plenty mum-money, I'm gug-gonna tell folks how +yuh-you huh-held up the sush-stage yourself all dressed up in Bill +Wingo's clothes sho you cuc-could throw the bub-blame on him!" +</P> + +<P> +Most certainly then the gambler would have put a bullet through Jerry +Fern had not Shotgun Shillman and Riley Tyler been too quick for him. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, now, Felix, calm down," suggested Shotgun. +</P> + +<P> +"He's a liar!" foamed Felix, struggling to jerk his gun arm free. "I +never held up the stage! Bill Wingo did it himself! Ask Sam Larder!" +</P> + +<P> +"Was Sam there, too?" said Riley, with fresh interest. "Here, Sam, +wait a minute. What's your hurry?" +</P> + +<P> +"Got to see a man," mumbled Sam. "Be right back." +</P> + +<P> +"Stay a while," invited Riley Tyler. +</P> + +<P> +Sam Larder regarded the muzzle of Riley's gun. "All right," said Sam +Larder. +</P> + +<P> +"Felix," said Shotgun Shillman, "I don't <I>want</I> to plug you." +</P> + +<P> +Felix Craft took the hint. +</P> + +<P> +Johnny Dawson went out into the street and returned with Jerry Fern, +who had forgotten his grievance against Felix Craft and wished only to +sleep. +</P> + +<P> +Shotgun Shillman looked at the district attorney. "Rale, this sort of +puts a crimp in the notion that Bill Wingo held up the stage." +</P> + +<P> +"It looks like it," admitted the district attorney, fumbling the papers +on his desk. "Of course, we'll have to do some more investigating +first." +</P> + +<P> +"Before any investigating is done, we want Hazel Walton arrested," +tucked in the malevolent Jonesy. +</P> + +<P> +"All right! All right!" snarled the badgered Rale. "I'll have her +arrested first thing in the morning." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap26"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE FOOL-KILLER +</H4> + +<P> +The district attorney, having looked carefully to the fastenings of his +windows, tucked a six shooter under his pillow and began to unlace his +shoes. Came a rapping at his chamber door and the voice of his +housekeeper. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Art, here's another of your infernal friends at the kitchen door. +Says his name's Johnson." +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney, jumping at a conclusion, immediately reached for +his six-shooter. "I don't know any Johnsons. Not around here, anyway. +What's he look like?" +</P> + +<P> +"Middlin' tall, scrubby lot of black whiskers, talks sort of thick +like." +</P> + +<P> +"Pebbles under his tongue, most likely. Tell him to come into the +kitchen, so I can get a look without him knowing." +</P> + +<P> +"He won't come in. Says he wants you to come to the door your own +self. Says it's important." +</P> + +<P> +At which the district attorney was more than ever certain that the +midnight visitor was Billy Wingo. "You go tell him that he'll have to +come into the kitchen before I'll talk to him. Close the kitchen door +most to. I can look at him through the crack." +</P> + +<P> +The housekeeper departed, and the district attorney slipped off his +shoes and tip-toed into the hall. The housekeeper, hair in curl papers +and wearing a wrapper, met him before he reached the kitchen door. +</P> + +<P> +"He says he won't come in," she told him, "and told me to tell you he +wanted to see about a note for five thousand dollars he has in his +pocket." +</P> + +<P> +"Now I know who it is," said the district attorney. "You go to bed. +I'll let him in." +</P> + +<P> +After the district attorney heard the slam and following click of his +housekeeper's door, he went into the kitchen, turned down the flame of +the lamp and opened the kitchen door. +</P> + +<P> +"That you, Rale?" inquired a muffled voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes! Come in! Come in!" +</P> + +<P> +The man in outer darkness spat out two pebbles. "Is that damn woman +there?" he asked in the natural tone of voice of Jack Murray. +</P> + +<P> +"No! Come <I>in</I>! I want to shut the door." +</P> + +<P> +Jack Murray entered quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"What in hell are you doing here?" demanded the district attorney, when +he and the other were behind the closed door of the office. "Don't you +know——" +</P> + +<P> +"I wanted to see you," Jack Murray said, seating himself in the nearest +chair. "Ain't you glad to see me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not very," the district attorney said frankly. "If you get caught——" +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't gonna get caught. The man ain't born yet to catch me. I +suppose you got the money for that note." +</P> + +<P> +"No, I haven't." +</P> + +<P> +"Why haven't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I couldn't raise it." +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter with you? Ain't you got any credit left?" +</P> + +<P> +"Folks won't lend money unless they get security, and I haven't any +security that hasn't already been put up." +</P> + +<P> +"<I>He</I> didn't ask for security," thus Jack Murray with an indescribable +leer. +</P> + +<P> +"That—was—different." +</P> + +<P> +"I guess it was. Yeah. I always had an idea you were a rich man." +</P> + +<P> +"A lot of people thought so," the district attorney said bitterly. "As +a matter of fact, I've been hard pressed for money all my life. I've +always had a hand in too many deals." +</P> + +<P> +"You were able to chip in on that reward for me without any trouble." +</P> + +<P> +"I knew I'd never have to pay it. Some day, when all my different +enterprises pan out, I'll have money, but now I haven't got any." +</P> + +<P> +"How about that bribe in the Jacksboro range case last fall? Why, they +must have paid you all of three or four thousand dollars." +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney shook his head. "No, only twenty-five hundred, +and two thousand of that went for some insurance I had to pay in +January." +</P> + +<P> +"Two thousand dollars for insurance!" +</P> + +<P> +"That's what I said." +</P> + +<P> +"You're lying. Whoever heard of two thousand dollars for insurance?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I wasn't the only one. Rafe had to pay the same. And Tip a +thousand. Oh, never mind trying to understand it. It's too long a +story now." +</P> + +<P> +"I guess it is. I ain't carin' much about listening to any such +stories, anyway. I didn't ride alla way north from Dorothy just for +that. I want the money for that note." +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't it, and you could have gotten that information by writing +for it. You didn't have to take the trip. You——" +</P> + +<P> +"The money ain't all I come for. I want to settle my li'l account with +Bill Wingo." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought that li'l account was closed," said the district attorney, +with the shadow of a sneer that Murray did not catch. +</P> + +<P> +"It won't be closed till Bill Wingo is pushin' up the grass," averred +Jack Murray. "This territory ain't big enough for the two of us." +</P> + +<P> +"If you had any sense it would be." +</P> + +<P> +"Meanin'?" +</P> + +<P> +"Meaning that Bill Wingo is a pretty cold proposition for you to +handle." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm better than he ever thought of being, and don't you let anybody +tell you different. I'll get that —— —— if I have to follow him to +hell! Damn his soul! If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be where I am +now! If it wasn't for him, I'd be sheriff of this county! If it +wasn't for him— Oh, I got a-plenty reasons for putting that Wingo +where he belongs." +</P> + +<P> +"Sally Jane, huh?" the district attorney supplied with malice. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't say anything about Sally Jane." +</P> + +<P> +"I know you didn't. But I got eyes, man. I'll bet you like her still." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you lose any sleep over who I like." +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't. I only thought you might be interested in knowin' that she +and Bill are thick again, like they used to be. Thicker, you might +say." +</P> + +<P> +Jack Murray's thin lips became thinner. "Skinny Shindle told me +somethin' about him switching to Hazel Walton." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you believe it," blattered the district attorney, continuing to +rapidly pump the bellows on the fire of Jack Murray's hatred. "Hazel +Walton was only a passing fancy. Sally Jane is the girl for him, you +can gamble on it. Tough luck, Jack. I'll bet you'd have stood better +than a fighting chance with her if she hadn't listened to his lies." +</P> + +<P> +"He'll never have her!" snarled Jack Murray, wagging a vicious head. +"By Gawd, he won't!" +</P> + +<P> +"I guess she thinks he will—when this muss is cleared up," said the +district attorney, with admirably simulated carelessness. "Hazel—I +mean Sally Jane——" +</P> + +<P> +"Yeah, Hazel! I'd say Hazel, I would. I should think her name <I>would</I> +stick in your craw!" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, never mind about that. I fixed it once to turn her loose, but +here this Jonesy comes squallin' for her scalp to-night, and I had to +promise to have her arrested to-morrow. What else could I do?" +</P> + +<P> +"Just as if you wanted it any other way! Why, I'll bet you even fixed +it with Jonesy to raise a roar so that you'd get this second chance at +her. What did that li'l girl ever do to you? Not that I give a +damn—just between friends." +</P> + +<P> +"She cost me some money, if you want to know," snarled the district +attorney, who saw red every time he thought of the two thousand dollars +he had been taxed by Billy Wingo for Hazel's benefit. "And anybody +that costs me money will pay for what they get. Look here," he added +with an abrupt change of subject, "how did you find out Bill was still +in this county?" +</P> + +<P> +Jack Murray gripped the district attorney's wrist. "Do you know where +he is?" +</P> + +<P> +Rale shook off the restraining hand. "I don't know exactly where he +is," he said coldly, "but I'm reasonably sure he's round here +somewhere. Good Gawd, man, don't you suppose if I knew where he was, +I'd have him dumped so quick his hair would curl?" +</P> + +<P> +Jack Murray nodded. "He's round here all right, unless he's gone north +beyond the West Fork. I cut his trail at Dorothy." +</P> + +<P> +"Was he there?" +</P> + +<P> +"Considerable. Yeah, him and another feller were there. Between 'em +they caught Slike." +</P> + +<P> +"Were you with Slike?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not at the time he was caught, I wasn't. But a while before that I +met him in Shadyside and I told him what Skinny Shindle wrote about the +Horseshoe outfit needin' gunfighters. Slike, he didn't want to leave +the country yet, anyway, and we decided to throw in with the Horseshoe +a spell." +</P> + +<P> +"But how did Bill——" +</P> + +<P> +"Trailed us, I suppose. First thing I knew, here we found Skinny dead +as Julius Cæsar alongside Fenley's Creek, and Slike he'd disappeared +complete. There'd been a brush, and Shindle and a TU puncher had +cashed." +</P> + +<P> +"And where were you during the—brush?" +</P> + +<P> +"I was on the other side of the range with a couple of the Horseshoe +bunch payin' a visit to a nester. If I'd been with Slike and Skinny, +the deal would have turned out different, and you can stick a pin in +that." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, you'd have been downed or dumped too." +</P> + +<P> +"Meanin' you wished I had been." +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't say so," the district attorney hastened to assure him. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't always have to say so," said Jack Murray, with heavy +suspicion. "I'm reading you like a page of big print, you lizard!" +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney forced a laugh. "You're too clever for me, Jack. +Look here, what makes you think it was Bill Wingo caught Slike?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because no posses from here went south so far, and because if anybody +else but Bill had caught him, he'd either have been killed outright or +brought into Dorothy or Marquis, and there'd have been a big time. +Instead of that, there wasn't a peep. So it must have been Bill, see?" +</P> + +<P> +"I see. And you're going to get this Bill?" +</P> + +<P> +"You've got the idea," +</P> + +<P> +"And you trailed him here?" +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't have to. I knew he'd bring Slike to Golden Bar, so I came +along the shortest way. It'll be quite a joke on you, this Slike +business. Will he snitch, do you think?" +</P> + +<P> +"He'd better not." +</P> + +<P> +"You frown at him thataway, and you'll scare him to death, Art. He's +one timid fawn, that Slike person." +</P> + +<P> +"He'll be——" +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind what he'll be, Art. That's his business, and yours. I +didn't come here to help Slike. I came here to get Bill and help yours +truly. I want some money." +</P> + +<P> +"I told you I haven't any." +</P> + +<P> +"But you can get it." +</P> + +<P> +"I told you folks want security." +</P> + +<P> +"That will do to tell somebody else besides me. I've got my growth and +cut most all my teeth a long time since. You'll have to raise some +money—say about fifteen hundred." +</P> + +<P> +"You might as well make it fifteen thousand." +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe I will. Thousand sounds kind of good. Say about three of 'em. +Three thousand dollars, Art, and I'll let you alone a while." +</P> + +<P> +"But I tell you——" +</P> + +<P> +"And I tell you that if you don't, that same identical note with a +written account of what I know goes to Judge Donelson." +</P> + +<P> +"You wouldn't dare." +</P> + +<P> +"Think I wouldn't? You don't know me, feller. When it comes to money, +I'm the most daring cuss you ever saw. That's me, Jack Murray. Three +thousand dollars, Artie, or you'll wish you'd never been born." +</P> + +<P> +"I can't raise it," the district attorney insisted despairingly. +</P> + +<P> +"I kind of thought you'd stick to that poverty squeal," smiled Jack +Murray, fishing a folded paper from a shirt pocket. "So I took care +before I came here to write down what I know about this li'l deal. I +thought you might like to see how interestin' it all looks on paper. +Hang your eyes over it, feller. Never mind snatchin' at it! I'll hold +it for you to read. See, there's my name signed to it all complete. +How do you like it, huh? Gives you a thrill, don't it? I'll bet it +will give Judge Donelson two thrills. And as an evidence of good +faith, to show you I still got it safe, here's your note for that five +thousand. It will go with the letter to the judge—unless you listen +to reason and raise the three thousand— What's that?" +</P> + +<P> +"That" was a rapping on the kitchen door. +</P> + +<P> +"Go in the bedroom," whispered the district attorney with a very pale +face. "You can slide out one of the windows, if I have to let him in." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll go in the bedroom," Jack Murray whispered back, with a chilling +smile, "but I ain't sliding out of any windows—not until you and I +have come to an agreement about that money. I'll stick right there in +the bedroom, Mister Man, right there where I can keep an eye on you. +Now go see what's wanted." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't think I've stacked the cards on you, do you?" grunted the +district attorney. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't," replied Jack Murray. "Not while I've got that note and the +Donelson letter in my pocket, you bet I don't. I ain't worryin' a +mite, not me. Run along now, there's a good boy. Papa will be right +in the next room." +</P> + +<P> +Thus adjured, the district attorney ran along. Yet not without +heart-thumping misgivings. For his was a fearful soul that night. A +great deal had happened to upset him. +</P> + +<P> +On his demand that the late caller declare himself, a voice whispered, +"It's me, Guerilla Melody. Let me in quick." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you want to see me about?" +</P> + +<P> +"I got a bargain to make with you—a bargain about Bill Wingo." +</P> + +<P> +"Did Bill Wingo send you?" +</P> + +<P> +"You can take it that he did." +</P> + +<P> +After all, why not? What danger was there in listening to the details +of Guerilla's bargain? Perhaps he would learn something. Quite so. +The district attorney unlocked the kitchen door and opened it. +</P> + +<P> +A tall man pushed in at once. The tall man had a sardonic gleam in his +gray eyes, a ragged brown beard, and a derringer. The twin-barreled +firearm was pointing directly at the stomach of the district attorney. +The district attorney's gun arm hung up and down. The tall, +brown-bearded man shot out a quick left hand and deftly twitched away +the district attorney's weapon. +</P> + +<P> +"You won't need that," he remarked in a hoarse whisper, tucking the +six-shooter into his waistband. "Have you any other weapon on your +person? Hold still while I look. No, I guess you haven't. We will +now go into your office, Arthur. I have a li'l something for your +private ear. I guess I'll lock the kitchen door, so we won't run any +risk of being disturbed." +</P> + +<P> +So saying he reached behind him, slammed the door shut, shook it, and +turned the key in the lock. The key he dropped into a trouser's pocket. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you waiting for?" he demanded, still in that hoarse whisper. +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney found his tongue—and stood his ground. "Where's +Guerilla?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know. He left when you decided to let him in. You see, I +thought you'd be more likely to open up if it was some one you knew, so +I got Guerilla to do the honors. Just a li'l trick, Arthur, just a +li'l trick. You're such a shy bird. No hard feelings, I hope. No? +Yes? Well?" +</P> + +<P> +"Whonell are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Me? Oh, I'm the Fool-Killer. Let us walk into your office says the +fly to the spider, you being the spider, of course. And if the fly has +to say it again, the spider will have something to think about besides +the pitfalls of this wicked world. Thank you. I thought you would. +And bear in mind that any wild snatches toward table drawers and so +forth will be treated as hostile acts." +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney continued to lead the way into the office. He +started to sit down in his accustomed chair behind the table. +</P> + +<P> +"Not there—there," said the brown-bearded man, indicating a chair on +the other side of the table. "I'd rather sit on the drawer side +myself. Not that I expect you to gamble with me, Arthur. But in my +business we can't afford to take chances. Are you ready. Gentlemen, +be seated." +</P> + +<P> +He uttered the last three words in his natural voice. The district +attorney failed to suppress a bleak smile. +</P> + +<P> +"There's my old Arthur," approved Billy Wingo. "I knew he'd be glad to +see me, give him time." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, indeed," declared the district attorney in a loud voice. "I'm +always glad to see Bill Wingo. Bill Wingo, you bet." +</P> + +<P> +Billy Wingo's gray eyes narrowed. "Not quite so loud," he reproved the +district attorney. "No need to disturb the neighbors." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, no, of course not." The grimy soul of the district attorney +capered with joy. What luck! Here was his enemy, and there was his +enemy's enemy in the very next room. It would make a cat laugh. It +would indeed. +</P> + +<P> +"Arthur," said Billy, "I've been hearing bad reports of you. I +understand you've decided to have Miss Walton arrested. Is that +correct?" +</P> + +<P> +"Correct, sure. Sorry, but the law's the law, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"You remember what I said I'd do to you." +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney dismissed this with a simple wave of the hand. +"Oh, that. A mere bluff." +</P> + +<P> +"It may not be quite as mere as you seem to think. Let me argue with +you, Arthur. Suppose I can prove that Dan Slike was at Miss Walton's +the night Rafe Tuckleton was murdered. Would that help any?" +</P> + +<P> +"You can't prove it." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes, I can. When he was there, he stole her hat, besides some +other stuff, and inside the sweatband of the hat he stuffed the folded +upper half of the front page of the Omaha <I>Bee</I>. The other half of the +newspaper was found at the Walton ranch house by Shotgun Shillman. He +has it now, and when Slike was caught, he was wearing Miss Walton's +hat, and inside the sweatband was this particular folded upper +half-page I'm telling you about. This evidence is in the possession of +Guerilla Melody right now. When this comes out at the trial, why +wouldn't that show that Slike was in the vicinity when Tuckleton was +killed? And being in the vicinity, why——" +</P> + +<P> +"Impossible!" snapped the district attorney. "I don't see how it could +be hung on him." +</P> + +<P> +"Won't you even have his presence there investigated?" Why, Bill was +actually pleading. The district attorney swelled his chest like a +turkey cock. He would show Bill that he couldn't be bluffed. Not he. +</P> + +<P> +"No, I won't have his presence at the Walton ranch investigated. In +the first place——" +</P> + +<P> +"In the first place," said Billy, "I know he didn't kill Tuckleton." +</P> + +<P> +"Then why are you trying to prove he did?" +</P> + +<P> +"Just to see what you'd say. Just to see how dead set against +investigating Slike you are. Just to double-cinch the proof against +the real criminal. You know that Dan Slike didn't kill Tuckleton, but +that isn't why you don't dare read his trail too much. One reason is +that if you do, he'll be sure to blat right out how you and Felix and +Sam Larder helped him to escape from the calaboose. Don't blush, +Arthur. I know how modest you are. So we'll take it I'm right." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you're welcome to what you think," said the district attorney. +"But just for the sake of argument, how do you know that Slike didn't +kill Tuckleton?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because the initialed butcher knife Slike took with him from Miss +Walton's was still on him when he was caught." +</P> + +<P> +"There must have been two knives!" +</P> + +<P> +"There were two knives, but only one belonged to Miss Walton. Rale, +when you and Felix and Larder caught Red Herring in the draw a few +minutes before you found the dead body of Tuckleton, why didn't you ask +more questions about Red being there so handy?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because Red couldn't have had anything to do with it." +</P> + +<P> +"I know he couldn't, but you weren't supposed to know he couldn't. You +were supposed to ask questions about any suspicious circumstances, and +did you? Not a question did you ask in town as to Red's movements that +evening. You simply took his word for it, which wasn't natural—except +under a certain condition. A certain condition, you understand, and it +never occurred to me until I found that second knife. It would have +saved a lot of trouble if I had thought of it sooner. Rale, you didn't +ask any questions either about Red being in the draw or Slike being at +the Walton ranch house, and you gave out that Miss Walton herself had +killed Tuckleton because you had planned ahead that she was the one you +were going to hang the murder on. And why did you have it planned +ahead? And how did you know it all so certain sure? How, damn you, +how? Because you killed Tuckleton yourself!" +</P> + +<P> +The district attorney sat perfectly still. His eyes stole toward the +bedroom door. What on earth was the matter with Jack Murray? Why +didn't he shoot? +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know why you killed him," went on the inexorable voice, "but +you did. I've found out that early last spring you went to Nate Samson +and borrowed his hardware catalogue, Nate being the only storekeeper +here handling hardware. Yes, Nate. I knew you must have gone to Nate, +because you weren't out of town all winter, that's how. Nate said that +you were the only customer to borrow the catalogue. He said too that +you told him when you returned it that you hadn't found what you +wanted. I sent a telegram to the supply house getting out this +catalogue, and their answer stated that you had ordered from them back +in February, a butcher knife, paying for it in stamps. They gave the +catalogue number of this butcher knife, and the catalogue number is the +same number as that of the butcher knife with which Tuckleton was +killed. You cut TW on the handle of this knife, rusted it a little and +ground it some, and then you—well, after you did for Rafe there in the +draw near her house, you rode back to Golden Bar, gassed a while with +Felix and Sam, and then you were in such a sweat to get the thing +settled you couldn't even wait till next day. You had to ride out to +question Miss Walton that same night. Another unnecessary +circumstance. Rale, you rat, I've got you right where you can't even +wriggle." +</P> + +<P> +Billy leaned across the table to emphasize what he was saying, heard a +slight sound in the bedroom and promptly blew out the lamp. With a +heave of one arm he slammed the table over on the district attorney. +The latter, taking the table to his bosom, went over backward, together +with the chair he sat in, and wallowed on the floor. +</P> + +<P> +Bang! a six-shooter crashed in the bedroom. A streak of yellow flame +cut the darkness. A bullet snicked into the floor a yard from where +Billy crouched. He emptied his derringer at the flash and changed +position hurriedly. As he pulled his six-shooter, there was another +shot from the bedroom, a shot that wrung an apprehensive yelp from the +district attorney. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't shoot so far to the right! Y'almost hit me! He's over to the +left more. About where the red chair stands." +</P> + +<P> +</P> + +<P> +This would never do. Never. First thing Billy knew, he would be shot. +He stretched forth a hand, and breathed an inward curse. There was +certainly a chair not a foot from his face. Taking care not to make a +sound he lifted the chair by one leg and lobbed it through the air in +the general direction of the district attorney. The results were +immediate. The chair arrived, the district attorney squawked, and the +man in the bedroom fired again, not according to the orders of the +district attorney, but toward the spot where the chair had fallen. +Billy pulled trigger at the flash of the other's gun. Then he began to +crawl toward the bedroom door. He was a thorough believer in the +doctrine of "getting in where it's warm." He succeeded beyond his +expectations. The occupant of the bedroom, who had removed his boots, +tiptoed around the door jamb and stepped on Billy's hand. +</P> + +<P> +Both guns exploded simultaneously. What happened next has never been +clear in Billy's mind. He only knows that his head rang like a struck +bell at the shot, and burning powder grains stung his ear and neck. He +fired blind. A voice above his head cried aloud on the name of God, a +hot and sweaty body collapsed upon him, and he dragged himself out from +under precisely in time to glimpse the district attorney who, having +torn open the door into the hall, was silhouetted for an instant +against the dim radiance emanating from the kitchen. +</P> + +<P> +Billy hunched his right shoulder, took a snapshot, and drove an +accurate bullet through the right leg of the district attorney. +</P> + +<P> +</P> + +<P> +"He's comin' around," said Shotgun Shillman. "You shot too high, Bill. +Y'ought to held lower, and you'd drilled his heart or anyway, a lung. +Now he'll be a invalid nuisance for a while, like Rale." +</P> + +<P> +"If I'd known you'd be so upset about it, I'd obliged you, Shotgun," +returned Billy sarcastically. "As a matter of fact, I wanted both of +'em alive. You can't try dead men. +</P> + +<P> +"That's so," assented Shotgun. "But what a waste of time, when— Oh, +all right, all right, Bill. Have it your own way. You're the dog with +the brass collar, even if you do have to sleep in the jail till the +warrants against you are annulled." +</P> + +<P> +"What's Jack trying to do?" Riley Tyler asked. "Here, take that out of +your mouth!" +</P> + +<P> +It was Billy who reached Jack Murray first. He snatched the wadded +ball of paper from Jack before he could close his teeth over it. Jack +groaned. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't mean to hurt you," apologized Billy. "But I had to grab your +jaw. You were so quick." +</P> + +<P> +"You didn't hurt me," snarled Jack Murray. "It was somethin' else." +</P> + +<P> +"What is the thing?" queried Guerilla Melody. +</P> + +<P> +Billy smoothed out the crumpled wad. It appeared to be a letter and a +promissory note. +</P> + +<P> +"I forbid you to read that!" cried the district attorney, attempting to +drag himself across the floor toward Billy. "That letter is personal +and my private property!" +</P> + +<P> +"You lie quiet," directed Riley Tyler. "If you go busting those +bandages open, I'll bust you. Lie back, lie down, and take it easy. +There's nothing for you to get excited over. Everything's all right. +Yeah. That's the boy. Do as Uncle says." +</P> + +<P> +"What's the writing, Bill?" inquired Shotgun. "Read her off." +</P> + +<P> +Billy read: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent" STYLE="margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%"> +JUDGE HIRAM DONELSON,<BR> + Hillsville.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" STYLE="margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%"> +DEAR SIR:—The man who killed Rafe Tuckleton is the county prosecutor +Arthur Rale. Rale owed Tuckleton five thousand dollars on a note and +couldn't pay it. Rafe wanted his money. Early in the evening on the +day he was killed, Tuckleton came to Rale's house where I was at the +time, and demanded payment. He brought the note with him. Rale +refused and they quarreled. Tuckleton had been drinking. Before +Tuckleton left, he said he was going to the Walton ranch. After he +left, Rale told me he had planned some time ago to kill Tuckleton and +get the note back at the first opportunity. This looked like a good +opportunity. Rale showed me a butcher knife. He said it was just like +one at the Walton ranch. He had cut Tom Walton's initials on the +handle so it would be like it. Rale said he had tried to get the +original knife, but had not been able to. This one he had fixed up had +to do. He said when his knife was found on Rafe's body, everybody +would think Hazel Walton had killed him, and nobody would believe her +if she said the knife wasn't hers. He had it in for Hazel anyway, he +said, and by rubbing out Rafe and laying the blame on her, he'd win two +bets at one throw. Suppose they found the regular Walton knife, I +said. Rale said it wouldn't make any difference. Anybody might know +she could easy have two knives. Well, he offered me two hundred +dollars cash to kill Rafe with this knife. I wouldn't do it, so he had +a couple of drinks and said he'd kill Rafe himself. He asked me to go +with him. I went, and we hung around Walton's till Tuckleton came out, +and then we followed him, and Rale stopped him down the draw and said, +I've got the money for you, Rafe. And Tuckleton got off his horse and +then Rale stepped up close to him and let him have it. He stuck the +knife in him a couple of times after Tuckleton was down and wriggling +round. When Tuckleton was dead, Rale took the note out of Tuckleton's +pocketbook, and I held Rale up and took the note away from him. I +thought maybe I might want to show him up some day, or sell it to him +or something, when he got hold of some money. I was going to make him +pay for it, one way or another. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" STYLE="margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%"> +Here is the note he took off Tuckleton. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" STYLE="margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%"> +The district attorney will tell you who I am if I don't, so I haven't +any objections to signing my name. I'll be in Old Mexico by the time +you read this, anyway. So long, and give Rale what he deserves. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent" STYLE="margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%"> +Yours truly,<BR> + (Signed) JACK MURRAY.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Billy handed the letter and the Rale note to Shotgun Shillman, who +folded both carefully and slipped them into an inner pocket of his +vest. "And did you hear Rale say these were his private property?" +</P> + +<P> +Shotgun Shillman nodded happily. "Even without 'em, there is enough +evidence to hang him. But there's nothing like swinging a wide loop if +you want to rope two at a clatter." +</P> + +<P> +Billy's eyes followed Shotgun's side glance at Jack Murray. "You +needn't look at me thataway," snarled Jack. "I'm no snitch! I only +wrote that letter to throw a scare into Rale. I'd never have sent it +to the judge a-tall!" +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe you're no snitch," Billy flung back, with deep disfavor, "even +if it does look like it, but you were skunk enough to let an innocent +girl be blamed for murder." +</P> + +<P> +"That was different. She hadn't ought to horned in on what was none of +her business. If she hadn't— Oh, hell, what's the use? Gimme a +chew, somebody." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap27"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +THE LONG DAY CLOSES +</H4> + +<P> +"Well," observed Sam Prescott, "folks will be sending Bill to Congress +next. Directly or indirectly, he sure has put a crimp in county +politics." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," assented his daughter, "now that the grand jury have indicted +Craft, Larder, Murray and Rale, there isn't anything left of the +Crocker County ring but the hole." +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe now Hazel will make it up with him." +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe." With some indifference. +</P> + +<P> +"Shucks, and he used to like you, Sally Jane." +</P> + +<P> +"But I never liked him—enough." This with more indifference. +</P> + +<P> +"More fool you. Bill's going to get there, and you can stick a pin in +that." +</P> + +<P> +She bounced up from her chair and ruffled her father's grizzled hair. +"I'd rather stick a pin in you, Samuel. Where did Hazel go?" +</P> + +<P> +"Room, I guess. I don't know what's got into the child. She didn't +eat enough breakfast for a fly." +</P> + +<P> +"She has been acting pretty meaching the last few days. I'll go see +what's the matter." +</P> + +<P> +Sally Jane found Hazel folding up her clothes as fast as she could +fold. The bureau drawers were empty. Everything was on the bed. +</P> + +<P> +"What on earth—" began Sally Jane. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going home," said Hazel, keeping her face turned away. +</P> + +<P> +The direct Sally Jane cupped a hand under Hazel's chin. "Let me see +something. I <I>thought</I> so. What's the matter?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing," declared Hazel, beginning to sniff a little. +</P> + +<P> +"Then why don't you tell him so?" +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Him</I>? Him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, him. Bill. Mr. William H. Wingo. The sheriff of Crocker +County. That's what <I>I'd</I> do if <I>I</I> loved him." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't love him," snapped Hazel, the shine in her black eyes giving +the lie to her words. +</P> + +<P> +"You blessed child," said Sally Jane, and threw her arms around Hazel +and drew her to her breast. "You blessed child. I don't know what +ever came between you and Bill, but something did, and if you've got an +atom of sense in your head, you'll move heaven and earth to make it up +with him." +</P> + +<P> +"He doesn't love me any more," declared Hazel, her emotion getting the +better of her. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you love him?" probed the older girls. +</P> + +<P> +A pronounced sniffle. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I always have," came the dragging confession. +</P> + +<P> +"Then, for heaven's sake, tell him so! I'll bet he loves you fast +enough! Land alive, if you've got Love in your grasp, don't turn it +down! Love is the greatest thing in the world, and if you throw it +away, you'll never have any luck the rest of your life. And you won't +deserve any either." +</P> + +<P> +Hazel drew out a damp ball of a handkerchief and blew her nose +vigorously. "It's no use," she told her friend with a catch in her +voice. "I couldn't tell him. I just couldn't." +</P> + +<P> +Sally Jane flung up her hands. "You're a coward, that's what you are. +A moral coward. If I loved a man, which I don't, I'd tell him so, that +is, providing he didn't tell me first," she added thoughtfully. +</P> + +<P> +Hazel stooped to pick up a fallen chemise. "You're—you're different, +Sally Jane. Besides, he doesn't love me any more. So it wouldn't do +any good." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no, of course not," Sally Jane waxed sarcastic. "And they say all +mules are quadrupeds! Look here, Hazel, if it hadn't been for him, +you'd be in a fine fix right now. Why, that Rale man— Oh, you make +me so mad I could shake you! I've told you more'n once how much you +owe Bill. Look how he fought for you. Look— Oh, Lord! Haven't you +got any gratitude at all?" +</P> + +<P> +"Plenty," Hazel replied over her shoulder. "But my gratitude can't +make him love me." +</P> + +<P> +Sally Jane put her hand on her friend's shoulders and turned her +around. "I tell you, you're making a mistake. I tell you he does love +you. You remember that last winter he came here several times, and he +certainly didn't come to see me or Dad. And you weren't overly +cordial, you know, Hazel. You didn't fall on his neck exactly." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not going to throw myself at any man's head!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, don't be so high-strung! You're too proud for any human use! And +Bill's just like you, the stiff-necked lollop!" +</P> + +<P> +"He is not!" Hazel cried, with a decided flash of temper. "He's not +stiff-necked! He's not a lollop! Oh, Sally dear, don't spoil +everything," she begged. "You've been so good to me." +</P> + +<P> +Sally Jane immediately changed her tune. "But why leave here? Why go +home?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because I've imposed on you long enough. I'll be safe there—now." +</P> + +<P> +Sally Jane looked long into the eyes of Hazel Walton. "All right," she +said shortly. "I'll drive you over myself." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Billy Wingo stretched out his long legs and absent-mindedly hacked the +edge of his desk with a pocket knife. "I told her she'd have to come +to me and put her arms around my neck and tell me I was right and she +was wrong, and now I've got to stick to it, damitall! Bill, you idiot, +you always did let your tongue run away with you. Always. And now she +won't make it up. Three days now, since I got my job back, and not a +word. Not a word. Well, one thing is certain sure, I ain't going to +run after her. I ain't, not by a jugful." +</P> + +<P> +"His lips are moving, but he ain't sayin' anything," announced Riley +Tyler in a loud, cheerful tone. "Do you think he's going crazy, +Shotgun, or is it only the beginnings of droolin' old age?" +</P> + +<P> +"I dunno," said Shotgun. "Better watch him. If he begins to gibber +and pull out his hair, he's looney and we'll have to tie him down, I +expect. Is your rope strong, Riley?" +</P> + +<P> +"You fellers," Billy remarked with dignity, "make me more tired than a +week's work." +</P> + +<P> +So saying, he arose and went to the corner where his saddle and bridle +lay. Three minutes later he rode out of Golden Bar. +</P> + +<P> +"He's taken the Hillsville trail," said Riley Tyler, his nose flattened +against the window pane. "Where do you suppose he's going?" +</P> + +<P> +"Going to spend some of the reward money, I expect. Joke on you, +Riley, having to dig up a thousand plunks you haven't got." +</P> + +<P> +"I'd rather owe it to him than cheat him out of it," grinned Riley, who +had long since spent the money obtained from Jack Murray. "Alla same, +I'll pay him when I get it. You lend me a hundred, Shotgun." +</P> + +<P> +"Go 'way from me!" snarled Shotgun, flapping both hands at him. "If +you're looking for easy money, sit into a game of draw, or rob a bank +or somethin'. You won't get a single wheel from me. Nawsir!" +</P> + +<P> +Billy, riding the Hillsville road, came at last to the mouth of the +draw that led to Walton's. He stopped his horse and looked along the +draw. Then he looked along the road. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, I was going to Hillsville," he lied rapidly to himself, +"but I don't suppose it would hurt to sort of ride past her house. +Seems to me I heard somethin' about her leaving Prescott's. It may not +be true, and then again— Let's go, feller." +</P> + +<P> +Feller headed obediently into the draw. +</P> + +<P> +Hazel Walton, sewing in the front room, saw a rider coming up the draw. +"That looks like Bill's horse," she muttered. "And Bill's hat. It—it +is Bill." +</P> + +<P> +Her heart began to pound. Her throat constricted. There was something +the matter with her knees. She dropped the sewing in her lap and +clasped her hands together. She breathed in little gasps. +</P> + +<P> +Billy Wingo came on. He came quite close—within twenty yards and +stopped his horse and rested his hands on the saddle horn, and looked +at the house. Just looked. +</P> + +<P> +Although she knew he could not see her through the scrim curtains, she +drew her chair a little away and to one side. +</P> + +<P> +He pushed back his hat with the old familiar gesture. His face was +expressionless. There were hollows under his eyes. He looked thin. +Poor boy. He had had an awfully hard time. And he had fought for her. +He had risked his life for her. Certainly she owed him a good +deal,—everything, in fact. And here she couldn't even find sufficient +courage to thank him. As though thanks, empty thanks, could possibly +be adequate. Sally Jane was right. She was a coward. And proud. +Especially proud. She shivered. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly Billy pulled his hat forward and picked up his reins. She saw +his heel move. The horse began to turn. It was then that something +snapped in Hazel's breast. Strength came to her shaking knees. She +sprang to her feet, ran to the door, flung it open and dashed out. +Billy's startled horse shied away. Billy dragged him back with a jerk. +</P> + +<P> +Six feet from the horse Hazel stopped and stood very straight, her arms +stiff at her sides. Her knees began to shake again. She knew that her +voice would tremble. It did. "Bill, I—I've changed my mind. I was +wrong. I—you—you did the right thing to see it through. If—if you +hadn't, I don't know what would have become of me." +</P> + +<P> +Then, of a sudden, he was off his horse, his arms were around her, and +she knew that all her troubles were over. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="finis"> +THE END +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<HR> + +<BR><BR><BR> + + + +<A NAME="chap28"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Other Books by William Patterson White +</H3> + +<BR> + +<H4> +THE OWNER OF THE LAZY "D" +</H4> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Frontispiece. 12mo. 324 pages. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"The most stirring Wild West story that has been published for many a +year."—<I>The Philadelphia Ledger</I>. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"William Patterson White ... knows how to make an interesting +tale."—<I>The Oakland Tribune</I>. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"All kinds of excitement are assured."—<I>The Cincinnati Times-Star</I>. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"A most thrilling story."—<I>The San Francisco Chronicle</I>. +</P> + +<BR> + +<H4> +LYNCH LAWYERS +</H4> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +Frontispiece. 12mo. 378 pages. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"As in his previous novel, 'The Owner of the Lazy D,' Mr. White shows +himself to be a master in the field of the Western adventure +story."—<I>The New York Tribune</I>. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"A new and thrilling story of Western life."—<I>The Rochester Herald</I>. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"The author knows his people and his localities, and his conception +rings true to life."—<I>The Pittsburgh Sun</I>. +</P> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +"Mr. White shows himself a master of the art of dialogue in the Western +vernacular."—<I>The Boston Transcript</I>. +</P> + +<BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +LITTLE, BROWN & CO., PUBLISHERS +<BR> +34 BEACON STREET BOSTON +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Rider of Golden Bar, by William Patterson White + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RIDER OF GOLDEN BAR *** + +***** This file should be named 34826-h.htm or 34826-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/8/2/34826/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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