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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78757 ***
+
+                         THE SHERIFF OF SUN-DOG
+
+                              W. C. Tuttle
+
+            Author of “Sun-Dog Trails,” “Law Rustlers,” etc.
+
+
+It was a hot day in Marlin City, the county seat of Sun-Dog County. It
+had often been said that there was only one tree between Marlin City
+and the Arctic Circle to break the north winds of Winter, and that the
+aforementioned tree was too far north to afford Marlin City any shade
+during the Summer.
+
+At the hitch-rack, in front of the Dollar Down saloon and gambling
+hall, stood a forlorn looking saddle-horse, head down, as though
+seeking the shade of its own body. A long lean dog of nondescript
+breed slouched along the hot board sidewalk, hunting a shady spot.
+From Le Blanc’s blacksmith shop came the odors of burning hoof, as
+the muscular French-Canadian swore at the stifling heat and tried to
+fit a hot shoe to the hoof of a half-broke bronco.
+
+Inside the sheriff’s office sat “Brick” Davidson, the new sheriff, and
+his deputy “Silent” Slade. The former sheriff, “Bunty” Blair, had
+appointed Brick as his deputy, and had resigned in Brick’s favor. Bunty
+was glad to resign. Sun-Dog was no place for a weak-kneed sheriff, such
+as Bunty Blair. There was nothing weak about Brick Davidson. His
+flaming thatch of bright, brick-colored hair, a thin freckled nose, and
+an indomitable view of right and wrong, bade fair to make changes in
+cowland. Sun-Dog County did not elect Brick Davidson, although they had
+a chance at the last election. Sun-Dog followed the lines of least
+resistance and elected Bunty Blair.
+
+In fact, Brick had received the whole sum of seven votes--including his
+own. Lafe Freeman, owner of the Nine Bar Nine outfit, of which Brick had
+been foreman, stated that Brick knew too much to get elected sheriff.
+
+Bunty’s resignation and Brick’s appointment had been ratified by a
+majority of the board of county commissioners. Bill Voorhies, owner of
+the Lazy H outfit, and the acknowledged leader of the commissioners,
+was not in favor of Brick’s appointment, but the board had acted in the
+absence of Voorhies and he could do nothing less than agree.
+
+Voorhies was a ponderous sort of person, loud of mouth, slow of action,
+and desiring power above all things. In the past three months he had
+shipped a great number of beef cattle, and was entertaining a buyer at
+the time Brick was appointed. He bossed the county commissioners and
+bragged of the fact. Voorhies might have become a big politician and a
+power in the State, but----
+
+Through sound reasoning Brick had cleared Scott Martin and his adopted
+daughter, Jean, of all complicity in the robbery of the Whippoorwill
+stage, and had succeeded in bringing retribution where retribution was
+due. Two men had paid the penalty with their lives, while the third,
+Zell Mohr, had been given a life sentence, but in trying to escape from
+the train on the way to the penitentiary had been instantly killed.
+Incidentally, Brick had won the thousand dollar reward. It had been a
+big day in Marlin City, but after the smoke of battle cleared away,
+Marlin City and Sun-Dog County settled down to the humdrum existence of
+cow country and small cow town. It was all in a day’s work. Few men
+gave Brick credit for doing anything out of the ordinary. He was just
+Brick Davidson, cowpuncher; rather fast with a gun, and ready of wit.
+Brick lived to grin.
+
+He had an overdeveloped sense of humor, which, at times, grated on the
+sensibilities of slower thinkers. When it was announced that Brick had
+been appointed sheriff to succeed Bunty Blair, many of the graybeards
+shook their heads. Sun-Dog County needed a wiser, cooler head. Brick’s
+hair was too red. He’d last quick. Brick heard some of the mumblings,
+and confided to Silent Slade.
+
+“They’re scared of me, Silent, don’t yuh know it?”
+
+“Well,” Silent had replied, “well, hadn’t they ought to, Brick?”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Silent’s reply was very matter of fact. Silent did not try to be funny.
+He worshiped Brick, and trailed him around like a great dog--a dog six
+feet six inches tall, built in proportion, with a long crooked nose and
+a big humorous mouth. His hands were big and ungainly, but they lost
+their clumsiness when called upon to reach for the big, black-handled
+Colt .44 which swung from their owner’s hip. In that respect they were
+very capable. Just now, Silent was perusing some old reward notices,
+while Brick spelled out a typewritten letter which Silent had brought
+from the post-office.
+
+Brick’s mouth drew down at the corners and his blue eyes twinkled as he
+looked up from the letter and glanced at Silent.
+
+“Goin’ to be ---- rised and a chunk placed under its corners around
+here,” announced Brick.
+
+Silent looked up quickly. He had been bemoaning the lack of action just
+a few minutes before.
+
+“For gosh sakes, Brick, whatcha mean?” he demanded anxiously.
+
+“Letter from the cattle association.”
+
+Brick snapped his finger against the sheet of paper and glanced up at
+the ceiling, puffing vainly at an unlit cigaret.
+
+“Oh!” said Silent, relaxing back in his chair. “What’s eatin’ ’em now?”
+
+“’Member me writing ’em about makin’ a maverick law?”
+
+“Heard yuh say yuh was goin’ to, Brick, but didn’t pay no ’tention at
+the time. What was it?”
+
+“Billy Slavin, the secretary, and me are friends. Me and him punched
+cows down on the Little Missouri six years ago. Silent, did yuh ever
+stop to think what mavericks mean to a cow-man?”
+
+Silent half-nodded and waited for Brick to continue.
+
+“Them danged unbranded animals are to blame for half the cattle
+stealin’ in this country, Silent. Mebbe she’s a even break, you’ll say.
+It ain’t. I know some honest cow-men which this maverick stuff hurts. I
+spoke to Billy about it. He took it up. This here letter--” Brick
+opened it up again and held it up for Silent’s inspection--“this letter
+says that from now on all mavericks are to be held, subject to disposal
+by the association. The cattlemen own and run the association, Silent;
+and these mavericks belong to the cattlemen. What is fairer than to let
+’em dispose of these critters and use the money in the interests of the
+cattlemen? I kinda like it myself.”
+
+Silent bit his lip reflectively and nodded slowly.
+
+“There will be ---- rised, Brick, y’betcha, and I sure hope that your
+carcass and mine won’t be used to bolster up none of the corners.”
+
+A maverick is an unbranded animal, usually a calf, which had been
+born in a secluded part of the range, or accidentally overlooked by
+the cowboys. This calf, weaned away from its mother, after which no
+brand may claim ownership, becomes a prey to the first cattleman who
+can burn on a brand. Hundreds of mavericks were branded every year
+on the ranges; many cowboys acquiring a herd in this manner.
+
+Brick Davidson knew that this practise was all wrong, as it gave a
+dishonest cattleman an edge over an honest one, and also was an
+inducement for a dishonest cowpuncher to overlook his employer’s young
+stock until such a time as he could “maverick” a few for himself and
+get a start. Sun-Dog County was not without its rustling troubles.
+Brick knew that he had work cut out for him--if he upheld his oath of
+office. Brick knew every inch of the Sun-Dog ranges, knew the cattle
+business from “dally to hondo” as Lafe Freeman had said, and under
+ordinary circumstances would be an ideal peace officer for the county,
+but Sun-Dog did not seem to want Brick Davidson’s protection--as was
+witnessed by seven votes including Brick’s own vote. Brick got up from
+his desk, put the paper inside his vest, and picked up his hat.
+
+“Yuh ain’t goin’ out in the heat, are yuh?” asked Silent.
+
+Brick nodded.
+
+“Yeah. I’ve got to pass around the bad news.”
+
+“What’s the hurry?”
+
+“This here office is runnin’ today--not _mañana_,” smiled Brick. “You
+stay here and don’t let anybody bust the jail. If any outlaws come along
+with a price on their heads, jew ’em down, Silent. Get ’em as cheap----”
+
+“Aw-w-w,----!” grunted Silent. “Lemme go along.”
+
+“And shut up the office?” Brick appeared very indignant. “’Member
+them old Pinkerton books we had at the ranch? ’Member they had a eye
+painted on the cover, and the words ‘We Never Sleep’? Do yuh? That’s
+us, _sabe_?”
+
+“All right, all right,” grunted Silent. “While you’re gone I’ll paint a
+eye on the door.”
+
+“Make it a mouth,” grinned Brick. “And above it put, ‘We Never Shut
+Up.’”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Old Jeff Seldon owned the Star Dot, horse and cattle outfit, and also
+owned a grudge against humanity. Although only about fifty-five years
+of age, he looked seventy-five. He was below average height. His skin
+was like yellow parchment, his nose hooked; his mouth so thin-lipped
+that he appeared to have only a slit, inside of which were a motley
+collection of misfit teeth and ancient gold fillings. His eyes were
+deep-set and savage, as they peered out past the thin, high bridge of
+his nose--peered out with disfavor upon every one and every thing.
+
+Jeff Seldon had come from Dakota, and bought out the Star Dot outfit a
+year before, bringing his five cowboys with him. It is doubtful whether
+Seldon could have hired a cowboy in Sun-Dog County, for Seldon’s
+reputation was known.
+
+He had practically been driven from Dakota for an unpardonable offence.
+In cowland a cowboy is welcome at any cow-man’s table. His bunk-house
+is always big enough to sleep one more. It was merely range etiquette.
+If the owner was not at home, the visitor was welcome to enter the
+premises, cook his meals and occupy the beds.
+
+Two cowboys, tired, hungry, stopped at Jeff Seldon’s ranch. They stabled
+their horses, and started for the ranch-house, when Seldon met them.
+
+“The town is just fourteen miles down that road,” stated Seldon. “I am
+not runnin’ a hotel.”
+
+“Much obliged,” said one of the cowboys, and they traveled on.
+
+From that day on, Seldon was a man apart from the range-folk. His stock
+was never picked up in a round-up. No man spoke to him. His cows never
+brought in calves, and the range country ate beef that did not bear the
+diner’s brand. Seldon had plenty of money, and stood the loss as long
+as possible, but eventually sold out and traveled north.
+
+If Seldon was crabbed before this mistake, he was a hundred times more
+soured on the world afterward.
+
+He mixed little with Sun-Dog folks. He was a bachelor. His five men,
+Pete Kane, the foreman, Frank Fellows, “Bun” Partner, Jim Malone and
+Hal Breamer, were hard riders, hard drinkers, and close mouthed, even
+in their cups. The Star Dot ranch-house was seven miles from Marlin
+City, and adjoined the Weeping Tree range.
+
+The ownership of the Weeping Tree had never been settled. Zell Mohr had
+owned it, but Zell was dead. Before his arrest and conviction he had
+given Scott Martin the right to occupy the old Weeping Tree ranch-house
+and to use the land. Zell had sold his Silverton property, but no one
+knew of any disposition having been made of the Weeping Tree.
+
+Brick rode straight for the Star Dot ranch. There was no reason for
+passing the order to the Star Dot outfit first, but it happened that
+the Star Dot was so located that Brick could easily return past the
+Weeping Tree ranch in time for supper. Brick was a biscuit fiend, and
+he knew that Jean Martin was the best biscuit builder in the world.
+Therefore Brick hummed a little range song and totally ignored the
+heat. Some day he was going to get up nerve enough to ask Jean to
+marry him--some day, maybe tomorrow. Brick was a lot like a Mexican,
+in that respect. Tomorrow looked like the very best day to speak to
+her about it--always tomorrow.
+
+Pete Kane and Jimmy Malone were just coming out of the ranch-house door
+as Brick rode up. Kane was undeniably handsome of face and there was a
+wild, free grace to his figure, a dash and swing that denoted plenty of
+animal vigor. His tiny brown mustache was waxed to needle points, and
+his insolent brown eyes stared at Brick in mock terror.
+
+“Well, if it ain’t the policeman!” he exclaimed.
+
+Jimmy Malone, a short, stocky cowboy, square of features, stared at
+Brick, and a frown centered above his eyes. Jimmy Malone did not like
+officers of the law. Brick ignored Kane’s sarcasm, although he felt
+it keenly. It was not like Brick to ignore a gibe, but Brick was
+representing the law now.
+
+“Jeff Seldon to home?” he asked.
+
+“He is!” snapped a voice and Brick glanced at the door, where Seldon was
+standing, half dressed and with a boot in his hand. “Whatcha want?”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Seldon was plainly hostile to Brick, but Brick merely grinned at him.
+Seldon stepped out to the edge of the porch, one sock half-on and
+flopping from his foot.
+
+“Can’tcha talk?” he rasped. “Whatcha want here, Davidson?”
+
+“Just passin’ out word that the cattle association is goin’ to take
+charge of all mavericks from now on.”
+
+Seldon stared at him and then at Kane. Kane sneered. Brick’s statement
+was perhaps an insinuation that the Star Dot dealt strongly in
+mavericked stock, but Brick did not mean it to sound as such.
+
+“I’m startin’ out to pass the word,” continued Brick. “Got a letter----”
+
+“Hol’ on! Hol’ on!” Seldon fairly exploded with wrath, and took two
+steps down from the porch. “You accusin’ me of maverickin’?”
+
+“Hold on you’self!” snapped Brick. “Nobody’s accusin’ you of anythin’.”
+
+“Whatcha talkin’ thataway to me fer?” Seldon’s voice rasped and broke in
+righteous indignation.
+
+“I ain’t accusin’ anybody,” soothed Brick. “The cattle association is
+goin’ to take charge of all unbranded stock from now on, and I----”
+
+“---- the association!” roared Seldon. “I don’t belong to no
+association. I hope that the sheep run ’em out of the range!”
+
+“Don’t yelp,” laughed Brick. “Talk natural, Seldon.”
+
+“I’ll talk as I ---- please! No penny-ante sheriff can come out
+here----”
+
+“Whoa, Blaze!” gritted Brick. “Don’t get personal, Seldon. I don’t care
+if you don’t belong to the association. I’ve been ordered to protect
+their interests, and I reckon I’ll foller out them orders.”
+
+“You’d make a good protector for a calf,” observed Kane, and Malone
+laughed outright.
+
+“Yuh may find that out,” agreed Brick easily.
+
+“Protect ----!” roared Seldon. “They wouldn’t elect yuh sheriff, but yuh
+run a blazer on Bunty Blair and----”
+
+“I wouldn’t talk thataway if I was you,” interrupted Brick. “I ain’t
+never done you no harm, Seldon. I’m out here to pass out an order that
+was given to me.”
+
+“Who made that order?” demanded Seldon. “Tell me that, will yuh?”
+
+“The association made it, Seldon; but I suggested it, if yuh must know.”
+
+“The ---- you did!” Seldon’s parchment-like face seemed to wrinkle with
+wrath and he groped for words.
+
+“You--you think you’re a little ---- on wheels, don’tcha? Mebbe yuh
+think that Sun-Dog is goin’ to put yuh on a pedestal and worship yuh,
+but you’ve got the wrong hunch, lemme tell yuh that. I’ll run my ranch
+to suit myself, and I don’t want no ---- sheriff ridin’ up to my door
+and tellin’ me that I can’t do this and I can’t do that. _Sabe?_”
+
+“Bust a blood-vessel, if yuh don’t watch out,” observed Brick. “I knowed
+a feller like you, Seldon. He had a nasty tongue, too. Got mad at a dog
+one day and fell dead kickin’ at it. You better be careful.”
+
+Seldon leaned back against a porch-post, quivering with anger, unable to
+find words for a fitting reply.
+
+“If you’re all through--vamoose!” said Kane, jerking his thumb toward
+the road. “Next time yuh come here bring a warrant; otherwise--not. We
+don’t ask no favors of the sheriff’s office, and we ain’t interested in
+the cattle association.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Brick dropped the right hand off the horn of his saddle and leaned back,
+but made no move to go.
+
+“Whatcha stayin’ around here for?” Seldon seemed to get his breath back.
+
+“I’m the sheriff,” said Brick slowly. “I came out here to deliver an
+order. I’ve done my duty, as far as the sheriff end of it is concerned.
+You know what I told you concernin’ mavericks. That goes as she lays--
+And now,” Brick slid a few inches sidewise in his saddle, “now I’m just
+plain Brick Davidson, and I want one of your crowin’ roosters to start
+herdin’ me away from here.”
+
+“Whatcha mean by that?” asked Kane.
+
+“I’m through bein’ joshed, Kane.”
+
+“I own this here ranch,” stated Seldon, rather inanely.
+
+“Ownership unquestioned,” said Brick; “but that don’t give yuh no
+license to act like yuh did. I may be a penny-ante sheriff, but my
+game is too big for you or your punchers to set into.”
+
+For a space of ten seconds Brick’s eyes bored into Kane’s.
+
+Brick felt that Malone would be slow to draw, and Seldon was apparently
+unarmed. Kane had all the ear-marks of a gun-fighter, and wore his gun
+handy. Then Kane’s eyes fell. Brick shifted his gaze to Seldon.
+
+“I hope you’ll see your way clear to abide by that maverick proposition,
+Seldon. I’m passin’ the word to every cattleman in this county. I reckon
+that the association men are in the majority.”
+
+“You’re hopin’ quite a lot for a young feller.” Seldon was trying to
+keep his voice cool. “I was runnin’ cows when you was ridin’ a
+stick-horse, Davidson, and if you think for a minute that I’m payin’
+any attention to such a ---- fool order, you’re crazy as ----! You
+better resign and get a job herdin’ sheep.”
+
+“When I can’t enforce the law--I will.”
+
+Brick turned his horse and rode slowly away, taking a chance that few
+men would take under the circumstances.
+
+“You better put in your application!” Seldon’s voice was a mirthful
+squeak, but Brick did not turn his head. From behind him came the
+laughter of the three men, but Brick could not trust himself to turn
+his head.
+
+“You’re sheriff, Brick,” he told himself. “You’re paid to enforce the
+law--not to smoke up folks. Hang onto yourself, you danged fool! Nice
+thing for a sheriff to throw lead at cheap cow-comedians.”
+
+Brick shook his head and rode to a high point in the road before he
+allowed himself to look back at the Star Dot. He shook his head, glanced
+at the star on the lapel of his vest.
+
+“---- such a job!” he exclaimed aloud. “Cripples a feller all up.”
+
+At the forks of the road, where the road led up to Weeping Tree ranch,
+a buckboard and two restive horses pulled up, the driver waiting for
+Brick to arrive. At first glance the driver appeared to be a man, but
+a closer view proved her to be a big, raw-boned woman, middle aged,
+her face tanned to a deep bronze. Her hair was done up under a floppy
+sombrero and a well-worn duster covered her calico dress. She grinned
+at Brick, and jerked back on the lines, as the restive broncs surged
+forward.
+
+“Howdy, Brickie,” she called.
+
+“’Lo, Mrs. Wesson. How’s everything?”
+
+“She was fine when I left.” Mrs. Wesson, wife of the general
+store-keeper at Marlin City, threw back her head and laughed heartily.
+Mrs. Wesson was rough of speech and jest, but her heart was pure gold.
+She loved Brick Davidson like a mother and deviled him at every
+opportunity. Brick reddened, and grinned down at her.
+
+“Just breakin’ them horses?” he asked.
+
+Mrs. Wesson glanced at the team and then up at Brick.
+
+“Brick Davidson, you ain’t interested in broncs, are yuh? I’ve been
+drivin’ them coyote baits for a year and you sets there and asks me
+if I’m breakin’ ’em. You sure observes things, cowboy.”
+
+“Oh, yeah,” murmured Brick, “I knowed ’em when yuh used to curry ’em,
+but they’re so shaggy and ragged lookin’----”
+
+“Hol’ on! Cale Wesson curried ’em this mornin’.”
+
+“Went out to,” corrected Brick, “and then went to sleep on the stable
+doorstep.”
+
+Mrs. Wesson chuckled. Her husband had often told her that she could talk
+the handle off a pump, and she and Brick were due for an argument every
+time they met. Suddenly she sobered and looked up at Brick.
+
+“Brick, why don’t yuh go to Weepin’ Tree once in a while? You ain’t been
+there for a week.”
+
+“Been busy.”
+
+“Yeah? Know Pete Kane? Do yuh? He ain’t busy. Giddap!”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The team sprang forward, and the buckboard whirled off down the road in
+a cloud of dust. Brick sat there and watched her fade off down the road.
+What did she mean? Pete Kane wasn’t busy? Was Pete Kane visiting the
+Weeping Tree ranch? Brick wrinkled his nose and wiped the perspiration
+off his face. Suddenly it struck Brick that he had no right to say where
+Pete Kane should or should not go. He wondered if Mrs. Wesson meant to
+warn him. He knew nothing about Pete Kane--nothing against him. He was
+not friendly to Brick, but Brick reasoned that that fact did not make
+him any less a man. There was nothing narrow about Brick’s philosophy of
+life.
+
+He did not hate his enemies, neither did he turn the other cheek. He
+tried to hate Jeff Seldon, but the effort was a failure.
+
+“Poor little devil,” said Brick aloud; “his soul must ’a’ been made of
+green stuff, and his ma left him out in the sun and he got warped.”
+
+Mrs. Wesson was out of sight before Brick came out of reverie. Then he
+touched his horse with his spurs and went on toward Marlin City. Brick
+had decided to go to Weeping Tree--tomorrow.
+
+But Brick did not go to Weeping Tree on the following day. News of the
+maverick situation had percolated considerable in twenty-four hours,
+and Marlin City’s hitch-rack held more than their usual quota of
+saddle-horses. The association men were in the majority, but few of
+them openly applauded the idea. It was a time-honored custom--wrong,
+no doubt--but the old cow-men were satisfied with the old order of
+things.
+
+Brick was busy explaining his idea of it. Bunty Blair had acquired
+the Dollar Down saloon and gambling house, which was doing a thriving
+business on this day. Practically all of the nearest ranches were
+represented by either the foreman or owner. Neither Jeff Seldon nor
+Pete Kane was in evidence; but Breamer and Partner were there, saying
+nothing, but, as Brick observed, listening considerable. They left
+early in the forenoon.
+
+“She’s all right,” said “Bunch” Thornton, owner of the AD brand--one of
+the old-timers. “She’s all right, Brick, but I’d say she’s cuttin’ out
+quite a lot for one sheriff to handle. Sure as ---- she’s goin’ to raise
+discussions.”
+
+“It ain’t a law,” argued Bill Voorhies. “’Pears to me that she’s just a
+request. Mebbe they’re right, though. Maverickin’ sure does leave one
+big inducement for a feller to go crooked.”
+
+“I ain’t sayin’ a word,” grinned Lafe Freeman, “but I’ve been wonderin’
+why Bill Voorhies’ cows all have twins and my cows never bring in a
+calf.”
+
+Bill Voorhies joined in the general laugh which followed, and every one
+faced the bar and took a drink on Bill. Scott Martin had taken no part
+in the conversation, standing apart from the rest. After the drink the
+party slowly broke up, without any one offering to back the sheriff or
+the association.
+
+Scott Martin had taken no part in the conversation, owing to the fact
+that an ear affliction had caused partial deafness, and he was aware of
+the fact that men must shout to make him hear. He followed the rest of
+the men outside, got on his horse and rode away toward the ranch.
+
+Brick and Silent stood in the doorway of their office and watched the
+men ride away.
+
+“Didn’t see nothin’ of Seldon’s gang,” observed Silent.
+
+“Couple of his punchers were over in the saloon,” replied Brick.
+
+Brick had told Silent of his run-in with Seldon and Kane the day before,
+and Silent had bewailed the fact that Brick didn’t cripple the both of
+them.
+
+“You look out for them,” advised Silent. “Seldon’s a danged old
+centipede. Remind me of an old buzzard, with that yaller skin drawed
+tight across his sharp old face and that wrinkled neck. Betcha forty
+dollars his blood only circ’lates as high as his collarbone.”
+
+Brick laughed and they went into the office.
+
+“Lot of fellers,” observed Brick, “ain’t got sense enough to protect
+themselves. You’d think they’d all be strong for this new order,
+wouldn’t yuh?”
+
+“I dunno.” Silent wrinkled his long nose over the manufacture of a
+cigaret. “I reckon they all mavericks a little. Did yuh ever buy a
+watermelon, Brick? Didja ever notice that it ain’t sweet and juicy
+like the ones yuh stole when yuh was a kid? I reckon that cow-men
+never grow up--not thataway.”
+
+“It ain’t right,” argued Brick.
+
+Silent squinted at Brick’s serious expression.
+
+“It ain’t,” agreed Silent. “Far as I’m concerned I don’t give a
+whoop-galoo how much they steal from each other, but this is your
+play, Brick, and I’m backin’ yuh from my belt both ways. If you say
+she’s wrong--she sure as ---- is wrong, as far as I’m concerned.”
+
+“Much obliged, Silent,” said Brick absently.
+
+“No, yuh ain’t,” grinned Silent, “’cause yuh never heard what I said.”
+
+“I think I’ll ride out to the Weeping Tree,” said Brick, paying no
+attention to Silent’s statement.
+
+“You ain’t seen Scott Martin for almost an hour,” grinned Silent. “He’ll
+wonder if you’re mad at him--or somethin’.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Brick picked up his hat and walked out the rear door. At the rear of
+the office stood the small stable. Brick saddled his horse and swung
+into the street. He noticed that Lafe Freeman’s team and buckboard
+were still at the hitch-rack, along with three saddle-horses.
+
+Brick rode a single-footer, which ate up distance, and Brick, deep in
+thought, suddenly realized that he had swung off the main road and was
+within two miles of the Weeping Tree. He looped his reins around the
+horn of the saddle and gave a little attention to the manufacture of a
+cigaret. Suddenly his horse checked its stride and threw up its head.
+Brick instinctively reached for his reins and glanced up. Coming up out
+of the ravine, traveling towards the road was Scott Martin’s bay horse,
+still saddled and with reins dragging. Brick spurred ahead and crowded
+the horse against a sharp bank, where he got hold of the reins.
+
+Brick’s first thought was that perhaps the horse had thrown Scott, but
+the horse was too well broken and gentle to throw an average rider.
+Perhaps Scott had cut across the hills and the horse had fallen with
+him. Brick rode down the ravine, leading the bay. The horse showed no
+signs of having fallen. Brick rode down the twisting ravine for
+perhaps an eighth of a mile, when he suddenly heard the bawling of a
+calf. He swung his horse through the thick mesquite and came out into
+a small valley. Just beyond him a tiny trickle of smoke, like a blue
+thread faded into the soft breeze. That fire could only mean one
+thing--somebody was branding in the open range.
+
+Brick started to get off his horse, when out of the brush came a big
+spotted cow. There was no question but what that cow was angry. She
+emitted a blood-curdling bawl and came straight at Brick, who dropped
+the reins of the bay horse and spurred into the open. He whirled his
+horse around, untying his rope.
+
+The cow seemed undecided whether to chase the loose horse or the one
+with the rider. Brick swung his loop and rode slowly in a circle. The
+cow, instead of rushing at Brick, whirled suddenly and started across
+the little valley on a lope. Brick spurred in behind her, belaboring
+her with the heavy metal hondo on his lariat. With a bellow of alarm
+the cow turned and went down the ravine, seemingly anxious to get
+away.
+
+Brick drew up and turned his horse. Within twenty feet of him smoldered
+the tiny fire, and not over ten feet from the fire lay a calf, hog-tied.
+It was a young calf--too young to brand.
+
+Brick swung down from his saddle and walked over to the calf.
+
+“No wonder the old lady went on the prod,” he muttered. “Some son of a
+gun couldn’t wait for it to get weaned?”
+
+Suddenly Brick’s eyes centered on an object just beyond the fire and
+almost concealed from his view behind a mesquite tangle. Brick’s hand
+flashed to his gun, and he walked slowly forward, the butt of his Colt
+resting against his thigh.
+
+It was a man, lying on his face, with arms outspread. Brick did not
+have to turn him over to know it was Scott Martin. After the first
+shock, Brick’s eyes swept the surrounding country. A hundred yards
+away, outlined against the sky stood the spotted cow, watching for
+her baby, but the cow was the only living thing in sight.
+
+Brick knelt beside Scott Martin, drew down one of the outflung arms
+and gently turned him over on his back. Martin was not dead. His eyes
+were open and staring, and his heart-beats were jerky, but he was
+still alive. Brick knew it was no use to examine the wound. Brick knew
+nothing about surgery, except to try and stop the flow of blood, but
+Scott Martin was not bleeding badly. There was a spot of blood between
+his shoulders, but no sign of a wound in the front of his shirt.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Brick got to his feet. He did not know exactly what to do. Suddenly he
+saw a rider, cutting the hill, far across the ravine. Brick waved his
+hat and yelled, but the rider was too far away. Then Brick pointed his
+pistol at the sky and six shots echoed across the hills. The horse
+stopped. Brick waved his hat. The man swung his horse around and rode
+straight toward Brick, who walked a little farther up on the hill and
+waited.
+
+The man was Lynn Barnhardt, of the Lazy H. He was traveling cautiously
+up out of the ravine, when Brick called to him and he came on a gallop.
+
+Brick walked back to where Martin lay.
+
+“Howdy, Brick,” said Barnhardt, and then his eyes dropped to the man
+lying at Brick’s feet. His glance swept to the trussed calf and the
+smoldering fire and then back to Brick.
+
+“Picks ’em young, don’t he?” Barnhardt’s voice was serious.
+
+“Somebody shot him,” said Brick.
+
+Barnhardt looked curiously at Brick and then down at Martin.
+
+“Yeah, it looks kinda that way. Dead?”
+
+“No. See anybody in the hills today, Lynn?”
+
+Barnhardt shook his head.
+
+“How yuh goin’ to get him to town?”
+
+“Have to get a rig, I reckon. Will yuh stay here and--kinda watch him,
+while I get a rig and a doctor, Lynn?”
+
+“Sure--go ahead. Whose calf is that, Brick?”
+
+“It never got branded,” replied Brick; “but its ma wears a Nine Bar
+Nine.”
+
+“Oh!” grunted Lynn. “Lafe Freeman’s, eh? Go ahead, Brick.”
+
+Brick rode furiously back to Marlin City. Lafe Freeman’s team and
+buckboard was still at the hitch-rack; so Brick went straight into
+the Dollar Down. He found a poker game in progress, and Lafe Freeman
+was sitting behind a large stack of chips.
+
+“Scott Martin has been shot,” stated Brick. “Can I borrow your rig,
+Lafe?”
+
+“Shot?” exclaimed Bunch Thornton, starting out of his chair. “Scott
+Martin?”
+
+“In the back,” replied Brick. “Where’s Doc Meyers?--anybody know?”
+
+“He’s over in the restaurant,” said Le Blanc. “I see her go in dere jus’
+now. I’m go to her--me.”
+
+Le Blanc lumbered out of the doorway and across the street, while Lafe
+Freeman bow-legged his way to the hitch-rack.
+
+Bunch Thornton bought a bottle of whisky from Bunty, shoved it into his
+pocket and ran for his horse. Bunch believed that nothing was as good as
+whisky in case of lead poisoning.
+
+Doc Meyers came out of the restaurant door, urged by Le Blanc, who was
+talking more French than English, much to Doc Meyers’ mystification.
+Lafe yelled at the little doctor to come a-running, and the cavalcade
+dashed out of town, Lafe and the doctor riding a bouncing buckboard
+drawn by two running broncs, while ahead rode Brick and Bunch Thornton.
+
+Brick and Bunch left the road near the ravine, but Lafe Freeman asked no
+questions. He had often sworn that he could drive a buckboard anywhere a
+man could ride a horse, and he almost proved it.
+
+The doctor held on with both hands and prayed for the journey to end,
+while Lafe whooped at the broncos and drove them down into the ravine
+and out on the other side. The doctor fell off the seat a hundred
+yards from where Barnhardt was speaking to Brick, but Lafe drew up
+with a flourish and jumped out.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Doc Meyers lost no time in idle speculation. His examination was rapid,
+and no one spoke during the time he opened the back of Martin’s shirt
+and disclosed the bullet hole. The bullet had struck between the spine
+and the shoulder blade, on the right side. Meyers bandaged the wound and
+then motioned for them to put him in the buckboard.
+
+“Is he hurt bad?” asked Brick softly.
+
+“Yah. Bullet is in him yet. Likely one of them .41’s. That flat end on
+the bullet kinda stops it. Looks like it paralyzed him. Maybe--we’ll
+have to wait and see. Might be hard to recover the lead.”
+
+Doc Meyers used no extra words. Mrs. Wesson had said that a diagnosis by
+Doc Meyers sounded like a telegram prepaid by a stingy man.
+
+“Goin’ to take him home, ain’t we?” asked Lafe.
+
+Brick nodded.
+
+“Yeah, I reckon it’s best, Lafe.”
+
+Bunch Thornton released the calf, and headed it down the ravine. Brick
+rode on the rear of the buckboard, helping the doctor hold Martin in an
+easy position, while Lynn Barnhardt led Brick’s horse.
+
+Jean Martin was standing in the doorway when they swung into the
+quadrangle of the old Weeping Tree ranch-house. She gazed at them,
+wide-eyed and then ran out to the buckboard. Jean Martin was a tall,
+capable looking girl, with serious brown eyes and a tumbled mass of
+brown hair, which never seemed to stay “put” as she expressed it.
+Jean was barely past eighteen. Scott Martin had married her mother,
+a widow, when Jean was barely ten years of age, and less than a year
+later her mother had been killed by a misdirected bullet. Her love
+for her foster-father was as strong as it would have been for her
+own father. Although her name was not Martin, she had adopted her
+step-father’s name, and was known to every one as Scott Martin’s
+daughter.
+
+Lafe Freeman tried to break it gently to her, but Jean only needed
+to be told the nature of the wound. Brick tried to tell her how he
+found her father, but she ran past him into the house to fix a bed.
+Brick helped Barnhardt carry him into the house, and then the men
+stood around silently and watched Doc Meyers prepare to try to find
+the bullet.
+
+Jean’s face was gray with the horror of it all, but she did not break
+down nor whimper. Jean was built of stern stuff, and the men watched
+her with a mixture of pity and admiration. Suddenly a figure darkened
+the door and they turned to see Mrs. Wesson dressed in her slouch hat
+and worn duster. She went straight to Jean and put her arm around the
+girl’s waist.
+
+“Honey, I came just as quick as I heard.”
+
+Jean smiled wanly, and looked back at the doctor.
+
+“---- that maverick law!” muttered Bunch Thornton.
+
+Brick raised his eyes and stared at him. For the first time it came to
+Brick that folks would think he had done it. He had found the tied
+calf, the branding fire. Doc Meyers had spoken of the wound being made
+by a .41 caliber bullet. Brick carried a .41. He remembered the queer
+look that Barnhardt had given him.
+
+Brick switched his gaze to Jean, and found her looking straight at him,
+a look full of sorrow. Then she turned away.
+
+Brick’s soul cried out against these suspicions, but his lips tightened.
+It was damnable for any one to think he had done this, but how could he
+prove his innocence? Right now, his pistol was filled with empty .41
+cartridges and the gun was foul with burned powder.
+
+Brick glanced at Lafe Freeman. Lafe’s lips were shut tight, but his
+glance seemed to be a warning.
+
+“They all think I done it,” thought Brick. His eyes swept the group near
+the bed, and he turned and walked outside to his horse, where he mounted
+and rode swiftly away. His mind was reaching out for a possible proof
+that he did not shoot Martin, but there was nothing.
+
+He rode swiftly to where he had intercepted Martin’s horse, and
+dismounted. In the dust of the road he found a footprint, partly
+obliterated by a wagon wheel. He searched up and down the road. Then
+he found another track, like the track of a monster bird. He studied
+this.
+
+“Five toed bird!” he grunted. “Five toed ----! That’s the print of a
+man’s hand!”
+
+Just the one print. Beyond it was a mark where something had been
+dragged through the dust. On the yellowed grass, near the edge of the
+road he found a spatter of blood. It was almost dried in the sun, but
+was undeniably fresh blood.
+
+Brick ranged like a hunting dog. Suddenly he found another track--the
+track of a horse. He examined it closely. The horse had crossed the
+road, headed toward the ravine. Across the road was the ruins of an
+old log and dobie cabin, almost concealed by brush.
+
+Between the road and the ruin he found two more prints from the same
+horse. Brick went back to his horse. There was nothing unusual about
+finding the tracks of a shod horse, but Brick had never known a horse
+to be shod in this manner. The tracks showed that the toe-calks had
+been left entirely off the shoes, but the heel-calks were very
+pronounced.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Bunty Blair hailed him from the saloon porch, as he came into town,
+asking of news from Martin. Bunty looked queerly at Brick, as Brick was
+unable to tell him anything further than that the doctor was probing for
+the bullet.
+
+Brick found “Harp” Harris humped up in the doorway of the office,
+solemn of face and dejected of figure, trying to coax a tune from
+his jew’s-harp. Nature had violated a precedent when she fashioned
+Harp Harris. In physique, he was a perfect line from his bat-ears to
+his ankles. An artist or sculptor might have used Harp for the model
+of “The Lost Chord,” as he distorted his long, sad face over the
+efforts of breathing a tune into the most humble of instruments.
+Harp was foreman of the Nine Bar Nine outfit, and entirely capable,
+which spoke well of his lack of artistic temperament.
+
+He squinted up at Brick, but continued to “hung-g-g-g, hong-g” for
+several seconds. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and
+got to his feet. The office door was shut.
+
+“Where’s Silent?” asked Brick.
+
+Harp jerked his head toward the doorway. “Somebody kicked the door shut,
+when I started to play.”
+
+The door opened and Silent looked out. “Martin dead?” he asked quickly.
+
+“No.” Brick shook his head. “Hurt bad, though. Doc thinks he was shot
+with a .41. Who shoots a .41, Silent?”
+
+“You do,” Silent grinned, but sobered up as Brick nodded.
+
+“Gee cripes, Brick, I didn’t mean----”
+
+“Looks kinda like I done it,” admitted Brick bitterly.
+
+“He had it comin’ then,” stated Harp. “Some folks do take goshawful
+chances in this here earthly sphere. Got time to look at somethin’ I
+brought in?”
+
+Brick opened his mouth to question Harp, but he of the slabsides was
+already walking away.
+
+“Foller him,” advised Silent. “I’ll sneak along behind. If I can ever
+get him far enough away from town I’m goin’ to massacree him. The danged
+porkypine’s settin’ on the doorstep for an hour, hongin’ ---- out of
+‘After the Ball’.”
+
+“Shucks,” drawled Harp. “You don’t know ‘Marchin’ Through Georgie’ from
+‘Take Back Your Gold,’ you don’t.”
+
+“I heard yuh play ’em,” grunted Silent, “but that wasn’t all yuh
+played.”
+
+“I never played either of them,” grinned Harp.
+
+Silent rumbled threats of violence, as they followed Harp to a little
+corral, which had been built out from Cale Wesson’s barn. In the corral
+stood a red cow, while at her flank, huddling for protection, stood a
+spotted calf.
+
+The cow bore the brand of the Lazy H, while the little calf had been
+branded with a crude Weeping Tree. Brick studied the two brands
+silently.
+
+“I picked ’em up when I was comin’ to town,” stated Harp.
+
+“It ain’t none of my business, but I sure do hate to see folks slappin’
+a hot, runnin’-iron on a poor li’l calf thataway. Been done a couple of
+days ago, I reckon.”
+
+“Bill Voorhies seen it?” asked Brick.
+
+“No. He’ll be sore, I bet.”
+
+“You heard about Scott Martin, didn’t yuh, Harp?”
+
+“Only what Silent told me; and me and you both know Silent too well
+to----”
+
+Ordinarily, Brick would have enjoyed the word battles between Silent and
+Harp, and would have been willing to explain it to Harp, but just now he
+seemed tired of it all, and wordless. He was not even interested in this
+new evidence against Martin.
+
+Brick turned and walked back toward the street. Silent and Harp passed a
+look of mutual understanding, and followed him to the street, just as
+Lafe Freeman drove in with his buckboard, followed by Bunch Thornton and
+Lynn Barnhardt. Thornton and Barnhardt went into the saloon, but Freeman
+came over to Brick.
+
+“Doc found the bullet,” said Lafe.
+
+“Forty-one?” asked Brick, and Lafe nodded.
+
+“Wasn’t hardly battered none. Doc’s afraid it went so close to the spine
+that it might paralyze him. Martin ain’t conscious yet.”
+
+Harp and Silent went slowly across the street to the saloon, and Brick
+watched them go inside before he turned to Lafe.
+
+“Lafe, I never shot Scott Martin.”
+
+Lafe drew out a plug of tobacco and set his teeth into the edge of it.
+
+“Zasso?” He rolled the tobacco into his cheek and squinted at Brick.
+
+“Did you think I did, Lafe?”
+
+“----!” Lafe spat contemptuously. “In the back?” Lafe shook his head,
+and added, “But I ain’t everybody, Brick.”
+
+Brick nodded his head. Lafe had said “everybody,” which included Jean
+Martin. Silent and Harp had asked no questions. If Brick had shot Scott
+Martin, according to their ideas, Scott Martin deserved the shot. Brick
+turned to Lafe.
+
+“Want to show yuh somethin’, Lafe.”
+
+They walked back to the little corral, where Lafe looked at the brands.
+The old cattleman shook his head.
+
+“Was Scott Martin loco, Brick?”
+
+“No.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+They walked back to the street, where Lafe turned and put his hand on
+Brick’s shoulder.
+
+“Brick, I know you didn’t shoot Scott Martin. I could swear it
+by ---- and high-water, but--ain’t you got no alibi a-tall?”
+
+“Martin would know who shot him, Lafe?”
+
+“Not unless he’s got eyes in the back of his head, which he ain’t.”
+
+“Go and find ’em, son. I told Doc Meyers to get hold of Doc Winchell,
+down at Silverton. Mebbe the two of ’em can fix him up.”
+
+Lafe went back to his buckboard and drove out of town, while Brick went
+back to the office and sat down to think calmly.
+
+Was Scott Martin branding that calf when he was shot? If he wasn’t,
+what was he doing that far off the road? Did he maverick that Lazy H
+calf, which Harp brought in? Would any man--any sane man, brand a
+sucking-calf, whose ownership was unquestioned? Who had reasons for
+killing Martin?
+
+The questions seethed through Brick’s mind, but he could grasp no
+solutions to any of them. He wrote out the questions, but was unable
+to think calmly, because the thought, “Everybody thinks you shot him,”
+kept hammering his brain. He stared at the ages-old reward notices,
+with which most of the walls had been papered, but his thoughts were
+far from the “Wanted” ones, whose faces stared down at him.
+
+Silent came in softly and threw his hat on the table.
+
+“Jeff Seldon’s up in the Dollar Down, faunchin’ to beat ----,” he
+announced.
+
+“What’s eatin’ him?” asked Brick absently.
+
+“Says he found two of his Hereford calves branded with the Weepin’ Tree.
+He says they was mavericks, which he was intendin’ to slap brands onto
+right away. Seems that Frank Fellows found ’em up near the head of Piney
+creek. Frank brings ’em in and throws ’em into a bunch near the Star
+Dot, and today they finds ’em both mavericked.
+
+“Seldon’s the only one around here that owns any Herefords. He rides
+into town, mad as ----, and opines he’s goin’ out to the Weepin’ Tree
+and jump on Martin all spraddled out. Bunty tells him what happened to
+Scott Martin, and now Seldon’s sore at you. He was goin’ to claw Martin
+to a fare-thee-well, and then he gets sore at you for--for----”
+
+“For shootin’ Martin,” prompted Brick.
+
+“He didn’t just say that, Brick. He said this country was tryin’ to
+reform too ---- fast.”
+
+“Well,” drawled Brick, “well, maybe he’s right, at that.”
+
+Silent nodded over the manufacture of a cigaret, while Brick watched him
+closely.
+
+“Did you know I shot Scott Martin?” asked Brick.
+
+Silent scratched a match and squinted at Brick through the smoke of his
+cigaret.
+
+“Uh-huh. Sure, I knowed it, Brick.” Silent pinched out the glowing match
+and grinned at Brick. “Now that we’ve both lied--what next?”
+
+“Prove it?” queried Silent, when Brick did not answer.
+
+“No.” Brick shook his head. “Provin’ that I didn’t do it is goin’ to
+take time. I reckon it’s up to us to prove who did do it, Silent.”
+
+Silent walked to the door and looked up the street.
+
+“Here comes your friend Seldon,” he remarked.
+
+Seldon lost no time in idle gossip. He brushed past Silent and walked
+over to Brick.
+
+“Well, yore maverick law kinda started somethin’, didn’t it?” Seldon’s
+tone of voice was like pouring vinegar into a raw sore. Brick leaned on
+the edge of his desk and tried to control his temper. He knew there was
+no use in arguing with Seldon.
+
+“I’ll fight m’ own battles,” declared Seldon. “If Scott Martin wants
+to steal all my cattle it’s none of your business, _sabe_? I’ll
+settle with the thief in my own way.” Still Brick made no move; made
+no attempt to reply. This emboldened Seldon. His overbearing temper
+had found a target, and his little round eyes snapped. “I’ve handled
+a lot of rustlers,” said Seldon, and made no attempt to lower his
+voice, “I sure have, but I never shot one in the----”
+
+He had meant to say “back.” Brick’s right hand shot out and the fingers
+gripped into Seldon’s collar, cutting off the final word. Seldon clawed
+for his gun, but Brick’s other arm circled his body, tearing his hand
+away from the pistol butt and dropping the gun to the floor.
+
+Brick picked Seldon up in his arms, carried him to the door, with Seldon
+screaming curses and kicking vainly at Brick’s shins. Brick grinned at
+Silent and started across the street. Seldon’s screams had attracted the
+attention of Marlin City, and Brick and his burden had spectators as
+they crossed the street to the Frenchman Le Blanc’s blacksmith shop.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Le Blanc looked up from his work-bench as Brick came in. Several men
+crowded in behind them, stopping at the doorway of the shop.
+
+Seldon’s conversation was incomprehensible, but the profanity was very
+clear and emphatic. Brick carried him straight to Le Blanc’s slack-tub,
+a half-barrel tub filled with very dirty water, in which the blacksmith
+cooled hot metal. It was not a large tub, but Seldon was not a large
+man. The immersion followed, while the audience stood in silent
+enjoyment.
+
+Five times did Brick immerse Seldon--immerse every bit of him, except
+his feet, and the fifth time Seldon spat out the dirty water without
+profanity. The water was very dirty, and the bottom of the tub was an
+inch deep with iron flakes, filings and such sediment as a blacksmith
+shop is heir to, and which did not serve to increase Seldon’s personal
+appearance.
+
+But Seldon did not curse any more. He was very meek as he sat on the
+floor beside the tub and tried to sneeze the water out of his nose.
+
+“Ba gar, she’s jus’ lak’ dip in hot iron!” grunted Le Blanc. “Get her
+hot lak’ ---- and den dip queek and she’s mebbe spoil de temper. Ho,
+ho, ho!”
+
+Seldon shot Le Blanc a malevolent glance, but did not speak. He reminded
+Brick of a rattler, pinned down and exhausted from striking at nothing.
+
+Seldon got slowly to his feet and tottered out of the shop, a dripping
+scarecrow. Without a word he went straight to the hitch-rack, where the
+horses snorted their indignation of such an apparition, mounted his
+horse and rode out of town.
+
+“Me--I’m glad for dat,” grinned Le Blanc. “I’m no la’k dat sonn of a
+gonn.”
+
+“First bath he’s had since the Custer battle,” grinned Harp. “It sure
+does change a man.”
+
+No one asked Brick why he had ducked Seldon in the dirty water. It was
+none of their business, and men in the cattle country are prone to mind
+their own business; that is, if they desire peace and comfort. The
+audience drifted back to their own business, leaving Brick and Le Blanc
+standing in the doorway of the shop.
+
+“You’ve shod a lot of horses, ain’t yuh, Le Blanc?” asked Brick.
+
+“You bet,” nodded Le Blanc. “Shoe plenty cayuse. I’m wan good
+horseshoe--me.”
+
+The Frenchman swelled with self admiration. He had boasted of his
+methods of building a proper horseshoe a thousand times, especially
+when his belt was tightened around several drinks of straight gin,
+his favorite liquor.
+
+“What’s the idea of leavin’ the toe-calk off a shoe?”
+
+Le Blanc wiped his mustache with a dirty hand.
+
+“Leave de toe-calk h’off, Breek? Um-m-m--who do dat?”
+
+“I dunno; I just wondered why anybody would.”
+
+Le Blanc considered it a while.
+
+“Sometame de cayuse she’s cut herself wit’ toe-calk, Breek. When she’s
+lope her hin’ feet--” Le Blanc nodded violently. “I shoe cayuse lak’ dat
+one time.”
+
+“Whose cayuse?”
+
+“Four years ago, Breek. I’m de blacksmit’ in Nort’ Dakota. One
+blacksmit’ she’s shoe dis cayuse and de cayuse she’s cut her front
+legs. De man she’s come to me and I tak’ off dem shoe. De man she’s
+say to me for leave off de toe-calk. I’m remembair dees pony. She’s
+jus’ broke. She’s keek ---- out of me.”
+
+“Did it cure her of interferin’?” asked Brick.
+
+“I never see no more. I’m t’ink she’s cure. Le Blanc wan good
+horse-shoe.”
+
+“Who shoes their own horses around here?”
+
+“Who try to shoe?” queried Le Blanc, meaningly. “Well, de Nine Bar Nine,
+de Lazy H, de--mos’ h’everybody, Breek, dey try to shoe cayuse.”
+
+“The Star Dot?” asked Brick.
+
+“Seldon nevair buy de horse-shoe from Le Blanc. Mebbe she’s buy from
+Wesson.”
+
+Brick nodded and walked back to the office. There did not seem to be a
+thing to work on. Everything led into a blind corner.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Lafe Freeman lost no time in going to Silverton after Doctor Winchell,
+and had him in Marlin City the next morning in time to send him out to
+the Weeping Tree with Doctor Meyers. Brick watched them drive away,
+and wondered if Doctor Winchell would be of any use. Winchell had
+added knowledge of human ills to his practise as veterinary. Doctor
+Meyers was also called in animal cases. Ordinarily, Brick would have
+laughed over the fact that two veterinaries were going to consult over
+a wounded human being, but humor seemed apart from Brick just now.
+Silent came to Brick and spoke disgustedly--
+
+“They’re talkin’ about askin’ you to resign, Brick.”
+
+“Who?”
+
+“I dunno. I heard it mentioned in the Dollar Down.”
+
+Brick turned away and walked slowly up the street. He suddenly made up
+his mind to ride out to the Weeping Tree and see Jean. At least he could
+tell her he didn’t fire that shot. He saddled his horse and rode away
+from town. Within a mile of the ranch-house he met Mrs. Wesson. She drew
+up her team and looked up at him.
+
+“I--I was just goin’ out there,” stammered Brick, “goin’ out to see if
+there’s anythin’ I can do.”
+
+“I don’t think there is, Brick.” Mrs. Wesson shook her head. “Them two
+clumsy doctors are out there and if they can’t kill him, he’s a wonder.
+They didn’t tell me to vamoose--not in so many words, but I don’t have
+to git hit with a boulder. I’m goin’ home after some clean clothes.”
+
+“Is he--has he said anythin’?”
+
+“Not a word. Doc Meyers thought he was conscious, but Doc Meyers
+knows a ---- sight more about ringbone and spavin than he does about
+human ills. You know that Scott Martin was almost deaf anyway, and I
+reckon this bullet ruins what’s left. He couldn’t hear the crack o’
+doom. And here he comes out there with Doctor Winchell. Where’d that
+horse doctor get any right to prognosticate on the human form, I’d
+admire to know?”
+
+“How’s Jean?”
+
+“Well, she ain’t singin’, if that’s what yuh mean. I asked her if she
+didn’t think it was funny that you hadn’t been out, and she said she
+didn’t think so under the circumstances. She thinks you shot him, I
+reckon.”
+
+“Don’t you, Mrs. Wesson?”
+
+“Good----!” Mrs. Wesson’s eyes bored into Brick’s face.
+
+“Brick Davidson, I’m plumb ashamed of yuh! Don’tcha think I’ve got
+any--giddap!”
+
+The ponies sprang forward and the buckboard rattled off down the
+road, with Mrs. Wesson humped up in the seat, while Brick sat on his
+horse beside the road watching her disappear. Then the lines of his
+face relaxed and he patted his horse’s shoulder.
+
+“Button, we’ll show ’em yet. Didja hear what she said? She was mad
+at me, ’cause I even thought she believed it. Lafe knows I didn’t,
+and Silent and Harp don’t believe it, and now Mrs. Wesson don’t.
+Button, we ain’t in the majority, not by a ---- sight, but we’ve got
+a fightin’ nest-egg. Now watch our dust.”
+
+Brick headed into the hills. He had no desire to go to Weeping
+Tree--today. Mrs. Wesson’s indignant reply to his question had warmed
+his whole being. It seemed to clear his mind. He had thought of what
+Silent had told him, and had almost decided to resign his office, but
+this meeting with Mrs. Wesson had been like handing a loaded gun to a
+cornered fugitive.
+
+Brick gave no heed to his direction, and suddenly pulled up his horse
+at the top of a butte and looked down upon the rambling ranch-house
+and sprawling corrals of the Star Dot. A spirit of daredevilry came to
+Brick. For the first time since he had found Scott Martin lying shot,
+he became normal. As far as he could see there was no one at the Star
+Dot. Several head of cattle browsed around inside one of the corrals,
+while in another were several horses.
+
+Brick shook up his horse and rode straight for the house. He rode past
+the front porch and around the corner, where he found Jeff Seldon,
+tilted back in a chair against the side of the building. Seldon had
+changed clothes and had evidently neglected to wear his belt and gun.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Seldon stared at Brick, as though Brick were a ghost. His thin face
+seemed to grow thinner and the parchment-colored skin seemed fairly to
+crack. For the space of ten seconds neither of them spoke; then Seldon
+exploded a curse and swung his chair away from the wall.
+
+“Nice afternoon,” observed Brick seriously.
+
+“Nice ----!” choked Seldon. His hand dropped to his hip, but there was
+nothing there except sagging overalls.
+
+He swallowed with difficulty.
+
+“You spoke about two Herefords what had been mavericked,” remarked
+Brick.
+
+“You’re ---- right I did! Don’tcha believe me?”
+
+“Like to see ’em, Seldon, if it ain’t too much trouble.” Seldon got to
+his feet and led the way to the corral, with Brick riding behind him.
+There were several head of cattle in the corral, all Herefords. Seldon
+pointed out the two mavericks, or which had been mavericks until the
+Weeping Tree had been run on their right shoulder. They were nearly
+full-blooded Herefords.
+
+“You could swear that they belonged to you, Seldon?”
+
+“Swear? ’Course I could swear. Any jury in the country would give ’em to
+me. The Weepin’ Tree ain’t got no Herefords.”
+
+“They were mavericks,” observed Brick. “Must be nearly yearlin’s.”
+
+“Uh-huh. Fellows found ’em way back in the breaks of Piney Crick. They
+was mavericks, but they’re mine, y’betcha. Danged nice pair of animals.”
+
+“If you’ll open the gate, I’ll cut ’em out,” offered Brick.
+
+“Cut ’em out?” Seldon was plainly surprized. “What for--cut ’em out?”
+
+“Take ’em back with me. You swear that they belong to you, Seldon, but
+your brand ain’t on ’em. You swear that the Weepin’ Tree ain’t never
+had no Herefords. I reckon we’ll turn ’em over to the association and
+let ’em decide whether either outfit owns ’em.”
+
+Seldon leaned against the corral fence and grew incoherent. Would he
+stand for anything like this? Not by several adjective sights. He’d
+see Brick Davidson skating in a mythical region, where heat is said
+to be excessive, first. In fact, Seldon exhausted his extensive
+vocabulary of “nots and won’ts,” while Brick grinned in silent wonder
+that any human being could think of so many curses and have them all
+fit the situation.
+
+Seldon started for the house, but Brick swung his horse across Seldon’s
+path and asked Seldon where he was going. Seldon informed him that he
+was going to town, but first he must get his coat. Brick grinned and
+shook his head.
+
+“From that window up there you could salivate me with lead, old-timer.
+No, I can’t let yuh go into the house--not today.”
+
+“---- yuh, I don’t want to go into the house!” Seldon’s voice was
+high-pitched in spots, like a youngster, whose voice is changing. “My
+coat is right there around the corner from the kitchen door.”
+
+Brick glanced at the kitchen door. He could watch Seldon get the coat,
+but what would prevent Seldon from jumping around out of sight? Brick
+shook his head.
+
+“You stay here, old-timer, and I’ll get the coat for yuh.” Brick got
+off his horse and walked to the corner, keeping an eye on Seldon. Just
+around the corner, leaning against the wall, was a Winchester rifle.
+There was no coat.
+
+Seldon said nothing, when Brick came back, but his eyes narrowed. He was
+caught with the goods, and he knew better than to try to lie out of it.
+
+“You’ve got a good tailor,” said Brick, examining the rifle, “but I
+reckon we’ll kinda spoil the fit.”
+
+He levered all the cartridges out of the magazine and then motioned for
+Seldon to go back to the corral. Brick took the rifle in both hands and
+swung it across the top of a post. After three swings there was neither
+stock, magazine lever nor mechanism left. Brick threw it aside and
+motioned for Seldon to open the gate.
+
+It was but a moment’s work for Brick to send the two yearlings out of
+the gate. Seldon was beyond words. His skinny jaws were set, but he
+did not look at Brick as he rode past, and followed the two maverick
+animals. Brick headed them straight toward Marlin City. Where the road
+swung around a high point, about half a mile from the Star Dot, he
+looked back, and saw two horsemen riding in from another direction.
+
+Brick let the yearlings drift, while he watched the ranch-house. Few
+loose animals will follow a road, unless carefully herded, and these
+two Herefords were no exception. They drifted on for a while and
+stopped; looked back, and swung back into the hills.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Brick’s patience was rewarded. In about fifteen minutes three riders
+left the ranch and swung up the road toward Brick. One of them was
+evidently Jeff Seldon, as his pinto was easily distinguished at that
+distance.
+
+Brick rode off the grade and down into a tangle of mesquite, where he
+was effectually screened from the road. As they rode swiftly past him,
+he recognized Seldon and Pete Kane; but the third man was a stranger. As
+soon as they were out of sight, Brick rode back to the grade and went
+slowly toward town. He had no idea why the three riders were in such a
+hurry. Perhaps they figured on overtaking him and getting the yearlings.
+Brick did not make any search for the Herefords, knowing that they now
+headed into the hills. At any rate, they were of no value to him. They
+had been an excuse for a visit to Jeff Seldon, and the visit had turned
+out very well.
+
+Brick did not hurry back to Marlin City. He rode slowly to where the
+road led off to the Weeping Tree, scanning the road carefully for a
+sign of the missing toe-calks, but there were none. Seldon, Kane and
+the stranger had ridden two shod horses and one barefooted one. On
+the saddled ones the toe and heel calks were plainly visible.
+
+Brick wanted to go to the Weeping Tree, but after due deliberation went
+on to town. Protesting his innocence would not do him any good. In fact
+Brick did not want to protest his innocence--he wanted to prove it by
+finding the guilty parties.
+
+As he rode into town he noticed that there was an unusually large number
+of saddle-horses at the hitch-rack beside the Dollar Down; but this was
+Saturday, which would account for that. Brick had intended to go to the
+office, but when he saw Seldon’s pinto at the hitch-rack he changed his
+mind and went to the saloon.
+
+Pete Kane and the stranger were just coming to the door, as Brick
+stepped inside. As Brick stepped aside to let them pass, Kane spoke to
+the stranger. The man turned his head toward Kane, and then appeared to
+stumble into Brick; his toe striking Brick’s ankle. The man had stumbled
+on a smooth floor and had gone entirely out of his way to collide with
+Brick.
+
+For a moment they were face to face, but the stranger’s eyes held no
+hint of apology, rather he appeared to blame Brick. Brick made as though
+to pass on into the saloon, but his right foot swung sidewise, catching
+around the stranger’s ankle, throwing him completely off his balance and
+he crashed to the floor.
+
+Brick had barely stopped in his stride and now he faced Kane, who had
+stopped just inside the door, and the fallen man, who was sitting on
+the floor staring at Brick. The man was taller than Brick, but of about
+the same weight. His features and complexion stamped him as a Spaniard
+or a Mexican. He wore a small, well-trimmed mustache on his short upper
+lip. His nose was prominent and his close-set eyes were very black. He
+was a trifle overdressed; his range clothes extreme in color and cut. A
+businesslike gun reposed in a stamped leather holster on his hip, and
+his heavy, wide belt was well filled with cartridges.
+
+He glanced around at the crowd and got slowly to his feet. Kane was
+almost behind him as he got up, but stepped quickly out of line with
+Brick, who was standing easily, feet braced and hand swung idly
+beside the holster of his gun. He appeared to hold little animosity
+toward Brick, and his mouth twisted into a semblance of a grin. Then
+he turned and went out.
+
+“Quitter!” grunted a voice in the group.
+
+Brick turned and looked at them. His eyes singled out Seldon.
+
+“Quitter?” queried Brick wonderingly.
+
+“Started it, didn’t he?” asked Seldon quickly. Brick grinned.
+
+“’Pears to me like he did, Seldon. Who is he?” asked Brick.
+
+“Name’s Smith--Jack Smith,” replied Seldon. “Horse buyer for the English
+army.”
+
+Brick considered this, and turned back to the door. Lafe Freeman and
+Bunch Thornton came up to Brick and asked him to step outside. They
+were both very serious.
+
+“Brick, I’m plumb scared that they’re goin’ to ask yuh to resign,”
+stated Lafe. “Lot of these snake-hunters think you shot Scott Martin,
+and nothin’ will stop ’em thinkin’ that--except findin’ the guilty
+ones.”
+
+“I’m for yuh, Brick,” said Bunch. “I’ll make yuh foreman of my outfit,
+if yuh need a job.”
+
+“He won’t.” Lafe Freeman spoke with conviction. “If Brick needs a job,
+his old place on the Nine Bar Nine is still waitin’ for him.”
+
+“But I ain’t needin’ a job,” grinned Brick. “I’m goin’ to keep right on
+bein’ sheriff.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+“Bill Voorhies is chairman of the board of county commissioners, and
+he’s goin’ to take up the matter,” said Lafe. “Bill kinda runs that
+bunch of horse-thieves, and Bill’s down on you, Brick. I’ll do all I
+can, but----”
+
+“Bill wasn’t in favor of me when Bunty resigned,” remarked Brick.
+
+“Sure, sure,” nodded Thornton, “and Bill’s the worst maverick in the
+whole county, Brick. He can’t afford to have yuh spoilin’ his game,
+can he?”
+
+“When all is said and done, why should I resign? I haven’t done a danged
+thing that was wrong.”
+
+“Old Seldon said yuh came out to his place and herded him around with
+a gun and turned his stock into the hills and smashed his rifle. Said
+yuh run off them two mavericked yearlin’s, likely to square yourself
+with Martin in case he gets well. Voorhies was there and heard it all.
+He said there’s due to be a change in your office real soon.”
+
+“Heard anything from Martin?” asked Brick.
+
+“Paralyzed, so Doc Meyers says,” replied Lafe. “Can’t talk nor hear nor
+move. Bullet kinda crimped his spine, I reckon.”
+
+“Say, who owns the Weepin’ Tree ranch?” asked Brick suddenly.
+
+“Seldon,” replied Thornton. “He’s got a deed from Zell Mohr. He was
+talkin’ about it today. It joins the Star Dot and there’s a couple
+of good springs, which flows well all Summer. Kinda funny that none
+of us picked up that ranch on account of them springs. Betcha Seldon
+never paid Zell nowhere near what the place was worth.”
+
+“It was worth nothin’ to Zell,” grinned Lafe.
+
+“So Mohr sold the Weepin’ Tree to Seldon before he went to the pen, eh?”
+queried Brick. “Where does Martin come in on this deal? He’s got a paper
+that Zell gave him, which shows that Martin can live as long as he wants
+to on that ranch.”
+
+“I dunno.” Thornton shook his head. “Seldon’s got the deed to it, that’s
+all I know.”
+
+Brick smiled and turned to Lafe.
+
+“I’m goin’ to keep on bein’ sheriff, Lafe. Ne’mind them commissioners.”
+
+Brick went back to his office and sat down. From a locked drawer he
+took a legal-looking document and perused it thoroughly. Suddenly he
+stopped and stared at the wall. Before him came the face of the man
+he had knocked down in the saloon--the full lips, hooked nose, waxed
+mustache. Where had he seen that face before?
+
+He had not given the man’s face a close study as he sat on the saloon
+floor, but something seemed to tell him that he had seen this face
+before.
+
+“Jack Smith,” wondered Brick aloud. “That’s a ---- of a name for a face
+like that. Spaniard, with an American name, buying horses for England.”
+
+Brick wondered why Seldon had said “quitter,” when Smith had left the
+saloon. Was there a frame-up to start trouble with him? Silent came in
+excitedly.
+
+“Whatcha think, Brick? Barney O’Mera just came in from out on Piney
+crick, and he says that somebody has brought in a herd of sheep.”
+
+“Sheep?” Brick stared at Silent, who nodded emphatically. Sheep were
+the bugbear that haunted the dreams of cattlemen. Sun-Dog had always
+been free of sheep, but they knew that their coming was inevitable,
+knew it was only a question of time until the advance guards of that
+great, gray army would swoop down upon them and drive the cattlemen
+off the ranges. The cattle interests could not afford to buy up the
+great amount of range needed for their herds. The coming of sheep
+meant war. Legally the sheep had the same rights as the cattle, but
+the cattlemen figured that possession was nine points in the law and
+that a six-shooter was the best argument.
+
+A sheep war would mean a lot of work for the sheriff; that is, if the
+sheriff upheld the rights of the sheepmen.
+
+“Did Barney say how many sheep?” asked Brick.
+
+“Not a big bunch. Few hundred, I reckon; but it ain’t numbers--it’s
+sheep!”
+
+“I reckon that’s right,” nodded Brick. “Numbers don’t count.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next morning Brick decided to go to the Weeping Tree. He had an
+idea, and when Brick got an idea he gave that idea every chance in the
+world to bear fruit. The fact that Scott Martin could not move, hear,
+nor talk did not affect this idea. Silent grumbled at being left at the
+office.
+
+“Might’s well be a chambermaid in a livery stable,” he wailed.
+“Anybody’d think yuh was runnin’ a grocery store or saloon, the way yuh
+act about this danged old office. Yuh even tore down them pictures that
+Bunty had on the wall, and there ain’t nothin’ but them old reward
+notices to look at. Danged old walls look like they had small-pox.”
+
+“Ne’mind me,” he grunted, when Brick sought to pacify him. “I’ll git
+along. Mebbe I’ll git some ol’ lady to learn me how to knit. Jimminy
+gosh, I wish somebody’d git drunk and shoot up the town. Think I’ll
+run for Sunday school principal next election. Hurrah for crime and
+disorder!” He kicked the door shut behind Brick, who laughed and went
+to saddle his horse.
+
+Mrs. Wesson was hanging up a washing when Brick rode up to the Weeping
+Tree ranch-house. Jean stood on the steps and watched Brick stop beside
+Mrs. Wesson, but turned and went inside. Brick followed her with his
+eyes until the door closed and then turned back to Mrs. Wesson.
+
+“What yuh got on your mind, Brick?” mumbled Mrs. Wesson, without
+removing the clothes-pin from between her teeth.
+
+“How’s Martin?”
+
+“I dunno, Brickie,” Mrs. Wesson removed the clothes-pin and looked back
+at the door. “He ain’t sufferin’ none, I reckon; but he can’t hear nor
+talk. Just lays there and looks at the ceilin’. Mebby he knows what’s
+goin’ on--I dunno.”
+
+“Can I go in and see him?”
+
+“Why, I reckon yuh can--sure.”
+
+Brick followed Mrs. Wesson inside. Jean was standing near the head of
+the bed, looking curiously at Brick, who walked up beside her and
+looked down at Martin. The injured man looked at Brick and a ghost of
+a smile seemed to flash across his eyes.
+
+“He don’t seem to suffer none,” said Mrs. Wesson, in a half whisper, as
+though forgetting that Martin was stone-deaf. Jean turned away.
+
+“If he could only talk,” said Mrs. Wesson. “Them danged
+horse-doctors----”
+
+Brick nodded and took a sheet of paper and a pencil from his pocket. He
+wrote on the paper and then held it up for Scott Martin to read: “Can
+you read this? Shut your eyes once for ‘no’ and twice for ‘yes’.”
+
+Martin blinked twice.
+
+Brick turned and explained it to Mrs. Wesson and Jean. “Well, bless my
+soul!” exclaimed Mrs. Wesson. “Brick Davidson, you’re too smart to be
+a sheriff. Ain’t that some idea? We tried that writin’ idea, but there
+wasn’t no use of it, bein’ as he couldn’t make any answer; but nobody
+ever thought about a wink message.”
+
+Brick grinned and wrote again.
+
+“Do you know who shot you?”
+
+Martin blinked just once--“No.”
+
+Brick had banked on Martin being able to tell him who did it, and his
+hand trembled over the next question. Mrs. Wesson and Jean were leaning
+forward, watching closely. Brick studied Martin’s face for a moment and
+then turned to Jean and Mrs. Wesson.
+
+“I ain’t got no right to ask him this question, but I want to find out
+what he knows.” Brick wrote the question--
+
+“Were you branding a calf when you got shot?”
+
+Martin stared at the question, but did not respond. Brick wrote--
+
+“Do you know what I mean?”
+
+Martin blinked once.
+
+Brick turned to Jean.
+
+“Your dad had a paper which Zell Mohr gave him, telling your dad that
+he could have the use of the Weepin’ Tree ranch as long as he wanted
+it, didn’t he?”
+
+“Yes. Zell Mohr gave it to dad after we came here. He said it was legal.
+Dad always carried it with him, because he felt it was safer than if he
+hid it away.”
+
+“Do yuh know where it is?”
+
+Jean hurried away to make a search, while Brick turned back to Martin
+and wrote:
+
+“Zell Mohr gave you a paper, which showed you had the right to use this
+ranch. Did you have it with you when you were shot?”
+
+Martin stared at the question for a moment, but blinked twice. “It isn’t
+in any of his pockets,” said Jean. “Perhaps it fell out.”
+
+“Uh-huh, I reckon it did,” smiled Brick. He turned to Martin and patted
+him on the shoulder. A smile seemed to come to Martin’s eyes, and Brick
+turned away.
+
+“Keep this dark, will yuh?” asked Brick of Mrs. Wesson. “You folks can
+talk to him, but don’t let anybody----”
+
+Brick had turned toward the open door and saw Kane and the one called
+Jack Smith standing in the doorway. Kane nodded and spoke to Jean.
+
+“How’s the sick man?” he asked.
+
+“About the same, Mr. Kane,” said Jean.
+
+“Shucks, that’s too bad.” Kane seemed downhearted and his voice was
+sympathetic. Smith tried to appear indifferent to Brick’s presence by
+half-turning his back. Brick watched the two men closely. It is hard to
+ignore a person under these circumstances, but Smith and Kane succeeded
+admirably. Brick looked back at Martin, who was slightly propped up on
+his pillow, and waved good-by. He turned to Jean.
+
+“I reckon I’ll be driftin’, folks. Got a sheep deal to look into.”
+
+Jean made no move to follow him, appearing indifferent as to whether
+he stayed or went. Mrs. Wesson watched Brick from the doorway, with a
+smile, and then shook her head as if to say, “I’m with you, Brick.”
+
+Brick rode straight into the Piney Creek hills, heading for the
+sheep-camp; but he was not thinking about sheep. The face of Jack
+Smith troubled him. Was it just a chance resemblance to some one he
+had known?
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Brick had been born and raised in the range country, where there is
+small chance of meeting a man without at least a short acquaintance.
+Brick couldn’t remember any one who looked like Jack Smith. Very few
+Mexican or Spanish cowpunchers ever get to the Northern ranges, and
+Brick knew he was not confusing Smith’s likeness with any other
+dark-skinned cowboy he had known. Still, Smith’s face was familiar.
+
+Brick was satisfied that Scott Martin was not branding the calf when
+he was shot. He felt sure that Martin had been shot from his horse
+while traveling on the road, and that the would-be murderers had
+framed the rest of the evidence. It looked as though their idea had
+been to fasten the crime to Brick, but Brick felt that there was
+more to it than merely trying to get rid of the sheriff. They had,
+no doubt, believed that Martin was dead, or they would have finished
+the job.
+
+“Somebody,” muttered Brick aloud, “somebody is goin’ to lose a lot of
+sleep pretty soon, and it ain’t goin’ to be me.” He had no trouble in
+finding the sheep-camp. The herders had moved into a small cabin at the
+mouth of a small cañon. As Brick rode up to the door of the cabin, the
+two herders came out.
+
+Brick noted that there were no sheepdogs in evidence, which proved that
+it was not a well-organized outfit. The men were a hard-looking pair;
+unshaven and unwashed. Brick mentally classed them as “range-thugs,”
+rather than regular sheepherders. There was neither surprize nor
+friendliness in their faces.
+
+“Whatcha want?” growled the larger of the two.
+
+“Whatcha got?” grinned Brick.
+
+The big man growled something deep in his throat. Brick glanced around.
+
+“Sheriff?” asked the smaller man. Brick nodded.
+
+“Uh-huh. Thought I’d see yuh before the cattlemen did.”
+
+“Whatcha want?” growled the big man again.
+
+“How many sheep yuh got?” asked Brick.
+
+“Couple hundred.”
+
+“Won’t take yuh long to round ’em up and drift back where yuh came from,
+will it?”
+
+“We’ve got a right here,” whined the small man. “You’re the sheriff and
+you’ve got to see that we git a square deal.”
+
+Brick grinned.
+
+“Who told yuh that?”
+
+The two men exchanged glances. The big one shrugged his shoulders and
+spat copiously.
+
+“Anybody knows that, sheriff.”
+
+The small one began to tirade against the injustice of the range
+country, but Brick was not listening. Hanging on a nail, driven into
+one of the corner logs of the cabin, hung two horseshoes--two worn
+horseshoes, made without toe-calks. The smaller man broke off his
+discourse and followed Brick’s gaze.
+
+“Herd sheep on horse-back?” asked Brick.
+
+“Naw.”
+
+“Who left the horseshoes?”
+
+Neither man spoke for a moment and then the big one said, “We dunno.”
+
+Brick rode in closer and examined the shoes. To all appearances one of
+the shoes had come loose from the hoof, and the other had evidently been
+pulled off.
+
+“Yuh don’t know who owned the horse that wore them shoes?”
+
+“Nope.” The big man was very positive.
+
+“You two own the sheep?”
+
+“Kinda looks like we do. Anythin’ else you’d like to ask?”
+
+“Uh-huh,” nodded Brick. “Lots of things I’d like to ask, but gettin’ a
+honest answer is a horse of another color.”
+
+Brick reached over and took the horseshoes.
+
+“Mebbe I can double my luck,” he grinned, and tied them to his saddle.
+He swung his horse around and headed for the cañon. He knew there was no
+use trying to find out anything from the sheepherders. He guided his
+horse into the brush, angling up the side of the cañon. He had traveled
+about three hundred yards from the cabin, and had just swung sidewise in
+his saddle to turn his horse to the left up the hill, when there came a
+thud, a yank at his belt, and from down the cañon came the whip-like pop
+of a rifle.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Brick threw himself out of the saddle, pulling his Winchester out from
+its scabbard as he went down. The brush masked him from the cabin now,
+and he investigated the effects of the bullet. A neat notch had been cut
+through the right side of the cantle of his saddle, and the bullet had
+ripped a chunk of leather from the inner side of his pistol holster. If
+Brick hadn’t thrown himself sidewise at the right time, the bullet would
+have ripped through his hip or thigh.
+
+Brick considered this and his blue eyes snapped. It did not appear
+that the sheepherders needed his assistance to protect them from the
+cattlemen. He slipped down the hill and started angling down toward
+the cabin, when he caught a glimpse of the smaller of the two men
+coming cautiously up the hill.
+
+The man was taking no chances, but investigating every inch of the
+brush in front of him. Brick grinned. The man felt sure that he had
+killed Brick. He darted from one clump of brush to another, cutting
+the hill above Brick. He passed out of view. Brick watched closely.
+Finally the man reappeared, but this time he was more cautious.
+
+His head snapped from side to side and he fingered the trigger of his
+rifle nervously. His nerves were almost gone. He had no idea of
+Brick’s whereabouts. He had shot and missed. Brick grinned. He knew
+just how the man felt. Suddenly the man’s nerve broke and he ran down
+the hill, jumping from side to side, as though to disconcert any one
+trying to shoot him. Once he tripped and fell, flinging his rifle far
+down the cañon, but he did not stop to pick it up. Brick wiped the
+tear out of his eyes. The man disappeared, still running and limping.
+
+Brick got up and started for the cabin, but taking no chances on another
+shot from the sheepherders. Then he saw the big man. He was across the
+cañon, nearer the cabin, standing there with a rifle in his hands. He
+turned toward the cabin, and evidently saw his partner. He turned and
+hurried down there, while Brick sneaked into the cañon bottom and came
+in at the rear of the cabin, which was well masked with brush. The two
+men were in front of the cabin and their voices were very audible.
+
+“---- ain’t there, I tell yuh! Cut a notch in his saddle, that’s all.”
+
+“You’re a ---- of a crack shot,” grumbled the other. “Never miss ’em,
+says you. Shot with a rest, too, yuh did. Now what will we do?”
+
+“Git to ---- out-a here,” whined the other, which Brick recognized as
+the voice of the small man. “Didn’t he say the sheriff was a shootin’
+hound? I missed him, and he’s some’ers in that brush-- Do yuh think I
+want him to line his sights on me?”
+
+“What about the sheep?”
+
+“Aw, ---- the sheep! He said he’d likely lose ’em, didn’t he? He can
+afford to lose ’em.”
+
+“You shot too soon,” argued the big man. “You’ve spoiled the
+whole ---- deal. The sheriff was fallin’ for our game, but you spoiled
+it all.”
+
+“Him?” There was a world of scorn in the little man’s voice. “That
+red-headed _hombre_ fallin’ for any game? Oh, yeah! Whatcha reckon he
+took them horseshoes for?”
+
+“Well, what’ll we do?” asked the big man. “Stand here and argue?”
+
+Brick had sneaked to the corner of the cabin and he answered the big
+man’s question--
+
+“Stand still and hold up your hands!”
+
+The big man dropped his rifle and they both put up their hands.
+
+The small man took a deep breath and expelled it slowly--an audible sigh
+of relief. His face plainly showed that he would rather be a prisoner
+than a fugitive.
+
+“Now what do we do?” asked the big man.
+
+“You’re full of questions, ain’t yuh?” grinned Brick. “I reckon I ought
+to give yuh both a hundred yards runnin’ start and then fan yuh with
+lead.”
+
+“Yuh won’t though, will yuh?” The small man was still apprehensive.
+
+“No-o-o, I reckon not--not unless yuh deserve it, but yuh never can tell
+what I think about a man who misses an easy shot like you did.”
+
+Brick’s face was serious, but he knew that the little man was a good
+shot. He had grown panicky when he found that he had missed, and the
+distance was at least three hundred yards.
+
+“Whatcha goin’ to do with us?” asked the big man.
+
+“Well, Mr. Question Mark, I reckon I’ll ask you two jaspers to hoof
+it to Marlin City ahead of me. It’s only about twelve miles. I’ve
+got a nice little house to put yuh in and I’ve got her fixed so that
+nobody can bust in and hurt yuh. Like the idea? No? Tell me what the
+little game was--the one I didn’t fall for, and I might let yuh go
+your own way.”
+
+The two men seemed surprized, but their surprize was not genuine. The
+small man acted as though he thought Brick was joking. Brick smiled and
+pointed across the hills.
+
+“Twelve miles; forward march!”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The two men turned and plodded ahead of him, while Brick rolled a
+cigaret and smiled to himself. His idea was working out slowly, but
+Brick did not mind the slowness. He really held no animosity against the
+two sheepherders for attempting his life. A few days in jail wouldn’t
+hurt them. Brick did not believe in jailing a man for missing his shot,
+but he felt that jailing the two sheepherders might make a change that
+would expose something he wished to find out.
+
+It was hard traveling, but neither of the men complained. Brick herded
+them across the hills and struck the road near the spot where Brick had
+left the Hereford yearlings. They had followed the road about a mile,
+when a body of horsemen swung around a curve and rode up to them. The
+two sheepherders crowded to the side of the road and sat down. It was a
+representative group, Bill Voorhies and Lynn Barnhardt, of the Lazy H,
+Jeff Seldon, of the Star Dot, Dal Melchior, Barney O’Mera, and “Slim”
+Hoskins, of the Bar M, and Lafe Freeman, of the Nine Bar Nine. Voorhies
+reined up beside Brick and looked at the two tired sheepmen.
+
+“Who yuh got there?” he asked.
+
+“Couple of sheepherders.” Brick’s voice was just as belligerent as
+Voorhies’. He was not going to let Voorhies get away with any bluff
+talk.
+
+“Sheepherders, eh?” Jeff Seldon urged his horse forward and looked at
+the two men. “Puttin’ them in jail for herdin’ sheep?”
+
+“No-o-o,” drawled Brick. “Puttin’ ’em in for makin’ a mistake.”
+
+“How many sheep did they have?” asked Lafe Freeman.
+
+“Said they had two hundred. I don’t reckon they’ve got more than that,
+Lafe.”
+
+“Mistake?” asked Voorhies.
+
+“Uh-huh,” nodded Brick. “Shot at me and missed.”
+
+“Thought you’d run ’em out all by your lonesome, eh?” sneered Seldon.
+
+“What did they shoot at yuh for, Brick?” asked Lafe.
+
+“For money, I reckon.”
+
+“Money?” Voorhies seemed amused, and his amusement was shared by Seldon,
+who laughed in a rasping manner.
+
+Brick’s eyes narrowed and the freckles showed like rust splotches on his
+white skin.
+
+“Hold her, Brick!” cautioned Lafe. “Don’t git sore, old-timer.
+I’m ---- glad yuh arrested the herders. It makes things easier for us.
+We’ll just razoo that herd of sheep so far they’ll smother to death in
+wool before they ever find a man to clip ’em.”
+
+“Goin’ to jail ’em for shootin’ at yuh?” asked Seldon. He emphasized
+“shootin’,” and the tone of the question was sarcastic.
+
+“Was yuh thinkin’ of takin’ ’em away from me?” queried Brick, but Seldon
+did not answer.
+
+“Brick sure is organized,” observed Lynn Barnhardt, pointing at the two
+horseshoes tied to Brick’s saddle.
+
+“Whatcha do, Brick--put ’em on your bronc when yuh get ready to start
+down hill? Betcha he’s got the uphill shoes on his bronc now.”
+
+“Barefooted now, Lynn,” smiled Brick. “Level goin’. Some system, eh?”
+
+“This thing has got to be kind of a ---- nuisance,” observed Seldon.
+“What I figured on was to warn them sheepherders to take their sheep
+and vamoose. We can’t go chasin’ them sheep all over the country, can
+we?”
+
+“Reckon I ought to turn ’em loose and kindly ask ’em to take their sheep
+away?” Brick laughed at Seldon and shook his head. “Nope, your idea is
+all wrong, Seldon. I’m goin’ to put them two specimens in jail; _sabe?_”
+
+“There’s no need of a warnin’,” said Dal Melchior, “bein’ as there ain’t
+nobody to warn. It won’t take us long to dispose of two hundred sheep.”
+
+“I know a high cliff,” observed Barney O’Mera meaningly.
+
+“Do yuh think it would be legal for us to kill off them sheep?” asked
+Seldon seriously.
+
+Brick looked at Seldon and then around at the other men.
+
+“Well, I ain’t no lawyer, Seldon. I swore to uphold the law, yuh
+understand? If the owner of them sheep will ask me to protect ’em----”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Brick looked at the two tired prisoners, but neither gave any sign that
+he had heard. Brick shook his head.
+
+“I reckon they’re willin’, gents. I’ll ask the first lawyer I meet for
+rulin’ on the case. Somehow these two sheep-owners act plumb willin’ to
+get a divorce from them woolies. I’m goin’ to have a little talk with
+’em soon.”
+
+Brick motioned to his two prisoners and they got up. Brick grinned at
+Seldon, and then rode past the horsemen, following his prisoners, with
+never a backward look. Then Brick enjoyed his first good laugh since
+Scott Martin had been shot. The two prisoners looked back at him and
+exchanged glances of wonderment.
+
+“I ain’t been so tickled since I wore a knit shirt,” chuckled Brick.
+“Didja notice the look on Jeff Seldon’s face? He’s goin’ out and help
+kill his own sheep. Ha, ha, ha!”
+
+The prisoners stared at him, and the big one spoke.
+
+“Which one was Seldon, sheriff?”
+
+“Don’t try to be funny,” advised Brick. “You know him ---- well.”
+
+“Honest to ---- we don’t,” stated the little fellow. “You’re wrong
+there. I never heard of Seldon.” The man’s voice and actions were
+convincing. Brick studied the two men and then motioned them to go
+ahead.
+
+“Will yuh tell me who owns the sheep?” asked Brick.
+
+“No--not unless you’ll believe that we do,” said the big man.
+
+“I don’t,” said Brick. “You fellers ain’t sheepherders nor cowpunchers.
+I don’t know what you are.”
+
+“I do,” said the little man.
+
+“What?” asked Brick.
+
+“Pair of ---- fools!”
+
+“We all have our little failin’s,” said Brick, but he was not thinking
+of the sheepherder’s reply. He had been sure that Seldon owned the
+sheep.
+
+Seldon hated the cattle association--hated cow-men, although a
+cattleman himself. He had told Brick he hoped the sheep would run the
+cattlemen out of the country. All the cattlemen knew that the sheep
+must come eventually, but they were determined to fight the issue as
+long as possible.
+
+“Who else could it be?” wondered Brick. “Seldon hates the association
+and would do anything to put ’em out of business in Sun-Dog. Seldon
+hates me. Does he want to mix me up in a cattle and sheep war and get
+me killed off?”
+
+Brick wondered over these problems, as they went slowly along under
+the hot sun. The herders had denied knowing Seldon, and Brick felt
+that they were not lying. There was no question in his mind but that
+it was sort of a test case on the part of some Sun-Dog rancher. The
+men had said there were two hundred head of sheep in the band.
+
+“Voorhies hates me, too,” grinned Brick to himself. “Voorhies don’t
+want anybody that he can’t boss. Voorhies don’t like that maverick
+idea, a-tall--and Voorhies has sold a lot of beef in the last few
+months.”
+
+Brick herded his prisoners down the main street of Marlin City;
+thereby causing much interest. He noticed that Kane and Smith were
+among those present. Silent stood in the doorway of the office and
+grinned expansively. At least it meant that he would have company.
+
+“’Lo, Sharpshooter,” called Harp Harris.
+
+The smaller of the prisoners turned his head and gave Harp a sharp
+glance, but did not speak.
+
+“Know him, Harp?” asked Brick.
+
+“Yeah. Used to was up around Fort Benton. Heard he deserted from the
+cavalry. He sure did clean up their best shots in that country, and
+they calls him the ‘Sharpshooter’.”
+
+The Sharpshooter did not seem interested in Harp’s description of him.
+
+“Shall I put ’em in the little wickiup?” asked Silent. Brick nodded
+and the two sheepherders filed in ahead of Silent. Kane stepped over
+to Brick.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+“What did yuh do with the sheep?” Kane asked.
+
+Brick elevated his eyebrows at Kane’s question.
+
+“Sheep? Did I mention sheep?”
+
+“Well--uh--they’re--uh--” Kane stammered in his confusion.
+
+“Funny that you thought they was sheepherders,” grinned Brick. Kane
+turned away to hide his confusion, as several men laughed.
+
+“Ba gar, I’m bet dat Breek--” began Le Blanc, but broke off his
+exclamation to examine the horseshoes tied to Brick’s saddle. Others
+stepped in to see what the blacksmith had discovered. Kane and Smith
+turned and walked back to the saloon paying no further attention,
+but Brick saw Le Blanc look from the horseshoes to the retreating
+Smith, with a quizzical expression on his face. Brick picked up his
+reins and led his horse to the stable, while the curious crowd went
+back across the street.
+
+Silent was jubilant. He did not know why Brick had arrested the two men,
+nor did he care. It meant something to talk about and a possibility of
+action. He was overflowing with curiosity, but did not ask any questions
+of his prisoners. Neither of the prisoners made any comment when Silent
+generously supplied them with tobacco and cigaret papers. This was
+Silent’s idea of true hospitality. They were prisoners, it is true, but
+their coming broke what Silent termed “a terribul lonesome year,” and he
+was willing to entertain them as much as possible.
+
+Harp separated himself from the crowd as they dispersed, and proceeded
+to jackknife himself into the doorway, where he began to regale the jail
+and office with sonorous strains.
+
+“May lightnin’ strike yuh in two places to oncet!” swore Silent
+disgustedly. “Every time I gets to feelin’ glad, you comes along and
+sinks my feelin’s. Can’tcha never do nothin’ but hong, hong, hong?
+My ----, that ain’t music!”
+
+Harp wiped the back of his hand across his lips and looked up at Brick,
+who had come up to the door. Brick motioned to Silent, who had to step
+over Harp to get outside.
+
+“Them two are the shepherds,” exclaimed Brick. “I had a wau-wau with
+them, and when I was pullin’ out they took a shot at me--the short one
+done the shootin’.”
+
+“You’re lucky to be tellin’ of it,” drawled Harp.
+
+“I noticed the notch in your saddle,” nodded Silent.
+
+“What kind of a rooster is the Sharpshooter, Harp?”
+
+“They runs him out of Dry Lake,” said Harp. “Dead shot with a rifle. Yuh
+hadn’t ort to put him in jail, Brick. His kind belongs in Boot Hill.”
+
+Brick grinned and told them what happened after the shot was fired,
+but Silent and Harp could see no humor in Sharpshooter’s predicament
+when he found that Brick had not been hit. Brick described it with a
+wealth of humor, but the two cowboys failed to see anything funny
+about the incident.
+
+“And yuh let him get away with it,” wailed Silent. “Wouldn’t that rasp
+yuh, Harp? Brick, you ought to have a job as mish’nary to the Pecan
+Islands. Lettin’ that pop-eyed murderer run circles in plain sight,
+fall down, git up--all in plain sight. Huh!”
+
+Silent was disgusted. There was nothing savage nor hard-hearted about
+Silent, but he had his own ideas of visiting judgment on men who shot
+from ambush.
+
+“Whatcha arrest ’em for?” asked Harp.
+
+“Moral effect,” grinned Brick. “Killin’ ’em would ’a’ put me in bad,
+don’t yuh know it? They ain’t so much to blame, ’cause they just work
+with their hands.”
+
+“I know what yuh said,” nodded Harp; “but I’m ---- if I know what yuh
+mean.”
+
+“Don’t ask him,” begged Silent. “Brick’s a danged Injun, with a Greek
+tongue, when it comes to lettin’ folks in on somethin’ that might
+interest ’em. I ain’t no deputy--I’m a chambermaid in the jail.
+Everything Brick says to me sounds like them conundrum things which
+you’re supposed to guess at.
+
+“I’m all through guessin’. Here he comes skyshootin’ in with a couple of
+prisoners breakin’ trail for him and a couple of rusty horseshoes tied
+to his saddle. ‘Moral effect,’ says he. Work with their hands. Huh!”
+
+“Give Brick two shepherds and a couple of horseshoes and he sure can
+compose some tune,” drawled Harp. “I ain’t no puzzle rustler, but I
+trails my bets with Brick.”
+
+An hour later the sheep-hunting cattlemen rode back into town, and with
+them came Doc Meyers in Wesson’s buckboard. Brick stood in the doorway
+and watched them drive up to the saloon hitch-rack. Silent and Harp were
+quarreling over a two-handed game of seven-up.
+
+“One man shy,” observed Brick, noticing that Lynn Barnhardt was not with
+them.
+
+Silent and Harp left their game and came to the door. Lafe Freeman rode
+away from the rest and came straight to the office, where he dismounted
+slowly and came up to Brick.
+
+“Scott Martin died about an hour ago,” he stated softly.
+
+“Died?” gasped Brick.
+
+Silent and Harp moved in closely, their faces expressing disbelief.
+
+“Uh-huh,” nodded Lafe sadly, looking back at the men going into the
+Dollar Down.
+
+“For ----’s sake!” breathed Brick.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Lafe turned and put his hand on Brick’s arm.
+
+“I ain’t advisin’ nothin’, son, but under the circumstances I wish you’d
+come out to the ranch tonight. Kinda give ’em a chance to cool off, yuh
+understand.”
+
+Brick looked queerly at Lafe.
+
+“Do I look like a runner?”
+
+“It ain’t that,” faltered Lafe. “Lord knows you ain’t no front-runner,
+Brick. But look at this right, can’t yuh? You ain’t got no alibi, have
+yuh?”
+
+“No-o-o. I can’t prove nothin’, Lafe, but I ain’t goin’ to run away. I
+thought a lot of Scott Martin. Would they try to hang me? None of them
+cared for Martin. Ain’t they goin’ to give me a chance to prove that I
+didn’t do it?”
+
+“Human bein’s ain’t no better than wolves, Brick. Will yuh come out to
+the ranch and let ’em cool off?”
+
+“After I resign,” said Brick slowly. “Voorhies is the boss of the county
+commissioners, so I reckon he can accept it.”
+
+Brick went into the office and wrote his resignation; wrote it short and
+to the point:
+
+    I’m through with this sheriff job right now.
+                                 Brick Davidson.
+
+Brick showed it to Lafe.
+
+“I’m goin’ to present it right now,” he announced, starting toward the
+saloon.
+
+“Go easy, son,” advised Lafe. “Keep cool and don’t forget you ain’t
+alone in this deal.”
+
+Brick smiled. Lafe Freeman was more like a father to him than any man
+had ever been, and the old cattleman’s cool head had saved Brick from
+making a fool of himself many times. Brick walked into the saloon and
+up to Voorhies, who was at the bar. The conversation stopped as Brick
+came in. He and Voorhies faced each other and Voorhies was the first
+to turn his eyes away. Brick handed him the resignation, and watched
+Voorhies read it.
+
+“Saves askin’ yuh for it,” remarked Voorhies, and then turned to the
+crowd. “Davidson has resigned as sheriff of Sun-Dog County.”
+
+Seldon grinned.
+
+“Mebbe we’ll get a sheriff now that won’t insult folks.”
+
+“Maybe,” nodded Brick good-naturedly. “Of course it all depends.”
+
+“Yuh heard about Martin, didn’t yuh?” asked Voorhies.
+
+Brick nodded and walked outside, followed by Barney O’Mera, who had
+stood near the door.
+
+“Brick,” he said; “it ain’t none of my business, but I heard Kane
+tellin’ Voorhies and Doc Meyers that you was out to the Weepin’ Tree
+this mornin’, and that you got Martin all excited over somethin’.
+Doc Meyers said it was likely the excitement that made Martin worse;
+_sabe?_”
+
+“Well, I was talkin’ with Mrs. Wesson and she said that Kane saw how
+you talked with Martin and that he pestered Martin for an hour or
+more, asking questions on paper. She said that Martin had to keep his
+eyes shut to make Kane quit. It ain’t none of my business, Brick, but
+I thought yuh ought to know.”
+
+“Much obliged, Barney,” said Brick. “Mighty good of you to tell me
+this.”
+
+“Not so danged good,” smiled Barney; “but I want you to get a square
+deal as far as I can help yuh.”
+
+Brick went to the stable and found Silent saddling both horses.
+
+“I don’t need to write a resignation, do I?” asked Silent. “I just
+natcherally quit and that’s all there is to it. That was the
+worst ---- job I ever had.”
+
+Lafe and Harp met them at the front of the office.
+
+“Will yuh do me a favor, Harp?” asked Brick.
+
+“Hope to die,” drawled Harp.
+
+“Stay here in town this evenin’ and find out what they’re aimin’ to do,
+will yuh?”
+
+“Be home by ten o’clock, bustin’ with news,” nodded Harp, and turned
+his horse back to the hitch-rack across the street. Brick, Silent
+and Lafe rode out of Marlin City, heading into the sunset, silently,
+except for the soft thud thud of horses’ hoofs in the soft dust, the
+creak of leather, jingle of bit-chains. From the side of a little
+butte came the sharp bark of a prairie-dog. Overhead came the shirl
+of a bull-bat. A great owl flapped softly across the road in front
+of them; a flying ghost, headed for an indistinct cottonwood clump.
+
+“What did yuh do about them sheep?” asked Brick softly. Lafe jerked up
+his head as though Brick’s question had jarred him from sleep.
+
+“The sheep? Voorhies decided that we might be liable for damages if we
+destroyed ’em. We argued it out, and finally agreed to have Barnhardt
+and Breamer take care of ’em until we can find the owner and make him
+take ’em away. They’re goin’ to hold ’em on the Weepin’ Tree ranch.”
+
+“Seldon tell ’em he’d allow sheep on the Weepin’ Tree?”
+
+“Uh-huh, kinda funny, Brick. Seldon and Voorhies both talks big against
+the sheep, but after they meets you today they kinda gets cold feet.”
+
+“It’s to be expected,” grinned Brick. “Who do yuh reckon they’ll appoint
+for sheriff?”
+
+“Some friend of Voorhies, you can bet on that,” replied Lafe.
+
+“Voorhies is gettin’ too much to say about things. Somebody will come
+along and cut his comb some of these days, and there won’t be no
+mourners from the Nine Bar Nine.”
+
+“He’s sold a lot of cattle lately,” observed Brick.
+
+“Mostly everything he’s got,” replied Lafe. “I dunno what he means by
+sellin’ out so short. Maybe he’s goin’ to sell out.”
+
+Brick grinned and shook his head.
+
+“He’d better hurry, Lafe, ’cause there’s a big dust-storm gatherin’.”
+
+Lafe looked curiously at Brick, but asked no questions.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+It was a few minutes after ten o’clock when Harp rode in. Brick, Lafe
+and Silent were sitting on the ranch-house steps, and Harp delivered
+his news before stabling his horse.
+
+“Voorhies got hold of Steve McLean and Sam Boyle, two of the
+commissioners, and they accepted your resignation, Brick. Then they
+proceeds to appoint Pete Kane sheriff. They’re goin’ to hold a
+coroner’s inquest tomorrow, and they’ve got it framed to swear out a
+warrant for you as soon as the jury brings in a verdict. Voorhies
+said there was no use holdin’ them sheepherders so Kane turned ’em
+loose.”
+
+Lafe grunted his disgust, but Brick made no comments.
+
+“Sun-Dog County’s goin’ to the dogs,” complained Lafe. “I’m goin’ to
+oil up my old six-gun, y’ betcha. I ain’t acted foolish for a long
+time--years. Are yuh goin’ to fade out of the country, Brick?”
+
+Brick got to his feet and leaned against one of the porch posts. A big,
+pale moon was just peeping over the mesquite-covered hills, casting a
+soft blue mist over the ugly corrals and low, mud-covered barns, and
+making them things of beauty. From the corral came the low bawling of a
+calf. Brick touched a match to his cigaret, and Lafe noticed that Brick
+was smiling. Brick snapped the match away and shook his head.
+
+“No-o-o, I don’t reckon I will, Lafe. Fact of the matter is, I reckon
+I’m goin’ to become prominent, like a boil on a pug nose. Any time I
+run--I’ll be the one behind.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next morning after breakfast, Brick, Silent and Harp saddled their
+horses. Silent and Harp asked no questions as Brick tied the horseshoes
+to his saddle. Both of them had rifles in their saddle-boots and their
+belts showed no empty cartridge-loops. Lafe Freeman came down to the
+corral to get his horse and Brick observed that the old man was wearing
+his gun and belt. Old Lafe patted the gun and grinned foolishly.
+
+“Feelin’ kinda chipper,” he chuckled. “Ain’t got a speck of old age in
+my system. Look!”
+
+Came a snap of a palm against leather, and the old Colt seemed to hop
+from its holster into the old man’s hand.
+
+“Trained that gun myself,” grinned Lafe, flipping it back into the
+holster with a twist of his wrist. “Could teach some of you young
+fellers a trick or two if I tried, y’ betcha. I’m goin’ to town now,
+and I reckon I’ll go heeled. Feller feels free to prognosticate when
+he’s got somethin’ on his hip besides the weight of his overalls.”
+
+Brick slapped the old man on the shoulder and mounted his horse. Lafe
+did not ask where they were going; merely observed that they went across
+the hills toward the Weeping Tree instead of going around the road. He
+caught his horse, threw on a saddle and galloped down the road toward
+Marlin City. The trio rode slowly into the mesquite-covered hills, with
+Brick leading the way. Finally he broke the silence.
+
+“Did either of you fellers ever see that Jack Smith before?”
+
+“Not me,” said Silent.
+
+“Nor me,” added Harp. “He’s buyin’ horses for the British Government.”
+
+“Has he bought any?” asked Brick.
+
+“I ain’t heard of none. Whatcha know about him, Brick?”
+
+“Somewhere I’ve seen him, Harp. Where was it? I’ve been wonderin’ and
+wonderin’, and I can’t place him. If I had any brains I’d get a headache
+wonderin’ about him.”
+
+“What does he amount to?” inquired Silent. “Forget him.”
+
+“That’s why he amounts to something,” complained Brick. “I can’t forget
+him. That _hombre_ amounts to somethin’, Silent. He didn’t stumble into
+my ankle that day accidental. He went plumb out of his way to walk on
+me, and he hit the floor so hard he forgot what he was to do next. Jeff
+Seldon called him a quitter. I wonder if--if he was tryin’ to pick a
+quarrel with me.”
+
+Silent turned and looked at Brick’s grinning face.
+
+“Now he’s happy, Harp. He’s happy to think that this horse buyer wanted
+to pick a fight. It don’t take much to please our pink-topped friend.”
+
+Brick humped over his saddle horn and frowned under his low-pulled hat.
+He concentrated on Jack Smith. Feature by feature he analyzed that face;
+trying to remember where he had seen it, but in vain. Recognition was
+just beyond his grasp.
+
+There was no sign of life at the Weeping Tree ranch-house, but when
+they rode into the quadrangle of the old buildings they saw Jeff
+Seldon coming from the door to his horse, which was tied at the old
+willow, which gave the ranch its name. They rode up to him and he
+looked up.
+
+Seldon resembled an old buzzard more than ever, with his old faded
+Prince Albert coat which flapped around his thin shoulders and the
+once-white celluloid collar surmounting a dirty shirt.
+
+“Lookin’ fer somebody?” he asked, and added, before they could reply,
+“There ain’t nobody home--but me.”
+
+“You ain’t home,” said Brick.
+
+Seldon bobbed his lean head.
+
+“Yes, I am too. This here ranch belongs to me, if anybody asks yuh.”
+
+“Where’s Miss Martin?” asked Brick.
+
+“I dunno. She went home with Mrs. Wesson last night. Reckon she’s
+downtown. Goin’ to have the inquest today, yuh know.”
+
+Brick’s face hardened as he looked down at Seldon. He noticed that
+Seldon wore a holstered gun under his flopping coat. For a few moments
+Brick looked at Seldon, then turned his horse and rode away, followed
+by Silent and Harp. They rode straight away from the ranch, into the
+hills, while Seldon mounted his horse and rode the other way--toward
+Marlin City.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Brick pulled up and looked back at the ranch-house. Far down the road he
+could see a tiny dust cloud kicked up by Seldon’s horse, as its owner
+raced to town. He would lose no time telling which way Brick had gone,
+and a posse would be on his trail as soon as the coroner’s jury brought
+in a verdict. Brick was positive there could be but one verdict.
+
+Harp and Silent watched Brick sitting silently on his horse, gazing
+back. Finally Brick shook his head sadly.
+
+“I reckon I’m due for trouble, boys. You fellers better go back now. It
+won’t be long before you’ll be reading reward notices----”
+
+Brick stopped in the middle of his sentence and his hand went slowly to
+his forehead. He leaned forward in his saddle staring at the ground.
+Silent and Harp both leaned forward, seeking what Brick appeared to be
+watching, but there was nothing except bare, sandy ground. They
+exchanged glances, and then Silent spoke softly:
+
+“He’s thinkin’, Harp; he’s thinkin’. Give him air, cowboy.”
+
+Brick did not hear Silent. There was a deep crease between his half-shut
+blue eyes and his mouth was partly opened, as though panting from
+exertion. Suddenly he threw up his head and laughed aloud--a laugh of
+joy. His eyes flashed from Silent to Harp and he spurred his horse in a
+quick circle, headed down the hill.
+
+“Come on!” he yelled. “I’ve got Jack Smith!”
+
+Silent and Harp swung in behind him, and the three horses pounded down
+the hill past the ranch and swept into the road toward town. Silent and
+Harp did not know what Brick meant, did not know what lay before them,
+but they were willing to follow Brick wherever he might lead.
+
+They rode straight down the main street of Marlin City to the sheriff’s
+office. The hitch-racks were filled with a motley collection of
+saddle-horses and vehicles, but not a person was in sight.
+
+Marlin City did not have a court-house nor city hall, but held court
+in an old dancehall above Wesson’s store. Brick knew that this was
+where the crowd was congregated, making a big event of the coroner’s
+investigations.
+
+At the front of the sheriff’s office they dismounted. Marlin City was
+very quiet. Suddenly a door banged shut. The three men whirled quickly,
+but it was only Le Blanc closing the door of his shop.
+
+Le Blanc was dressed in his Sunday clothes and was smoking a cigar.
+He smoked three cigars a year: one on Christmas, one on the Fourth
+of July and another on his birthday. This day was none of the three,
+which proved the importance of the event. He fastened the door and
+then stared across at the sheriff’s office, shading his eyes with
+his hand.
+
+He looked toward the front of the hall and then walked swiftly toward
+the office. The office door was unlocked--probably for the reason
+that Brick had forgotten to hand in his keys, and spring locks were
+still unknown in Marlin City. There was no one inside. Brick stepped
+in, while Silent and Harp leaned against the doorway and watched the
+street.
+
+Brick went swiftly along the walls, glancing from face to face on the
+old reward posters. Many of them were torn; the faces obliterated.
+Suddenly Brick stopped and felt of a certain old poster, but it was
+pasted tight. He took out his knife and cut out the section of sagging
+paper.
+
+For a moment he studied the paper, and then put it in his pocket before
+coming to the door, where Le Blanc had joined Silent and Harp.
+
+“Hello, Le Blanc,” smiled Brick.
+
+The blacksmith slowly removed the cigar from between his bearded lips.
+
+“H’lo, Breek. Me, I t’ink you be ’fraid for scare to come here today.”
+
+Brick laughed.
+
+“As bad as that, Le Blanc?”
+
+“Ba gar, I’m t’ink she’s bad.” Le Blanc’s face was grave.
+“She’s ---- bad, Breek. Everybody she’s say bad t’ing about you.”
+
+“Le Blanc, do you remember telling me about shoeing a horse in
+Dakota--putting on shoes without toe-calks?”
+
+Le Blanc stared at the ground, rolling the cigar between his fingers. He
+looked up and nodded.
+
+“Would you know that horse if you seen it?”
+
+Le Blanc scratched his head, while he studied the matter.
+
+“I’m don’ know, Breek. I’m shoe plenty cayuse--me. I’m be-lieve for sure
+dat she’s wan leetle brown mare. Mebbe two year ol’ by dat time--four
+year ago. De leetle mare she’s keek! Ha, ha, ha!”
+
+Brick untied the horseshoes from his saddle.
+
+“Come on,” he ordered, and the three men followed him to the saloon
+hitch-rack.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Brick circled the horses to the far side of the rack, where he went in
+between two of the animals, boosting one aside with a heave of his
+shoulder. He pointed to a brown mare, wearing a high-forked, beautifully
+stamped saddle.
+
+Le Blanc cocked his cigar at an angle and walked around the mare. He
+examined its teeth; half-knelt and felt of its forelegs; and then
+grinned up at Brick.
+
+“You feel, Breek--here. De leetle cayuse got plenty scar from de
+toe-calk. All heal up now, but she be dere for sure.”
+
+“Is that the mare?” asked Brick.
+
+“I’m bet you my life,” Le Blanc was positive.
+
+Silent touched Brick on the arm and pointed across the street.
+
+Mrs. Wesson and Jean were just coming out of the hall entrance. They
+did not look toward the hitch-rack, but turned and went around the
+corner toward Wesson’s home. Brick watched them disappear. He turned
+back to Le Blanc, who was still looking at the brown mare.
+
+“Did you know anything about the man who owned this mare?”
+
+Le Blanc puffed on his cigar and shook his head.
+
+“No, I’m no t’ink so, Breek. She’s jus’ have de job for me.”
+
+“You’ve see the cowboy with Pete Kane?”
+
+“De black wan? Ba gar--” Le Blanc removed his cigar and stared at Brick.
+“Ba gar, I’m t’ink I see dat face be-fore.” Brick took out the piece of
+paper which he had cut from the office wall, and let Le Blanc see it.
+For a moment the blacksmith stared at it and then laughed.
+
+“She’s de man, Breek--sure t’ing. W’at de paper say, Breek? I’m can’t
+read de English.”
+
+“Come on and I’ll show yuh,” replied Brick, and hurried for the hall
+entrance, with the three men trailing at his heels. At the bottom of
+the steps he stopped.
+
+“Boys, there’s liable to be ---- turned loose before noon. I’m tellin’
+yuh in time.”
+
+“Hurrah for crime!” grunted Silent. “If you disappoints me, Brick, I’ll
+massacree yuh. Let’s start the dance.”
+
+“She’s beeg day for me,” grinned Le Blanc. “See--I smoke de see-gar.”
+
+Harp did not make any statement; merely shifted his holster and started
+up the stairs.
+
+“Take things easy,” cautioned Brick. “Remember they’re most all against
+us, but don’t spill any lead without yuh got a good reason. Watch me.”
+
+“I hope somebody gits brave,” said Silent. “I do hope that much, ’cause
+I’m gittin’ rusty.”
+
+Neither of the cowboys had seen what Brick cut off the wall of the
+office, but they knew that Brick had a reason.
+
+The hall was about sixty feet long by thirty feet wide. At the front of
+the hall was a slightly raised platform, which held the judge’s table
+and chair. Just in front of this platform stood a table, for the use of
+the lawyers.
+
+The seats were, in the most part, made by placing a board between two
+backless chairs or between boxes. On the left side of the hall, as you
+came in, the seats extended against the wall. Down the center was a
+narrow aisle, and between the next row of seats and the opposite wall
+was another aisle.
+
+On the platform sat Judge Grayson, the local justice of the peace, a
+dignified personage, but lacking any great amount of judicial knowledge.
+His pudgy hands were clasped around his flowered waistcoat and his
+florid countenance was cocked upward and sidewise above an all-too-high
+collar, as he followed the proceedings. About fifteen feet in front of
+him was the first row of seats. To his right, as he sat facing the door,
+was another row of seats, presumably placed at that angle for the use of
+a jury. Behind this row of seats was the doorway to a small ante-room.
+
+As Brick led his men inside the hall, six men were just coming out of
+this ante-room. It was the coroner’s jury, bringing in their verdict
+on the death of Scott Martin.
+
+Every available seat was taken and standing room was at a premium.
+Women did not attend court in Marlin City--probably for the reason
+that nobody knew just what might happen in a Sun-Dog court room. Mrs.
+Wesson and Jean had left, after giving their evidence.
+
+Every eye in the room was focused on this jury, and none saw Brick
+Davidson moving softly up the outside aisle, going to the front of the
+room. Silent, Harp and Le Blanc separated and followed over half-way
+up the aisles, attracting no attention. Brick moved up the room until
+he was near the table in front of the judge, and facing the jury. On
+the front row of seats sat Lafe Freeman, sitting between Bun Partner
+and Barney O’Mera.
+
+On a chair, which had been moved out beyond the front row, and near
+the jury seat, sat Pete Kane, the newly appointed sheriff. On the
+second row of seats Brick could see the swarthy face of Jack Smith;
+eyes half-closed as he watched the jury.
+
+Seldon, Voorhies, Jack Sloan, a gambler, Mel West, owner of the Emporium
+hotel, Frank Padden, a cattle-buyer, and “Tiny” Taylor, a Bar M cowboy,
+composed the jury.
+
+Doctor Meyers had been sitting on the front row of seats, but now he got
+to his feet and faced the jury.
+
+“Have you arrived at a verdict?” he asked.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Voorhies got ponderously to his feet and nodded.
+
+“We have, Doc. We finds that Scott Martin was shot by Brick Davidson,
+the sheriff, actin’ in--uh----”
+
+“Excess of his duty,” prompted Mel West.
+
+“Excess of his duty,” parroted Voorhies. “And we asks that Brick
+Davidson be arrested for mur----”
+
+Voorhies, stumbling over his verdict and request, had lifted his eyes
+and looked straight at Brick Davidson. Brick was looking at Voorhies,
+a half-smile on his lips; his right hand resting on his hip, while in
+his left hand he dangled the two horseshoes.
+
+Seldon looked up at Voorhies, as did West, who again prompted--
+
+“Murder.”
+
+But Voorhies did not complete his sentence. He started as though to sit
+down, but straightened up again. Every one was watching him closely.
+West touched him on the arm, but Voorhies did not respond. Then Judge
+Grayson turned and looked at Brick, who was only a few feet away. For
+an instant the judge stared. His hands unlocked from around his fancy
+waistcoat, and he took a deep breath--a breath that was audible to all.
+
+Then every man in the hall looked at Brick. Pete Kane half turned in
+his chair and looked at Brick, his mouth open in astonishment. Kane
+had visions of a man hunt in the hills, in which he would be the
+leading character.
+
+Not a man in the audience, except those who came with Brick, and
+possibly Lafe Freeman, ever expected to see Brick at the inquest. Not a
+word was spoken. The crowd leaned forward. This had put a new light on
+what was to have been an ordinary inquest, in which every one seemed to
+know the verdict before the jury was even drawn.
+
+Brick let his eyes drift over the audience and then back to Voorhies.
+
+“Murder, eh?” Brick’s voice was softly pitched. “Found me guilty of
+murder, did yuh? Well, well!”
+
+Voorhies wet his lips with his tongue.
+
+“The evidence--” he began hoarsely.
+
+“Set down, you sheep owner!” snapped Brick, and Voorhies dropped back as
+though from a pistol shot.
+
+The smile had left Brick’s face. He glanced quickly behind him. Chet
+Malloy, a cowboy, was leaning against the wall, almost in a direct
+line with Brick and Voorhies. Instead of stepping out of line, which
+might attract attention to him, Malloy hunched down, slid his feet
+out and sat flat on the floor. Brick merely flashed the look and
+turned back, but Malloy knew what it meant. Brick looked at Seldon,
+and Seldon squirmed.
+
+“Steady, son,” cautioned Lafe Freeman, and his whisper was audible to
+all parts of the room. No one even glanced at Lafe.
+
+“I wasn’t invited to this inquest,” observed Brick; “but it ’pears to me
+that I should ’a’ been.”
+
+“If you’ve got any evidence--” began Dal Melchior apologetically.
+
+Brick tossed the horseshoes to the table-top. For a moment the tension
+was broken, as the audience leaned forward for a view of the horseshoes.
+A cowboy started forward, as though to come up to the table.
+
+His boot-soles squeaked loudly, and he stepped back quickly, bumping
+into another cowboy, who had also started forward, and they both sat
+down awkwardly in the same chair. No one paid any attention to them,
+but they remained in that position, with the under man craning his
+neck around the other’s shoulder.
+
+Voorhies took advantage of the lull to attract Kane’s attention.
+
+“Get your man, Pete!”
+
+Voorhies did not intend to make his order audible to every one. Brick
+laughed mockingly.
+
+“Any time you’re ready, Kane.”
+
+But Kane did not heed Voorhies’ order nor accept Brick’s challenge.
+Rather he ignored both.
+
+“The law gives a feller the right to be heard, don’t it?” asked Brick.
+
+“Go ahead, son,” chuckled Lafe. “They’ll all listen.”
+
+Lafe had slid his belt around when he sat down and the butt of his
+old single-action Colt was concealed under his folded hands. In this
+position he could get into action without any unnecessary motion, and
+nobody could check him by grasping his arms.
+
+Brick glanced around at the crowd. Sitting, humped down in their chairs
+near the center aisle, were the two sheepherders. Standing in the aisle,
+with his left hand resting on the back of Sharpshooter’s chair, was Le
+Blanc, who nodded toward the two sheepherders as he caught Brick’s eye.
+Le Blanc was not armed, but depended on his mighty hands for offense or
+defense. Brick looked at Kane.
+
+“Turned the shepherds loose, did yuh?”
+
+“There wasn’t nothin’ to hold ’em on,” growled Kane.
+
+Brick nodded.
+
+“That’s right, I reckon, only yuh turned ’em loose too late to do you
+any good.”
+
+“What do yuh mean?” asked Kane.
+
+“They wasn’t hired to miss nor talk. They done both, Kane.”
+
+Came a sudden movement, as Sharpshooter started out of his chair, but Le
+Blanc’s hand clamped on his shoulder and shoved him back.
+
+“She’s h’all right here, Breek,” boomed Le Blanc.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Kane glared at Brick and then looked at Seldon, who was humped up in
+his seat; his skinny head drawn down into his collar, like an old
+snapping-turtle. His eyes flashed like a pair of amber beads, and his
+hands fussed nervously with the lapels of his coat.
+
+“What about them horseshoes?” asked Sloan.
+
+“The man who shot Scott Martin rode the horse that wore those shoes,”
+declared Brick.
+
+“Where did yuh get ’em, Brick?” inquired Cale Wesson.
+
+“Hangin’ to a nail on the sheepherders’ cabin,” grinned Brick.
+
+“Tryin’ to hang the crime on a poor sheepherder, are yuh?”
+
+Seldon’s question was a whining bit of sarcasm.
+
+“No-o-o.” Brick pursed his lips and shook his head, as though he was
+correcting a child. “Yuh don’t need to get nervous, Seldon, ’cause I’m
+goin’ to hang the deadwood right where she belongs. Tell me about this
+here deed to the Weepin’ Tree ranch, will yuh?”
+
+“What’s that got to do with it?” growled Seldon.
+
+“Just to prove that yuh own it, Seldon.” Seldon took a folded document
+from inside his coat and tossed it to the table.
+
+“Anybody here know Zell Mohr’s signature?” inquired Brick.
+
+“I do,” replied Judge Grayson. “Know it well.”
+
+Brick handed him the deed, and the judge studied it closely, while the
+crowd seemed to relax.
+
+“No question about it,” declared the judge. “That’s Zell Mohr’s writing
+and signature. It is witnessed by Pete Kane and Bill Voorhies. Ain’t
+nobody writes just like Zell did.”
+
+“Voorhies, did you witness this deed?” asked Brick.
+
+“I did.”
+
+“Satisfied?” sneered Seldon.
+
+“Of certain things,” nodded Brick. “Is it recorded?”
+
+“Not yet. I been kinda busy and----”
+
+“You hang onto it, judge,” ordered Brick.
+
+Seldon shot to his feet.
+
+“Gimme that deed!” he shouted. “That belongs to me, you--you----”
+
+“Calm down,” advised Brick softly, and then snapped, “Set down!”
+
+Seldon dropped back into his seat, shaking with anger. Brick looked at
+Jack Smith for several seconds.
+
+“Your name is Smith?”
+
+Smith shifted his feet and seemed inclined to ignore the question, but
+finally nodded.
+
+“Buyin’ horses for the British Government?”
+
+Smith was plainly irritated.
+
+“What’s the meanin’ of the questions?” he growled.
+
+“Would yuh mind coming up on a front seat?” asked Brick. “I want yuh
+where I won’t have to talk over other folks.”
+
+Smith’s eyes narrowed and he started to fold his arms.
+
+“The red-headed gent asks a favor,” said Silent, who had moved in close
+to the end of Smith’s row of seats.
+
+Smith looked up at Silent, who towered over him. The two men between
+Silent and Smith obligingly got up and moved into the aisle. Somebody
+laughed aloud.
+
+“Sh-h-h!” cautioned a voice.
+
+Smith got up slowly and came out past Silent. Brick pointed to a space
+in front, two men removed from Lafe Freeman, and Smith sat down.
+
+Immediately the men behind him either left their seats or moved aside.
+The men of Sun-Dog could read signs. Pete Kane sat leaning forward,
+with his elbows on his knees, never taking his eyes off Brick. He might
+be able to catch Brick off his guard, but he knew that he would have to
+contend with Harp, Silent and Lafe.
+
+“Feel better now?” queried Smith uneasily.
+
+Brick nodded and turned more toward the jury.
+
+“I’m talkin’ straight to you jurymen, but my conversation affects every
+man in the room. Seldon, I asks yuh to keep your hands in sight and try
+to be calm. In regards to your hands--I only asks this once.”
+
+Seldon’s jaw tightened, but he obeyed.
+
+“You all know that sheep ain’t wanted in Sun-Dog,” continued Brick.
+“Legally they’ve got as much right as cows, but morally they ain’t--not
+accordin’ to our morals. If the sheep got protection from the sheriff,
+with the assistance of a few cattlemen, they might get a start. If they
+once got started they’d sheep out Sun-Dog inside of a year. To get a
+start, they’ve got to have a friendly sheriff.”
+
+“Is this a inquest or a speech?” demanded Voorhies. “I moves that
+we----”
+
+“Overruled,” interrupted the judge. “Let Brick talk.”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+“There’s a man on this range,” continued Brick, “who hates the cattle
+association. He’s plumb stingy, but he’d give his right eye to see the
+cattlemen put out of business; and there ain’t nothin’ as sudden as
+sheep. Am I right?”
+
+The crowd murmured a ready assent.
+
+“There’s another man on this range, who has sold most all of his stock
+in the last six months, and I’m bettin’ that at least twenty per cent
+of that stock wasn’t never bought nor raised by him.”
+
+Voorhies sprang to his feet and took a step toward Brick.
+
+“The boot fits him!” yelped Lafe Freeman, and the crowd laughed.
+Voorhies flushed angrily and stumbled backward into his seat, knowing
+he had blundered badly.
+
+“That man,” smiled Brick, “wants to own the county. He never could be a
+big cattleman; so he decided to be a sheep king. He bought two hundred
+head----”
+
+“Prove it!” roared Voorhies, struggling to his feet. “Prove it!”
+
+“Set down,” advised Brick. “You’ve proved it yourself. I wasn’t sure
+until now, but I know that you and Seldon owns ’em together. The
+Sharpshooter and his pardner were hired to bring in them sheep. You
+kinda figured that I’d be in jail for the killing of Scott Martin,
+and you’d have your own sheriff, but you made a mistake when you let
+Sharpshooter know that you were willin’ to pay for my scalp. Bein’ a
+case of two-to-one, they could prove self defense, and my recent
+reputation would make it easy for them.”
+
+Brick smiled at the expression on the faces of the jury.
+
+“Keep talkin’, Brick,” urged a cowboy joyously.
+
+“What’s this got to do with the killin’ of Scott Martin?” asked Seldon
+hoarsely.
+
+“Scott Martin was killed for two reasons; to get me and him both out of
+the road, and to get somethin’ that Scott Martin owned.”
+
+The audience watched Brick closely, silently.
+
+“The man who killed him--or thought he had killed him--rode a horse
+that wore them shoes. Likely there was more than one man. Maybe there
+was three or four. One of ’em rode a horse, which wore them shoes.
+
+“Do yuh know where that old tumbledown cabin is along the Weepin’ Tree
+road? They bushwhacked him from there. He fell just at the edge of the
+road. I seen where his hand made a track in the dust. There was blood
+on the dusty grass at the edge of the road.
+
+“They thought he was dead, I reckon; so they carried him down the cañon
+to where they had the calf all roped and the fire all set. Then they
+robbed Scott Martin, and left him there to prove that I killed him for
+maverickin’ a calf. Other calves have been mavericked with the Weepin’
+Tree to cinch things.”
+
+“What about this robbery?” asked Cale Wesson.
+
+Pete Kane’s right hand slipped slowly off his knee. “Don’t mind me,
+Kane,” smiled Brick. “I don’t want all the best of it.” Kane slowly
+brought his hand back to his knee.
+
+“The main idea was to make a sheep ranch of the Weepin’ Tree,” explained
+Brick.
+
+“That’s a ---- lie!” shrieked Seldon, starting to his feet, but Voorhies
+pulled him back.
+
+“They shot Martin in the back with a .41. Yuh see, I shoot a .41. My,
+my, but they sure did frame me nice! Accordin’ to their view of it, I
+didn’t have a chance on earth. Gents, they sure did frame me to a
+fare-thee-well, but they overlooked one of the big points.
+
+“Their scheme was horse-high, bull-strong, and sheep-tight, but they
+didn’t know that the big gate was wide open. They sure did leave a
+hole that yuh could drive a team through.
+
+“Zell Mohr got Scott Martin to come to Marlin City. He knowed that
+Scott didn’t have much money; so he let Scott have the Weepin’ Tree
+ranch. He wrote out a paper, which showed that nobody but Zell Mohr
+could make Martin move off the ranch.
+
+“Zell Mohr, bein’ dead, and not havin’ any relations--well, it kinda
+lets Scott Martin stay on the Weepin’ Tree, don’t it? Scott Martin had
+that paper with him the day he was shot, and the man or men who shot
+him took the paper. They wanted to get a sample of Zell Mohr’s writin’
+and also his signature, which no man could make without a copy, and he
+had to be some hand-writer to do it at all. Judge Grayson has the deed
+that was made thataway.”
+
+“What’s this?” gasped the judge. “A forged deed?”
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Brick did not turn, merely nodded his head as he leaned forward,
+hooking his thumb over the belt above his gun. Lafe Freeman leaned
+forward, hunching low over his folded hands. Silent stepped a little
+closer, while Harp shoved away from the wall and rubbed his hands on
+his hips.
+
+“Yes, it was forged, judge,” replied Brick evenly. “I don’t blame yuh
+for mistaking it for the real thing.”
+
+Seldon got to his feet and spat contemptuously.
+
+“How do yuh make out a thing like that? That’s Zell Mohr’s writin’ and
+his signature. You’re cinched, Davidson; and you’re framin’ a cock and
+bull story to try and clear yourself. Who in ---- could write like Zell
+Mohr? Eh? Tell me that, will yuh?”
+
+“No Sun-Dogger,” smiled Brick. “We ain’t educated enough for that,
+Seldon.”
+
+Brick was looking at Smith as he talked to Seldon, but now he spoke
+directly to Smith.
+
+“Smith, you’re a clever man.” Brick’s tone was merely conversational,
+with a tinge of admiration. “Education sure done things for you. Now,
+if you was plumb ignorant like the rest of us you’d be safe and happy,
+don’t yuh know it?”
+
+Smith tried to smile and barely managed to contort his features. He was
+getting more uncomfortable each minute.
+
+“Yuh made a mistake in Dakota, Smith,” stated Brick.
+
+Smith’s head jerked up and into his black eyes came a hunted look, but
+he did not blink.
+
+“You kinda had me up a tree,” continued Brick slowly. “That deed
+kinda had me wonderin’ a few things, too. I knowed I had seen your
+face somewhere, but I’ll be danged if I could place yuh. No, I never
+met yuh, Smith.
+
+“I didn’t know yuh--not personally, but I sure did need yuh. Did yuh
+ever set into a game of poker, with a bob-tail straight in your hand?
+Yuh had everything, except the one card, to make a bettin’ hand. You
+was the filler for my bob-tail.
+
+“Yessir, I needed you--bad. Fact of the matter is, I needed yuh as bad
+as Seldon did. My, my, but you was a handy man, Smith.”
+
+Brick grinned. Every man in the house knew things were drawing to a
+climax. Lafe Freeman had hunched to the very edge of his chair, and
+was watching Voorhies and Seldon like a hawk. Brick’s eyes shifted
+from Smith and he appeared to be talking to every one now.
+
+“Gents, do yuh remember that I got a thousand dollars for cleanin’ up
+Zell Mohr and his gang? Well, before Zell was sent on his way to the
+penitentiary, me and him had a talk. He was kinda sorry about his end
+of the deal--what he done to Martin. Zell didn’t have nobody to leave
+his property to, and he didn’t have no use a-tall for the Weepin’
+Tree ranch; so me and him talked turkey, and he sold me the Weepin’
+Tree ranch for--one--thousand--dollars!”
+
+Brick drew the document from his pocket and tossed it beside the
+horseshoes.
+
+“There’s the hole in their scheme,” said Brick, and then took out the
+piece of paper he had cut from the office wall, and tossed it beside
+the deed.
+
+“There’s an old reward notice for Carl Garcia alias Jack Carl; wanted in
+Dakota for forgery and murder. He’s the man who killed or helped kill
+Scott Martin, and he’s the man that Seldon hired to forge the deed to
+the Weepin’ Tree. He’s knowed by several names, but I’ll add--
+
+“Jack Smith!”
+
+As Brick snapped the name his hand flashed for his gun.
+
+Smith was game. He threw himself forward, with one hand buried in his
+coatpocket, grasping a gun, but Harp’s pistol spouted fire and Smith
+stumbled head first almost at Brick’s feet.
+
+Kane threw himself sidewise, shooting from an awkward angle and masking
+Voorhies and Seldon. Kane managed to fire three times, but his bullets
+were going wide of their mark--partly on account of his haste, but more
+because Brick was shooting deliberately and was not missing.
+
+As Kane plunged to the floor with three of Brick’s bullets dragging
+him down, Voorhies, slow of movement, swung his gun forward, but
+before he could pull the trigger Lafe’s old Colt roared for the first
+time in years and Voorhies crashed back into Seldon, spinning the old
+man half-around.
+
+Seldon screamed a curse and shot at Brick from his hip. Brick felt the
+bullet strike like the blow of a hammer, but he braced himself, shot
+twice at Bun Partner, who was trying to pull down on Lafe, and fired
+his last shot at Seldon, just as Seldon staggered through a jumble of
+upset seats and sprang for the open window.
+
+Seldon turned half-around, dropping his gun; but his iron nerve carried
+him to the window and over the sill, where he fell to the street below.
+Brick’s bullets whirled Partner around and he sprawled across a chair,
+but his one shot had torn through Lafe Freeman’s right arm, inflicting
+a painful wound.
+
+Brick looked around, dazed. At his feet lay Smith, with Harp straddling
+his body. Voorhies was sprawled on his back, with one arm over the seat
+of the chair, almost on top of Pete Kane, who lay face down.
+
+Silent was holding Lafe Freeman by the arm, and the old man’s face was
+very white. In the center of the room was a commotion, and above it all
+came the roaring voice of Le Blanc:
+
+“Go ’head, Breek! I’m got sheepherd in bot’ hand!”
+
+Judge Grayson had fallen backward out of his chair at the first shot,
+and remained in that position until now, when he got blindly to his
+feet, groped for his gavel and struck his desk a ringing blow.
+
+“Order in the court!” he cried, but no one gave him a thought. Brick
+tried to go to Lafe’s assistance, but the room began to spin like a
+top. He heard Lafe saying:
+
+“That’s all right, Brick; that’s all right. I only got hit in the arm.”
+
+Then he heard some one saying:
+
+“By ----, they did hit him!”
+
+Then everything went black for Brick Davidson, but he felt strangely
+indifferent.
+
+                   *       *       *       *       *
+
+Brick blinked his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He turned his head on
+the pillow and looked at the wall, where the dim faces on the old reward
+posters stared down at him. Near his cot stood a chair, on which were
+several medicine bottles and a water glass, over the top of which had
+been placed a playing-card, surmounted by a sticky-looking spoon.
+
+Brick’s eyes shifted back to the wall. Slowly he remembered the fight
+in the hall; remembered that he had been hit by a bullet. But what was
+he doing in a bed in the sheriff’s office? Hadn’t he proved his case?
+Was he a prisoner? He listened. Somewhere there was music.
+
+“Hong-g-g-g, hung-g-g-g, um-m-m, hong-g-g,” sounded the doleful humming
+of a jew’s harp.
+
+“Harp,” called Brick, and his voice was strangely weak. Came the
+scraping of feet, as Harp unhooked himself from his favorite seat in
+the doorway; and he walked up to Brick, wiping his mouth with the
+back of his hand. He grinned down at Brick.
+
+“Gosh!” he chuckled. “Yuh finally did wake up, did yuh, sheriff?”
+
+“Sheriff?” wondered Brick aloud.
+
+“Y’ betcha. The commissioners met and refused to take your resignation;
+and so me and Silent moved yuh in here. You got a slug through yuh, but
+Doc Meyers fished it out and he says you’ll be all hunkydory now. Old
+Seldon had the .41 that hit yuh. I reckon Smith is goin’ to be able to
+attend his own trial; but Partner won’t care which way it goes, ’cause
+he cashed in quick. Kane lived long enough to go out kinda clean. He
+said that him and Smith and Seldon shot Scott Martin, but he didn’t get
+time enough to tell which one done the job. Smith handled the sheep
+deal for Seldon and Voorhies; so that nobody’d know who was doin’ it.”
+
+“How’s Lafe?” asked Brick, suddenly remembering that Lafe was hurt in
+the fight.
+
+“Goin’ around with one arm in a sling and braggin’ about how fast he is
+with a gun. Thinks he done it all.”
+
+Harp laughed and leaned closer.
+
+“A couple of ladies have been in to see yuh every little while. I told
+Mrs. Wesson that they didn’t give you a square deal a-tall by thinkin’
+you was guilty. Y’ betcha, I gave ’em particular----”
+
+Brick shifted his eyes away and Harp grinned.
+
+“Didja ever rub Mrs. Wesson the wrong way, Brick? Don’t never do it.
+Whoo-ee! But say, Brick; they both knowed you wasn’t guilty.”
+
+“Why--” began Brick weakly.
+
+“Lemme tell yuh, Mrs. Wesson’s a wise lady owl. Them two knowed you
+wasn’t guilty. Mrs. Wesson didn’t care if you did know how she felt,
+but she made Miss Martin act like she thought you was guilty.”
+
+“But why?” asked Brick.
+
+“Mrs. Wesson told her it would make yuh feel bad for a while and then
+you’d git mad as ---- and start throwin’ dust. She said you had plenty
+of brains, but that you couldn’t be happy and be smart all at the same
+time.”
+
+Brick smiled up at the ceiling and shook his head at the wonderful
+wisdom of some women, while Harp leaned on the edge of the bed and
+clumsily arranged the blankets.
+
+“Mind if I play yuh a tune, Brick?”
+
+Brick looked at Harp’s homely face and smiled.
+
+“Wish yuh would, Harp--thanks. If yuh feel like singin’--go to it.”
+
+“Gittin’ shot sure does create a hankerin’ for music,” observed Harp. “I
+could sing, but I reckon I’ll stick to the harp.”
+
+Harp started for the door, but stopped.
+
+“When yuh git well, I don’t want yuh to point out the fact that I picked
+on yuh when yuh was flat on your back, Brick.”
+
+“Go ahead and play,” grinned Brick. “I--I don’t think I’d mind anything
+now.”
+
+It was neither a request nor a compliment to Harp’s musical ability;
+rather it was a concession, but Harp was hard-boiled, and all he needed
+was a chance to play.
+
+
+[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the November 30, 1921 issue
+of Adventure magazine. This story is believed to be in the public domain
+in the United States. Please note that copyright status may differ in
+other countries.]
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78757 ***