Two Fares East/Chapter 3
THE NEW SHERIFF
THE following morning Joe moved his few effects from the sheriff’s office. Kelsey had just appointed Jack Ralston to act as bis deputy, and was showing him where everything was in the office. Kelsey was inclined to be a little superior, and did not shake hands with Joe.
“What do yuh figure on doin’, Joe?” asked Ralston.
“Haven’t figured anythin’ yet, Jack. Probably leave in a few days.”
Kelsey did not ask any questions, nor did he look up from the desk when Joe went away. Joe took his belongings down to his little cottage, where he selected the few things he would take with him. He would turn the furniture and carpets back to the Pinnacle Merchandise Company and let somebody handle the sale of the house.
Later on he went up the street, intending to see about having the furniture taken back, when he saw Jim Wheeler and Ed Merrick standing in front of the Pinnacle Saloon. It suddenly struck Joe that this would be a good chance to go out to the HJ and see Peggy. He was ashamed even to face her, but he would feel like a dog if he went away from Tumbling River with out seeing her again.
He turned and went to his stable, where he saddled his horse and rode away. There were times during his journey out there when he turned back. But he cursed himself for being a coward and went on. He was not going to ask her to forgive him. That idea had never entered his head.
Peggy was alone on the porch, sitting deep in an old rocking-chair, and did not see Joe until he came up the steps. She started to get up, but sank back, staring at him. Then the tears came and she threw one arm across her face.
“Don’t cry,” begged Joe. “Curse me, Peggy. I can stand it. I came out here to be cursed—and to say good-by. I haven’t any excuse that you or anybody else would believe; so I’m not askin’ anythin’—not excusin’ myself. But I didn’t want to go away without seein’ yuh again.”
“Oh, why did you do it, Joe?” she sobbed. “Why? Why?”
“I dunno, Peggy. It’s done. There ain’t anythin’ I can do to make it any different than it is. What’s the use of me sayin’ I’m sorry? I’ve been to hell since that night, and it’s a rough road. But I just want yuh to tell me good-by. It ain’t much to ask, even after what I’ve done. Just a good-by, Peggy.”
But she did not speak. Joe’s face was the color of wood ashes as he turned and went down the steps to his horse. For several moments he leaned against his horse, looking back at her, but she had not moved. She was just a huddled heap in the old chair. The sunlight slanted under a corner of the porch, striking across her hair.
He shut his lips tightly, swung into the saddle and rode slowly away. Peggy stirred. Laura had come to the doorway. She had been inside the living-room, listening.
“Where are you going, Joe?” asked Peggy softly. It was hardly more than a whisper. Laura looked curiously at her, wondering.
“You’re not going away—to stay, Joe?” said Peggy.
“He’s gone, Peggy,” said Laura. “Didn’t you know?”
Peggy looked up quickly, blinking the tears from her eyes, staring at Laura.
“Gone?” she asked.
“My dear, he went away after he asked you to tell him good-by,” said Laura. “Didn’t you know he went away?”
“I didn’t know, Laura.”
Peggy got to her feet and went to the side porch-railing. Far down the road toward the river bridge was a little cloud of dust which showed the passing of Joe Rich. Peggy turned and looked at Laura, but neither of them spoke. Joe Rich had gone away without even a good-by from the girl who still loved him; so there was nothing left to say.
UNCLE HOZIE WHEELER and Lonnie Myers were heading for the HJ ranch. They had crossed the railroad right-of-way at an old wagon-road crossing and struck the HJ road about half a mile west of the Tumbling River bridge. One of the boys had heard that Peggy was going East, and Aunt Emma rushed Hozie right down there to see whether there was any truth in the report. Uncle Hozie didn’t care for the solitary ride; so he took Lonnie along. Lonnie was long, lean, and sad of face, thin-haired and inclined to freckle. He was prone to sing sad songs in a quavering tenor and, besides that certain talent, had a developed sense of humor.
“That’s wimmin for yuh, Lonnie,” declared Uncle Hozie. “All she had to do was to hear that Peggy figures on goin’ away, and she chases us down here. Prob’ly wants to put her up a lunch. Ma’s funny thataway. If you’ve got good sense, you’ll stay single, Lonnie. Of course, there ain’t liable to nobody pick yuh. You ain’t e-legible.”
“What’s that, Hozie?”
“E-legible? Oh, that’s a p’lite word, Lonnie. It means that you wouldn’t be worth a lot to anybody. It means that nobody wants to hook a sucker when the bass are bitin’.”
“Oh, yeah. Joe Rich was e-legible, wasn’t he, Hozie?”
“He was—” said Hozie dryly. “He was a big bass when he was hooked, but a sucker when he was landed.”
“Uh-huh. Say, that Hatton girl is shore a dinger. I never did see hair and skin like she’s got. I’d be scared to touch her.”
“So would I—if Honey Bee was lookin’, Lonnie.”
“Aw, he jist thinks she’s his girl.”
“Mebbe. Huh!”
Uncle Hozie lifted in his stirrups and looked down the road.
“What’s this we’re comin’ to, Lonnie?”
It was Joe Rich, dismounted, standing in the middle of the road. Standing against the brush on the river side of the road was Jim Wheeler’s horse, and Jim Wheeler was in a huddled heap in the middle of the road.
Uncle Hozie and Lonnie dismounted quickly and went over to him. His right leg was twisted in a peculiar position and his head had been badly beaten. Uncle Hozie dropped to his knees and examined him as quickly as possible.
“Joe, for God’s sake, what happened to Jim?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” said Joe dully. “He—his foot was caught in the stirrup, Hozie. The horse dragged him. I just found him a minute ago. Yuh can see his—his leg’s broke.”
Joe pointed up the dusty road toward town.
“Yuh can see where the horse dragged him.”
The trail through the dust was plainly visible, and the condition of Jim’s clothes showed what had happened.
“Still alive,” panted Hozie. “Lonnie, ride to town as fast as yuh can. Get a hack and the doctor. We can’t move him any other way.”
Lonnie ran to his horse, mounted on the run and went racing up the road. It was shady along the road; so they made no effort to move Wheeler. Hozie paced up and down beside the road, his hands clenched.
“Where have you been, Joe?” he asked.
Joe, squatting on his heels beside the road, looked up at the old man.
“I was over at the HJ, Hozie.”
“Uh-huh. I wonder if there’s anythin’ we can do? By golly, I never felt so danged helpless in my life. I tell yuh, Joe, he’s awful badly hurt.”
“Awful bad, Hozie. I’m afraid he won’t live to get to town.”
“And we can’t do a thing.”
“Only wait, Hozie. Old Doc Curzon is pretty good. He’ll save Jim if it’s possible.”
It seemed hours before any one came. Len Kelsey and Jack Ralston were the first to arrive. Kelsey looked at Jim Wheeler, listened to what Hozie had to say and then walked up the road, trying to find the spot where Jim had fallen out of his saddle. Ralston squatted on his heels, smoking a cigaret, but had nothing to say.
Then came the doctor, followed by Lonnie driving a livery team hitched to a spring-wagon. Several cowboys were also among the interested spectators. The old doctor made a quick examination, after which they placed Jim Wheeler in the bottom of the spring-wagon and started back to town.
“How bad is he hurt, Doc?” asked Hozie anxiously.
“Pretty bad!” snapped the old doctor. “Leg broke once—mebbe twice. Head battered up. Lucky to be alive. Be lucky to live. Don’t ask questions until I know something.”
“Hadn’t we better take him home?” asked Kelsey.
“Take him to my place,” said the doctor.
Joe mounted his horse and rode up beside Hozie.
“Somebody ought to tell Peggy,” he said.
Hozie nodded.
“You want to go, Joe?”
“You know I couldn’t, Hozie.”
“Sure. Lonnie, you go and tell her. Jist tell her—”
“A-a-a-aw, my !” snorted Lonnie. “Me? Aw, I’d make a mess of it, Hozie.”
“Thasall right, Lonnie; it’s a mess already. Go ahead.”
Lonnie went, but Lonnie didn’t want to; and he didn’t mind telling the world that his vocation was punching cows and not being a messenger of bad news.
“Thasall right, Lonnie,” assured Hozie. “I won’t forget it.”
“’F yuh think I will, yo’re crazy,” said Lonnie.
Joe and Uncle Hozie rode back to Pinnacle City together. A crowd gathered around the doctor’s house, waiting for a report on Jim’s condition. But before such a report was forthcoming, Lonnie Myers drove in with Peggy and Laura in a buggy from the HJ ranch.
And when the report did come, it shocked every one. Jim Wheeler had died from concussion of the brain. The crowd moved silently away. Jim Wheeler was one of the old-timers, and his death, as Nebrasky Jones said, was “a ter’ble jolt to mankind of Tumblin’ River.”
Uncle Hozie took Peggy and Laura out to the Flying H, and Lonnie Myers proceeded to drink more whisky than was good for him, in order to forget.
“I was in there when the doctor told ’em,” said Lonnie. “Leave-that-bottle-where-it-is! I’m the only person that knows when I’ve got enough. Jist like a marble statue, that girl was. Didn’t say nothin’; didn’t do nothin’. Say! Why don’tcha git some liquor that’s got stren’th?”
“I betcha she feels bad, jist the same,” said “Slim” Coleman, of the Lazy B. Slim wasn’t very bright.
Lonnie looked pityingly at Slim.
“Oh, I s’pose she does, Slim. If I was in yore place, I’d go away before I tromp yuh to death.”
“Aw, you ain’t goin’ to tromp nobody, Lonnie; yo’re drunk.”
“I ain’t, but I will be,” solemnly. “And when I do git drunk, I’ll prob’ly forget that yo’re jist plain ignorant, Slimmie. Now, you better go spin yore rope where I can’t see nor hear yuh.”
Nebrasky Jones joined Lonnie, and within an hour Dan Leach rode in from the Flying H. Uncle Hozie and the girls had reached the ranch, and Dan said there was too much grief for him; so he came to town.
And thus the Heavenly Triplets got together. Nebrasky and Lonnie were far ahead of Dan, so far as drinks were concerned, and were already given to short crying spells. Lonnie insisted on repeating the story of how they found Joe Rich with Jim Wheeler. According to Lonnie’s varying stories, they found Joe and Jim everywhere along the road from the Tumbling River bridge to Pinnacle City.
Time after time he explained how he had broken the bad news to Peggy and Laura. His diplomacy was wonderful to hear, and some of his speeches left him breathless. When as a matter of fact he had said to Peggy:
“Jim’s been dragged and they’re takin’ him to town. Dunno how bad he’s hurt, but he shore looks dead to me.”
Dan had been with them about an hour when Kelsey came to the Pinnacle bar. Lonnie looked upon him with great dis favor. Joe had been a particular bunkie of the Flying H boys, and they were still loyal. No matter if Joe had resigned voluntarily, they felt that Len Kelsey was to blame.
Len walked back among the tables, where he talked to “Handsome” Harry Clark, who owned the Pinnacle. Harry was not handsome by any known standard of beauty, being a hard-faced, sandy-haired individual, with a crooked nose and one sagging eyebrow, caused by stopping a beer bottle in full flight.
“I don’ like ’m,” declared Lonnie owlishly. “Heza disgrash to—to anythin’ what’ver.”
“My sen’ments to a i-ota,” said Nebrasky. “But what can yuh do, Lonnie? Yo’re speakin’ of our sher’f, ain’tcha?”
“O-o-o-oh, u-nan-i-mushly!”
“Don’t be foolish,” advised Dan, who was half sober yet. “He’s the sheriff, no matter if he should have been drowned in infancy.”
“H’lo, Misser Cold-Feet,” grinned Lonnie. “Dan’s slowin’ up on us, Nebrasky.”
“Pos’tively,” nodded Nebrasky. “Old boy’s showin’ age.”
“Aw, yo’re crazy,” flared Dan. “But what can yuh do?”
“Flip’m,” said Lonnie gleefully.
The gentle art of flipping a man consisted of two men getting one on each side of the one to be flipped, grasping him by arms and legs, and turning him completely over. It is a queer sensation, and harmless, if done right. Kelsey was inches taller than either Nebrasky or Lonnie.
The boys goggled wisely at each other and waited. Kelsey finished his conversation with Clark and came back past the bar.
“That shore was awful bad about Jim Wheeler, wasn’t it?” said Dan Leach.
The sheriff stopped beside the bar.
“It shore was,” he said emphatically. “That horse must ’a’ dragged him quite a ways.”
“It was like thish,” explained Lonnie thickly.
He moved to the left side of Kelsey, while Nebrasky stepped back, taking his position at Kelsey’s right.
“Me and Hozie Wheeler,” said Lonnie, “was ridin’—let ’er go, Nebrasky!”
And before the unsuspecting sheriff knew what was happening he had been grasped by arms and legs and was starting to imitate a Ferris wheel.
Exerting all their strength, the two drunken cowboys managed to swing Kelsey up to where his feet were almost pointing at the ceiling—but there they stuck. Their leverage was gone. Kelsey’s six-shooter fell from his holster, and his watch fell the full length of the chain, striking Kelsey in the chin.
Overbalanced, the two cowboys started staggering backward, stumbled into a card-table and went down with a crash, letting the struggling Kelsey drop squarely on the top of his head.
The crash was terrific. Nebrasky went backward, almost to the wall, working his feet frantically to try to catch up with his body, but went flat on his back. Lonnie caromed off the card-table and landed on his hands and knees, yelling for everybody to get out of his way.
But Kelsey suffered most. He had fallen about three feet on the top of his head, and was still seeing stars. Leach, being of a thoughtful turn of mind, kicked Kelsey’s six-shooter down toward the middle of the room, where it came to rest under a card-table.
Several of the saloon employees, including Clark, the owner, came to Kelsey’s assistance and sat him in a chair, where he caressed his head and made funny noises.
“You boys better go before he wakes up,” advised Clark.
“Is that sho?” asked Lonnie thickly. “Shince when did the Flyin’ H outfit learn t’ run, I’d crave to know?”
“Tha’s my cravin’, likewise,” said Nebrasky, trying to put his hat on upside down. “Whazze-e got any right to git mad ’bout, in the firs’ place? Goo’ness, it was all in fun.”
Kelsey was rapidly recovering, and he knew what had happened. His right hand felt his empty holster, and his eyes searched the floor. He had heard the gun fall when he was upside down.
“It’s under that card-table up there,” said Clark.
Kelsey saw it. He got up slowly and went toward his gun, while the Heavenly Triplets walked straight out through the front doorway. Possibly they did not go straight, but they were out of the saloon when Kelsey recovered his gun.
“I wouldn’t do anything, if I was you, Len,” said Clark. “They were all drunk and didn’t realize.”
“Didn’t they?” cried Len flatly. “Don’t never think they didn’t. It was all framed up to dump me on my head. I know that gang.”
“Better have a drink and forget it, Len.”
“Yeah, that’s fine—for you. By , you never got a bump like that—and forgot it.”
Kelsey walked straight to the street, but there was no sign of the three men from the Flying H. Kelsey lingered for several moments, then went on toward his office, while into the back door of the Pinnacle Saloon came Nebrasky, Lonnie and Dan, as if nothing had happened.
“Kelsey is lookin’ for you three,” said Clark.
“Kelsey?” Lonnie blinked seriously. “Kelsey? Oh, the sheriff? Lookin’ for us?”
“Whazze want?” asked Nebrasky.
“You better wait and see, Nebrasky.”
“Now that’s what I call shound advice, Harry.”
“I betcha I know what he wants,” said Lonnie. “He wants us to turn him the rest of the way over. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!”
This guess seemed so good to them that they sagged against the bar and whooped merrily.
Joe Rich, following the announcement of Jim Wheeler’s death, took his horse back to the stable and then went to the store where he had purchased his house furnishings and told the storekeeper to take them back, as there was little chance of their ever being paid for.
When Joe came out he met Angus McLaren, the big grave-faced Scotsman.
“Isn’t it too bad about poor Jim Wheeler!” exclaimed Angus. “I just heard of it, Joe.”
Joe nodded. His nose and lips were still sore from the weight of Jim Wheeler’s fist, and his right hand went involuntarily to his sore spots. McLaren noticed this.
“Ye shouldn’t bear any grudge now, Joe,” he said softly.
“Grudge?”
“Over what he did to ye, Joe.”
Joe shook his head.
“I suppose he had plenty of cause, Mac.”
“No matter; he’s dead now. They say ye found him.”
“Yeah, I did, Mac. I was on my way back from the HJ.”
“He wasn’t dead then?”
“No, not then. Hozie and Lonnie came along in a few minutes. He was alive then, but I think he died on the way in.”
While they were talking Len Kelsey came from the Pinnacle Saloon, rubbing his head, and went down to his office.
“Ye knew we appointed Len in your place, Joe?” asked McLaren.
“I hear yuh did, Mac. And Len appointed Ralston, eh?”
“That’s it. What do ye aim to do now?”
“I think I’ll leave here, Mac. There’s nothin’ in Tumblin’ River for me any more.”
“Ye might get on with the Circle M. Merrick will be short one man, now that Ralston is an officer.”
“No, Mac; I don’t think I’ll stay.”
“Mm-m-m-m,” McLaren considered Joe gravely.
“Joe, I’d have banked on ye. There’s a lot more folks in this country that would have bet a million to one that ye wouldn’t do a thing like ye done. Why did ye do it?”
Joe shook his head slowly.
“Mac, there’s things that I don’t even know; so I can’t tell yuh anythin’.”
“Well, ye were drunk, weren’t ye?”
“Ask Honey Bee, Ed Merrick, Ben Collins or Limpy Nelson. They all saw me, Mac. That should be evidence enough.”
“Ay,” McLaren sighed. “There seems to be plenty of evidence that you played the fool. I dunno.” McLaren took a deep breath and expelled it forcibly. “Well, I wish ye all the luck in the world, Joe Rich. I think you are payin’ for yer own sins; but ye are a young man and the world is wide.”
They shook hands gravely and Joe went back to his little cottage. It seemed queer that he should be leaving Pinnacle City; almost as queer as the fact that Jim Wheeler was lying dead at the doctor’s office. Joe didn’t know where he was going, except that it would be out through the south end of the valley; possibly down into Arizona. He would travel light. His war-bag contained a change of clothes, and that was all, except for a few trinkets.
He tied it to his saddle, covering it with a black slicker, and rode up to the county treasurer’s office, where he drew a warrant for his remaining salary. Then he cashed it at the Pinnacle City bank, and drew out the few remaining dollars he had on deposit there.
As he came from the bank he met Ed Merrick, who had just tied his horse farther up the street.
“Hello, Joe,” greeted Merrick. “What’s all this talk about Jim Wheeler gettin’ killed?”
“I reckon you heard right, Ed,” said Joe.
“Horse drug him to death?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’ll be !”
Merrick went on down the street, and Joe noticed that he walked fast, as if he was in a big hurry. Joe heard some one call his name, and he turned to see the Heavenly Triplets coming across the street toward him from the Pinnacle Saloon. They were all very unsteady, but also very earnest.
Lonnie sagged back on his heels and considered the roll behind the cantle of Joe’s saddle. He sagged ahead and drew the slicker aside enough to disclose the war-bag.
“Where you goin’, Joe?” he demanded. “All packed up, eh?”
“I’m pullin’ out, Lonnie,” said Joe gravely. “I’m shore glad I had a chance to say good-by to you boys.”
“Na-a-awshir,” Nebrasky spoke with great deliberation. “Nobody c’n go way like thish, Joseph. Nawshir. Gotta have big party. Misser Rich,” gravely, “meet Misser Jones and Misser Leach.”
Dan and Nebrasky shook hands seriously with Joe.
“Pleased t’ meetcha,” said Nebrasky. “I used to know a sher’f that looked like you, par’ner. Oh, ver’ mush like you! I slep’ in the same bunk with him for two years. You jus’ passin’ through our fair city, Misser Rich?”
“Just passin’ through,” said Joe slowly. He saw Merrick and Kelsey leaving the sheriff’s office.
“Here comes Misser Kelsey,” grinned Lonnie. “’F he gits close enough we’ll complete the swing on him, Nebrasky.”
“He won’t never git close enough,” chuckled Dan. “That bird ain’t never goin’t’ light close to any of us.”
Joe held out his hand to Lonnie, who gripped it quickly.
“So-long, Lonnie,” said Joe. “Be good to yourself.”
“Aw-right, Joe.”
Joe shook hands with Dan and Nebrasky, who did it in a dumb sort of a way. Perhaps they did not understand that Joe was leaving Tumbling River. Joe turned to his horse and started to mount. Merrick and Kelsey were close now, and Kelsey said to Joe—
“You ain’t leavin’ us, are yuh, Joe?”
Joe nodded.
“Yeah, I’m goin’, Len.”
“Uh-huh. Mebbe yuh better wait a little while, Joe. Somethin’ has come up just lately. Better tie yore horse and wait till we get this ironed out.”
“What do yuh mean, Len?”
“Has Hozie gone home?” Len spoke to Lonnie.
“Gone home? Of course he’s gone home. You seen him leave, didn’t yuh?”
Kelsey nodded. Lonnie seemed belligerent.
“When yuh found Jim Wheeler, yuh—uh—didn’t look in his pockets, didja, Lonnie?”
“Look in his pockets? What for, I’d crave to ask yuh?”
Kelsey turned to Merrick.
“Mebbe you better go down to the doctor’s place, Ed. Mebbe it’s still there. I don’t reckon anybody looked.”
Merrick nodded shortly and hurried away. Joe looked curiously at Kelsey, but the new sheriff was leaning against a porch post, rolling a cigaret.
“Just why had I ought to wait?” asked Joe.
“Just for instance,” Kelsey lighted his cigaret.
“That’s the new sheriff,” said Lonnie. “Cool and collected, always gets his man. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!”
Kelsey winced. Nebrasky looked him over thoroughly.
“That’s him,” declared Nebrasky. “Yuh gotta look close at him to tell. Kelsey is his name. Belonged to the Circle M before the county bought him.”
“You think yo’re pretty smart, don’t cha?” flared Kelsey.
“Don’t ’tagonize him,” begged Dan.
Joe stepped from his horse and faced Kelsey.
“What’s the idea of askin’ me to wait, Len?”
“Can’t tell yuh yet, Joe.”
“Suppose I decided to go ahead?”
“No, I don’t think yuh will.”
“I’m not under arrest, am I?”
“Not yet.”
“Not yet, eh?” Joe laughed recklessly. “Well, I reckon I’ll be goin’ then.”
Joe turned back to his horse.
“Yo’re not goin’!” snapped Kelsey.
Joe whirled quickly. Kelsey had half-drawn his gun. It was a foolish move on Kelsey’s part; he should have covered Joe, if he wanted to hold him badly enough to resort to a gun-play. Joe did not hesitate. His right hand jerked upward and he fired from his waist.
Kelsey’s gun was out of the holster, but his hand flipped open and the gun fell to the sidewalk. He staggered backward, clutching his right forearm, while Joe swung into his saddle and rode swiftly out of town, heading south.
The revolver shot attracted plenty of attention, and it also served to sober the Heavenly Triplets. Kelsey swore bitterly as he clawed away his shirt sleeve. The heavy bullet had plowed its way through the muscles of his forearm, but did not touch the bone. The shock of it had caused Kelsey’s hand to jerk open, releasing his gun.
Folks were crowding in from every direction, trying to find out what it was all about.
“You better pack that arm to the doctor,” advised Lonnie.
Kelsey nodded and bit off more profanity. Ed Merrick came through the crowd and quickly got the story of what had happened.
“Go and get it dressed, Kelsey,” he said, after examining the wound. “No bones broke. Is Jack at the office?”
“Here,” said Ralston, shoving his way through.
“Better get on Joe’s trail, Jack,” said Merrick quickly. “He—you don’t need a warrant. Bring him back!”
Ralston ran down the street, while the crowd demanded that Merrick tell them what it was all about. But Merrick merely shut his lips and went to the court-house, followed by Angus McLaren, who was as much at sea as any of the crowd.
Once inside their office McLaren asked Merrick what the trouble was all about.
“I’m not accusin’ Joe Rich,” said Merrick. “But he was the one who found Jim Wheeler. Today I drew five thousand from the Pinnacle bank and loaned it to Jim Wheeler on his note. He had that money on him when he left town. There is no money in his pockets now, and no one has found any money on him since he came back, or during the time of the first examination. The money is gone, Mac.”
“And Joe was the first man to find him,” muttered McLaren. “Five thousand dollars! Merrick, that’s enough to tempt a man.”
“Yo’re right it is! And Joe shot Kelsey in the arm.”
“Kelsey was drawin’,” reminded McLaren. “The boys say that Kelsey reached for his gun first. Joe wasn’t under arrest.”
“No, that’s true, Mac. But if Joe wasn’t guilty, why didn’t he stay until it could be cleared up? Ah! there’s Ralston!”
Through the window they saw the deputy ride up in front of the court-house, where he talked with several men. Merrick and McLaren went out to him. It seemed as if all the cowboys had disappeared. Ralston spurred over in front of the Pinnacle and went into the saloon, but came out again.
McLaren smothered a grin. The cowboys knew that Ralston would deputize them to ride with him, and they would be obliged to obey his orders; but if he couldn’t find them—that was a different matter.
“By , they all ducked!” snorted Ralston angrily.
“Looks like it,” agreed Merrick. “Well, I’ll go with yuh, Jack. If we can’t do any better, we might find some of the boys at my ranch. By , they won’t sneak out on yuh!”
Merrick crossed the street to the Pinnacle hitch-rack and mounted his horse. Ralston went back to the office and got an extra Winchester for Merrick, and they rode away at a swift gallop.
They had barely disappeared when the Heavenly Triplets showed up. They had rolled under the sidewalk near where Joe had shot Kelsey. From the depths of an empty wagon-box farther up the street came Abe Liston, of the 3W3. Slim Coleman, of the Lazy B, sauntered out of the narrow alley between the Pinnacle Saloon and a feed-store.
The Heavenly Triplets were fairly sober now—too sober to think of anything funny to do; so they headed for the Pinnacle Saloon.
“Hey, you snake-hunters!” yelled Slim Coleman. “Didn’t yuh ride away with the posse?”
“We shore did!” replied Lonnie. “Couldn’t find a thing. C’mon and have a drink, you man-hunter.”
“Sheriffin’ does make a feller kinda dry,” admitted Slim. “I’ll go yuh once, if I lose all m’hair. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! I’ll betcha Ralston is mad enough to gnaw a nail.”
“Well, he can go plumb to , as far as we’re concerned,” declared Nebrasky. “Any old time we go huntin’ criminals, it’ll be when there ain’t nothin’ else to do. Anyway, I don’t look upon the shootin’ of Kelsey as a crime.”
They lined up at the bar and offered to sing a song for the drinks. But the bartender was a bit skeptical about the intrinsic value of anything they might sing.
“It’s all right with me, yuh understand,” explained the bartender. “But when Handsome starts checkin’ up the till at night—you know what I mean.”
“Oh, shore,” nodded Lonnie. “Some folks never appreciate talent. Howja like to have a free song?”
“Oh, I can absorb anythin’ that don’t hurt the rest of yuh. All I ask is that yuh don’t require my opinion. I’m honest.”
Angus McLaren came in and Lonnie invited him to share their hospitality. McLaren rarely drank anything, but no one had ever known him to refuse an invitation.
“We just got back from ridin’ with the deputy,” explained Nebrasky. “Ridin’ allus makes me dry.”
McLaren laughed and poured out a drink.
“Well, here’s hopin’ they never even catch sight of Joe’s dust,” said Leach.
“I dunno,” said McLaren. “Ye see, boys, it’s a serious charge they’ve put against Joe Rich.”
“Serious!” snorted Lonnie. “To shoot Kelsey? Why, Kelsey was reachin’ for—”
“I know that, Lonnie. But that’s not the charge. Today Ed Merrick loaned Jim Wheeler five thousand in cash and took Jim’s note for it. Jim rode away with the money. There’s not a cent on poor Jim—and Joe was the one who found him.”
“A-a-a-a-aw, !” Lonnie dropped his glass on the floor.
“Yuh mean to say that Joe got away with it?” asked Nebrasky.
“I’m not sayin’ anythin’, Nebr-r-rasky. It was told to me. I went to the bank, and they tell me Merrick drew the money.”
“Well, for ’s sake!” snorted Lonnie. “That’s awful!”
“Aye, it is. Well, here’s luck, boys!”
McLaren drained his glass alone. The Heavenly Triplets and Slim had no taste for liquor now. They went outside and sat down on the edge of the sidewalk, humped over like four crows on a fence-rail.
For possibly five minutes they said nothing. Then Lonnie broke the silence with—
“Joe’s turnin’ out to be a humdinger.”
Nebrasky spat dryly and expounded—
“Yuh never can tell which way a dill-pickle will squirt.”
“Five ’r no five—I hope he gits away,” said Leach.
“I thought there was somethin’ funny about him bein’ in such a hurry to git away,” said Slim.
“And you know yo’re a liar, Slim,” said Lonnie.
“Yeah, I know it,” agreed Slim.
“Might as well go home, I s’pose,” observed Nebrasky.
“Yeah, and right here and now I want to proclaim,” said Lonnie, “there ain’t goin’ to be no drawin’ straws and all that kinda stuff; sabe? I don’t care a which one of you two pelicans decide to break the news at the Flyin’ H, but I want yuh to know it ain’t goin’ to be little Lonnie. By , I’ve broke all the news I’m goin’ to today!”
“I guess we better not say anythin’ to ’em a-tall,” decided Nebrasky. “It ain’t no settled fact.”
“Shore—jist let it kinda drift,” agreed Leach.
“There goes Kelsey, wearin’ his arm in a sling,” said Slim. “He’s lucky it ain’t his head.”
“Come dang near bein’,” laughed Lonnie, and he headed for the hitch-rack.
Kelsey swore inwardly at the three punchers and wondered why Ralston didn’t deputize some of them to go with him. He met Handsome Clark at the door of a Chinese restaurant, and Clark told him that the cowboys had all disappeared when Jack Ralston showed up, and that Merrick had been the only one to ride with him.
Clark did not know about the missing money until Kelsey told him about it.
“No wonder he plugged you,” said Clark. “He probably had all that money on him.”
“Probably. It was all in currency—big bills, mostly.”
“How’s the arm?”
“Don’t hurt much. Won’t be usin’ it for a while. I never looked for Joe to shoot. He’s awful fast with a gun.”
Clark nodded.
“You drew first, didn’t you, Len?”
“Mebbe I did. He said he was goin’. Yuh see, I didn’t want to arrest him. There wasn’t any sure thing that the money wasn’t in Wheeler’s pockets. I just asked Joe to wait, and when he insisted on goin’ I didn’t know just what to do. If I’d had any sense, I’d have poked a gun in his ribs and made him wait. Live and learn, I reckon.”
“I suppose they’ll get him.”
“Mebbe. Joe knows this country and he must ’a’ been set for a getaway. Yuh can’t tell which way he’ll go. Headed out south, but he’s just as liable to be ridin’ north now. He’s no fool. And two men might not be able to find him. We can’t expect much help from the punchers.”
“No, it seems that you can’t, Len. Being a sheriff in Tumbling River has its drawbacks.”
Len left McLaren and went to the depot, where he sent wires to Kelo and Ransome, notifying the marshals of each place to watch for Joe Rich. And then he went back to his office to nurse his aching arm and swear at himself for half-drawing a six-shooter on a man like Joe Rich.