“Howdy, Miss Taylor.”
“Hello, Sheriff,” replied the girl.
Olson rubbed a huge hand across his big mustaches. There was still a
lump on his forehead, where he had bumped himself on the floor in the
Oasis.
“Just gettin’ in?” queried Porter, glancing at the horses.
Apostle Paul nodded quickly.
“Yeah. Been back on Yellow Horn mesa, lookin’ for cattle.”
“Way up there, eh?” said the sheriff. “Quite a ride.”
“Went up yesterday,” offered Buck.
“Uh-huh,” the sheriff eased himself in the saddle. “Then yuh wasn’t
around here last night, eh?”
“Nope. Why?”
“Didn’t yuh hear about the hold-up?”
“Hold-up?” Taylor shook his head. “Where?”
“Last night,” said Porter, “the train was robbed between Broken Cañon
and Blue Wells. They got the Santa Rita pay-roll.”
“Well, I’ll be darned!” exclaimed Taylor. “Anybody hurt?”
“Nope.”
“They must ’a’ got close to thirty thousand,” said Buck.
Porter turned quickly.
“What do you know about it, Buck?”
Buck stared back at him, his eyes hardening at the implication in the
deputy’s question.
“I don’t reckon the amount of the Santa Rita pay-roll is any secret,
Porter.”
“Thasso?” Porter shrugged his shoulders.
“Yes, that’s so,” Buck dropped his reins and walked over to Porter,
who squinted narrowly at him.
“I don’t like the way yuh said that, Porter.”
“The way I said what?” queried Porter.
“You know what I mean,” declared Buck, angrily.
“Drop it, Buck,” advised his father, and turned to Olson.
“How many men in the gang, Scotty?”
“Three that we know of—possibly a fourth. A man got on the express car
when the train stopped at Encinas, and him and the express messenger
had a fight. They fell out of the door and rolled into the ditch. It
kinda looks as though this feller was one of the gang. Anyway, there
was three that stopped the train, cut off the engine and express car,
and blowed the safe.”
“Are you just startin’ out after ’em?” asked Buck, squinting at the
sun. “Not very early, it seems to me.”
“I didn’t know nothin’ about it until this mornin’,” said Porter. “I
came in from Encinas early this mornin’ on a freight, and went to bed.
I got up jist before noon, and they told me about it; so I got the
sheriff and we started out.”
Apostle Paul turned to the sheriff, whose ears were red.
“Where were you all this time, Scotty?”
“He was in jail,” said Porter.
“In jail?”
“In my own jail,” said Olson angrily. “Oyster Shell, Eskimo Swensen
and Johnny Grant came over to my office last night. They were drunk,
and insisted that I had stolen their horses. And they wanted to look
in the cells, the —— fools! Jist because they was drunk I let ’em
look, and they accidentally locked me in.
“I told ’em where to find the keys, but they went on out and never
came back. That’s why nobody could find me last night. I never knowed
there was a hold-up, until Porter showed up this noon. And somebody
turned our horses loose, too. Mebbe it was that drunken bunch from the
AK. Anyway, we’re goin’ over and tell ’em about it, yuh betcha.”
Marion turned away, shaking with laughter, while her father and the
other two of the Double Bar 8 choked back their laughter. They knew
the gang from the AK very well indeed. But it was no laughing matter
to the two officers.
“I can arrest them three drunks for interferin’ with an officer,”
declared Olson hotly. “They interfered with the law when they locked
me in. I was badly needed, I tell yuh.”
“Sure yuh was,” choked Buck. “If they hadn’t locked yuh up you’d ’a’
had all three of them robbers in jail now.”
“Mebbe. Anyway, I’d have been on their trail.”
“Where’d yuh git the new dog?” asked Porter.
“New dog?” queried Buck. “That one? Huh! We raised him.”
“Never seen him before.”
“Lotsa things you never seen before.”
“Have yuh any clues?” asked Apostle Paul.
“Clues?” The sheriff wasn’t sure of that word.
“Yeah—evidence that might lead yuh to the outlaws.”
“We ain’t had no time yet.”
“Then what are yuh wastin’ it around here for?” demanded Buck.
Porter glared at Buck, but did not reply. He disliked this thin-faced
young man, but was just a trifle dubious about starting anything with
him.
“Well, I s’pose we might as well be goin’ along,” said the sheriff.
“Mebbe we’ll swing around and look in at the AK. I’ve sure got a few
things to say to them fellers.”
“God be with yuh, brother,” said Apostle Paul piously. “The AK is sure
a good place to make a talk, but when the collection is taken up,
you’ll find small pay for yore work.”
“We’ll make ’em respect the law!” snapped Porter.
“Yes, you will,” said Buck. “You better back yore law with an army.
They may love yuh for startin’ trouble with ’em, but they’ll never
respect yuh. My advice to you jiggers would be to let the AK alone.
You’ll never find out who robbed that train if yuh try to shove the
law down the necks of them three.”
“Well, by ——, I’m runnin’ my office!” snapped Olson hotly. “No drunken
puncher can lock me in my own jail and not hear about it.”
“Let ’em hear about it, by all means—but in a roundabout way, Scotty.
And please don’t swear any more. Remember, there’s ladies and
gentlemen present.”
“Ex-cuse me,” grunted Scotty, picking up his reins. “Well, we’ll be
goin’ along, folks. _Adios_.”
“_Adios, amigo,_” said Apostle Paul.
Porter glared at Buck, who wrinkled his nose at the big deputy, and
rode away.
They watched the two riders head east across the little valley, riding
side by side, as if carrying on a conversation.
“You think they ever find out who rob that train?” asked Peeler.
Buck snorted and headed for the stable.
“Find out nothin’, Peeler. Them two jiggers couldn’t find their own
boots. I’d like to be at the AK, when they start their war-talk. That
sure was funny about lockin’ him in his own cell.”
Peeler did not reply. He stopped at the stable door and rubbed his
chin thoughtfully. Buck looked at him sharply.
“Whatsa matter, Peeler?”
“I’m tryin’ to think of one word, Buck.”
“What kind of a word?”
Peeler smiled softly.
“I think it is ‘convenient.’”
“Convenient? What for?”
“For the robbers, Buck. That he is locked in his cell.”