“Pastry set fire to Doc Knowles’ house to try and get rid of Mellody,
didn’t he?”
“You know too ---- much now!” snarled Kelly.
“Well, I reckon we’ll just use the rope pronto,” observed Butch. “No use
delayin’ this, is there, gents?”
“Wait a minute,” said Bob. “I saved you fellers from doin’ a ---- bad
job, didn’t I? Well, let the law handle this case. There ain’t any of
yuh so ---- perfect that you’ve got any right to hang a man.”
“That’s right,” agreed a cowboy. “If yuh ever stop to assay
yourself--eh, Bob?”
Barr Wyeth came pawing his way through the crowd and clapped Bob on the
shoulder.
“I ain’t got words enough to say what I want to, Bob. Pastry Pell
lived long enough to tell me that everythin’ you told ’em was true,
and he said that Kelly always dealt a crooked game with me ’cause he
wanted my ranch, and he told me that he had lied to me about you and
John Fann. Kelly wanted to break the JHF and buy it cheap.
“But Pastry told us that Kelly had nothing to do with shootin’ and
robbin’ of John Fann. He heard John and Kelly talkin’ about it when he
was washin’ his face near the door of Kelly’s office; so he thought
he’d make a little money for himself. He thought it would help Kelly
break the JHF.”
“Yeah, and I ---- near done it, too,” mumbled Kelly. “But just to show
yuh that I quit the game, I’m givin’ yuh back your notes, Wyeth. I
don’t reckon I’ll have any use for a cattle ranch. Tear up John Fann’s
mortgage. Now put me in jail and call it a day.”
Andy and several of the cowboys led him to the jail, while others picked
up the remains of Pastry Pell and carried him into the Buck Horn.
John the Baptist, Ma Fann and Nell Wyeth were still sitting in the buggy
in the middle of the street. Barr had walked over to them and now he was
leaning on a wheel. None of them were talking, but all were watching Bob
Kern, who was still standing in the street, thinking it over.
“Bob Kern!” called Nell Wyeth.
Bob lifted his head and his serious expression faded into a broad grin.
He went slowly over, patted the buggy horse and adjusted the bridle.
“Bob Kern, can you ever--” Nell Wyeth’s voice broke--“can you ever
forgive me for what I’ve thought and said?”
“Why did you do this for us?” asked Barr hoarsely. “You knew we hated
you, Kern. I don’t understand.”
“Well--” John Fann cleared his throat with difficulty--“Well, why don’t
you tell them, Bob?”
“I’ll tell yuh,” Bob grinned softly, as he rubbed the palm of his hand
on the buggywheel, “I--I--John, you asked me to round up all the JHF
cattle, and I’m lazy as the dickens, and I didn’t want to do it; so I
stalled around, tryin’ to keep from workin’ and I couldn’t help findin’
out things.
“Yuh see, I wanted to come into town when there was a crowd; so that
nobody would miss my oration. Tha’sall, I reckon. Laziness drove me
to become a de-teck-itive.”
Bob gave the wheel a final rub and turned away, going toward the
sheriff’s office.
“Bob!” called Ma Fann softly.
He stopped and looked back.
“Don’t you know it is wrong to lie, Bob?”
Bob shuffled his toe in the dust and looked back at her seriously.
“Yes’m, Ma, it sure is. Liars don’t never go to heaven.”
He grinned widely and went on.
“If _he_ don’t,” said Nell Wyeth softly, “it’s because there’s a better
place than that.”
John the Baptist picked up the lines and nodded his head.
“I reckon we better be goin’ home. Get your horse, son.”
“All right, dad,” said Barr, and headed for the hitch-rack.
Bob Kern stood in the doorway of the office and saw them drive away, a
look of unutterable sadness in his homely face. Then he shook his head,
as if to drive away memories, and smiled softly to himself.
[Transcriber’s Note:
1: The three paragraphs starting with “Perhaps, she thought” are
shown as printed, though there is an apparent localized transposition
of the Barr Wyeth and Bob Kern characters.
2: This story appeared in the January 10, 1924 issue of Adventure
magazine.
]