THE GUNFIGHTER RETURNS AND DELAYS WEDDING
They were to be married in a fortnight. Hetty's preparations were of the
simplest sort.
"I'll fix my hair the way you like it," she said, laughing. "That's
about all I can do."
On his part, Lafe wrote to the Floyds and obtained their promise to
come. Mrs. Floyd did not seem to resent this usurpation of the sheriff's
affection, which establishes her rarity beyond question. Then he ordered
some furniture. It was of an inexpensive kind, because he had saved
nothing and had only a month's pay owing to him. The sheriff would not
run into debt, having had a surfeit of its effects when a cowboy.
Of course he went to call on Hetty every night at the Widow Brown's.
Occasionally he found opportunity to drop around during the day, too.
Hetty had resigned as waitress, and her admirers faded away, for it is
foolish to meddle with another man's girl, when that other is such an
one as Lafe Johnson. And ten or eleven days sped by.
Then, about eight o'clock on an evening when the sheriff was talking to
Hetty on the Widow Brown's porch, Steve Moffatt ambled into town. He
dismounted quietly in front of the Fashion, walked across to the express
office and stuck a six-shooter under the agent's nose. That official
reasoned swiftly and decided to let him take what he could find. He was
not without pluck, but he was also a very sensible man. There was only
ninety dollars in the safe, and having soundly berated the agent on this
account, Moffatt put it in his pocket and rode out of Badger. He left
the agent bound to a chair and securely gagged.
"Tell Lafe Johnson good-by for me," Moffatt said at departure. "Give him
and his girl my regards."
"Thanks," said Lafe politely, when he received them.
He saddled his horse and put a rifle in the holster. His .45 was always
at his hip, concealed in a leather-lined pocket.
"I reckon we'll have to put the wedding off a few days, Hetty," he said,
as he bade her good-by. "I've got to leave on the jump. There's no
saying when I'll get back, either."
It was nearly midnight and very dark. Hetty toyed with his horse's mane.
She swallowed the lump that rose in her throat.
"All right," she said. "Take care of yourself, Lafe."
The sheriff kissed her and set out. He entered Mexico and struck
southwest. No United States officer had a right to invade Mexican
territory for a criminal, nor to arrest him on Mexican soil, but Johnson
was determined to catch his man first and argue this legal phase of it
afterwards, with Steve safe in the calaboose at Badger. So he opened a
line gate unobserved and galloped through the soft night in pursuit of
Moffatt.
The days sped by and Hetty received a wire from Lafe, who was now in
Cananea.
"No luck," it ran. "He's doubled back on me. Hope to pick up trail
here."
But what transpired in Cananea deserves a place to itself. Even now
Hetty does not like to hear any reference to the subject, and Lafe will
eye her uneasily if it be mentioned.