“Dreamin’--I--shot--Bonn--where’s--gun?”
“You got him,” repeated Dusty.
“Yeah?” Shirey grinned vacantly. “Did I? Good!”
Shirey’s eyes lifted and focused on Stella. The vacant look had vanished
now and he seemed to recognize them.
“H’lo, li’l girl! Sheriff! End of the Sticky Ropes, eh? We’re all here,
gentlemen. Li’l girl, we lied to you. Your pa ain’t one of us. We lied
to git yuh to come here peaceable!”
Then Dusty knew that Stella had not been protecting a sweetheart, but
her father; and a warm glow came over him, in spite of his dripping,
clammy clothes.
“Yo’re wise in comin’ clean about it, Snag,” he stated.
Snag looked up at Dusty.
“Ol’ Snag ain’t goin’ t’ hang, sheriff. Got m’ ticket to a hotter place
than Big Bear. Ain’t goin’ t’ be no cold Winter f’r ol’ Snag. Bonn was
the killer, and he’s gone. Ol’ Rand paid the freight. Do the best yuh
can with the rest. We thought yuh was a fool, sheriff; but you’re alive
and we--ain’t. S’--long.”
The practical Weary picked up a coil of rope and proceeded to hog-tie
the captives, but Dusty had seemed to have lost interest in the Sticky
Ropes. He was looking at Stella, and for once in his life he was not
making faces at her.
“I--I wasn’t no hero, Stell,” he said softly. “I thought yuh loved young
Rand, but I didn’t go away and give yuh up.”
Stella looked into the light of the fire for a moment and back into
Dusty’s serious face, as she took him by both hands.
“No, you wasn’t a hero, Dusty. You’re just a ---- of a sheriff--and
that’s hero enough for me!”
“Aw-w-w-w!” growled Weary disgustedly, but nobody heard him, except
Wharton and Rand, and they were not interested.
[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the April 20, 1923 issue of
Adventure magazine.]