THE TRUTH ABOUT CROWLEY
There remained little to do at the ranch which had formerly been the
home of the Cross and Circle outfit, and this little was soon done.
Several of the Bar O men were left to look after the stock and keep
guard. Injun's pinto was found tied in the corral; and both owner and
horse gave every evidence of delight at their reunion. Much to the
regret of the boys of the Bar O, the Sheriff decided to escort the
prisoners to the jail himself rather than have the ranchers escort them
to "_some place_;" and, therefore, the trees on the way to the Bar O
did not bear any "fruit" as the result of the contemplated "neck-tie
party."
It was found that "One-Card" Tucker's wound was a severe one, and he
was given surgical attention by Bill Jordan, who allowed as how, "When
a pizen critter is shore destined to be hung, 'tain't right t' cheat
th' gallus an' let him croak natcheral!"
On the way home Whitey, who had commandeered one of the horses of the
Cross and Circle, rode up beside Bill Jordan and Mr. Sherwood, followed
of course, by Injun.
"Mr. Jordan," began Whitey, "won't you tell us why you let that man
Crowley go? I'm mighty glad you did, for he certainly saved my life!"
Jordan smiled. "Mebbe," he said, "that was partly the reason."
"That may have had something to do with it," said Whitey, "but I know
there was some other reason, too."
"Well," said Bill, after a pause, "now 't we're here together, I'll
tell yo' all. 'Bout five six years ago I was down to Juarez, an' I gits
into more kinds o' trouble than Carter's got pills. I'd bin down into
Mexico, an' I was headed back fer God's country, an' I jes' drops
off'n the train t' watch them skates out t' the merry-go-round they
calls a 'race-track,' an' mebbe pick up a bet er two. 'Bout the fourth
race I cum t' the conclusion I wa'n't no jedge o' hoss-flesh--not them
kind o' hosses, anyhow--an' I lays out t' beat it away from there an'
get a train. 'Fore I c'd git off'n the track--they must 'a' seen I was
a hick--some dip lifted what was left o' the roll, not fergittin' t'
incude my watch an' railroad ticket in the deal!" Bill laughed as he
thought of it, and the others laughed with him.
"Funny, ain't it?" said Bill, grinning. "But 't wa'n't so funny then!
They shore picked me cleaner 'n a col'-storage chicken, an' when I give
my jeans a frisk, I found I was exactly fourteen dollars shy o' havin'
a nickel! I bet I walked nine mile 'round thet town, thet evenin', an'
never seen a friendly face! An' me hungry 'nuff t' eat raw dog; but I
never run acrosst no dog--not no four-legged one, anyway, less'n yo'
call them hairless kind dogs--the kind thet looks like a rat on stilts.
Fin'ly I strays into this here Silver-Dollar Joe's place--so called on
account o' him havin' a bunch of 'em riveted into th' floor an' such.
The' was a bald-headed hombrey dealin' faro-bank, an' I stands around
watchin' the game, hopin' somebody 'd drop a quarter er somethin'--but
nobody done nuthin' like thet--not onto th' floor, 't least. I think
I'd of give 'em a battle fer it ef they had! Bimeby the' was a tall
guy gits up from the table an' hands out th' most artistic line o'
cussin' I'd heard in some time. When a gent kin manhandle language an'
discuss his luck like he done, it's a gift! He cum over towards me, an'
I reckon I must 'a' looked like a picture o' hard luck, too; an' he
says, stopping an' givin' me the once-over, 'Yo' don't look yo' had no
rabbit's foot workin' over-time fer yo', neither,' he says.
"'Correct," I says. "As fur 's luck's concerned, it's a case o'
horse-an'-horse--only mebbe mine's a mite worse 'n your'n.'
"'I kin lick any man thet says his luck is worse 'n mine!' he says.
"'Commence!' I says, squarin' off.
"He looked me over, an' 'n he says, 'Mebbe we better have somethin'
first?' he says.
"'Yo' 're on!' I says, linkin' my arm into his'n so 't he couldn't git
away an' change his mind.
"Well, we had one an' then another, him doin' the payin', me havin'
declared myself insolvent. We stood leanin' agin' th' bar, me havin'
visions that mebbe he'd say somethin' 'bout a san'wich. But seems he
had other idees. He fin'ly digs up a ten-dollar gold-piece an' twirls
it on the bar careless--an' me meditatin' robbery from the person when
I seen it. In a minute I was glad to kep' control o' my yearnin's.
"'This here's the last o' th' Mohigans,' he says. It ain't no good t'
me,' he says, 'an' mebbe, ef you'd take it an' set into thet game, yo'
might make her run. The's them thet says thet two neg'tives makes a
affidavit, er somethin', an' combinin' yo'r luck an' mine mebbe 'll
start somethin'. Want t' take a chanct?'
"Did I want t' take a chanct! I did so! Tho' I was some tempted t' buy
ten dollars wu'th o' ham an' eggs with th' hull of it.
"Well, I set in, an' my friend went to sleep pronto. Pretty soon luck
begin t' cum my way an' I win a bet now an' then. After a spell I had
seventy dollars in silver in front o' me, an' my friend woke up. He
cum over back o' my chair an' he says, 'How much yo' got?' 'Seventy
dollars,' I says. 'Don't make no more bets,' he says, kinder loud,
'thet bald-headed pirate is dealin' seconds an' settin' up splits.'
"Right there's where she started. I managed t' git the money into my
jeans before the worst cum, an' the' was considerable fire-works an'
breakage took place. I dunno jes' what happened, but I seen my friend
wa'n't no slouch an' took quite a hand in th' festivities, an' the'
wa'n't much left o' the place when the smoke cleared. I seen my friend
make a get-away, an' I follered as soon 's I could. But though I put in
all nex' day lookin' fer him to give him his forty dollars, I never saw
him agin till to-night!"
Bill rode along in silence for a moment; then he said, reminiscently,
"His name wasn't Crowley, then--somethin' a heap more stylisher! Seems
t' me 't was some such name as Smith--er, mebbe, Jones. Whatever 't
was, I consider he had mebbe a little more'n forty dollars comin' to
him from me--after what he done to me thet night in Juarez."