“Take his gun, Jud.”
The tall deputy dismounted and removed the gun from Wild’s holster.
“Wild, can’t you prove where you were yesterday and today?” asked Pat.
“Didn’t you see anybody?”
Wild shook his head.
“Never seen a soul, Pat. We made camp at Dancin’ Flats last night. Why,
we wasn’t within eight miles of the railroad.”
“Well,” said the sheriff, “I reckon you can saddle up again and come
with me to Oxbow.”
“You mean—” began Flint Moore.
“Jail—sure,” nodded the sheriff. “If yuh can prove yuh didn’t do
it—fine. I’m listenin’ for a proof.”
“And while you are listening for innocent men to prove their innocence,
the real robbers are making their way to safety,” said Pat.
Garvin laughed aloud and started to drop his pistol back into its
holster. His prisoners were unarmed. He looked down at Pat.
“Sister, that sounds real smart; but I’m one _hombre_ that yaller eyes
and a smooth tongue never did faze.”
Flint Moore was only a few feet away from the sheriff, and his spring
caught the sheriff unawares. His arms circled the sheriff’s body, and a
backward heave, with his knees braced against the horse’s side, threw
Garvin out of the saddle and sprawling to the ground. Like a flash,
Flint Moore tossed aside the sheriff’s gun and waited for him to get up.
Jud Frawley started forward as if to help Garvin, but Wild tripped him
with an out-flung foot and he almost fell over the sheriff. Before he
could regain his balance Wild dived into him, knocking him sidewise and
almost under his frightened horse, where Wild yanked his gun from its
holster and secured his own from where it had dropped in the mixup.
Jeff Garvin struggled to his feet, cursing madly, and rushed at Flint
Moore. They were nearly equal in size, but Flint Moore had whipped him
before and both men knew he could do it again. This knowledge won for
Flint, just as it lost for Garvin.
Moore smashed through Garvin’s clumsy guard and drove him across the
yard with terrific smashes, which Garvin could not block. Garvin fought
back like a tiger for a moment, but a blow to the jaw took all the
strength from his muscles, and a second later a haymaker swing crashed
against his chin and he went down like a stricken steer.
Flint Moore turned toward the porch, where Wild and Pat were sitting
side by side. On the steps sat Frawley, his hands on his knees, a
half-smile on his face. Moore noticed that Wild was dangling a pistol in
his hand.
“That,” declared Frawley in appreciation, “that was complete and plumb
sudden. Fallin’ around thataway caused me to miss a little of it. Kinda
like a prizefight I was to in Pendleton once. They rung the bell and I
turned m’ head to spit. Missed the fight, by jing! Hope he seen me start
to help him.”
Flint Moore leaned against the porch and watched Garvin struggle back to
his feet. He was a badly whipped man and did not seem to know just where
he was going.
“Busted his rudder!” exclaimed Frawley, and then to Wild, “Mind lettin’
me steer him?”
Wild grinned and shook his head. Frawley got Garvin by the arm and led
him back to his horse, where Garvin clung to a stirrup and tried to
clear his brain. Frawley turned to Flint Moore.
“I reckon he won’t take yuh with him this evenin’.”
“I reckon he will!” retorted Flint. “If he don’t take us in with him,
we’ll take him in with us. He’s made his arrest, now he’s got to make
good on it. Go get the horses, Wild.”
Garvin got slowly on his horse. He was sore from his beating and his
head ached badly. Flint Moore walked in close to him, and Garvin
flinched at the feel of the muscular hand on his knee.
“Garvin, if you ever speak to my daughter or about her, I’ll beat you to
death.”
Garvin nodded with evident understanding and caressed his aching jaw. He
dreaded having to speak to any one.
Mrs. Moore was busy in the kitchen at the rear of the house and knew
nothing of the turn of events until Pat went into the house and told
her. They both went outside as Wild rode up leading his father’s horse.
The leavetaking was short. Mrs. Moore, a patient little woman, bowed her
head sadly over the inevitable. She knew that they were not guilty, but
that the sheriff would try to make them as much trouble as possible.
Pat and her mother stood on the porch and watched them ride away, with
Garvin, unarmed, riding in the lead, closely followed by Frawley, also
unarmed. Flint Moore and Wild rode side by side. Frawley turned and
waved his hat at the two women, as he yelled a good-bye to them. Garvin
rode straight ahead, never taking his eyes off the road. He knew that
Oxbow would laugh when they heard how he had brought in his prisoners;
and Jeff Garvin hated to be laughed at.
Frawley did not mind. In fact he was secretly pleased over the turn of
affairs. It had looked to Wild as if Frawley had started ahead to assist
the sheriff, when Flint Moore yanked him from his saddle; but the fact
of the matter was that Frawley intended to jump Garvin for his words to
Patricia.