“Did Bud tell you?”
“Aye,” softly.
“They are both innocent.”
Jimmy nodded slowly.
“No doubt they are; but bein’ innocent is only personal satisfaction,
unless ye can prove it to the judge and jury. Ye’ll find few
mind-readers siftin’ evidence in a court of law.”
As Jimmy turned back to his food the collie pup set up a vociferous
barking and raced around toward the front of the house. Mrs. Moore
walked into the living-room and on to the front porch. Jeff Garvin was
just about to dismount from his horse.
When he spoke it was plainly audible to Pat and Jimmy.
“Mrs. Moore, I want your husband’s gun—his pearl-handled six-shooter.”
“Why—I—I don’t know—” faltered Mrs. Moore.
Pat whirled from the doorway and glided softly into the living-room, out
of sight of Jimmy.
“He didn’t have a gun on him,” explained Garvin. “I rode out to get his
gun.”
Jimmy heard Mrs. Moore turn and come back into the living-room, followed
by Garvin, jingling his spurs and walking heavily. Jimmy got to his
feet, and as he did he glanced out of the kitchen door and saw Pat dart
past the vines and go toward the barns.
Jimmy walked slowly to the living-room door, where he stood and looked
at Garvin’s back. Mrs. Moore was evidently searching in a bed-room for
the gun, while he looked on. After a few moments Mrs. Moore said:
“I am sure I do not know where it is. When he was not wearing it he kept
it hanging in his belt at the head of the bed.”
“Yeah?” Garvin’s query was sarcastic. “Well, now that seems kinda funny,
don’t it? Ha, ha, ha!”
“I’m sure that no one has—did Mr. Moore tell you where it was?”
“Didja think he would? I’ll find that gun if I have to take this ranch
apart! _Sabe?_”
Garvin whirled on his heel and started toward the front door, when he
happened to see Jimmy. He stopped short and stared at him.
“You spoke of takin’ the ranch apart,” reminded Jimmy seriously.
Garvin stared at him and Jimmy returned the stare with interest.
Garvin’s face showed the effects of the fight of the night before and
Jimmy smiled at these unmistakable marks of conflict.
“Who in —— are you?” growled Garvin.
“No reply from the defendant,” grinned Jimmy. “The son-of-a-gun refuses
to answer.”
Garvin snorted disgustedly. Jimmy’s easy manner and wide grin rasped on
his nerves. But Garvin did not want trouble—not physical trouble.
Pat came up to the front door and simulated great surprize at seeing the
sheriff.
“I hardly expected to see you today.”
“Mm-yah!” snarled Garvin. “Know where yore dad’s gun is?”
“My dad’s gun? Didn’t he have it on last night?”
“He did not! I’m out here to get it. _Sabe?_”
“Easy,” cautioned Jimmy. “File the point off your voice, pardner. The
lady has nothin’ to do with her father’s gun.”
“Where do you come in on this?” demanded Garvin.
“Right at this point,” replied Jimmy, all trace of his smile vanishing.
“You came here to run a bluff on two ladies, didn’t you? You was goin’
to take the ranch apart, wasn’t you? Well, start in.”
“Mebbe you don’t know who I am,” Garvin glowered at Jimmy. “I represent
the law in this county, young feller.”
“Oh, ye do, do ye? Represent the law accordin’ to the statutes?”
“I sure do!” snapped Garvin.
“Then go back and git a search warrant. Ye have no right to come into
this ranch-house and ransack the place, without a warrant. Now, git
out!”
Garvin’s face flushed scarlet and he scratched an itching palm against
his holster. He hated to let this outsider tell him his duty. Finally he
walked to the door and turned for a parting shot.
“There’s a penalty for withholding evidence in a case like this. I’ll
come back with a warrant and enough men to comb every inch of this
place. I have a description of Flint Moore’s gun—now, I want the gun.”
Garvin clumped down the steps and got on his horse. Pat and Jimmy
watched him ride away and Jimmy noticed that Pat sighed with relief when
the sheriff had disappeared.
“I do not understand it at all,” said Mrs. Moore, almost on the verge of
tears. “I really thought that they would be back before this. Surely
they can furnish bonds.”
Pat shook her head.
“Mother, this is not a case of getting bonds. The robbers killed the
fireman.”
“Will they have to stay in jail, Pat?”
“I—I’m afraid they will, mother.”
Jimmy walked out on the porch and sat down. There was nothing he could
do to lessen Mrs. Moore’s grief, and he wanted to think a little. Klooch
and the puppy came around the house and up to him. The wolf-dog put her
chin on his knee and looked up at him with her squinted wolf-like eyes.
Jimmy rubbed her muzzle, absently, thinking about the details of the
hold-up—the details he had seen. Why did the sheriff want that gun so
badly? Was it of a distinctive type, which might have been noted by the
engineer or the express messenger?