THE SHERIFF’S VISIT
“Come to think of it, it’s generally a healthy proposition not to
know too much about your neighbors--the ones that you like, I
mean.”
The Pardners were coming from their mine to the house for the midday
meal when the officers stopped at the gate.
“Howdy, Jim?” called Bob with the cheerful grin he kept for his friends.
“Which one of us are you wantin’ now?”
The sheriff laughed as he shook hands with the two old prospectors.
“If you’ll give our horses a feed, I’ll let you both off this time.”
“How about yourselves?” asked Thad. “Would you fight if we was to try to
force you to eat a bite?”
“I’ll say we would not,” returned one of the deputies, swinging from his
saddle.
“I’m that holler that I’d ring if anybody was to kick me,” drawled the
other.
“I’ll have to hear what the boss says before I commit myself,” said the
sheriff. “How about it, Marta?” he called to the girl who stood in the
doorway. “Are you backing the offer of these two daddies of yours?”
“You know I am, Mr. Burks,” she returned heartily. “You are always
welcome here. I’ll be ready for you in a few minutes.”
While they waited Marta’s call to dinner, the men exchanged news of
general interest and talked together as old friends will. And Marta, in
the kitchen, could hear through the open window every word as clearly as
if she had been sitting with them.
Presently the sheriff made known his mission in the Cañon of Gold. “You
haven’t got any strangers in the neighborhood, have you?” he asked
casually.
“Nope,” said Bob.
“Nary a stranger,” echoed Thad.
“That is,” amended Bob, “not that we have seen or heard of. This here
Cañada del Oro is a pretty big piece of country, Jim, an’ mighty rough,
as you know, an’ Thad an’ me we stick kinda close to our diggin’.”
“Natachee been ’round lately?”
“Oh, he drops in once in a while, same as always,” returned Bob. “He was
here yesterday.”
“Natachee would sure know if there was any one around,” mused the
officer. “There is nothing stirring in these mountains that Indian don’t
see. I’m looking for a convict who escaped from the Florence
penitentiary,” he continued. “The last trace we had of him he was headed
this way. He came into Tucson and managed to get a sort of an outfit
together and struck out for somewhere in this general direction.”
At the officer’s words old Thad rubbed his bald head meditatively. Bob
bent over to pick up a bit of rock which he proceeded to examine with
minute care. The girl in the kitchen caught at the table for support
and, faint and trembling, with white face and horror-stricken eyes,
stared through the open door toward that neighboring cabin.
Then she heard Thad say:
“We sure ain’t seen nothin’ like a convict in these parts, Jim. When did
he make his break?”
“Two weeks ago,” answered the sheriff.
The color returned to the girl’s face and her trembling limbs became
steady. But as she turned again toward the stove where the meal for her
guests was cooking, she glanced through the open window and stood as if
turned to stone.
Natachee was moving with noiseless step toward the group of men outside.
Then she heard Bob’s laugh.
“Talkin’ about the devil, sheriff, suppose you take a look behind you.”
While the officers and the Pardners were exchanging greetings with the
Indian, Marta, going to the door, summoned the hungry men. They trooped
into the house and Natachee, declining the invitation to join them at
the table on the plea that he had eaten an early dinner, seated himself
just inside the open doorway to continue his part in the general
conversation.
When the sheriff had explained his mission to the Indian, Natachee, with
his eyes fixed on Marta’s face, confirmed the Pardners’ opinion that no
stranger had recently come into the Cañon of Gold.
“That’s good enough for me,” said the sheriff. And then to his men:
“We’ll swing over into the Tortollita country this afternoon. No use
wasting any more time here.”
“We can just about make it over to Dale’s ranch by dark,” returned one
of the deputies.
“We ain’t due to strike no such meal as this at Dale’s,” said the other
officer mournfully, “Dale’s batchin’.”
And with one accord they all smilingly expressed their appreciation of
Marta’s cooking and acknowledged their gratitude for her hospitality,
while the girl happily assured them again of the welcome that always
awaited them in her home.
For some time following this the hard-riding officers were too busy
demonstrating their approval of the dinner to engage in conversation.
Natachee waited.
At last the Indian spoke casually:
“You do not always succeed in finding these escaped convicts, do you,
sheriff? This is a big stretch of country to cover and it’s not so very
far to the Mexican line. I should think a man would have a fairly good
chance.”
“They have more than a fair chance,” returned the sheriff. “But still we
get most of them. A man must have food and water, you know. If our man
knows this sort of country, we can nearly always figure out about what
he will do.”
He put down his knife and fork and sat back in his chair with the
genial air of one who is at peace with the world.
“It’s mostly the strangers that drift in from other parts that we never
get,” added one of the deputies. “You can’t tell what they’ll do, nohow.
Generally they lose themselves and never show up.”
Rolling a cigarette the sheriff, in a reminiscent mood, continued:
“That’s right. There was one that got away from San Quentin over in
California about six months ago, and we lost him clean. They traced him
as far as Phœnix and notified me to be on the lookout, because it was
reasonably sure that he was heading south, but that’s the last anybody
ever heard of him. He may show up yet--if he’s not dead. We always try
to keep them in mind, you know.”
The Indian, watching Marta, saw the terror that came into her eyes at
the sheriff’s words. Quietly she drew away from the group and slipped
into the adjoining room where she stood just inside the half-open door
listening.
The eyes of the Pardners were fixed upon the officer with intense
interest.
Natachee smiled.
“What did this man look like?”
The sheriff answered:
“The description sent to me says he is a man of about twenty-two or
three, tall, rather slender, gray eyes, brown hair, clean shaven,
good-looking, well educated, well appearing, likable sort of a chap.
Haven’t seen him, have you, Natachee?”
“I might run across him somewhere, some day,” returned the Indian.
There was a sound in the adjoining room and the sheriff, who was sitting
with his back toward the door, turned his head inquiringly.
Old Bob spoke quickly:
“What was he in for, Jim?”
And Thad asked in the same breath:
“A killin’, was it?”
The officer gave his attention again to his hosts.
From where he sat the Indian, through the open kitchen door, saw Marta
running toward the neighboring cabin.
The sheriff was answering the old prospectors:
“He was sent up for wrecking a big investment company in Los Angeles.
You remember--the papers were full of the affair at the time.”
* * * * *
Hugh Edwards did not know that his neighbors were entertaining visitors.
He was at work in the creek bed when the sheriff arrived and when he
went up to his cabin for his noontime lunch the Pardners and their
guests were on the far side of the house, so that he could not see them.
He had returned to his work and was energetically wielding his pick when
he heard Marta’s hurried step on the bank above. The girl came running
and sliding down the steep path.
At sight of Marta’s face, Edwards dropped his pick and ran to her.
“Marta dear, what is the matter? What has happened?”
In his alarm for her he forgot himself for the moment, and would have
taken her in his arms, but her first hurried words brought him back with
a shock.
“The sheriff--“ she cried in a voice that trembled with fear and
excitement.
Hugh Edwards stood as if stunned by a sudden blow, staring at her dully,
unable to speak.
“Don’t you understand?” she said sharply. “The sheriff is here--why
don’t you speak? Why don’t you say something?” She caught him by the arm
and shook him. “The sheriff is here, I tell you. He is looking for a man
who escaped from prison.”
Hugh Edwards drew a long shuddering breath and the girl saw him, in
obedience to his first impulse, turn and start as if to run. Then, as
suddenly he checked himself, and stood looking about in fearful
indecision, not knowing which way to go. Another moment and he had
regained control of himself.
Facing her with a steadiness which revealed the real strength of his
character he said coolly:
“This is interesting, I’ll admit, but don’t you think perhaps you are a
little overexcited?” he smiled reassuringly. “Suppose you tell me more.”
Calmed by his strength the girl answered:
“Sheriff Burks and two of his men are searching for a convict who
escaped from the Florence penitentiary two weeks ago. They stopped at
our house to inquire if we had seen any strangers in the cañon recently,
and we asked them to stay for dinner of course. Natachee happened
in as he always does when any one from outside comes to the
cañon--and--and--while they were all eating and talking I slipped out
the front door and ran over here to tell you.”
Edwards laughed.
“A convict escaped from Florence two weeks ago. Well, he certainly is
not in the Cañada del Oro or Natachee would know.”
The girl looked at him pleadingly.
“I--I--am afraid Natachee does know.” She shuddered. “He--it
would be just like him to bring the sheriff and his men here.
Please--please--won’t you go? For my sake, won’t you?”
At this Edwards looked at her searchingly.
“Go where?” he said at last. “What do you think the Indian knows? Why
should I go anywhere?”
“You--you do not understand,” the girl faltered. “You must hide
somewhere, quick--Please, Hugh, they may come any minute.”
Again Edwards looked about as if, while prompted to yield to her
entreaty, he was still undecided as to the best course to pursue.
“But surely you know that I did not escape from Florence two weeks ago,”
he said slowly.
“I know--I know,” she cried, “but there was another.”
“Another?”
“Yes--a man who escaped from San Quentin six months ago. They followed
him as far as Phœnix. He was coming this way. He was twenty-two or
twenty-three years old--tall--slender--gray eyes--brown hair--well
educated--Oh, Hugh--Hugh--don’t stand there looking at me like that! You
must do something--you must go--quick--somewhere--anywhere where these
men won’t see you.”
With a low cry of horror and despair the man leaped away, running like a
startled deer up the creek. But before he had gone a hundred feet he
stopped as suddenly as he had started and faced back toward the girl,
holding out his arms in an unmistakable gesture of love and longing.
But Marta did not see. She had dropped to the ground, where she crouched
with her face buried in her hands.
Still holding out his arms the man went slowly toward her. Then again he
stopped, to stand for a moment irresolute, as one fighting with all the
strength of his will against himself. And then once more he faced the
other way, and stooping low, with head down, ran as if in fear for his
life.
* * * * *
When Marta had recovered a little of her self-control she realized that
she must not be seen near Edwards’ cabin by the officers, who by this
time must have finished their dinner. Hurriedly she stole away down the
creek, thinking that if she was seen coming up the path that led from
the Pardners’ mine to the house no one would question as to where she
had been.
When she had gained the top of the bank she saw her fathers just
outside the kitchen door deep in a heated argument. There was no one
else in sight. Catching her breath sharply, the girl hurried on until
she could gain an unobstructed view of the neighboring cabin. There was
no one there. With a sob of relief she almost ran the remaining distance
to the Pardners, who were by now watching her expectantly, as if
wondering what she would do or say.
“Where are they? Have they gone?” she cried as she came up to them.
The two men looked at each other questioningly.
“Go ahead, you old fool, she’s your gal, ain’t she?” said Bob. “What’s
the use in your standin’ there lookin’ at me like that, I ain’t done
nothin’.”
“Holy Cats!” ejaculated Thad. “Can’t a man even look at you without you
goin’ mad? I ain’t a-worryin’ none about what you’ve done or about what
anybody’s done, if it comes to that. It’s what you’re likely to do
that’s got me layin’ awake nights.”
He turned to the girl and in a very different tone said:
“Sure they’re gone. Jim figgered that if the man they wanted was in the
Cañada del Oro, Natachee would a-seen him and so, as long as the Indian
hadn’t seen nobody strange in these parts, they’ve pulled out for the
Tortollitas. Jim said to tell you good-by an’ that they’d sure enjoyed
your cookin’.”
To the utter amazement of the two old prospectors their partnership girl
burst into a joyous ringing laugh, and throwing her arms around each
leathery wrinkled old neck in turn she kissed them and ran into the
house.
Bob looked at Thad--Thad looked at Bob--together they looked toward the
kitchen door through which their girl had disappeared.
“Holy Cats!” murmured Thad softly, as he rubbed his bald head. “Now what
in seven states of blessedness do you make of that?”
“She must know,” said Bob. “She must a-heard what Jim said--she ain’t a
plumb fool if she is your gal.” He shook his head. “I give it up. Listen
to that, will you?”
Marta, busy with her after-dinner kitchen work, was singing.
“One thing is certain sure,” said Thad softly, “whatever trouble the boy
may have got himself into, it’s a dead immortal cinch that he ain’t in
no way different now from what he was before Jim Burks happened to eat
dinner with us, an’ that blamed Indian began askin’ fool questions about
what ain’t none of his business.”
“That’s fair enough,” returned Bob. “We didn’t never take to Hugh for
what some judge, that we never saw or heard tell of, said he was or
wasn’t. We threw in with him for what he is. An’ if we’re such a pair of
boneheads as to be livin’ with him like we have all this time without
findin’ out more about what he really is than any judge that ever sat
on a bench--well--we ought to be sentenced ourselves, that’s what I’m
sayin’.”
Thad rubbed his bald head.
“At that,” he said mournfully, “it wouldn’t be the first time by
several, that we’d ought to a-been sentenced, would it? If young Edwards
was to go to pryin’ into our records--huh--I’ll bet he wouldn’t feel
proud of his neighbors no matter what he’s done hisself.”
Old Bob grinned cheerfully.
“You’ve said it, Pardner, by smoke!--if he was to know, the youngster
would be hittin’ it out of this Cañada del Oro so fast you wouldn’t see
Mount Lemmon for dust. Come to think of it, it’s generally a healthy
proposition not to know too much about your neighbors--the ones that you
like, I mean. What is it the good book says: ‘Where ignorance is bliss a
man’s a darned fool to poke around tryin’ to find out things?’ As for my
gal, it’s plain to be seen that she’s plumb tickled at the way it’s all
turnin’ out an’----“
“_Your_ gal!” shrilled Thad. “Your gal!--there you go again. Holy Cats!
Have you got to be allus tryin’ to gouge me out of my rights? Can’t you
never give me a fair break?”
“Excuse me, Pardner, I forgot. As I was about to say, in my opinion
you’d better let that gal of yourn work her own way out of this. It’s
easy to see that she’s in too deep for us, an’ considerin’
everything--considerin’ everything, I say--it might not turn out so bad
after all.”
To which Thad replied:
“However it looks an’ however it turns out, my gal knows a heap more
about it than us two old sand rats ever could. We’re bankin’ on the boy,
an’ we’re trustin’ the gal, an’ we’re mindin’ our own business, you
bet!”
To which Bob responded fervently:
“You bet!”