Persia Parker sat in her usual place at the head of the council table
and listened demurely while Sam Lester outlined a plan for the town to
issue scrip. She didn't know if the plan had originated with him or
with Mr. Jay. She didn't thoroughly understand it, but Sam had assured
her that there would be considerable advantage in it, if it was done
right.
When Sam had finished speaking, she turned the meeting over to him and
left the room. This had been agreed on beforehand--there seemed to be
certain hidden profits in the plan that were best discussed in her
absence.
She walked along the long hall and entered her parlor, halting in
surprise as a man rose slowly from the sofa.
He was stocky, brute-faced, and wore a pointed blond mustache and
several days growth of pale stubble. He was dirty and looked exhausted.
There was a large dark stain on his jeans--a bloodstain. She felt a
little stab of panic.
"There's a meeting in there," he said, gesturing with his hat toward
the other part of the building. "The door was open and I couldn't get
past to Lester's rooms, so I come in here."
She recognized him now as one of the pair who had hidden in Sam's rooms
a few days ago. She had taken food up to them.
"I got a bullet scratch on my leg," he said. "It wouldn't amount to
nothing if it had been took care of, but I been on the run three days.
It's got to be dressed. I got to have some food."
He sank down heavily. A blood-stained bandage showed through a tear in
the faded cloth of his jeans. He would get the sofa dirty, she thought,
and she frowned her annoyance.
"I'll go back to the meeting and close the door so you can get up to
Sam's quarters," she said.
"My horse has got to be took care of. He's out back."
"Tell Sam about it." She turned back toward the hall.
"It's got to be done quick. I got two men on my tail."
"_Two_ men?"
"I take one to be a Injun, the other Vickers' troublebuster."
* * * * *
Whisky Willie reached Tunneltown shortly after dark. He left his horse
at the livery, unhooked the handcuffs from his saddle and walked
stiffly to the marshal's office.
Madrid was at his desk behind an oil can and a mound of rags, cleaning
his revolver. He leaped to his feet as Willie walked in and dumped the
handcuffs on the desk.
"I told you, cowboy," Madrid said, swallowing his amazement. "I warned
you."
"This is a c-c-county badge I'm wearing," Willie said.