CONCERNING AN OUTLAW
Early in the afternoon of the first day of December the sky darkened,
and a cold, raw wind began to shriek through Willets. The company corral
was empty; and again, as on the day before Kane Lawler had visited him,
Gary Warden stood at one of the windows of his office smiling. Warden
was almost satisfied.
Only one disturbing thought persistently recurred; Lawler had got his
cattle through to Red Rock.
A crimson stain appeared in Warden's cheeks as his thoughts reverted to
Lawler's return to Willets, after disposing of his cattle to the Red
Rock buyer. And Warden's shoulders sagged a little, the smile faded and
he glared malignantly at the bleak, gray clouds that sailed over town on
the chill, bitter wind.
Oddly, at the instant Warden's memory was dwelling upon the incident of
Lawler's return to Willets, Lafe Corwin, the storekeeper, was mentally
reviewing the incident.
Willets was a cow-town, and for the winter its activity was over. All
the beef cattle in the section, with the exception of three thousand
head still held by Lawler, at the Circle L, had been shipped eastward,
and Willets would now descend to supine indifference to considerations
of gain.
Lafe Corwin was tilted back in a big wooden chair near the big,
roaring-hot stove in the lounging-room of the Willets Hotel. His clerk
could attend to the store. Until spring came, Corwin would spend much of
his leisure near the big stove in the hotel, talking politics and
cattle--two subjects of paramount importance.
But just at this instant Corwin was thinking of Lawler's return to
Willets. Little wrinkles gathered around his eyes--which were twinkling;
and he chuckled lowly as his gaze roved from one to the other of the men
who, like himself, were enjoying the warmth of the stove and listening,
between words, to the howling and moaning of the wind.
Three or four times, during silences, Corwin chuckled. And when at last
he saw Dave Rankin, the blacksmith, watching him curiously, he guffawed
aloud, rubbing his hands gleefully.
"I don't reckon I ever seen no mournfuller sight than that!" he
declared.
"Meanin' which?" asked the blacksmith, his eyes alight with truculent
inquiry. The others sat erect, attentive.
"Meanin' that mornin' when Kane Lawler hopped off the train with his
bunch of cowhands--an' Blondy Antrim," snickered Corwin. "Dave Singleton
an' Gary Warden an' Jordan an' Simmons an' that pony-built girl which is
stayin' over to the Two Diamond with that ossified woman she calls 'Aunt
Hannah,' was on the platform waitin' for the six o'clock train from the
east. It appears that pony-built--Della Wharton, her name is--was
expectin' some gimcracks, an' Warden an' her was waitin' for them.
Anyways, they was there. It sure was medium mournful!" declared Corwin.
He appeared to hesitate; and Rankin grinned.
"We've heard it before; but I reckon we can stand listenin' ag'in. Tell
it, Corwin."
"As I was sayin' when you interrupted me--it was medium mournful,"
resumed Corwin. "Shorty--who was with Lawler on the drive--has told me
since; but at that time I didn't know--that Jordan had refused to vent
Lawler's cattle.
"Well, I'd come down to see the train come in, too. We was all standin'
there when she come a-steamin' up, an' stopped. An' who clumb off but
Lawler an' his trail crew--twenty-three of 'em. An' Blondy Antrim in the
midst of 'em, lookin' like a sheep-killin' dog.
"Well, gentlemen, they was a scene. Warden got his face all screwed up
an' couldn't get it unscrewed ag'in. He looked like he'd swallered a hot
brandin' iron an' it didn't lay easy on his stummick. Singleton was
a-standin' there with his mouth open an' his eyes a-poppin' out; an'
Jordan was plumb flabbergasted. Simmons was leanin' ag'in' the side of
the station buildin', lookin' like he was expectin' to be shot the next
minute.
"That Della Wharton girl was the only one that seemed to have any wits
a-tall. I seen her grin eloquent at Lawler, an' look him straight in the
eye like she was tellin' him somethin' intimate.
"Well, as I was sayin', Lawler an' his boys got off with Blondy Antrim.
Antrim looks wild an' flighty--like you've seen a locoed steer on the
prod. His eyes was a-glarin' an' he was mutterin' cusses by the
mouthful. All of which didn't seem to faze Lawler none.
"Lawler was as cool as an iceberg which had just arrove from the North
Pole--an' then some. An' he got a mean, mild grin on his face when he
saw the reception committee that had come to meet him. They was a
twinkle in his eyes when he looked at Della Wharton; but when Warden
blows into his line of vision he looked mighty wicked.
"Lawler an' his gang had brought their hosses from Red Rock in two
cars--they'd sold some of the _remuda_ in Red Rock, not carin' to ship
'em home. Anyways, the gang didn't appear in no hurry to unload the
hosses; an' a trainman yells to them, sayin' they'd have to hurry.
"But the boys was too interested just then. 'Unload 'em yourself, you
sufferin' yap!' yells Shorty. 'If you pull out of here with them hosses
I'll blow your damned railroad over into the next county!' Shorty sure
does love the railroad!
"As I was sayin' when you interrupted me: Lawler looked mighty wicked.
But he's cold an' polite--an' ca'm. An' he escorts Antrim over to where
Warden was standin', an' says, quiet an' low:
"Warden, I have brought back my vent. He sure was a heap of trouble, an'
he got himself attached to us right close. But as we haven't got no
further use for him we're turnin' him over to you. I reckon he's lookin'
to you an' Singleton to pay him for the trouble of trailin' us for two
weeks, an' for keepin' me company as far as Red Rock, to see that my
herd got there right an' proper. 'Antrim,' he says; 'go to your boss!'
And he gives him a little shove toward Warden.
"Warden didn't say nothin'--he'd lost his voice, I reckon. But Antrim
goes off the handle complete.
"'The damned sneak lifted my guns!' he yells.
"'You wantin' a gun?' says Lawler, cold an' ca'm. He backs up an' lifts
one of Shorty's. Then he walks close to Antrim an' shoves it into his
right hand.
"'There's a gun, you polecat,' he says. 'Fan it. I'd admire to blow the
gizzard outen you!'
"But Antrim didn't seem to be none tickled, now that he'd got the gun.
He stood, lookin' at it, like it was somethin' strange an' unusual, an'
he was wonderin' whether he ought to hang onto it or drop it. Finally he
grins sorta sheepishlike, an' hands it back to Lawler, butt first.
"'I ain't aimin' to fight you today, Lawler,' he says, his face bloomin'
like a cactus.
"Lawler laughs, an' gives Shorty his gun back. Shorty grins like a
tiger. 'Mebbe Singleton wouldn't mind acceptin' your kind offer, Boss?'
he says.
"But Singleton don't break his neck reachin' for _his_ gun, neither. He
stands there, lookin' like a calf that's lost its mother. An' then
Lawler laughs again, an' says:
"'Well, boys, seein' that the reception committee has received us, an'
the honors has all been done, I reckon we'd better get the hosses off
the cars an' hit the breeze for home!'
"An' they done so. But before they went they smoked up the town
considerable--as you all seen. Them boys had divided twenty-five
thousand dollars between them, which Lawler give 'em for makin' the
drive. An' they sure did celebrate. Except Lawler. He went right home,
an' I ain't seen him since. But I reckon Warden an' the rest of them
ain't had no regrets. I ain't never seen no mournfuller sight than them
folks sneakin' away from the station. All but Della Wharton. She was
a-grinnin' sorta slylike, as though somethin' pleased her."