In response to a gesture from Sinclair, Denver Jim jerked the prisoner
back onto the black rock. With blazing blue eyes, Gaspar glared at the
judge, his delicate lips trembling with unspoken words.
Sinclair knew, with another strange falling of the heart, that the
prisoner was perfectly aware that his judge had not the slightest
suspicion of his guilt. An entente was established between them, an
entente which distressed Sinclair, and which he strove to destroy. But,
despite himself, he could not get rid of the knowledge that the great
blue eyes were fixed steadily upon him, as if begging him to see that
justice was done. Consequently, the judge made himself as impersonal as
possible.
9
Sally Bent came willingly, even eagerly. It was the eagerness of an
angry woman who wanted to talk.
"What is your name?"
"A name you'll come to wish you'd never heard," said the girl, "if any
harm comes to John Gaspar. Poor Jig, they won't _dare_ to touch a hair
of your head!"
With a gentle voice she had turned to Gaspar to speak these last words.
A faint smile came on the lips of Gaspar, and his gaze was far away, as
if he were in the midst of an unimportant dream, with Sally Bent the
last significant part of it all. The girl flushed and turned back to
Riley.
"I asked you your name," said his honor gravely.
"What right have you to ask me my name, or any other question?"
"Mr. Lodge," said his honor, "will you loosen up and tell this lady
where we come in?"
"Sure," said the judge, clearing his throat. "Sally, here's the point.
They ain't been much justice around here. We're simply giving the law a
helping hand. And we start in today on the skunk that shot Quade. Quade
may have had faults, but he was a man. And look at what done the
killing! Sally, I ask you to look! That bum excuse for a man! That
Gaspar!"
Following the command, Sally looked at Gaspar, the smile of pity and
sympathy trembling on her lips again. But Gaspar took no notice.
"How dare you talk like that?" asked Sally. "Gaspar is worth all seven
of you put together!"
"Order!" said Riley Sinclair. "Order in this here court. Mr.
Sergeant-at-arms, keep the witness in order."
Larsen strode near authoritatively. "You got to stop that fresh talk,
Sally. Sinclair won't stand for it."
"Oscar Larsen," she cried, whirling on him, "I always thought you were
a man. Now I see that you're only big enough to bully a woman. I--I
never want to speak to you again!"
"Silence!" thundered Riley Sinclair, smiting his hard brown hands
together. "Take that witness away and we'll hang Gaspar without her
testimony. We don't really need it--anyways."
There was a shrill cry from Sally. "Let me talk!" she pleaded. "Let me
stay! I won't make no more trouble, Mr. Sinclair."
"All right," he decided without enthusiasm. "Now, what's your name?"
"Sally Bent." She smiled a little as she spoke. That name usually
brought an answering smile, particularly from the men of Sour Creek.
But Sinclair's saturnine face showed no softening.
"Mr. Clerk, swear the witness."
Judge Lodge rose and held forth the book and prescribed the oath.
During that interval, Riley Sinclair raised his head to escape from the
steady, reproachful gaze of John Gaspar. Down in the valley bottom,
Sour Creek flashed muddy-yellow and far away. Just beyond, the sun
gleamed on the chalk-faced cliff. Still higher, the mountains changed
between dawn and full day. There was the country for Riley Sinclair.
What he did down here in the valleys did not matter. Purification
waited for him among the summit snows. He turned back to hear the last
of Sally Bent's voice, whipping his eyes past Gaspar to avoid meeting
again that clinging stare.
"Sally Bent," he said, "do you know the prisoner?"
"You know I know him. John Gaspar boards with us."
"Ah, then you know him!"
"That's a silly question. What I want to say is--"
"Wait till you're asked, Sally Bent."
She stamped her foot. Quietly Sinclair compared the girl and the
accused man.
"Here's the point," he said slowly. "You knew Quade, and you knew John
Gaspar."
"Yes."
"You know Quade's dead?"
"I've just heard it."
"You didn't like him much?"
"I used to like him."
"Until Gaspar blew in?"
"You've got no right to ask those questions."
"I sure have. All right, I gather you were pretty sweet on Quade till
Gaspar come along."
"I never said so!"
"Girl," pronounced Riley solemnly, "ain't it a fact that you went
around to a lot of parties and suchlike things with Quade?"
She was silent.
"It's the straight thing you're giving her," broke in Larsen. "After
Gaspar come, she didn't have no time for none of us!"
"Ah!" said his honor significantly, scowling on Sally Bent. "After you
cut out Quade, he got ugly, didn't he?"
"He sure did!" said Sally. "He said things that no gentleman would of
said to a lady."
"Such as what?"
"Such as that I was a flirt. And he said, I swear to it, that he'd get
Gaspar!" She stopped, panting with excitement. "He wanted to murder
John Gaspar!"
Riley Sinclair lifted his heavy brows. "That's a pretty serious thing
to say, Sally Bent."
"But, it's the truth! And I've even heard him threaten Gaspar!"
"But you tried to make them friends? You tried to smooth Quade down?"
"I wouldn't waste my time on a bully! I just told John to get a gun and
be ready to defend himself."
"And he done it?"
"He done it. But he never fired the gun."
"What was the last time Quade seen you?"
"The day before yesterday. He come up here and told me that he knew me
and John Gaspar was going to get married, and that he wouldn't stand
still and see the thing go through."
"But what he said was right, wasn't it? Gaspar had asked you to marry
him?"