might have to kill somebody. You boys go ahead and hear what’s bein’
said.”
Hashknife and Sleepy strolled in unnoticed. The Big 4 gang was at the
bar with Roaring Rigby; Slim Regan seemed to have the floor.
“It jist means that there ain’t no law here,” decided Slim, “and when
there ain’t no law, it’s up to the citizens to make a little.”
“When you jiggers git through runnin’ off at the neck, I’ll speak my
piece,” said Roaring. “Through yet? Can’t think of another thing to say?
Fine. You’ve talked a lot and ain’t said anything. In the first place,
Old Man Conley owns that land. He’s got it fenced. You know he fenced
that to keep the Big 4 off his land. There’s been bad blood between him
and Frank Moran for twenty-five years. You and Moran both know that
Conley said he’d shoot the first man to come on his place. And yet you
went on, didn’t you? Trespassed, didn’t you?
“Started over there with the intention of givin’ him the devil over them
steers. And all he done was to make good his promise. You got off easy.
That old pelican can hit a gnat in the eye at fifty feet. All you lose
is one horse. What you ought to do is to write him a letter tellin’ him
you’re much obliged.”
It was a long speech for Roaring Rigby.
“If Conley didn’t have a pretty girl, you’d talk different,” said one of
the men farther back in the room.
Roaring whirled quickly, but he did not know who had made the remark.
“Will the dirty bum who made that remark say it once more?” he asked
coldly.
But no one spoke. They knew the temper of that sad-eyed, bat-eared
sheriff, whose shoulders hunched as his eyes swept the faces under the
hanging lamps.
“Your arguments hardly do justice to your office,” said Franklyn Moran.
“We have demanded the arrest of Moses Conley on a charge of assault with
a deadly weapon. I didn’t know that this county paid you a salary as a
debater.”
“You’ve got all the argument you’ll git from me,” said Roaring.
He turned his back on them and stalked from the room. Several people
laughed, but he did not turn his head. Nor did he hurry as he crossed
the street. They could see him from the lighted windows, as he went
slowly toward his office. But once inside that office he did not move so
slowly. Wind River Jim stared at him, as he sprang to the gun-rack,
grabbed down a rifle and a belt of ammunition.
“You stay here, Wind River,” he ordered, and ran out through the back
door.
Wind River walked to the front door, where he leaned out, chewing his
tobacco violently. It was possibly five minutes later that Hank Pitts
and Mark Clayton strolled past.
“Hyah, Wind River,” greeted Hank. “Howsa job?”
“Swell, elegant, Hank; beats punchin’ cows.”
“I s’pose it does,” agreed Hank. He craned his neck past Wind River and
looked into the office.
“Roarin’ ain’t home, eh?”
“No-o-o-o, he ain’t exactly home jist now; he’s out.”
“Where’d he go?”
“Well, he didn’t leave no address,” grinned Wind River. “Didn’t say
nothin’ much. He ain’t much of a hand to talk. Pers’nally I think he
went huntin’ bear.”
“Bear!” blurted Clayton.
“Prob’ly.” Wind River spat across the sidewalk. “Anyway, I’d say he was
heeled for bear. Took a thirty-thirty and a full belt of shells along,
and he went out that back door like somethin’ was bitin’ his heels.”
“By golly, I told Slim!” snorted Pitts and, without waiting for any more
information, they started on a run for the Black Horse Saloon.
“Well, that’s shore queer,” observed Wind River. “Jist like I’d touched
a match to ’em.”
Pitts and Clayton ran to the doorway of the saloon, where they met Regan
and Moran, who were coming out.
“Gone!” exclaimed Pitts. “Took a thirty-thirty along. He’s gone out to
the Hot Creek ranch.”
“Yeah, and we’re goin’ along,” said Regan. “Get the boys.”
Hashknife and Sleepy came out and Regan saw them.
“Want to ride out and see the fun, Hartley?” he asked.
“What fun?” asked Hashknife.
“Out at the Conley place. Old man’s crazy. When we finish up tonight
he’ll be in jail and we’ll strip every strand of wire off his fence.
This half-witted sheriff has beat us to it, he thinks. But if he won’t
enforce the law, we’ll have to. Better come along and see the fun.”
Hashknife shook his head slowly.
“No-o-o-o, I reckon not, Regan. My sense of humor don’t run to laughin’
at folks who make mistakes.”
“Well, he’s made his last mistake,” laughed Regan.
“I wasn’t thinkin’ about old man Conley,” said Hashknife.
The men were mounting at the hitch-rack, and one of them called to
Regan.
“I didn’t quite get what you meant, Hartley,” he said.
“Better think it over on your way out, Regan.”
Regan turned and went to the rack.
“Thank the Lord it’s none of our business,” said Sleepy, as the men rode
away.
“Don’t lie,” cautioned Hashknife. “Your knees itch for the feel of a
saddle right now. You’re dyin’ to ride with ’em, and you know it.”
“So are you, Hashknife.”
“I didn’t thank the Lord for anythin’, did I? Let’s play three games of
pool and then go to bed. I’m tired.”
“Will we play in here?”
“Nope, down at the Ranger. This Black Horse ain’t safe.”
* * * * *
Jimmy Moran lost no time in leaving Turquoise City. He knew the temper
of the men from the Big 4, and that they would take the matter in their
own hands if his father was willing.
If his father had led them to town to talk with the sheriff, it was a
sure thing that the Big 4 intended to do something. Jimmy realized that
their intentions might be merely to capture Conley and put him in jail;
but the capture might result in bloodshed. Conley was a fighter.
Jimmy intended to ride to the Hot Creek ranch, warn Conley and give him
plenty of time to get away. He felt sure that Conley would be sensible
enough to hide out until the wrath of the Big 4 cooled off a little.
He ran his horse all the way to the ford and found that the fence had
not been repaired; so, instead of going around the road, he cut across
the ranch. He wanted all the time he could get to present his argument
to Conley. He would invite Conley to come to the Stumbling K. That would
be the last place they would ever look for him.
There was no moon, but Jimmy was familiar with the lay of the land. He
thought at first that the ranch-house was in darkness, but a thin thread
of light peeped out from beside a curtain.
Jimmy dismounted a hundred feet away from the house and dropped his
reins. It was ticklish business, he decided. He did not know that Conley
was expecting Roaring Rigby. Jimmy sneaked in like an Indian; he meant
to announce himself to Conley from a safe position.
A huge wild-rose bush grew at one corner of the porch, and just to the
left of the corner of the house grew a twisted cottonwood that nearly
covered the side of the house. There was a window just beyond the
cottonwood, almost hidden behind the tangle of foliage. Jimmy sneaked in
close to the cottonwood and picked up a handful of small pebbles, which
he flung against the window with considerable force. For several moments
there was no sound. Then came Conley’s voice, muffled--
“Who’s there?”
“Jimmy Moran,” called Jimmy. “I’ve got to talk with you, Mr. Conley; and
we better make it fast, too.”
Conley did not reply. Jimmy waited, wondering what Conley was going to
do. He thought he could hear the sound of a running horse. From where
Jimmy crouched he could not see the doorway, but he did see the
lamplight streak across the corner of the porch when the door opened.
The galloping horse was closer now. As Jimmy turned his head, looking
down the stretch of road which led to the gate, a gun-shot crashed out
so close to him that he sprang back, throwing up one arm, as if to
protect his eyes. There was the dull thud of a falling body; a woman
screamed.
Jimmy sprang forward, drawing his gun. He thought he saw a man just
beyond the rose bush and instinctively he fired his gun at whatever it
was. Then he stumbled across the porch and found himself looking down at
Moses Conley, who was stretched full length on the porch.
The door was open behind him, the lamplight falling full on Jimmy, and
he saw Dawn, white-faced, staring at him. The horse jerked to a stop
behind him, but Jimmy did not turn until Roaring Rigby stepped in behind
him, putting his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. Dawn came closer, and her
eyes were wide with horror. Roaring shook Jimmy slightly.
“How did it happen, Jimmy?” he asked huskily.
Jimmy shook his head.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I--I--”
He saw Dawn’s staring eyes. Roaring was taking the gun away from him.
Jimmy stepped back.
“You think I shot him?” he asked hoarsely.
“He told you to keep away, you know,” said Roaring sadly. “Don’t try to
run away, Jimmy. Help me take him inside.”
“Run away?” Jimmy’s voice was strained. “Oh, my God!”
Together they carried Moses Conley into the living-room and laid him out
on the floor. Dawn dropped to her knees beside him.
“He isn’t dead!” she exclaimed. “Somebody get the doctor--quick!”
“Floor no good,” grunted Mrs. Conley. “Put on bed.”
No one had noticed her before. They placed him on a bed.
“I better go for the doctor,” said Jimmy anxiously.
Roaring looked at Jimmy and shook his head slowly.
“Better wait, Jimmy; we’ll go together.”
“You mean I’m under arrest?”
“Somethin’ like that, Jimmy. Good Lord, I’m sorry. I--”
Roaring took Jimmy’s gun from inside his belt and examined the cylinder.
One chamber was empty, and the barrel smelled strongly of burned powder.
Roaring turned to Dawn and put a hand on her shoulder.
“Tell me what happened,” he said.
“Oh, I don’t know. Dad was expecting you. Some one threw something
against a window, and Dad asked who it was. I--I heard Jimmy answer. He
told who he was. I don’t think Dad wanted to open the door, but I--oh, I
asked him to. And when he opened the door--”
“Yeah,” said Roaring miserably. “He wasn’t armed either.”
“Yes, he was,” said Dawn. “I--I think his gun flew out of his hand.
There were two shots fired.”
“I shot one of ’em,” said Jimmy quickly. “I thought I saw somebody.”
“Somebody come,” said Mrs. Conley.
The front door was wide open, and when they looked out the yard was full
of men and horses. Roaring met them at the doorway.
“Smart, eh?” growled Regan. “Sneaked out on us, eh? Where’s old Moses
Conley?”
“Don’t yell,” said Roaring. “Send one of your men after the doctor;
Moses Conley has been shot.”
Franklyn Moran crowded in past Roaring and met Jimmy face to face.
“What are you doing here, Jimmy?” he asked harshly.
Jimmy’s lips were tightly shut and his face seemed pale in the yellow
light.
“You let him alone,” said Roaring. “He’s my prisoner.”
“Your prisoner?” Franklyn Moran’s eyes opened wide. “What do you mean,
Rigby?”
“Will one of your men go after the doctor?” asked Roaring. “If we don’t
git medical help it might mean murder.”
“Do you mean to say that my son shot Moses Conley?”
“Mark,” said Regan, “you and Hank go and get Doc Shelley. Tell him to
come as fast as he can.”
Franklyn Moran went to Roaring and grasped him by the arm, repeating his
question.
“Oh, hell, don’t paw me!” growled Roaring. “What if he did? You led your
men out here to do the same thing.”
Franklyn Moran turned and looked at his men. None of them met his gaze.
“I’m not goin’ to run away,” said Jimmy. “See if you can’t do somethin’
for the old man before the doctor gets here. If you can’t, I can. I know
something about first aid.”
“Hop to it,” said Roaring.
Jimmy started to go into the bedroom but Dawn stepped in front of him.
“Mother knows what to do,” she said evenly.
Jimmy stared at her and his face twisted painfully.
“Can’t I help her, Dawn?” he asked.
“I’m helping her,” she said and turned away.
Jimmy walked across the room and stared out through the branch-covered
window against which he had thrown the gravel. The men were silent. Some
of them rolled smokes, but went out on the porch to light them. They
could hear the drip of water, as the old Indian woman squeezed out a
towel; they heard a whispered conversation between Dawn and her mother.
Roaring went outside and hunted in the grass just off the porch, where
he found Moses Conley’s revolver. It was an old, single-action Colt .45,
and in one of the cylinders was an empty cartridge. He brought it into
the house to examine it. Franklyn Moran saw the empty shell.
“How many shots were fired?” he asked softly.
“Two,” said Roaring. “I heard ’em both. There’s a chance for him to
prove self-defense. Moran must have fired first.”
“That’s good,” whispered Moran. “I’m glad there’s a chance.”
“Oh, as far as that’s concerned, Conley was lookin’ for it,” said Regan
coldly. “A Black Horse jury will look at it right.”
“Oh, damn you all!” gritted Jimmy. “That’s all you think about! Beatin’
the law. Damn you and your Black Horse juries! I never shot Conley.”
“That’s all right, Jimmy,” said Roaring. “Don’t yell.”
“Why would I?” Jimmy turned appealingly to them. “Don’t you understand?
I--I--” he choked--“I’m goin’ to marry Dawn, if she’ll marry me. Would I
harm her father?”
“Any man will shoot in self-defense,” said Regan.
Jimmy groaned and turned away. Roaring went into the bedroom, and Jimmy
saw Bill Creswell signal him cautiously to make a getaway, indicating
that there was plenty of room to pass between him and the door. Jimmy
liked Creswell and he realized that Bill meant it all for the best. But
Jimmy shook his head firmly and turned back to the window. Creswell
shrugged his shoulders. When Jimmy looked back at Creswell, he
pantomimed that Jimmy could take his gun, as he went out. Perhaps he
thought that Jimmy didn’t want to go unarmed. But Jimmy declined, and
Creswell sighed deeply. He had done the best he could for a friend.
It seemed ages to Jimmy before the doctor arrived, but in reality Hank
Pitts and Mark Clayton had broken all speed records in getting old
Doctor Shelley from Turquoise City to the ranch. They had taken him
through the ford so fast that all three of them were drenched, and the
old doctor was as mad as a hornet.
Roaring went into the bedroom with him while he made an examination and,
in a few minutes, Roaring came back to the men, advising them all to go
home.
“The doctor says he’s got a slim chance,” said Roaring.
“That bullet missed his heart about three inches.”
He turned to Jimmy Moran.
“Where’s your bronc, Jimmy?”
Jimmy told him where he had left it, and Roaring sent one of the Big 4
cowboys to git it. Franklyn Moran went up to the sheriff.
“You going to put him in jail?” he asked.
Roaring cuffed his hat on the side of his head and looked quizzically at
Moran. “What do you think?” he asked. “Ain’t there a law ag’in callin’
men to their own door at night and shootin’ ’em down?”
“But--but if Conley shot at him?” spluttered Moran.
“Jimmy ain’t claimed that he did, has he?”
Moran turned to his son.
“He did, didn’t he, Jimmy?” anxiously.
“No,” replied Jimmy wearily. “He didn’t even see me.”
“Don’t be a fool,” growled Regan angrily.
“That’s enough,” said Roaring firmly. “The doctor don’t need you, and
I’m sure I don’t, so you might as well go home. C’mon, Jimmy.”
* * * * *
Hashknife and Sleepy knew nothing about the shooting until the next
morning, when they found Roaring Rigby and several men in the
restaurant, eating breakfast. The Black Horse had had a big play, and
two of the dealers, Mack Ort and Keno Smiley, were eating breakfast
before going to bed. Lovely Lucas was there, still half-drunk and
inclined to be a bit belligerent.
As Hashknife and Sleepy came in, Lovely was at the height of an
impassioned defense of Jimmy Moran. It did not take long for Hashknife
and Sleepy to gather the gist of what had happened at the Hot Creek
ranch. Ort and Smiley eyed Hashknife coldly, and it was evident to him
that English Ed had told them who he was.
“I been wonderin’ where you boys were,” said Roaring. He turned to
Lovely Lucas. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll put you in jail, Lucas,” he
declared.
“By golly, I’ll be with honest men, if you do. Jimmy Moran never shot
Old Man Conley. Why, I tell you, he was aimin’ to marry Dawn Conley. He
wouldn’t shoot his father-in-law.”
“A-a-aw, what can you do?” wailed Roaring. “To hell with this kind of a
job! Business is too good. Set down, boys. I’m glad there’s somebody
around here that ain’t got no opinion. Ask me all the questions you
like, but don’t offer any advice.”
“This is a free country, ain’t it?” demanded Lovely. “I ask you if it
ain’t. You can’t put a man in jail for talkin’, can you, Roarin’? You
can’t--”
“Men have been put in the graveyard for talkin’,” said Roaring
seriously.
“Is that so? Huh!” Lovely got to his feet. “I’m goin’ home and tell
Horse-Collar Fields about Jimmy. Horse-Collar gits some awful good
ideas. Jimmy’s our boss, you know. Oh, I’ll be back, Roarin’. All hell
can’t stop me, I’ll tell you that.”
Lovely went weaving toward the door, slammed it behind him and headed
for the hitch-rack. Ort and Smiley paid for their breakfast and went
out. Sleepy grinned widely. He could understand Lovely Lucas.
“Just what happened out there last night?” asked Hashknife.
Roaring placed his knife and fork carefully on his plate and told
Hashknife just what he knew about it. Roaring wasn’t sure about the two
shots being fired, but he thought that he had heard two. He was riding
pretty fast; but there was no doubt that two shots had been fired. Jimmy
admitted that there had been, and Dawn spoke of the two shots.
“Jimmy was a fool,” declared Roaring.
“He knew what would happen.”
“You say Jimmy threw somethin’ against the window to attract Conley, and
then called to Conley, telling him that it was Jimmy Moran outside?”
“That’s what Dawn said; Jimmy didn’t deny it.”
“And when Conley came to the door he took a shot at Jimmy and Jimmy shot
him.”
“Looks thataway. Conley must have shot first. I don’t think he could
have fired after Jimmy shot him, unless he happened to have the gun
cocked and it went off as he was fallin’.”
“How long was it between the shots?”
“I dunno how long; I didn’t ask. I’m goin’ out there in a little while.
Why don’t you ride out with me?”
Sleepy groaned when Hashknife assented.
“What’s the matter with you,” asked Roaring.
“Somethin’ you can’t prescribe for,” grunted Sleepy.
“He groans thataway often,” said Hashknife seriously. “It sounds like he
was in pain, but he ain’t; it’s a joy-groan.”
* * * * *
Anyway, Sleepy went along. They found Franklyn Moran, Slim Regan, Kent
Cutter and Henry Miller on the porch. The doctor was still there. He had
been there all night.
These four men had been waiting for him to report Conley’s condition,
which he did shortly after the others arrived. Conley was still alive,
but unconscious. And that was about all there was to report; so the men
from the Big 4 and the 7AL went to town.
Dawn heard Roaring talking with the doctor and she came out to the
porch. It was the first time Hashknife and Sleepy had seen her. She had
spent a sleepless night, but in spite of that she was a very pretty
girl. Roaring introduced them, and left her with Hashknife and Sleepy
while he went in to see the patient.
“You weren’t out here last night, were you?” she asked.
Hashknife shook his head.
“We’re strangers, Miss Conley.”
“I know. I heard your name mentioned. Mr. Moran and Mr. Cutter were
talking about you a while ago.”
“That so?” smiled Hashknife. “What about?”
“I just heard a little of it. Cutter said he heard you were a cattle
detective. Moran said he didn’t know anything about you. Regan laughed
and said you accused English Ed Holmes of being a former bootlegger to
the Indians.”
“That last part is true enough,” nodded Hashknife. “Do you know Holmes
very well?”
“Not very well.”
“His outfit is responsible for your brother bein’ in jail, I
understand.”
“They cheated Peter,” she said quickly.
“Yeah, I know. Miss Conley, what is your honest opinion of what happened
last night? Did Jimmy Moran shoot your father?”
Dawn turned and walked to the railing of the porch; she leaned a
shoulder against a post.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” said Hashknife kindly.
“Oh, I know,” she said softly. “I don’t want to answer that question.”
“All right, this one is different. Did you hear two shots?”
“Yes.”
“How far apart?”
“Possibly--oh, I don’t know.”
“Right together?”
“Oh, no. There was one shot just after Dad opened the door. I--I think I
ran almost across the room before the other one was fired.”
“Did your father shoot the first one?”
“I don’t know. Just after the last shot was fired I got to the door, and
there stood Jimmy with a gun in his hand. And then Roaring Rigby was on
the porch, taking Jimmy’s gun away from him.”
“Uh-huh. What did Jimmy say?”
“He said he didn’t know what happened.”
“Didn’t know, eh?”
“And then they brought Dad into the house. Roaring looked at Jimmy’s gun
and asked me what happened. I told about the two shots being fired, and
Jimmy said he shot one of them. He said he shot at somebody.”
“Admitted shooting, eh? Miss Conley, is there any reason for Jimmy to
have shot your father?”
Dawn turned from the post and came back to Hashknife.
“Dad told him to keep away,” she said wearily. “He hates Jimmy’s
father.”
“I know. You heard Jimmy call to your father and tell him who was out
there?”
“Yes, I think Jimmy threw some gravel against the window to attract us.
Then when Dad asked who it was, Jimmy told him.”
“Was your father mad when he went to the door?”
Dawn flushed a little.
“I think he was, Mr. Hartley. He was expecting the sheriff to come out
here.”
“Was he goin’ to shoot the sheriff?”
“Oh, no; they were just going to talk things over. You heard about the
dead steers, didn’t you?”
“Saw ’em; I was with Moran when the Big 4 found that the brands had been
skinned out.”
“The Big 4 did that themselves.”
“Skinned out the brands?”
“No, cut the fence and killed their own steers. They hate Dad for
fencing in Hot Creek, and they want to ruin him.”
“Moran wants to buy this place, don’t he?”
“Yes, he has made Dad a good offer. The 7AL wants it, too.”
“Yeah? That’s Cutter’s outfit, ain’t it?”
“Yes, but Dad won’t sell to the Big 4.”
“I see. Miss Conley, I’m goin’ to get personal.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m goin’ to ask questions that you might not care to answer; but I
want you to understand that it ain’t because I want to embarrass you in
any way. Did Ed Holmes ever come to see you?”
Dawn flushed, but smiled at Hashknife.
“Once, I think. I wasn’t home.”
“Any of the Big 4 boys?”
“I should say not!” said Dawn emphatically.
“Cutter?”
Dawn smiled.
“Oh, he has been out here. Perhaps he came to see me.”
“The sheriff?”
Dawn sobered quickly and glanced toward the closed door.
“You don’t need to answer that,” said Hashknife softly. “He’s all
right.”
“Yes; he’s all right,” said Dawn. “But what’s the use of these
questions, Mr. Hartley?”
“Were there any others?” queried Hashknife. “Honest, I want to know.”
Dawn bit her lip reflectively.
“Well, there was Jeff Ryker.”
“The prosecuting attorney?”
“Yes.”
“Since your brother has been in jail?”
“Yes.”
Hashknife took a deep breath and his wide lips twisted in a faint smile.
Ryker was the man with the big collar and the celluloid cuffs.
“Did you talk with him?” he asked.
Dawn shook her head quickly.
“I stayed in the house,” she smiled. “He talked to my mother.”
“And you heard what he said?”
“Some of it.”
“Uh-huh,” Hashknife took a deep breath. “Did he say anything
about--uh--goin’ easy on your brother?”
Dawn flashed Hashknife a quick glance of interrogation.
“How did you know that?” she asked wonderingly.
“Guessed it. He could go easy at the trial, you know, and he might make
promises to your mother. Does your father like him?”
“No, I don’t think he does. Dad doesn’t like many folks.”
“Is the judge a friend of your father?”
“Judge Beal--I think Dad likes him.”
“Miss Conley, how long has the Big 4 been tryin’ to buy your dad out?”
“For about two years.”
“Ever since he fenced Hot Creek?”
“Yes.”
“How long has the 7AL wanted it?”
Dawn frowned thoughtfully.
“Oh, I think it was about three or four months ago that Mr. Cutter made
his first offer. After that Jeff Ryker came out and talked with Dad
about selling out.”
“What did Ryker want with it?”
“He was trying to buy it for Cutter.”
“Oh, I see; he was Cutter’s agent.”
Roaring and the doctor came from the living-room.
“You better lie down awhile and get some sleep, Miss Conley,” said the
old doctor kindly. “There isn’t anything you can do. The sheriff is
going to send some of my things out for me; so I’ll stay on the job.”
“Didja get the bullet?” asked Hashknife.