Lowell consulted with Judge Garford and Sheriff Tom Redmond, and it was
decided to keep Jim McFann in jail at the agency until time for his
trial for complicity in the first murder on the Dollar Sign road.
Sheriff Redmond admitted that, owing to the uncertainty of public
sentiment, he could not guarantee the half-breed's safety if McFann were
lodged in the county jail. Consequently the slayer of Bill Talpers
remained in jail at the agency, under a strong guard of Indian police,
supplemented by trustworthy deputies sent over by Redmond.
The killing of Talpers was the excuse for another series of attacks on
Lowell by the White Lodge paper. Said the editor:
The murder of our esteemed neighbor, William Talpers, by James
McFann, a half-breed, is another evidence of the necessity of
opening the reservation to white settlement.
This second murder on the Dollar Sign road is not a mystery. Its
perpetrator was seen at this bloody work. Furthermore, he is
understood to have coolly confessed his crime. But, like the first
murder, which is still shrouded in mystery, this was a crime which
found its inception on the Indian reservation. Are white residents
adjacent to the reservation to have their lives snuffed out at the
pleasure of Government wards and reservation offscourings in
general? Has not the time come when the broad acres of the Indian
reservation, which the redskins are doing little with, should be
thrown open to the plough of the white man?
"'Plough of the white man' is good," cynically observed Ed Rogers, after
calling Lowell's attention to the article. "If those cattlemen ever get
the reservation opened, they'll keep the nesters out for the next forty
years, if they have to kill a homesteader for every hundred and sixty
acres. So far as Bill Talpers's killing is concerned, I can't see but
what it is looked upon as a good thing for the peace of the community."
It seemed to be a fact that Jim McFann's act had appealed irresistibly
to a large element. Youthful cowpunchers rode for miles and waited about
the agency for a glimpse of the gun-fighter who had slain the
redoubtable Bill Talpers in such a manner. None of them could get near
the jail, but they stood in picturesque groups about the agency,
listening to the talk of Andy Wolters and others who had been on more or
less intimate terms with the principals in the affair.
"And there was me a-snoozin' in that breed's camp the very day before he
done this shootin'," said Andy to an appreciative circle. "He must have
had this thing stewin' in his head at the time. It's a wonder he didn't
throw down on me, jest for a little target practice. But I guess he
figgered he didn't need no practice to get Bill Talpers, and judgin'
from the way things worked out, his figgerin' was right. Some artist
with the little smoke machine, that boy, 'cause Bill Talpers wasn't no
slouch at shootin'! I remember seein' Bill shoot the head off a
rattlesnake at the side of the road, jest casual-like, and when it come
to producin' the hardware he was some quick for a big man. He more than
met his match this time, old Bill did. And, by gosh! you can bet that
nobody after this ever sends me out to any dry camps in the brush to
take supplies to any gunman who may be hid out there. Next time I might
snooze and never wake up."
All was not adulation for Jim McFann. Because of the Indian strain in
his blood a minor undercurrent of prejudice had set in against him, more
particularly among the white settlers and the cattlemen who were casting
covetous eyes on reservation lands. While McFann was not strictly a ward
of the Government, he had land on the reservation. His lot was cast with
the Indians, chiefly because he found few white men who would associate
with him on account of his Indian blood. Talpers was not loved, but the
killing of any white man by some one of Indian ancestry was something to
fan resentment without regard to facts. Bets were made that McFann would
not live to be tried on the second homicide charge against him, many
holding the opinion that he would be hanged, with Fire Bear, for the
first murder. Also wagers were freely made that Fire Bear would not be
produced in court by the Indian agent, and that it would be necessary to
send a force of officers to get the accused Indian.
Lowell apparently paid no attention to the rumors that were flying
about. A mass of reservation detail had accumulated, and he worked hard
to get it out of the way before the trial. He had made changes in the
boarding-school system, and had established an experimental farm at the
agency. He had supervised the purchase of livestock for the improvement
of the tribal flocks and herds. In addition there had been the personal
demands that shower incessantly upon every Indian agent who is
interested in his work.
Reports from the reservation agriculturists, whose work was to help the
Indians along farming lines, were not encouraging. Drought was
continuing without abatement.
"The last rain fell the day before the murder on the Dollar Sign road,"
said Rogers. "Remember how we splashed through mud the day we ran out
there and found that man staked down on the prairie?"
"And now the Indians are saying that the continued drought is due to
Fire Bear's medicine," observed Lowell. "Even some of the more
conservative Indians believe there is no use trying to raise crops until
the charge against Fire Bear is dismissed and the evil spell is lifted."
In spite of the details of reservation management that crowded upon him,
Lowell found time for occasional visits to the Greek Letter Ranch to see
Helen Ervin. He told her the details of the Talpers shooting, so far as
he knew them.
"There isn't much that I can tell about the cause of the shooting," said
Lowell, in answer to one of her questions. "I could have had all the
details, but I cautioned Jim McFann to say nothing in advance of his
trial. But from what I have gathered here and there, Jim and Talpers
fell out over money matters. A thousand-dollar bill was found on the
floor under Talpers's body. It had evidently been taken from the safe,
and might have been what they fought over."
Helen nodded in comprehension of the whole affair, though she did not
tell Lowell that he had made it clear to her. She guessed that in some
way Jim McFann had come into possession of the facts of his partner's
perfidy. She wondered how the half-breed had found out that Talpers had
taken money from the murdered man and had not divided. She had held that
knowledge over Talpers's head as a club. She could see that he feared
McFann, and she wondered if, in his last moments, Talpers had wrongfully
blamed her for giving the half-breed the information which turned him
into a slayer.
"Anyway, it doesn't make much difference what the fight was over,"
declared Lowell. "Talpers had been playing a double game for a long
time. He tried just once too often to cheat his partner--something
dangerous when that partner is a fiery-tempered half-breed."
"Is this shooting of Talpers going to have any effect on McFann's trial
for the other murder?" asked Helen.
"It may inflame popular sentiment against both men still
further--something that never seems to be difficult where Indians are
concerned."
Lowell tried in vain to lead the talk away from the trial.
"Look here," he exclaimed finally, "you're worrying yourself
unnecessarily over this! I don't believe you're getting much of any
sleep, and I'll bet Wong will testify that you are eating very little.
You mustn't let matters weigh on your mind so. Talpers is gone, and you
have the letter that was in his safe and that he used as a means of
worrying you. Your stepfather is getting better right along--so much so
that you can leave here at any time. Pretty soon you'll have this place
of tragedy off your mind and you'll forget all about the Indian
reservation and everything it contains. But until that time comes, I
prescribe an automobile ride for you every day. Some of the roads around
here will make it certain that you will be well shaken before the
prescription is taken."
Lowell regretted his light words as soon as he had uttered them.
"This trial is my whole life," declared the girl solemnly. "If those men
are convicted, there can never be another day of happiness for me!"
* * * * *
On the morning set for the opening of the trial, Lowell left his
automobile in front of his residence while he ate breakfast. To all
appearances there was nothing unusual about this breakfast. It was
served at the customary time and in the customary way. Apparently the
young Indian agent was interested only in the meal and in some letters
which had been sent over from the office, but finally he looked up and
smiled at the uneasiness of his housekeeper, who had cast frequent
glances out of the window.
"What is it, Mrs. Ruel?" asked Lowell.
"The Indian--Fire Bear. Has he come?"
"Oh, that's what's worrying you, is it? Well, don't let it do so any
more. He will be here all right."
Mrs. Ruel looked doubtful as she trotted to the kitchen. Returning, she
stood in the window, a steaming coffee-pot in her hands.
"Tell me what you see, Sister Annie," said Lowell smilingly.
"Nawthin' but the kids assemblin' for school. There's old Pete, the
blacksmith, purtendin' to be lookin' your machine over, when he's just
come to rubber the way I am, f'r that red divvle. They're afraid, most
of the agency folks, that Fire Bear won't show up. I wouldn't take an
Injun's word f'r annythin' myself--me that lost an uncle in the
Fetterman massacree. You're too good to 'em, Mister Lowell. You should
have yanked this Fire Bear here in handcuffs--him and McFann together."
"Your coffee is fine--and I'll be obliged if you'll pour me some--but
your philosophy is that of the dark ages, Mrs. Ruel. Thanks. Now tell me
what traveler approaches on the king's highway."
Mrs. Ruel trotted to the window, with the coffee-pot still in her hands.
"It's some one of them educated loafers that's always hangin' around the
trader's store. I c'n tell by the hang of the mail-order suit. No, it
ain't! He's climbin' off his pony, and now he's jumped into the back of
your automobile, and is settin' there, bold as brass, smokin' a
cigarette. It's Fire Bear himself!"
"I thought so," observed Lowell. "Now another cup of coffee, please, and
a little more of that toast, and we'll be off to the trial."
Mrs. Ruel returned to the kitchen, declaring that it really didn't prove
anything in general, because no other agent could make them redskins do
the things that Mister Lowell hypnotized 'em into doin'.
Lowell finished his breakfast and climbed into his automobile, after a
few words with Fire Bear. The young Indian had started the day before
from his camp in the rocks. He had traveled alone, and had not rested
until he reached the agency. Lowell knew there would be much dancing in
the Indian camp until the trial was over.
Driving to the agency jail, Lowell had McFann brought out. The
half-breed, unmanacled and without a guard, sat beside Fire Bear in the
back seat. Lowell decided to take no policemen from the reservation. He
was certain that Fire Bear and McFann would not try to escape from him.
The presence of Indian policemen might serve only to fan the very
uncertain public sentiment into disastrous flames.
White Lodge was crowded with cattlemen and homesteaders and their
families, who had come to attend the trial. A public holiday was made of
the occasion, and White Lodge had not seen such a crowd since the annual
bronco-busting carnival.
As he drove through the streets, Lowell was conscious of a change in
public feeling. The prisoners in the automobile were eyed curiously, but
without hatred. In fact, Jim McFann's killing of Talpers, which had been
given all sorts of dramatic renditions at camp-fires and firesides, had
raised that worthy to the rank of hero in the eyes of the majority. Also
the coming of Fire Bear, as he had promised, sent up the Indian's stock.
As Lowell took his men to the court-room he saw bets paid over by men
who had wagered that Fire Bear would not keep his word and that he would
have to be brought to the court-room by force.
The court-house yard could not hold the overflow of spectators from the
court-room. The crowd was orderly, though there was a tremendous craning
of necks when the prisoners were brought in, to see the man who had
killed so redoubtable a gunman as Bill Talpers. Getting a jury was
merely a matter of form, as no challenges were made. The trial opened
with Fire Bear on the stand.
The young Indian added nothing to the testimony he had given at his
preliminary hearing. He told, briefly, how he and his followers had
found the body beside the Dollar Sign road. The prosecuting attorney was
quick to sense a difference in the way the Indian's story was received.
When he had first told it, disbelief was evident. Today it seemed to be
impressing crowd and jury as the truth.
The same sentiment seemed to be even more pronounced when Jim McFann
took the stand, after Fire Bear's brief testimony was concluded without
cross-examination. Audience and jury sat erect. Word was passed out to
the crowd that the half-breed was testifying. In the court-room there
was such a stir that the bailiff was forced to rap for order.
The prosecuting attorney, seeing the case slipping away from him, was
moved to frantic denunciations. He challenged McFann's every statement.
"You claim that you had lost your lariat and were looking for it. Also
that you came upon this dead body, with your rope used to fasten the
murdered man to stakes that had been driven into the prairie?" sneered
the attorney.
"Yes;" said McFann.
"And you claim that you were frightened away by the arrival of Fire Bear
and his Indians before you had a chance to remove the rope?"
"Yes; but I want to add something to that statement," said the
half-breed.
"All right--what is it?"
"There was another man by the body when I came there looking for my
rope."
"Who was that man?"
"Talpers."
A thrill ran through the court-room as the half-breed went on and
described how he had found the trader stooping over the murdered man,
and how Talpers had shown him a watch which he had taken from the
victim, but claimed that was all the valuables that had been found. Also
he described how Talpers had prevailed upon him to keep the trader's
presence a secret, which McFann had done in his previous testimony.
"Why do you come in with this story, at this late day?" asked the
attorney.
"Because Talpers was lying to me all the time. He had taken money from
that man--some of it in thousand-dollar bills. I did not care for the
money. It was just that this man had lied to me, after I had done all
his bootlegging work. He was playing safe at my expense. If it had been
found that the dead man was robbed, he was ready to lay the blame on me.
When I heard of the money he had hidden, I knew the game he had played.
I walked in on him, and made him take the dead man's money from his
safe. I threw the money in his face and dared him to fight. When he
tried to shoot me, I killed him. It was better that he should die. I
don't care what you do with me, but how are you going to hang Fire Bear
or hang me for being near that body, _when Bill Talpers was there
first_?"
Jim McFann's testimony remained unshaken. Cast doubt upon it as he
would, the prosecuting attorney saw that the half-breed's new testimony
had given an entirely new direction to the trial. He ceased trying to
stem the tide and let the case go to the jury.
The crowd filed out, but waited around the court-house for the verdict.
The irrepressible cowpunchers, who had a habit of laying wagers on
anything and everything, made bets as to the number of minutes the jury
would be out.
"Whichever way it goes, it'll be over in a hurry," said Tom Redmond to
Lowell, "but hanged if I don't believe your men are as good as free this
minute. Talpers's friends have been trying to stir up a lot of sentiment
against Jim McFann, but it has worked the other way. The hull county
seems to think right now that McFann done the right sort of a job, and
that Talpers was not only a bootlegger, but was not above murder, and
was the man who committed that crime on the Dollar Sign road. Of course,
if Talpers done it, Fire Bear couldn't have. Furthermore, this young
Injun has made an awful hit by givin' himself up for trial the way he
has. To tell you the truth, I didn't think he'd show up."
Lowell escaped as soon as he could from the excited sheriff and sought
Helen Ervin, whom he had seen in the court-room.
"I'm sorry I couldn't come to get you, on account of having to bring in
the prisoners," said Lowell, "but I imagine this is the last ride to
White Lodge you will have to take. The jury is going to decide
quickly--or such is the general feeling."
Lowell had hardly spoken when a shout from the crowd on the court-house
steps announced to the others that the jury had come in.
Lowell and Helen found places in the court-room. Judge Garford had not
left his chambers. As soon as the crowd had settled down, the foreman
announced the verdict.
"Not guilty!" was the word that was passed to those outside the
building. There was a slight ripple of applause in the court-room which
the bailiff's gavel checked. Lowell could not help but smile bitterly as
he thought of the different sentiment at the close of the preliminary
hearing, such a short time before. He wondered if the same thought had
come to Judge Garford. But if the aged jurist had made any comparisons,
they were not reflected in his benign features. A lifetime among scenes
of turbulence, and watching justice gain steady ascendancy over frontier
lawlessness, had made the judge indifferent to the manifestations of the
moment.
"It's just as though we were a lot of jumping-jacks," thought Lowell,
"and while we're doing all sorts of crazy things, the judge is looking
far back behind the scenes studying the forces that are making us go.
And he must be satisfied with what he sees or our illogical actions
wouldn't worry him so little."
Fire Bear and McFann took the verdict with customary calm. The Indian
was released from custody and took his place in Lowell's automobile. The
half-breed was remanded to jail for trial for the Talpers slaying.
Lowell, after saying good-bye to the half-breed, lost no time in
starting for the agency. On the way he caught up with Helen, who was
riding leisurely homeward. As he stopped the machine she reined up her
horse beside him and extended her hand in congratulation.
"You're not the only one who is glad of the acquittal," she exclaimed.
"I am glad--oh, I cannot tell you how much!"
Lowell noticed that her expression of girlishness had returned. The
shadow which had fallen upon her seemed to have been lifted
miraculously.
"Wasn't it strange the way things turned out?" she went on. "A little
while ago every one seemed to believe these men were guilty, and now
there's not a one who doesn't seem to think that Talpers did it."
"There's one who doesn't subscribe to the general belief," answered
Lowell.
"What do you mean?"
Lowell was conscious that she was watching him narrowly.
"I mean that I don't believe Bill Talpers had anything to do with
murdering that man on the Dollar Sign road!"