INQUEST DAY
The following morning, shortly after daylight, Lem Sheeley and Joe Cave
arrived at the ranch with the hack from the 6X6 and a top buggy. They
were going to take Peter Morgan’s body to Cañonville in the hack, and
Lem brought the top buggy to take Nan to the inquest—or rather the
double inquest.
This had been the date set for the inquest over the body of Ben Leach;
so they were going to hold one over Peter Morgan on the same day. Lem
Sheely had appointed Joe Cave to act as his deputy while Noah Evans was
out of commission.
“They know Nan was here at the ranch when her brother came from Mesa
City and they heard what he said about fixin’ one of the 6X6 outfit,”
explained Lem. “Me and Noah heard it; but they want her testimony.”
Nan agreed to go, and while she was getting ready, Hashknife took Lem
aside and questioned him about the gun he found in the corral.
“Are you goin’ to offer that as evidence?” asked Hashknife.
“I’m kinda stuck about that,” said Lem. “I hate to do it, and still I
figure I ought to, Hashknife. It’ll hang Lane as sure as hell.”
“They’ll have to catch him first.”
“Yeah, I know, but I’ll catch him. I wasn’t goin’ to do a thing until
the coroner’s jury decides, but if they say it was murder and names the
murderer, what can I do? I’m jist an instrument, Hashknife.”
“I know, Lem. How’s Noah this mornin’?”
“Crazy as a shepherd. The doctor was with him all night, and he says
Noah’s got a fightin’ chance. That ride last night didn’t do him a bit
of good, and the doctor says we can’t take a chance on shippin’ him to a
hospital.
“The folks down in Cañonville want to go right out and hang a rope on
old man Lane and his son. They figure one of ’em mistook Noah for
somebody from the 6X6.”
Sleepy and Joe Cave were putting the body into the hack, while Rex stood
against the side of the stable, watching them.
“What do you think of that young Morgan?” asked Lem.
Hashknife grinned slowly.
“He’s so ignorant that he might do somethin’ smart. I figure he’s been
raised in a hothouse, Lem. Still, he’s got a sense of humor, and he
ain’t all fool. Just between me and you, he’s got somethin’ on his
mind.”
“Mebbe it’s the wallop he got on the head, Hashknife.”
“Mebbe.”
Nan had come out to the buggy, so the two men sauntered toward the front
of the house.
“We’ll stay here at the ranch,” said Hashknife, as Nan held out her hand
to him.
“Thank you,” she said simply.
“And when they put you on the witness stand,” said Hashknife slowly,
“don’t offer anythin’. If you don’t feel like answerin’ a question, jist
say you don’t know. The law never hung anybody for not rememberin’.”
“That’s fine advice to a witness, right in my presence,” grinned Lem, as
he untied the horse.
“I shall follow that advice,” said Nan firmly. “Goodby, Mr. Hartley.
Take good care of Rex.”
“Can’t he take care of himself?” growled Lem.
“I don’t think so, Lem. He needs somebody to look after him.”
“He ort to get a keeper, or a nurse.”
* * * * *
The two vehicles rolled away up the dusty road, leaving Hashknife and
Rex together at the front porch. Sleepy had gone to the rear of the
house to wash his hands.
“So that’s the opinion she has of me, is it?” queried Rex wearily. “Need
someone to look after me.”
“I don’t think she meant it exactly that way,” smiled Hashknife.
“Oh, I guess she’s right, as far as that goes. Mr. Hartley, I guess I do
need someone to look after me. I don’t know anything.”
“Uh-huh?” Hashknife considered Rex gravely. “Morgan, if it was rainin’
real hard right now, what would you do?”
“Why—er—go in the house, I suppose.”
“I reckon you’ve got as much sense as the rest of us, but you lack in
experience.”
Sleepy came around the house and they all sat down in the shade of the
porch. Rex wanted to know what an inquest meant, and Hashknife explained
all about it.
“And if that jury decides that Mr. Morgan was killed by Mr. Lane, they
will hang Mr. Lane?”
“Well, not immediately,” said Hashknife. “They will have to capture Mr.
Lane and give him a fair trial.”
“Have they any evidence that Mr. Lane killed him?”
“Only that Lane hated Morgan and threatened to shoot any of his outfit
that might come over here, and the fact that the horse bearing the body
of Morgan came from this direction. Of course, those are merely
circumstantial. And there’s the fact that the sheriff found Peter
Morgan’s gun in the corral down there.”
Hashknife was watching Rex closely when he propounded the last evidence,
and he saw Rex change color quickly, shutting his lips tightly. Rex did
not look at Hashknife when Hashknife added—
“That last bit of evidence might hang him.”
“I don’t know anything about it,” said Rex slowly.
“Of course not.”
“I didn’t see the gun.”
“Prob’ly not. The sheriff found it. He said that you fainted in the
corral.”
“Oh, yes!” Rex tried to laugh. “We—Miss Lane and—we heard a chicken
crowing, and she made up a little poem about eggs for breakfast; so we
went to find the egg, you see. Yes, I fainted. Foolish thing to do,
wasn’t it?”
“Mebbe not. But neither of you saw the gun, eh?”
“Oh, no. We were excited and—” Rex stopped quickly.
“Excited over what?” asked Hashknife quickly.
Rex shut his lips tightly and looked away for several moments. Finally
he sighed softly.
“Eggs,” he said simply.
“Excited over eggs?”
“Yes. Oh, it doesn’t require much to excite me.”
“Uh-huh.”
* * * * *
Hashknife and Sleepy exchanged glances. Hashknife was sure that Rex
Morgan knew more than he was willing to tell. It was evident that this
young tenderfoot was protecting Nan Lane—and Hashknife admired him for
it.
“Do you intend to stay in this country?” asked Sleepy.
“Do you mean always?” Rex shook his head slowly. “No, I—well, I don’t
really know. Do you know, everything has been more or less like a dream
since my mother died. I have been jerked around so badly that I hardly
know what to do next. I realize that I shouldn’t be here, sponging, I
believe you’d call it, on the Lane family. But I just simply don’t know
what to do.”
“Didn’t you ever have a job?” asked Hashknife.
Rex pursed his lips thoughtfully for a moment.
“Yes, I did. I believe it lasted less than an hour. Mr. Weed, a grocer,
employed me as a driver for one of his delivery wagons, but I tried to
outrun a fire department.”
“And didn’t make it?” smiled Hashknife.
“Oh, but I did! But when I was forced to stop, I threw out the anchor,
and—”
“Uh-huh!” snorted Sleepy. “That’s what Bunty Smith said.”
“Threw out the anchor?” queried Hashknife.
“That is what one of the men called it. It is a heavy weight, which they
have fastened to the horses, and when you make a delivery you leave it
on the ground. It prevents the horses from running away, don’t you see?”
Hashknife laughed softly.
“I know what you mean, kid.”
“Well, when I threw it off, I believe it wrapped around a pole. At any
rate, we stopped so suddenly that I entered a store on the back of my
neck, and by the time I had recovered I had lost my position.”
“And that’s the only job you ever had?”
“The only one.”
“How old are you, Morgan?”
“Twenty.”
“Your folks have plenty of money?”
“I didn’t have folks—just a mother.”
“Yea-a-ah?” Hashknife leaned back, resting his shoulders against the
wall, and began rolling a cigaret.
“What became of your father?” asked Sleepy.
Rex shook his head.
“I never knew him. In fact, I never heard his name mentioned.”
And while Hashknife and Sleepy lounged in the shade and listened
closely, Rex Morgan told them of his life. He did not condemn his mother
for the way she had raised him.
“Mebbe she wanted you to be a preacher,” suggested Sleepy. “Was she very
religious?”
“No, not very. In fact, she seldom went to church.”
“And you say that check was on the Mesa City bank?” asked Hashknife.
“Yes. That was why I came here, trying to find out who sent her that
money. Perhaps they might tell me more.”
“Did your mother ever mention Mesa City?”
“No.”
* * * * *
“Well, that’s shore a queer deal, Morgan. Even if you never find out
anythin’, I think you came to the right country. It’ll make a man out of
you. Get a job. Even if you don’t know anythin’, take the job and learn.
Make good out here. Folks are rough out here, but if you make good with
them, they’ll stand at your back until your belly caves in.”
“I suppose you are right, Mr. Hartley.”
“Call me Hashknife.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m Sleepy.”
Rex turned his head and glanced at Sleepy.
“Why don’t you go in and lie down?” asked Rex.
Hashknife grunted so explosively that he blew his cigaret out into the
yard, while Sleepy slid down on his shoulders, shaking with laughter.
“I don’t understand,” said Rex blankly.
“That’s what made it so funny,” choked Hashknife. “He meant that his
nickname was Sleepy.”
“Oh, I knew that; but I didn’t realize it at the time. I guess it did
sound rather like a joke.”
“Rather,” chuckled Sleepy. “But don’t mind me; I’m just a bowlegged
puncher, tryin’ to get along in the world.”
“Morgan, you must have had quite an experience the night you arrived
here,” said Hashknife.
Rex grinned slowly.
“I surely did, Hashknife. I wonder why that man struck me over the
head.”
“Some of the folks,” said Hashknife slowly, “seem to doubt that you got
hit. They think you fell off the horse and hit your head on a rock.”
“I did not!” indignantly. “Not that I couldn’t have done such a thing.
You see, I had never ridden a horse before. But there is something that
has bothered me, Hashknife. Just before I reached the house I went
through a big gate.”
“You went through a big gate?” wondered Hashknife.
“I was obliged to get off the horse to open the gate.”
“But there is no gate here.”
“That is the queer part of it.”
“Hm-m-m-m,” Hashknife grunted softly as he rolled another cigaret. “Went
through a big gate, eh? How was it fastened?”
“I don’t remember that it was fastened.”
“Uh-huh. But this was the house, eh?”
“I suppose so. It was very dark that night, and I was unable to see more
than the outline of the house.”
“Are you shore you didn’t dream about that gate?”
Rex frowned thoughtfully.
“Perhaps I did, Hashknife. As far as that is concerned, I might have
dreamed all of it. But if you do not think I was struck on the head—look
at it.”
“I saw it,” grinned Hashknife. “That’s no dream.”
“Well, that’s no more true than the rest of it.”
“You ain’t been to Mesa City yet, have you? I mean, to make any
investigations about that check.”
“No, I haven’t had a chance. But just as soon as possible, I shall go
over there.”