"We," confirmed Billy calmly. "You're going with me."
"No," said the judge.
"Yes," insisted Billy Wingo. "And what's more, I'll lend you a suit of
my clothes and my white hat and my red-and-white pinto. Which there
ain't another paint pony colored like mine in this county; and just to
make it a fair deal, I'll wear your buffalo coat and your fur cap, and
I'll ride one of your horses,--that long-legged gray, I guess, will be
all right."
The judge's face wore a curiously mottled pallor that gave it the hue
of a dead fish's belly. "Are you insane?" he gasped.
"Not me," denied Billy Wingo. "It's like I said. I'm gambling with
you. I guess we understand each other, Judge. Ain't it luck, you and
I being about of a size? Dressed up in my clothes with that white hat
and all, you'd have to excuse anybody for mistaking you for me.
Ca-a-areful, Judge, careful. Don't do anything we would be sorry for.
And don't take it so to heart; perhaps he'll miss you."
For a space he considered the judge, then he said:
"I guess we're ready for Riley, now."
Despite his professional calm the judge almost bounced out of his
chair. "Riley! Where----"
"In the kitchen with the door open," explained Billy. "He didn't go
with Shotgun and Reelfoot a-tall--that is, not far. Only round the
house to the back door. Reelfoot wasn't completely successful in
separating me from my deputies. You didn't catch me whispering in
Riley's ear while he was getting ready, did you? I thought maybe you
wouldn't. Your back was turned. Moral: Never turn your back when
there's a mirror behind you. Riley, you'd better come in now."
Whereupon there was a noise of bootheels, and Riley entered and smiled
cheerfully upon the discomfited judge.
"Howdy, your honor," said Riley Tyler.
The judge made no acknowledgment of the greeting. He continued to gaze
before him with a set and stony face.
"Riley," said Billy Wingo, without, however, removing his eyes from the
judge, "I guess we'll need another witness. I wonder if you could get
hold of Guerilla Melody."
Riley nodded and went out.
"And that's that," said Billy Wingo, smiling.
The judge's hands gripped the arms of the chair. "You know that the
man Melody is an enemy of mine," he said in a shaken voice.
"I know that he is an honest man," returned Billy Wingo.
"I won't go," the judge declared feebly.
"You said that before," said Billy Wingo, in no wise moved. "You'll go
all right. Yes, indeedy. Do you wanna know why? I'll tell you. You
see, Judge, I know what I'm up against. I know that the only barrier
that stands between me and the graveyard is the lead in this gun. I
like life. I enjoy it. Besides, I'm too young to die and too sinful
and all that. Therefore it's my business to see I ain't cut off in the
flower of my youth, _et cetera_. You're considerably older than me,
Judge, considerably. The gray is in your hair like frost on a punkin,
and the devil has drawn two mighty mean lines down from your nose to
the corners of your mouth, and the crows have messed up your
eye-corners too, for that matter, and may the Lord have mercy on your
soul, you miserable sinner, because I won't--if you don't do exactly
what I tell you to do. It's my life or yours, and it's not gonna be
mine."
"Baby talk," said the judge, but there was no conviction in his tone.
"You think so? Aw right, let it go at that. Here's the rest of the
baby talk: The first false move you start to make between now and the
time I'm through with you, you get it."
"You wouldn't dare!"
"Wouldn't I? Call me and see. No trouble to show goods."
The judge hesitated. It was obvious that he was of two minds. He
chose the safer course--for the present.
"There is a law in this country--" he began.
Billy Wingo leaned forward, his chin jutting out. His eyes were
unpleasantly cold. They matched his voice when he spoke.
"Don't talk to me of the law," he said. "It's you and your friends
that have made the law in Crocker County a spectacle for decent men.
Law! You've dragged the statutes in the mud till you can't tell 'em
apart from the turnips underground. Law! You've prostituted your
office for a little filthy money here, there and everywhere, till it's
a wonder you're able to live with yourself. How do you do it? Don't
you ever get tired of your own stink, you polecat?"
This was too much. The judge was, after all, a human being. He had
his pride, such as it was, and courage of a kind. He threw himself
sidewise, and at the same time his right hand flipped up under his coat
tail, flipped up and flipped out.
There was a flash and a roar and a spirtle of smoke. The judge's
six-shooter was wrenched from his fingers and sent spinning across the
room. The judge remained upon the floor. There was no feeling in his
right hand. But his right arm felt as if it had been struck with a
spike-maul.
The acrid smoke rose slowly toward the ceiling.
"You can get up, Judge," Billy Wingo said calmly.
The judge rose slowly and collapsed into the chair he had so abruptly
vacated. He held his right hand before his face and waggled it.
Stupidly he looked at it. The flesh of the trigger finger was slightly
torn. It bled a little.
"The bullet didn't touch you," said Billy. "The trigger guard did that
when the gun was twiddled out of your hand. The lead hit the frame in
front of the cylinder. Wait, I'll show you." He crossed the room to
where the judge's six-shooter lay, picked it up and brought it to the
judge for his inspection.
"See how I trust you," said Billy sardonically, holding up the judge's
six-shooter within ten inches of the judge's eyes. "You could almost
grab this gun out of my hand if you felt like it. I really dunno but
what I hope you'll feel like it."
But the judge did not feel like it. He perceived without difficulty
the gray splotch on the frame of the six-shooter that marked the spot
where Billy Wingo's lead had struck, and he felt absolutely no
inclination to gamble further with fate. Not he. No!
Billy tucked the judge's six-shooter into his waistband and ran a hand
over and under the jurist's outer clothing.
"You might be carrying a derringer or something," he murmured in
apology.
But he found no other weapon, and he returned to his seat to await the
arrival of Riley Tyler and Guerilla Melody.