"But you've killed men; you've shot down your fellow men; and have
ghastly marks on your revolver to brag about."
"Well--say--but how can I shoot without shootin' or kill without
killin'?" he demanded. "An' I don't brag about 'em, neither; it makes me
feel too sad to do any braggin'. An' Greener's killed 'em, too; an' he
brags about it."
"Yes; but he doesn't blink!" she exclaimed triumphantly.
"Neither do _I_."
"Yes; but you shoot to kill."
"Lord pity us--don't _he_?"
"Y-e-s, but that's different," she replied, smiling brightly.
Johnny looked around the room, his eyes finally resting on his hat.
"Yes, I see it's different. Greener can kill, an' blink! I can't. If
he kills a man he's a hero; I 'm a murderer. I kinda reckon he 's got
th' trail. But I love you, an' you 've got to pick my trail--does it
lead up or down?"
"Johnny Nelson! What are you saying?" she demanded, arising.
"Something turrible, mebby. I don't know; an' I don't care. It's
true--so there you are. Norah, can't you see I do?" he pleaded, holding
out his hands. "Won't you marry me?"
She looked down, her cheeks the color of fire, and Johnny continued
hurriedly: "I 've loved you a whole month! When I 'm ridin' around I
sorta' see you, an' hear you. Why, I talk to you lots when I 'm alone.
I 've saved up some money, an' I had to work hard to save it, too. I 've
got some cows runnin' with our'n--in a little while I 'll have a ranch
of my own. Buck 'll let me use th' east part of th' ranch, an' there 's
a hill over there that 'd look fine with a house on it. I can't wait no
longer, Norah, I 've got to know. Will you let me put this on yore
finger?" He swiftly bent the pin into a ring and held it out eagerly:
"Can I?"
She pushed him away and yielded to a sudden pricking of her conscience,
speaking swiftly, as if forcing herself to do a disagreeable duty, and
hating herself at the moment. "Johnny, I 've been a--a flirt! When I
saw you were beginning to care too much for me I should have stopped it;
but I did n't. I amused myself--but I want you to believe one thing, to
give me a little credit for just one thing; I never thought what it
might mean to you. It was carelessness with me. But I was flirting,
just the same--and it hurts to admit it. I 'm not good enough for you,
Johnny Nelson; it's hard to say, but it's true. Can you, _will_ you
forgive me?"
He choked and stepped forward holding out his hands imploringly, but she
eluded him. When he saw the shame in her face, the tears in her eyes, he
stopped and laughed gently: "But we can begin right, now, can't we? I
don't care, not if you 'll let me see you same as ever. You might get
to care for me. And, anyhow, it ain't yore fault. I reckon it's me
that's to blame."
At that moment he was nearer to victory than he had ever been; but he
did not realize it and opportunity died when he failed to press his
advantage.
"I _am_ to blame," she said, so low he could hardly catch the words.
When she continued it was with a rush: "I am not free--I haven't been
for a week. I 'm not free any more--and I 've been leading you on!"
His face hardened, for now the meaning of Greener's sneering laugh came
to him, and a seething rage swept over him against the man who had won.
He knew Greener, knew him well--the meanness of the man's nature, his
cold cruelty; the many things to the man's discredit loomed up large
against the frailty of the woman before him.
Norah stepped forward and laid a pleading hand on his arm, for she knew
the mettle of the men who worked under Buck Peters: "What are you
thinking? Tell me!"
"Why, I 'm thinking what Nolan said. An', Norah, listen. You say you
want me to forgive you? Well, I do, if there's anything to forgive. But
I want you to primise me that if Greener don't treat you right you 'll
tell me."
"What do you mean?"
"Only what I said. Do you promise?"
"Perhaps you would better speak to him about it!" she retorted.
"I will--an' plain. But don't worry 'bout me. It was my fault for bein'
a tenderfoot. I never played this game before, an' don't know th'
cards. Good-by."
He rode away slowly, and made the rounds, and by the time he reached
Lacey's he was so unsteady that he was refused a drink and told to go
home. But he headed for the Palace instead, and when he stepped high
over the doorsill Nolan was seated in a chair tipped back against one of
the side walls, and behind the bar on the other side of the room Jed
Terry drummed on the counter and expressed his views on local matters.
The sheriff was listening in a bored way until he saw Johnny enter and
head his way, feet high and chest out; and at that moment Nolan's
interest in local affairs flashed up brightly.
Johnny lost no time: "Nolan," he said, rocking on his heels, "tell
Greener I 'll kill him if he marries that girl. He killed his first
wife by abuse an' he don't kill no more. Savvy?"
The sheriff warily arose, for here was the opportunity he had sought.
The threat to kill had a witness.
"An' if you opens yore toad's mouth about her like you did tonight, I
'll kill you, too." The tones were dispassionate, the words deliberate.
"Hear that, Jed?" cried the sheriff, excitedly. "Nelson, yo 're under
ar--"
"Shut up!" snapped Johnny loudly, this time with feeling. "When yo 're
betters are talkin' you keep yore face closed. Now, it ain't hardly
healthy to slander wimmin in this country, 'specially _good_ wimmin.
You lied like a dog to me tonight, an' I let you off; don't try it
again."
"I told th' truth!" snapped Nolan, heatedly. "I said she was a flirt,
an' by th' great horned spoon she is a flirt, an' you--"
The sheriff prided himself upon his quickness, but the leaping gun was
kicked out of his hand before he knew what was coming; a chair glanced
off Jed's face and wrapped the front window about itself in its passing,
leaving the bar-tender in the throbbing darkness of inter-planetary
space; and as the sheriff opened his eyes and recovered from the hard
swings his face had stopped, a galloping horse drummed southward toward
the Bar-20; and the silence of the night was shattered by lusty
war-whoops and a spurting .45.
When the sheriff and his posse called at the Bar-20 before breakfast the
following morning they found a grouchy outfit and learned some facts.
"Where 's Johnny?" repeated Hopalong, with a rising inflection. "Only
wish I knowed!"
A murmur of wistful desire arose and Lanky Smith restlessly explained
it: "He rampages in 'bout midnight an' wakes us up with his racket. When
we asks what he 's doin' with _our_ possessions he suggests we go to
h--l. He takes _his_ rifle, Pete's rifle, Buck's brand new canteen,
'bout eighty pounds of catridges an' other useful duffle, _all_ th'
tobacco, an' blows away quick."
"On my cayuse," murmured Red.
"Wearin' my _good_ clothes," added Billy, sorrowfully.
"An' _my_ boots," sighed Hopalong.
"I ain't got no field glasses no more," grumbled Lanky.
"But he only got one laig of my new pants," chuckled Skinny. "I was too
strong for him."
"He yanked my blanket off'n me, which makes me steal Red's," grinned
Pete.
"Which you didn't keep very long!" retorted Red, with derision.
"Which makes us all peevish," plaintively muttered Buck.
"Now ain't it a h--l of a note?" laughed Cookie, loudly, forthwith
getting scarce. He had nothing good enough to be taken.
"An' whichever was it run ag'in' yore face, Sheriff?" sympathetically
inquired Hopalong. "Mighty good thing it stopped," he added
thoughtfully.
"Never mind my face!" snorted the peace officer hotly as his deputies
smoothed out their grins. "I want to know where Nelson is, an' d--d
quick! We 'll search the house first."
"Hold on," responded Buck. "North of Salt Spring Creek yo 're a
sheriff; down here yo 're nothin'. Don't search no house. He ain't
here."
"How do I know he ain't?" snapped Nolan.
"My word 's good; or there 'll be another election stolen up in yore
county," rejoined Buck ominously. "An' I would n't hunt him too hard,
neither. We 'll punish him."
Nolan wheeled and rode toward the hills without another word, his posse
pressing close behind. When they entered Apache Pass one of them
accidentally exploded his rifle, calling forth an angry tirade from the
sheriff. Johnny heard it, and cared little for the warning from his
friend Lucas; he waited and then rode down the rocky slope of the pass
on the trail of the posse, squinting wickedly at the distant group as he
caught glimpses of them now and again, and with no anxiety regarding
backward glances. "Lot's wife 'll have nothing on them if they look
back," he muttered, fingering his rifle lovingly. At nightfall he
watched them depart and grinned at the chase he would lead them when
they returned.
But he did not see them again, although his friends reported that they
were turning the range upside down to find him. One of his outfit rode
out to him with supplies and information every few days and it was Pete
who told him that six posses were in the hills. "An' you can't leave,
'cause one of th' cordon would get you shore. I had a h--l of a time
getting in today." Red reported that the sheriff had sworn to take him
dead or alive. Then came the blow. The sheriff was at the point of
death from lockjaw caused by complete paralysis of the curea-frend nerve
just above the phlagmatic diaphragm, which Johnny had fractured. It was
Hopalong who imparted this sad news, and withered Johnny's hope of
returning to a comfortable bunkhouse and square meals. So the fugitive
clung to the hills, shunned sky-lines and wondered if the sheriff would
recover before snow flew. He was hungry most of the time now because
the outfit was getting stingy with the food supplies--and he dared not
shoot any game.
Four weeks passed, weeks of hunger and nervous strain, and he was
getting desperate. He had learned that Greener and his fiancee were
going down to Linnville soon, since Perry's Bend had no parson; and his
cup of bitterness, overflowing, drove him to risk an attempt to leave
that part of the country. He had seen none of Pete's "cordon" although
he had looked for them, and he believed he could get away. So he rode
cautiously down Apache Pass one noon, thoughtfully planning his flight.
The sand, washed down the rock walls by the last rain, deadened all
sounds of his progress, and as he turned a sharp bend in the cut he
almost bumped into Greener and Norah Joyce. They were laughing at how
they had eluded the crowd of friends who were eager to accompany
them--but the laughter froze when Johnny's gun swung up.
"'Nds up, Greener!" he snapped, viciously, remembering his promise to
Sheriff Nolan. "Miss Joyce, if you make any trouble it 'll cost him his
life."
"Turned highwayman, eh?" sneered Greener, keenly alert for the necessary
fraction of a second's carelessness on the part of the other. He was
gunman enough to need no more.
"Miss Joyce, will you please ride along? I want to talk to him alone,"
said Johnny, his eyes fastened intently on those of his enemy.
"Yes, Norah; that's best. I 'll join you in a few minutes," urged
Greener, smiling at her.
Johnny had a sudden thought and his warning was grave and cold. "Don't
get very far away an' don't make no sounds, or signals; if you do it 'll
be th' quickest way to _need_ 'em. He 'll pay for any mistakes like
that."
"You coward!" she cried, angrily, and then delivered an impromptu
lecture that sent the blood surging into the fugitive's wan cheeks. But
she obeyed, slowly, at Greener's signal, and when she was out of sight
Johnny spoke.
"Greener, yo 're not going to marry her. You know what you are, you
know how yore first wife died--an' I don't intend that Norah shall be
abused as the other was. I 'm a fugitive, hard pressed; I 'm weak from
want of food, and from hardships; all I have left is a slim chance of
gettin' away. I 've reached the point where I can't harm myself by
shooting you, an' I 'm goin' to do it rather than let any trouble come
to her. But you'll get an even break, because I ain't never going to
shoot a man when he 's helpless. Got anything to say?"
"Yes; yo 're th' biggest fool I ever saw," replied Greener. "Yo're
locoed through an' through; an' I 'm goin' to take great pleasure in
putting you away. But I want to thank you for one thing you did. You
were drunk at the time an' may not remember it. When you hit Nolan for
talking like he did I liked you for it, an' I 'm goin' to tell you so.
Now we 'll get at th' matter before us so I can move along."
Neither had paid any attention to Norah in the earnestness and keen-eyed
scrutiny of each other and the first sign they had of her actions was
when she threw her arms around Greener's neck and shielded him. He was
too much of a man to fire from cover and Johnny realized it while the
other tried to get her to leave the scene.
"I won't leave you to be murdered--I _know_ what it means, I _know_ it,"
she cried. "My place is here, and you can't deny your wife's first
request! What will I do without you! Oh, dear, let me stay! I _will_
stay! What woman ever had such a wedding day before! Dear, dear, what
can I do? Tell me what to do!"
Johnny sniffled and wished the posse had taken him. This was a side he
had never thought of. His wife! Greener's wife! Then he was too late,
and to go on would be a greater evil than the one he wished to
eliminate. When she turned on him like a tigress and tore him to pieces
word by word, tears rolling down her pallid cheeks and untold misery in
her eyes, he shook his head and held up his hand.
"Greener, you win; I can't stop what's happened," he said, slowly. "But
I 'll tell you this, an' I mean every word: If you don't treat her like
she deserves, I 'll come back some of these days and kill you _shore_.
Nolan got his because he talked ill of her; an' you 'll get yours if I
die the next minute, if you ain't square with her."
"I don't need no instructions on how to treat my wife," retorted the
other. "An' I 'm beginnin' to see th' cause of yore insanity, and it
pardons you as nothing else will. Put up yore gun an' get back to th'
ranch, where you belong--an' _keep away from me_. Savvy?"
"Not much danger of me gettin' in yore way," growled Johnny, "when I 'm
hunted like a dog for doing what any man would 'a' done. When th'
sheriff gets well, if he ever does, mebby I 'll come back an' take my
medicine. How was he, anyhow, when you left?"
"Dead tired, an' some under th' influence of liquor," replied Greener, a
smile breaking over his frown. He knew the whole story well, as did the
whole range, and he had laughed over it with the Bar-20 outfit.
"What's that? Ain't he near dead?" cried Johnny, amazed.
"Well, purty nigh dead of fatigue dancin' at our weddin' last night; but
I reckon he 'll be driftin' home purty soon, an' all recovered."
Greener suddenly gave way and roared with laughter. There was a large
amount of humor in his make-up and it took possession of him, shaking
him from head to foot. He had always liked Johnny, not because he ever
wanted to but because no one could know the Bar-20 protege and keep from
it. This climax was too much for him, and his wife, gradually
recovering herself, caught the infection and joined in.
Johnny's eyes were staring and his mouth wide open, but Greener's next
words closed the eyes to a squint and snapped shut the open mouth.
"That there paralysis of th' cure-a-friend nerve did n't last; an' when
I heard why you licked him I said a few words that made him a wiser man.
He didn't hunt you after th' first day. Now you go up an' shake han's
with him. He knows he got what was coming to him and so does everybody
else know it. Go home an' quit playin' th' fool for th' whole blamed
range to laugh at."
Johnny stirred and came back to the scene before him. His face was
livid with rage and he could not speak at first. Finally, however, he
mastered himself and looked up: "I 'm cured, all right, but _they_
ain't! Wait till my turn comes! What a fool I was to believe 'em; but
they usually tell th' truth. 'Cura-a-friend nerve'! They 'll pay me
dollar for cent before I 'm finished!" He caught the sparkle of his
diamond pin, the pin he had won, when drunk, at El Paso, and a sickly
grin flickered over the black frown. "I 'm a little late, I reckon; but
I 'd like to give th' bride a present to show there ain't no hard
feelin's on my part, an' to bring her luck. This here pin ain't no fit
ornament for a fool like me, so if it's all right, I 'll be plumb
tickled to see her have it. How 'bout it, Greener?"
The happy pair exchanged glances and Mrs. Greener, hesitating and
blushing, accepted the gift: "You can bend it into a ring easy," Johnny
hastily remarked, to cut off her thanks.
Greener extended his hand: "I reckon we can be friends, at that, Nelson.
You squared up with me when you licked Nolan. Come up an' see us when
you can."
Johnny thanked him and shook hands and then watched them ride slowly
down the canyon, hand in hand, happy as little children. He sat
silently, lost in thought, his anger rising by leaps and bounds against
the men who had kept him on the anxious seat for a month. Straightening
up suddenly, he tore off the navy blue necktie and, hurling it from him,
fell into another reverie, staring at the canyon wall, but seeing in his
mind's eye the outfit planning his punishment; and his eyes grew redder
and redder with fury. But it was a long way home and his temper cooled
as he rode; that is why no one knew of his return until they saw him
asleep in his bunk when they awakened at daylight the following morning.
And no one ever asked about the diamond, or made any explanations--for
some things are better unmentioned. But they paid for it all before
Johnny considered the matter closed.