Jim Waring of Sonora-Town; Or, Tang of Life

by Henry Herbert Knibbs

  Chapter XXVIII

  _A Squared Account_

  The housecleaning began at the building diagonally opposite theassembled posse. In a squalid room upstairs they found the man who hadfired upon them. He was dead. Papers found upon him disclosed hisidentity as an I.W.W. leader. He had evidently rented the room acrossfrom the court-house that he might watch the movements of "The Hundred."A cheap, inaccurate revolver was found beside him. Possibly he hadfired, thinking to momentarily disorganize the posse; that they wouldnot know from where the shot had come until he had had time to make hisescape and warn his fellows.

  The posse moved from building to building. Each tenement, privaterooming-house, and shack was entered and searched. Union men who chancedto be at home were warned that any man seen on the street that day wasin danger of being killed. Several members of the I.W.W. were routed outin different parts of the town and taken to the jail.

  Saloons were ordered to close. Saloon-keepers who argued their right tokeep open were promptly arrested. An I.W.W. agitator, defying the posse,was handcuffed, loaded into a machine, and taken out of town. Groups ofstrikers gathered at the street corners and jeered the armed posse. Onegroup, cornered in a side street, showed fight.

  "We'll burn your dam' town!" cried a voice.

  The sheriff swung from his horse and shouldered through the crowd. As hedid so, a light-haired, weasel-faced youth, with a cigarette danglingfrom the corner of his loose mouth, backed away. The sheriff followedand pressed him against a building.

  "I know you!" said the sheriff. "You never made or spent an honestdollar in this town. Boys," he continued, turning to the strikers, "areyou proud of this skunk who wants to burn your town?"

  A workman laughed.

  "You said it!" asserted the sheriff. "When somebody tells you what heis, you laugh. Why don't you laugh at him when he's telling you of thebuildings he has dynamited and how many deaths he is responsible for?Did he ever sweat alongside of any of you doing a day's work? Do youknow him? Does he know anything about your work or conditions? Not adamned thing! Just think it over. And, boys, remember he is paid easymoney to get you into trouble. Who pays him? Is there any decentAmerican paying him to do that sort of thing? Stop and think about it."

  The weasel-faced youth raised his arm and pointed at the sheriff. "Whopays you to shoot down women and kids?" he snarled.

  "I'm taking orders from the Governor of this State."

  "To hell with the Governor! And there's where he'll wake up one of thesefine days."

  "Because he's enforcing the law and trying to keep the flag from beinginsulted by whelps like you, eh?"

  "We'll show you what's law! And we'll show you the right kind of aflag--"

  "Boys, are you going to stand for this kind of talk?" And the sheriff'sheavy face quivered with anger. "I'd admire to kill you!" he said,turning on the youth. "But that wouldn't do any good."

  The agitator was taken to the jail. Later it was rumored that a machinehad left the jail that night with three men in it. Two of them werearmed guards. The third was a weasel-faced youth. He was never heard ofagain.

  As the cavalcade moved on down the street, workmen gathered on streetcorners and in upper rooms and discussed the situation. The strike hadgot beyond their control. Many of them were for sending a delegation tothe I.W.W. camp demanding that they disband and leave. Others weresilent, and still others voted loudly to "fight to a finish."

  Out beyond the edge of town lay the I.W.W. camp, a conglomeration ofboard shacks hastily erected, brush-covered hovels, and tents. Notcounting the scattered members in town, there were at least two hundredof the malcontents loafing in camp. When the sheriff's posse appeared itwas met by a deputation. But there was no parley.

  "We'll give you till sundown to clear out," said the sheriff and,turning, he and his men rode back to the court-house.

  That evening sentinels were posted at the street corners within hail ofeach other. In a vacant lot back of the court-house the horses of theposse were corralled under guard. The town was quiet. Occasionally afigure crossed the street; some shawl-hooded striker's wife or someworkman heedless of the sheriff's warning.

  Lorry happened to be posted on a corner of the court-house square.Across the street another sentinel paced back and forth, occasionallypausing to talk with Lorry.

  This sentinel was halfway up the block when a figure appeared from theshadow between two buildings. The sentinel challenged.

  "A friend," said the figure. "I was lookin' for young Adams."

  "What do you want with him?"

  "It's private. Know where I can find him?"

  "He's across the street there. Who are you, anyway?"

  "That's my business. He knows me."

  "This guy wants to talk to you," called the sentinel.

  Lorry stepped across the street. He stopped suddenly as he discoveredthe man to be Waco, the tramp.

  "Is it all right?" asked the sentinel, addressing Lorry.

  "I guess so. What do you want?"

  "It's about Jim Waring," said Waco. "I seen you when the sheriff rode upto our camp. I seen by the papers that Jim Waring was your father. Iwanted to tell you that it was High-Chin Bob what killed Pat. I was inthe buckboard with Pat when he done it. The horses went crazy at theshootin' and ditched me. When I come to I was in Grant."

  "Why didn't you stay and tell what you knew? Nobody would 'a' hurt you."

  "I was takin' no chance of the third, and twenty years."

  "What you doin' in this town?"

  "Cookin' for the camp. But I can't hold that job long. My whole leftside is goin' flooey. The boss give me hallelujah to-day for bein' slow.I'm sick of the job."

  "Well, you ought to be. Suppose you come over to the sheriff and tellhim what you know about the killin' of Pat."

  "Nope; I was scared you would say that. I'm tellin' _you_ because youdone me a good turn onct. I guess that lets me out."

  "Not if I make you sit in."

  "You can make me sit in all right. But you can't make me talk. Show mea cop and I freeze. I ain't takin' no chances."

  "You're takin' bigger chances right now."

  "Bigger'n you know, kid. Listen! You and Jim Waring and Pat used mewhite. I'm sore at that I.W.W. bunch, but I dassent make a break. They'dget me. But listen! If the boys knowed I was tellin' you this they'd cutme in two. Two trucks just came into camp from up north. Them trucks wasloaded to the guards. Every man in camp's got a automatic and fiftyrounds. And they was settin' up a machine gun when I slipped through andbeat it, lookin' for you. You better fan it out of this while you gotthe chanct."

  "Did they send you over to push that bluff--or are you talkin'straight?"

  "S' help me! It's the bleedin' truth!"

  "Well, I'm thankin' you. But get goin' afore I change my mind."

  "Would you shake with a bum?" queried Waco.

  "Why--all right. You're tryin' to play square, I reckon. Wait a minute!Are you willin' to put in writin' that you seen High-Chin Bob kill Pat?I got a pencil and a envelope on me. Will you put it down right here,and me to call my friend and witness your name?"

  "You tryin' to pinch me?"

  "That ain't my style."

  "All right. I'll put it down."

  And in the flickering rays of the arc light Waco scribbled on the backof the envelope and signed his name. Lorry's companion read the scrawland handed it back to Lorry. Waco humped his shoulders and shuffledaway.

  "Why didn't you nail him?" queried the other.

  "I don't know. Mebby because he was trustin' me."

  Shortly afterward Lorry and his companion were relieved from duty. Lorryimmediately reported to the sheriff, who heard him without interrupting,dismissed him, and turned to the committee, who held night sessiondiscussing the situation.

  "They've called our bluff," he said, twisting his cigar round in hislips.

  A ballot was taken. The vote was eleven to one for immediate action. Theballot was secret, but the member who had voted against
action rose andtendered his resignation.

  "It would be plain murder if we were to shoot up their camp. It wouldplace us on their level."

  Just before daybreak a guard stationed two blocks west of thecourt-house noticed a flare of light in the windows of a buildingopposite. He glanced toward the east. The dim, ruddy glow in the windowswas not that of dawn. He ran to the building and tried to open the doorto the stairway. As he wrenched at the door a subdued soft roar swelledand grew louder. Turning, he ran to the next corner, calling to theguard. The alarm of fire was relayed to the court-house.

  Meanwhile the two cowboys ran back to the building and hammered on thedoor. Some one in an upstairs room screamed. Suddenly the door gaveinward. A woman carrying a cheap gilt clock pushed past them and sank ina heap on the sidewalk. The guards heard some one running down thestreet. One of them tied a handkerchief over his face and groped his wayup the narrow stairs. The hall above was thick with smoke. A door sprangopen, and a man carrying a baby and dragging a woman by the hand bumpedinto the guard, cursed, and stumbled toward the stairway.

  The cowboy ran from door to door down the long, narrow hall, calling tothe inmates. In one room he found a lamp burning on a dresser and twochildren asleep. He dragged them from bed and carried them to thestairway. From below came the surge and snap of flames. He held hisbreath and descended the stairs. A crowd of half-clothed workmen hadgathered. Among them he saw several of the guards.

  "Who belongs to these kids?" he cried.

  A woman ran up. "She's here," she said, pointing to the woman with thegilt clock, who still lay on the sidewalk. A man was trying to reviveher. The cowboy noticed that the unconscious woman still gripped thegilt clock.

  He called to a guard. Together they dashed up the stairs and ran fromroom to room. Toward the back of the building they found a womaninsanely gathering together a few cheap trinkets and stuffing them intoa pillow-case. She was trying to work a gilt-framed lithograph into thepillow-case when they seized her and led her toward the stairway. Shefought and cursed and begged them to let her go back and get her things.A burst of flame swept up the stairway. The cowboys turned and ran backalong the hall. One of them kicked a window out. The other tied a sheetunder the woman's arms and together they lowered her to the ground.

  Suddenly the floor midway down the hall sank softly in a fountain offlame and sparks.

  "Reckon we jump," said one of the cowboys.

  Lowering himself from the rear window, he dropped. His companionfollowed. They limped to the front of the building. A crowd massed inthe street, heedless of the danger that threatened as a section of roofcurled like a piece of paper, writhed, and dropped to the sidewalk.

  A group of guards appeared with a hose-reel. They coupled to a hydrant.A thin stream gurgled from the hose and subsided. The sheriff ran to thesteps of a building and called to the crowd.

  "Your friends," he cried, "have cut the water-main. There is no water."

  The mass groaned and swayed back and forth.

  From up the street came a cry--the call of a range rider. A score ofcowboys tried to force the crowd back from the burning building.

  "Look out for the front!" cried the guards. "She's coming!"

  The crowd surged back. The front of that flaming shell quivered, curved,and crashed to the street.

  The sheriff called to his men. An old Texas Ranger touched his arm."There's somethin' doin' up yonder, Cap."

  "Keep the boys together," ordered the sheriff; "This fire was started todraw us out. Tell the boys to get their horses."

  Dawn was breaking when the cowboys gathered in the vacant lot andmounted their horses. In the clear light they could see a mob in thedistance; a mob that moved from the east toward the court-house. Thesheriff dispatched a man to wire for troops, divided his force inhalves, and, leading one contingent, he rode toward the oncoming mob.The other half of the posse, led by an old Ranger, swung round to a backstreet and halted.

  The shadows of the buildings grew shorter. A cowboy on a restive ponyasked what they were waiting for. Some one laughed.

  The old Ranger turned in his saddle. "It's a right lovely mornin'," heremarked impersonally, tugging at his silver-gray mustache.

  Suddenly the waiting riders stiffened in their saddles. A ripple ofshots sounded, followed by the shrill cowboy yell. Still the old Rangersat his horse, coolly surveying his men.

  "Don't we get a look-in?" queried a cowboy.

  "Poco tiempo," said the Ranger softly.

  The sheriff bunched his men as he approached the invaders. Within fiftyyards of their front he halted and held up his hand. Massed in a solidwall from curb to curb, the I.W.W. jeered and shouted as he tried tospeak. A parley was impossible. The vagrants were most of them drunk.

  The sheriff turned to the man nearest him.

  "Tell the boys that we'll go through, turn, and ride back. Tell them notto fire a shot until we turn."

  As he gathered his horse under him, the sheriff's arm dropped. Theshrill "Yip! Yip!" of the range rose above the thunder of hoofs astwenty ponies jumped to a run. The living thunder-bolt tore through themass. The staccato crack of guns sounded sharply above the deeper roarof the mob. The ragged pathway closed again as the riders swung round,bunched, and launched at the mass from the rear. Those who had turned toface the second charge were crowded back as the cowboys, with gunsgoing, ate into the yelling crowd. The mob turned, and like a great,black wave swept down the street and into the court-house square.

  The cowboys raced past, and reined in a block below the court-house. Asthey paused to reload, a riderless horse, badly wounded, plunged amongthem. A cowboy caught the horse and shot it. Another rider, gripping hisshirt above his abdomen, writhed and groaned, begging piteously for someone to kill him. Before they could get him off his horse he spurred out,and, pulling his carbine from the scabbard, charged into the mob, in thesquare. With the lever going like lightning, he bored into the mob,fired his last shot in the face of a man that had caught his horse'sbridle, and sank to the ground. Shattered and torn he lay, a red pulpthat the mob trampled into the dust.

  The upper windows of the court-house filled with figures. An irregularfire drove the cowboys to the shelter of a side street. In the widedoorway of the court-house several men crouched behind a blue-steeltripod. Those still in the square crowded past and into the building.Behind the stone pillars of the entrance, guarded by a machine gun, thecrazy mob cheered drunkenly and defied the guards to dislodge them.

  From a building opposite came a single shot, and the group round themachine gun lifted one of their fellows and carried him back into thebuilding. Again came the peremptory snarl of a carbine, and anotherfigure sank in the doorway. The machine gun was dragged back. Its muzzlestill commanded the square, but its operators were now shielded by anangle of the entrance.

  Back on the side street, the old ex-Ranger had difficulty inrestraining his men. They knew by the number of shots fired that some oftheir companions had gone down.

  The sheriff was about to call for volunteers to capture the machine gunwhen a white handkerchief fluttered from an upper window of thecourt-house. Almost immediately a man appeared on the court-house steps,alone and indicating by his gestures that he wished to parley with theguard. The sheriff dismounted and stepped forward.

  One of his men checked him. "That's a trap, John. They want to get you,special. Don't you try it."

  "It's up to me," said the sheriff, and shaking off the other's hand hestrode across the square.

  At the foot of the steps he met the man. The guard saw them converse fora brief minute; saw the sheriff shake his fist in the other's face andturn to walk back. As he turned, a shot from an upper window dropped himin his stride.

  The cowboys yelled and charged across the square. The machine gunstuttered and sprayed a fury of slugs that cut down horses and riders. Acowboy, his horse shot from under him, sprang up the steps and draggedthe machine gun into the open. A rain of slugs from the upper windowsstruck him down. His compa
nions carried him back to cover. The machinegun stood in the square, no longer a menace, yet no one dared approachit from either side.

  When the old Ranger, who had orders to hold his men in reserve, heardthat the sheriff had been shot down under a flag of truce, he shook hishead.

  "Three men could 'a' stopped that gun as easy as twenty, and saved morehosses. Who wants to take a little pasear after that gun?"

  Several of his men volunteered.

  "I only need two," he said, smiling. "I call by guess. Numbertwenty-six, number thirty-eight, and number three."

  The last was his own number.

  In the wide hallway and massed on the court-house stairs the mob wascalling out to recover the gun. Beyond control of their leaders, crazedwith drink and killing, they surged forward, quarreling, and shoved frombehind by those above.

  "We're ridin'," said the old Ranger.

  With a man on each side of him he charged across the square.

  Waco, peering from behind a stone column in the entrance, saw that Lorrywas one of the riders. Lorry's lips were drawn tight. His face was pale,but his gun arm swung up and down with the regularity of a machine as hethrew shot after shot into the black tide that welled from thecourt-house doorway. A man near Waco pulled an automatic and leveled it.Waco swung his arm and brained the man with an empty whiskey bottle. Hethrew the bottle at another of his fellows, and, stumbling down thesteps, called to Lorry. The three riders paused for an instant as Wacoran forward. The riders had won almost to the gun when Waco stooped andjerked it round and poured a withering volley into the close-packeddoorway.

  Back in the side street the leader of the cowboys addressed his men.

  "We'll leave the horses here," he said. "Tex went after that gun, and Ireckon he's got it. We'll clean up afoot."

  But the I.W.W. had had enough. Their leaders had told them that with themachine gun they could clean up the town, capture the court-house, andmake their own terms. They had captured the court-house, but they werethemselves trapped. One of their own number had planned that treachery.And they knew that those lean, bronzed men out there would shoot themdown from room to room as mercilessly as they would kill coyotes.

  They surrendered, shuffling out and down the slippery stone steps. Eachman dropped his gun in the little pile that grew and grew until the oldRanger shook his head, pondering. That men of this kind should haveaccess to arms and ammunition of the latest military type--and a machinegun. What was behind it all? He tried to reason it out in hisold-fashioned way even as the trembling horde filed past, cordoned bygrim, silent cowboys.

  The vagrants were escorted out of town in a body. Fearful of the hateof the guard, of treachery among themselves and of the townsfolk inother places, they tramped across the hills, followed closely by thestern-visaged riders. Several miles north of Sterling they disbanded.

  When a company of infantrymen arrived in Sterling they found severalcowboys sluicing down the court-house steps with water hauledlaboriously from the river.

  The captain stated that he would take charge of things, and suggestedthat the cowboys take a rest.

  "That's all right, Cap," said a puncher, pointing toward the nakedflagstaff. "But we-all would admire to see the Stars and Stripesfloatin' up there afore we drift."

  "I'll have the flag run up," said the captain.

  "That's all right, Cap. But you don't sabe the idee. These here stepsgot to be _clean_ afore that flag goes up."

  * * * * *

  "And they's some good in bein' fat," said Bud Shoop as he met Lorry nextmorning. "The army doc just put a plaster on my arm where one of themautomatic pills nicked me. Now, if I'd been lean like you--"

  "Did you see Waco?" queried Lorry.

  "Waco? What's ailin' you, son?"

  "Nothin'. It was Waco went down, workin' that machine gun against hisown crowd. I didn't sabe that at first."

  "Him? Didn't know he was in town."

  "I didn't, either, till last night. He sneaked in to tell me about thekillin' of Pat. Next I seen him was when he brained a fella that wasshootin' at me. Then somehow he got to the gun--and you know the rest."

  "Looks like he was crazy," suggested Shoop.

  "I don' know about that. I got to him before he cashed in. He pawedaround like he couldn't see. I asked what I could do. He kind of bracedup then. 'That you, kid?' he says. 'They didn't get you?' I told him no.'Then I reckon we're square,' he says. I thought he was gone, but hereached out his hand. Seems he couldn't see. 'Would you mind shakin'hands with a bum?' he says. I did. And then he let go my hand. He wasdone."

  "H'm! And him! But you can't always tell. Sometimes it takes a bulletplaced just right, and sometimes religion, and sometimes a woman to makea man show what's in him. I reckon Waco done you a good turn thatjourney. But ain't it hard luck when a fella waits till he's got tocross over afore he shows white?"

  "He must 'a' had a hunch he was goin' to get his," said Lorry. "Or hewouldn't chanced sneakin' into town last night. When do we go north?"

  "To-morrow. The doc says the sheriff will pull through. He sure ought toget the benefit of the big doubt. There's a man that God A'mighty tooksome trouble in makin'."

  "Well, I'm mighty glad it's over. I don't want any more like this. Icome through all right, but this ain't fightin'; it's plumb killin' andmurder."

  "And both sides thinks so," said Bud. "And lemme tell you; you can readyour eyes out about peace and equality and fraternity, but they's goin'to be killin' in this here world just as long as they's fools willin' tolisten to other fools talk. And they's always goin' to be some fools."

  "You ain't strong on socialism, eh, Bud?"

  "Socialism? You mean when all men is born fools and equal? Not thismawnin', son. I got all I can do figurin' out my own trail."