The Sheriff of Badger: A Tale of the Southwest Borderland
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CHAPTER X
A JOURNEY TO SATAN'S KINGDOM
"What're you giving us?" "Go on, Lafe." "Hush, let's hear him." "Quitcrowding there, will you?" "Say, are you looking for trouble?" "Well,quit it." It was long before quiet could be obtained.
The sheriff waited for absolute silence before taking up the thread ofhis explanation again. Then he said, slowly scanning the faces aroundhim--"Mr. Coroner, if you'll adjourn this here court for two days, I'llbring the murderer here."
The inquest adjourned in confusion. Thomas was released, only to berearrested.
"I'll learn fellers like you a lesson," the sheriff told him. "Bob, givehim thirty days for stealing that there Bible of yours."
The justice of the peace imposed the sentence with alacrity. It had theappearance of spite, but Jeff exhibited no resentment and left for thecounty town in charge of a deputy, without a word of protest. To me, heappeared a broken man.
Not a word of enlightenment would the sheriff give, although all Badgerwas agog with excitement and babbled questions wherever he moved. Theywould cling to his arm in their eagerness, but he shook them off. Atdinner, he ordered me to fetch my horse, for he planned a hard ride.
It was early afternoon when we set out for Satan's Kingdom. Our way tookus through the Willows, which we threaded at dusk. We were passing acertain pile of rocks, when the sheriff pointed with his forefinger.
"Look," he said.
The Mother of Cottonwoods towered above the lesser trees, plain to thesight. She was black and stark, bare as though blasted by lightning. Wejogged along mutely.
"Look a-here," the sheriff said, as we neared the mountain village, "youdone heard that shooting. What did you hear? Tell me as near as youcan."
I strove to focus all my faculties on the task.
"There was a first shot--that must have been Bud's."
"Never mind whose it was," said Johnson.
"Then there seemed to be two very close together. I'm not sure aboutthat, Lafe, because it might have been one, sort of drawn out. But I waswatching Jeff's hand and it looked only half-way out of his shirt whenthat second shot started."
"Good. How did it sound?"
"Well, she began with more of a ring to her--sharper than asix-shooter--and she ended heavily, just like a .45."
"Sure," he said, with great satisfaction. "That was the 30-30. It justbeat Jeff to the mark. Why didn't you tell that at the inquest?"
"I wasn't sure," I answered lamely. "Nobody would have believed me,anyway."
"So you think a feller ought to tell only what he figures folks willbelieve? Well, it don't matter. Don't get hot. Listen. We'll bring backthe feller who shot Bud, to-night or to-morrow. He was hiding in thatdark hall back of Thomas, just waiting for a chance. As quick as I sawthe hole in Bud's head, I said to myself, 'A .45 never made that, son.'No, sir; I sure knew that 30-30 mark."
"How did you know where it came from?"
"That's easy. Bud was shot in front, wasn't he? Well, Jeff didn't do it,so I hunted in that passage to find out who did. Sure enough, a fellerhad braced himself with his hand on the wall. He was a powerful bigbrute, too--more'n six feet high, easy."
The sheriff chuckled, pleased as a boy with his own astuteness.
"Say, Dan, it's almost funny the way things turn out. Ol' Miguel, thelazy rascal, he done left a tin of axle grease on a shelf beside theback door, and when this feller come in and went sneaking along thehall, a-feeling his way so as not to make a noise, he stuck his handinto it. Then he leaned with that hand bracing him, while he waited forBud. Do you get that? That was the hand he leaned on. Wouldn't that mostscare you? That gives his size away. Why couldn't his luck have made himlean with the other hand? I tell you, it makes a man think."
He would not talk more on the subject and evinced impatience whenpressed. We put up at Kelley's place in the Kingdom, and the sheriff hada few words with Kelley himself before we ate a meal specially preparedfor us.
"No, he ain't here just now," Kelley said. "He done rode off just aftersupper. But he'll be here in the morning for breakfast. I hope thereain't nothing wrong, Lafe?"
"No-oo. We just want a talk, that's all. Don't tell him, Kelley."
There were half a dozen persons at the table when we took our places notlong after daylight. Three were prospectors, one was a cowboy, and aminer sat next him. Opposite me was a long, lank, youthful-appearingman, who consumed his food with his nose very close to his plate. He hadlittle to say, except when he desired something.
Now, if a man be a lusty trencherman, or if he wolf his food, either bytearing or the process of inhalation, we never pass direct criticism.That might hurt his feelings and the sensibilities of the other diners.No; instead, one glances good-naturedly about the board to pick up theeyes, and remarks in a slow, modulated tone--"Say, ol' Bill here don'teat enough to fatten a hog, does he?"
The sheriff watched this individual intently for a space. His scrutinymade me uneasy, although it is true that the gentleman's table mannerswere offensive. Then he leaned toward him and remarked, smilingly: "Say,you don't eat enough to fatten a steer, do you?"
I expected an outbreak. The long person raised his eyes and a sicklysmile overspread his face. And then I knew what manner of man we had todeal with. Because, when a man of pluck receives a blow that hurts, hefirst looks serious and perhaps thoughtful; that is followed by adetermined squaring of the jaw. At last he said, essaying a sneer:
"I reckon you've got the world by the tail with a down-hill pull, ain'tyou?"
"Perhaps," said Johnson. "I've got you, anyhow, Slim. You're underarrest. Finish that coffee and come on."
"Who're you?" the other asked slowly.
"The sheriff of Badger."
"Well, I ain't sorry. I'll go along," was the reply.
On the morning of the second day, another coroner's inquest sat inBadger. Slim Terry faced it. A greenish pallor showed near his eyes andaround the corners of his mouth, but he talked composedly.
Coroner.--"Did you shoot Bud Walton?"
"Yes."
"Tell us about it."
The prisoner passed a hand over his forehead and down to his chin, asthough to clear his thoughts.
"This feller Walton, judge, he done run me out of Badger. First, though,he run me out of the Fashion. I ain't been in this town for six monthstill the day of the shooting. Yes, I was scared of him. I ain't afighter, gen'l'men. I come in that day, because somebody done sent forme."
Coroner.--"Who sent for you?"
Slim pondered this question. "I ain't a-going to tell that," he said."Well, I laid quiet at ol' Raphael's place on the aidge of town untildark, and then I sneaked up back of the Fashion. Nobody seen me.Somebody'd told me Bud Walton would likely do for Thomas there thatnight, and I figured to get him from that back hall in the mixup. One ofus was sure to nail him."
"Who told you this?"
"I ain't a-going to tell. I've said that twice already, Mr. Turner, soyou needn't ask me. Well, I waited in the hall there, standing mightyquiet. I seen Thomas at the table and a fat gen'l'man over near thewindow with the sheriff here. I didn't know he was the sheriff then. Byand by a boy come in and the sheriff went out. Then all at once BudWalton run in at the door and pulled a gun. And then I let him have it.I plugged him square. Couldn't miss at that distance. What'd you say,judge? No; nobody seen me. I run out into the lot back of the Fashionand got on my horse. I've been at the Kingdom most of the time since,but I wasn't trying to hide out. How did you find out, Mr. Johnson?"
The audience in the court-room listened to this recital with scantsympathy. Their disapproval was obvious. Even the sheriff appeared atrifle ashamed of his prisoner.
"Did you have any other reason, Terry, for shooting this man?" asked thecoroner.
"No, sir. He done run me off, and I was afraid he would kill me someday, the same as he'd done to a lot of others. So I plugged him--therein the Fashion."
"It's a lie. He's lying, judge," cried a treble voice at the door.
The crowd wavered and split apart, and a woman broke through andconfronted the coroner. It was Tilly, the waitress at the annex. Herhair was disordered and hung in lank wisps about her face, but she gaveno thought to that. With her red arms bare to the elbow, and her cheeksflabby and pale from fright, she took position squarely in front ofTurner. She tried to speak, but gasped for breath.