CHAPTER XXI
GONE AWAY!
McFluke's eyes flickered at the question. His body appeared to sinkinward. Then he straightened, and flung back his wide shoulders, andglowered at Racey Dawson.
"I ran into a door this morning," said the saloon-keeper in a tone ofthe utmost confidence.
"Oh, you ran into a door, did you," Racey observed, sweetly. "And whatparticular door did you run into?"
"The front door."
"That one?" Racey indicated the door of the barroom.
"That one."
"We'll just take a look at that door."
Accompanied by the deeply interested sheriff, who was beginning tosniff his quarry like the old bloodhound he was, Racey crossed to thebarroom door. He looked at the door. He looked at the sheriff. Thesheriff looked only at the door.
"Door's opened back flat against the wall, Mac," said the sheriff."Was she like this when you ran into her?"
"Course not," was the heated reply. "She was swingin' open."
Racey squatted down on the floor. "Lookit here, Sheriff."
The sheriff stooped and regarded the wooden wedge under the door thatjammed it fast. Racey drew a finger across the top of the wedge. Heheld up the finger-tip for the sheriff's inspection. The tip was blackwith the dust of weeks.
"That door has been wedged back all this hot weather," said Racey,gently. "Look at the dust under the door on both sides of the wedge,too. Bet that wedge ain't been out of place for a month."
Softly as he spoke McFluke heard him. "---- you! I tell you thatdoor was opened this mornin'! I hit my head on it! Ask 'em all! Askanybody! Jack, lookit here--"
"I didn't see you hit yore head on the door," interrupted Jack Harpe."Maybe you did, I dunno."
Racey raised a quick head as Jack Harpe spoke. Quite plainly he sawJack Harpe accompany his words with a slight lowering of his lefteyelid. Racey glanced at McFluke. He saw the defiant expression departfrom the McFluke countenance, and a look of unmistakable relief takeits place.
Racey dropped his head. The sheriff was speaking.
"Mac," he was saying, "yo're lyin'. Yo're lyin' as fast as a hoss cantrot. You never got yore black eye on this door. I dunno why yo'resayin' you did, but I'm gonna find out. Till--"
"You won't have far to go to find out," struck in Racey Dawson. "Iknow how he got his black eye."
"How?" demanded the sheriff, his grizzled eyebrows drawing together.
"Dale gave it to him," was the answer pat and pithy.
"He did not!" The saloon-keeper began to roar instantly, and had to bequieted by Kansas Casey.
When order was restored Racey explained his deductions. The sherifflistened in silence. Then he went to the body of the dead man, andexamined the bruised and broken right hand.
"I'm tellin' you," declared Racey with finality, "he hit somebody whenhe broke that hand."
"He might 'a' broke it when he fell after being shot," put in LukeTweezy.
The sheriff shook his head. "He couldn't fall hard enough to breakthem bones as bad as that. It's like Racey says. Question is, who didhe hit? McFluke's eye and McFluke's lies are a good enough answer forme."
"You'll have to prove it!" snapped Luke Tweezy.
"I expect we'll do that, Luke," the sheriff said, calmly. "Have youagreed on a verdict, Judge?"
"We had," replied Dolan. "We was about satisfied that a plain 'killin'by a person unknown,' was as good as any, but I expect now we'llchange it to murder _with_ the recommendation that McFluke be arrestedon suspicion. Whadda you say, boys?"
"Shore," chorussed the "boys," and hiccuped like so many bullfrogs.
"Whu-why not lul-let the shush-shpicion shlide," suggested one brightspirit, "an' cue-convict him right now an' lul-lynch him after shupperwhu-when it's cool?"
"No," vetoed Dolan, "it can't be done. He's gotta be indicted andheld for the Grand Jury at Piegan City. I ain't allowed to try murdercases."
"Tut-too bad," mourned the bright spirit, and refused to be comforted.
"Can I take him now, Judge?" inquired Chuck Morgan, referring to thedead man.
"Any time," nodded Dolan.
Racey Dawson, whose eyes that day were missing nothing, saw that JackHarpe was looking steadily at Luke Tweezy. Luke's nod was barelyperceptible.
"Where were you thinking of taking him, Chuck?" was Tweezy's query.
"Moccasin Spring," Chuck replied, laconically.
"I wouldn't if I were you," said Luke Tweezy. "Better save trouble bytaking him to yore house."
It was coming now--the answer to one puzzle at least. Racey was sureof it. He was not disappointed.
"And why had I better take him to my house?" demanded Chuck.
"Because the ranch at Moccasin Spring don't belong to the Dale familyany more," Tweezy explained, smoothly. "Dale has turned over the placeto Lanpher and me."
"It's a damn lie!" declared Chuck.
Tweezy smiled. He was a lawyer, not a fighter. Names signified nothingin his greasy life. "It's no lie," he tossed back. "You know Lanpherand me bought the mortgage on the Dale place from the Marysville bank.The mortgage is due in a couple of days. Dale didn't have the money tosatisfy the mortgage. We was gonna foreclose. In order to save troubleall round he made the ranch over to us."
"You mean to tell me Dale did that just to save trouble?" burst outRacey. "Just because he liked you two fellers and wanted to make it aseasy as possible for you? Aw, hell, Tweezy. Aw, hell again. Yo're aspoor a liar as yore side-kicker McFluke."
Tweezy smiled once more and drew forth a long and shiny pocket-bookfrom the inner pocket of his vest. From the pocket-book he extracted alegal-looking document. Which document he handed to Sheriff Rule.
"Read her off, Jake," requested Luke Tweezy.
The sheriff read aloud the lines of writing. Shorn of the impressiveterms so beloved of law and lawyers, the document set forth that inconsideration of being allowed to retain all his live-stock, wagons,and household goods, instead of merely the fixed number of cattle,horses, and wagons, and those specified household articles, exemptfrom seizure under the law, Dale voluntarily released to themortgagers, without the formality of foreclosure proceedings, themortgaged property comprising six hundred and forty acres as describedhereinafter, etcetera.
The document was signed by Dale and witnessed by Doc Coffin and HoneyHoke:
The sheriff held the paper out to Chuck Morgan. "This Dale'ssignature, Chuck?"
Chuck Morgan examined the signature closely and long.
"Looks like it," he said, hesitatingly.
"It's his signature, all right," spoke up Honey Hoke. "I saw him signit."
"Me, too," said Doc Coffin.
"Paper's dated to-day," said the sheriff. "How long before he waskilled did Dale sign it, Luke?"
"About a hour," replied Tweezy.
"It's made out in yore writin', ain't it?" went on the sheriff.
"Shore," nodded Luke. "All but the signature. So, you see, Chuck,"he continued, turning to Morgan, "you might as well pack him to yorehouse. We intend to take possession immediately."
"You do, huh," said Chuck. "You try it, thassall I gotta say. You tryit."
"I'd admire to see you drive those women out of their home on thestrength of that paper, Tweezy," remarked Racey.
"Sheriff, I'll make out eviction papers immediately and Judge Dolanwill have you serve them on the Dale family." Thus Luke Tweezy,blustering.
"That's yore privilege," said the sheriff, "and I'll have to serve'em, I suppose. But only in the regular course of business, Luke.I'm mighty busy just now. Yore eviction notice will have to take itsturn."
"My punchers will throw 'em out then," averred Lanpher.
"They ain't nary a one of 'em would gorm up their paws on a job likethat for you, Lanpher," Alicran stated in no uncertain tones. "If yougot any dirty work to do you'll do it yoreself."
"Yo're--" began the 88 manager, and stopped suddenly.
"What was you gonna say?" Alicran's voice cut
sharply across thegeneral silence.
Lanpher controlled himself by an effort. Or perhaps it was not suchan effort, after all. It may have been that he remembered the objectlesson of the severed branch of the wild currant bush. At any rate,he did not pursue further the subject of the 88 cowboys cast as aneviction gang.
"I'll talk to you later, Alicran," said he in a tone he strove to makegrimly menacing, but which actually imposed upon no one, least of allthe truculent Alicran.
"We won't need yore boys, Lanpher," said Racey. "The sheriff willattend to it."
"Lookit here, Tweezy," said Judge Dolan, slouching to the front of thecrowd, "are you gonna run them women off thataway after _this_?" Herethe Judge jerked his head backward in the direction of the body.
"Why not?" Tweezy demanded, sulkily. "We got a right to."
"It don't always pay to stand on our rights, Luke," suggested theJudge. "I'd go a li'l easy if I was you."
"You ain't me," said Tweezy, rudely.
"Which is something I gotta be grateful for," the Judge returned tothe charge. "But alla same, Luke, I'd scratch my head and think howthis here is gonna look. Here Dale gives you this paper, and a hourlater he's cashed. Of course, it looks like his signature, and yougot witnesses who say it's his signature, but--" The Judge paused andgravely contemplated Luke Tweezy.
"I'll tell you what it looks like to me," announced Racey in a loud,unsympathetic tone. "The whole deal's too smooth. She's so smoothshe's slick, like a counterfeit dollar. You and Lanpher are a coupleof damn thieves, Tweezy."
But the sheriff's gun was out first. "None of that, Lanpher," hecautioned. "They ain't gonna be no lockin' horns _here_. That goes foryou, too, Racey."
"I don't need to pull any gun," Racey declared, contemptuously. "AllI'd have to use is my fingers on that feller. He never went after hisgun till he seen you pull yores. He ain't got any nerve, that's allthat's the matter with him."
Lanpher snarled curses at this. He yearned for the daredevilcourage sufficient to risk all on a single throw by pulling his gunleft-handed and sending a bullet smack through the scornful face ofRacey Dawson. But it was precisely as Racey said. He did not have thenerve. With half-a-dozen drinks under his belt he undoubtedly wouldhave made an attempt to clear his honour. But he was not carrying therequisite amount of liquor. Lanpher snarled another string of oaths."If I didn't have my right arm in a sling--" he began.
"I guess," interrupted the sheriff, "this will be about all. Lanpher,yore hoss is outside. Git on and git out."
The Heart of the Range Page 21