CHAPTER XIV
TEN YEARS
All the way back to Denver, while the train ran down through the narrow,crooked canon, Dave's mind dwelt in a penumbra of horror. It wasimpossible he could have killed Doble, he kept telling himself. He hadfired back into the night without aim. He had not even tried to hit themen who were shooting at him. It must be some ghastly joke.
None the less he knew by the dull ache in his heart that this awful thinghad fastened on him and that he would have to pay the penalty. He hadkilled a man, snuffed out his life wantonly as a result of taking thelaw into his own hands. The knowledge of what he had done shook him tothe soul.
It remained with him, in the background of his mind, up to and throughhis trial. What shook his nerve was the fact that he had taken a life,not the certainty of the punishment that must follow.
West called to see him at the jail, and to the cattleman Dave told thestory exactly as it had happened. The owner of the Fifty-Four QuarterCircle walked up and down the cell rumpling his hair.
"Boy, why didn't you let on to me what you was figurin' on pullin' off?I knew you was some bull-haided, but I thought you had a lick o' senseleft."
"Wisht I had," said Dave miserably.
"Well, what's done's done. No use cryin' over the bust-up. We'd betterfix up whatever's left from the smash. First off, we'll get a lawyer, Ireckon."
"I gotta li'l' money left--twenty-six dollars," spoke up Dave timidly."Maybe that's all he'll want."
West smiled at this babe in the woods. "It'll last as long as a snowballin you-know-where if he's like some lawyers I've met up with."
It did not take the lawyer whom West engaged long to decide on the linethe defense must take. "We'll show that Miller and Doble were crooks andthat they had wronged Sanders. That will count a lot with a jury," hetold West. "We'll admit the killing and claim self-defense."
The day before the trial Dave was sitting in his cell cheerlessly readinga newspaper when visitors were announced. At sight of Emerson Crawfordand Bob Hart he choked in his throat. Tears brimmed in his eyes. Nobodycould have been kinder to him than West had been, but these were homefolks. He had known them many years. Their kindness in coming melted hisheart.
He gripped their hands, but found himself unable to say anything inanswer to their greetings. He was afraid to trust his voice, and hewas ashamed of his emotion.
"The boys are for you strong, Dave. We all figure you done right. Stevehe says he wouldn't worry none if you'd got Miller too," Bob breezed on.
"Tha's no way to talk, son," reproved Crawford. "It's bad enough rightas it is without you boys wantin' it any worse. But don't you getdownhearted, Dave. We're allowin' to stand by you to a finish. It ain'tas if you'd got a good man. Doble was a mean-hearted scoundrel if everI met up with one. He's no loss to society. We're goin' to show the jurythat too."
They did. By the time Crawford, Hart, and a pair of victims who had beentrapped by the sharpers had testified about Miller and Doble, theseworthies had no shred of reputation left with the jury. It was shownthat they had robbed the defendant of the horse he had trained and thathe had gone to a lawyer and found no legal redress within his means.
But Dave was unable to prove self-defense. Miller stuck doggedly to hisstory. The cowpuncher had fired the first shot. He had continued to fire,though he must have seen Doble sink to the ground immediately. Moreover,the testimony of the doctor showed that the fatal shot had taken effectat close range.
Just prior to this time there had been an unusual number of killings inDenver. The newspapers had stirred up a public sentiment for stricterenforcement of law. They had claimed that both judges and juries were tooeasy on the gunmen who committed these crimes. Now they asked if thiscowboy killer was going to be allowed to escape. Dave was tried when thiswave of feeling was at its height and he was a victim of it.
The jury found him guilty of murder in the second degree. The judgesentenced him to ten years in the penitentiary.
When Bob Hart came to say good-bye before Dave was removed to Canon City,the young range-rider almost broke down. He was greatly distressed at themisfortune that had befallen his friend.
"We're gonna stay with this, Dave. You know Crawford. He goes throughwhen he starts. Soon as there's a chance we'll hit the Governor for apardon. It's a damn shame, old pal. Tha's what it is."
Dave nodded. A lump in his throat interfered with speech.
"The ol' man lent me money to buy Chiquito, and I'm gonna keep the pintotill you get out. That'll help pay yore lawyer," continued Bob. "Onething more. You're not the only one that's liable to be sent up.Miller's on the way back to Malapi. If he don't get a term forhawss-stealin', I'm a liar. We got a dead open-and-shut case againsthim."
The guard who was to take Dave to the penitentiary bustled in cheerfully."All right, boys. If you're ready we'll be movin' down to the depot."
The friends shook hands again.
Gunsight Pass: How Oil Came to the Cattle Country and Brought a New West Page 14