Oh, You Tex!

by William MacLeod Raine

  CHAPTER XLIV

  DINSMORE GIVES INFORMATION

  The inner room was dark, and for a moment Jack stood blinking while hiseyes accustomed themselves to the gloom.

  A voice growled a question at him. "What do you want now, Mr.Grandstander?"

  "I want you."

  "What for?"

  "You'll find out presently. Come along."

  For a moment Dinsmore did not move. Then he slouched forward. He noticedthat the Ranger was not armed. Another surprise met him when he steppedinto the outer room. The jailer lay on the floor bound.

  The outlaw looked quickly at Roberts, a question in his eyes. Jackunlocked his handcuffs. They had been left on him because the jail wasso flimsy.

  "My rifle an' six-shooters are on the shelf there, Dinsmore. A horsepacked with grub is waitin' outside for you. Make for the short-grasscountry an' cross the line about Deaf Smith County to the Staked Plains.I reckon you'll find friends on the Pecos."

  "Yes?" asked Dinsmore, halfway between insolence and incredulity.

  "That's my advice. You don't need to take it if you don't want to."

  "Oh, it listens good to me. I'll take it all right, Mr. Ranger. Thereare parties in Mexico that can use me right now at a big figure. TheLincoln County War is still goin' good." The bad-man challenged Robertswith bold eyes. "But what I'm wonderin' is how much Clint Wadley paidyou to throw down Cap Ellison."

  The anger burned in Jack's face. "Damn you, Dinsmore, I might 'a' knownyou'd think somethin' like that. I'll tell you this. I quit bein' aRanger at six o'clock this evenin', an' I haven't seen or heard fromWadley since I quarreled with him about you."

  "So you're turnin' me loose because you're so fond of me. Is that it?"sneered the outlaw.

  "I'll tell you just why I'm turnin' you loose, Dinsmore. It's becausefor twenty-four hours in yore rotten life you were a white man. When Iwas sleepin' on yore trail you turned to take Miss Wadley back to theA T O. When the 'Paches were burnin' the wind after you an' her, youturned to pick her up after she had fallen. When you might have lit outup the canon an' left her alone, you stayed to almost certain death. Youwere there all the time to a fare-you-well. From that one good day thatmay take you to heaven yet, I dragged you in here with a rope aroundyore neck. I had to do it, because I was a Ranger. But Wadley was rightwhen he said it wasn't _human_. I'm a private citizen now, an' I'mmakin' that wrong right."

  "You'd ought to go to Congress. You got the gift," said Dinsmore withdry irony. Five minutes earlier he had been, as Roberts said, a man witha rope around his neck. Now he was free, the wide plains before him overwhich to roam. He was touched, felt even a sneaking gratitude to thisyoung fellow who was laying up trouble for himself on his account; andhe was ashamed of his own emotion.

  "I'll go to jail; that's where I'll go," answered Jack grimly. "Butthat's not the point."

  "I'll say one thing, Roberts. I didn't kill Hank. One of the other boysdid. It can't do him any harm to say so now," muttered Dinsmoreawkwardly.

  "I know. Overstreet shot him."

  "That was just luck. It might have been me."

  Jack looked straight and hard at him. "Will you answer me one question?Who killed Rutherford Wadley?"

  "Why should I?" demanded the bad-man, his eyes as hard and steady asthose of the other man.

  "Because an innocent man is under a cloud. You know Tony didn't killhim. He's just been married. Come clean, Dinsmore."

  "As a favor to you, because of what you're doin' for me?"

  "I'm not doin' this for you, but to satisfy myself. But if you want toput it that way--"

  "Steve Gurley shot Ford because he couldn't be trusted. The kid talkedabout betrayin' us to Ellison. If Steve hadn't shot him I would havedone it."

  "But not in the back," said Jack.

  "No need o' that. I could 'a' gunned him any time in a fair fight. Wefollowed him, an' before I could stop him Gurley fired."

  The line-rider turned to the jailer. "You heard what he said, Yorky."

  "I ain't deef," replied the little saddler with sulky dignity. Hisshoulder was aching and he felt very much outraged.

  "Ford Wadley was a bad egg if you want to know. He deserved just what hegot," Dinsmore added.

  "I don't care to hear about that. Yore horse is waitin', Dinsmore. Someone might come along an' ask inconvenient whyfors. Better be movin'along."

  Dinsmore buckled the belt round his waist and picked up the rifle.

  "Happy days," he said, nodding toward Jack, then turned and slouched outof the door.

  A moment, and there came the swift clatter of hoofs.

  CHAPTER XLV

  RAMONA DESERTS HER FATHER

  Arthur Ridley, seated on the porch between Clint Wadley and Ramona, wasannoying one and making himself popular with the other. For he wasmaintaining, very quietly but very steadily, that Jack Roberts had beenwholly right in refusing to release Dinsmore.

  "Just as soon as you lads get to be Rangers you go crazy with the heat,"said the cattleman irritably. "Me, I don't go down on my ham bones forthe letter of the law. Justice! That's what I aim for to do. I don't sayyou boys haven't got a right to sleep on Dinsmore's trail till you gethim. That's yore duty. But out here in Texas we'd ought to do thingshigh, wide, an' handsome. Roberts, by my way of it, should have shookHomer's hand. 'Fine! You saved 'Mona's life. Light a shuck into achaparral _pronto_. In twelve hours I'm goin' to hit the trail after youagain.' That's what he had ought to have said."

  "You're asking him to be generous at the expense of the State, Mr.Wadley. Jack couldn't do that. Dinsmore's liberty wasn't a gift of histo give. He was hired by the State--sent out to bring in that particularman. He hadn't any choice but to do it," insisted Arthur.

  Ramona sat in the shadow of the honeysuckle vines. She did not sayanything and Ridley could not see her face well. He did not know howgrateful she was for his championship of his friend. She knew he wasright and her heart throbbed gladly because of it. She wanted to feelthat she and her father were wrong and had done an injustice to the manshe loved.

  Captain Ellison came down the walk, his spurs jingling. In spite of hisyears the little officer carried himself jauntily, his wide hat tiltedat a rakish angle. Just now he was worried.

  As soon as he knew the subject of conversation, he plunged in, a hotpartisan, eager for battle. Inside of two minutes he and Wadley wereengaged in one of their periodical semi-quarrels.

  "You're wrong, Clint," the Captain announced dogmatically. "You'rewrong, like you 'most always are. You're that bullheaded you cayn't seeit. But I'm surprised at you, 'Mona. If Jack had been a private citizen,you wouldn't needed to ask him to turn loose Dinsmore. But he wasn't.That's the stuff my Rangers are made of. They play the hand out. The boydid just right."

  "That's what you say, Jim. You drill these boys of yours till they ain'thardly human. I'm for law an' order. You know that. But I don't go outof my head about them the way you do. 'Mona an' I have got some sense.We're reasonable human bein's." To demonstrate his possession of thislast quality Clint brought his fist down on the arm of the chair so hardthat it cracked.

  From out of the darkness Ramona made her contribution in a voice notquite steady.

  "We're wrong, Dad. We've been wrong all the time. I didn't see it justat first, and then I didn't want to admit it even to myself. But I'mglad now we are." She turned to Captain Ellison a little tremulously."Will you tell him, Uncle Jim, that I want to see him?"

  "You're a little gentleman, 'Mona. I always said you were." The Captainreached out and pressed her hand. "I'll tell him when I see him. Notellin' when that'll be. Jack resigned to-day. He's got some fool notionin his head. I'm kinda worried about him."

  The girl's heart fluttered. "Worried? What ... what do you think he'sgoing to do?"

  The Captain shook his head. "Cayn't tell you, because I don't know. Buthe's up to somethin'. He acted kinda hard an' bitter."

  A barefooted negro boy called in from the gate. "Cap'n Ellison there,sah?"
>
  He brought a note in and handed it to the officer of Rangers. TheCaptain ripped open the envelope and handed the sheet inside to Ramona.

  "Run along in an' read it for me, honey. It's too dark to see here."

  The girl ran into the house and lit a lamp. The color washed out of herface as she read the note.

  Come up to the hotel and arrest me, Captain. I held up Yorky, took his keys, and freed Dinsmore. JACK ROBERTS

  Then, in jubilant waves, the blood beat back into her arteries. That waswhy he had resigned, to pay the debt he owed Homer Dinsmore on heraccount. He had put himself within reach of the law for her sake. Herheart went out to him in a rush. She must see him. She must see him atonce.

  From the parlor she called to Captain Ellison. "You'd better come in andread the note yourself, Uncle Jim. It's important."

  It was so important to her that before the Captain of Rangers was insidethe house, she was out the back door running toward the hotel as fast asher lithe limbs could carry her. She wanted to see Jack before his chiefdid, to ask his forgiveness for having failed him at the first call thatcame upon her faith.

  She caught up with the colored boy as he went whistling up the road. Thelittle fellow took a message for her into the hotel while she waited inthe darkness beside the post-office. To her there presently cameRoberts. He hesitated a moment in front of the store and peered into theshadows. She had not sent her name, and it was possible that enemies haddecoyed him there.

  "Jack," she called in a voice that was almost a whisper.

  In half a dozen long strides he was beside her. She wasted no time inpreliminaries.

  "We were wrong, Dad and I. I told Uncle Jim to tell you to come to me... and then your note to him came. Jack, do you ... still like me?"

  He answered her as lovers have from the beginning of time--with kisses,with little joyous exclamations, with eyes that told more than words. Hetook her into his arms hungrily in an embrace of fire and passion. Shewept happily, and he wiped away her tears.

  They forgot time in eternity, till Ellison brought them back to earth.He was returning from the hotel with Wadley, and as he passed they heardhim sputtering.

  "Why did he send for me, then, if he meant to light out? What in SamHill--?"

  Jack discovered himself to the Captain, and incidentally his sweetheart.

  "Well, I'll be doggoned!" exclaimed Ellison. "You youngsters sure beatmy time. How did you get here, 'Mona?"

  Clint made prompt apologies. "I was wrong, boy. I'd ought to know it bythis time, for they've all been dinnin' it at me. Shake, an' let's makea new start."

  In words it was not much, but Jack knew by the way he said it that thecattleman meant a good deal more than he said. He shook hands gladly.

  "Looks to me like Jack would make that new start in jail," snapped theCaptain. "I don't expect he can go around jail-breaking with myprisoners an' get away with it."

  "I'll go to jail with him, then," cried 'Mona quickly.

  "H'mp!" The Ranger Captain softened. "It wouldn't be a prison if youwere there, honey."

  Jack slipped his hand over hers in the semi-darkness. "You're whistlin',Captain."

  "I reckon you 'n' me will take a trip down to Austin to see theGovernor, Jim," Wadley said. "Don't you worry any about that prison,'Mona."

  The girl looked up into the eyes of her lover. "We're not worrying any,Dad," she answered, smiling.

  CHAPTER XLVI

  LOOSE THREADS

  The Governor had been himself a cattleman. Before that he had knownEllison and Wadley during the war. Therefore he lent a friendly ear tothe tale told him by his old-time friends.

  Clint did most of the talking, one leg thrown across the arm of aleather-bound chair in the library of the Governor's house. The threemen were smoking. A mint julep was in front of each.

  The story of Jack Roberts lost nothing in the telling. Both of thePanhandle men were now partisans of his, and when the owner of the A T Omissed a point the hawk-eyed little Captain was there to stress it.

  "That's all right, boys," the Governor at last broke in. "I don't doubthe's all you say he is, but I don't see that I can do anything for him.If he's in trouble because he deliberately helped a murderer toescape--"

  "You don't need to do a thing, Bob," interrupted Wadley. "That's justthe point. He's in no trouble unless you make it for him. All you've gotto do is shut yore eyes. I spent three hours with a pick makin' a holein the jail wall so as it would look like the prisoner escaped. I did areal thorough job. Yorky, the jailer, won't talk. We got that allfixed. There'll be no trouble a-tall unless you want the case againstJack pushed."

  "What was the use of comin' to me at all, then? Why didn't you boys keepthis under your hats?" the Governor asked.

  Wadley grinned. "Because of Jim's conscience. You see, Bob, he fills hisboys up with talk about how the Texas Rangers are the best police forcein the world. That morale stuff! Go through an' do yore duty. Play nofavorites an' have no friends when you're on the trail of a criminal.Well, he cayn't ignore what young Roberts has done. So he passes thebuck to you."

  The Governor nodded appreciation of Ellison's difficulty. "All right,Jim. You've done your duty in reporting it. Now I'll forget all aboutit. You boys go home and marry those young people soon as they'reready."

  The Panhandle cattleman gave a whoop. "That'll be soon as I can draw uppartnership papers for me 'n' Jack as a weddin' present for him an'Mona."

  * * * * *

  They were married at Clarendon. All the important people of thePanhandle attended the wedding, and it was generally agreed that nobetter-looking couple ever faced the firing line of a marriage ceremony.

  There was a difference of opinion as to whether the ex-line-riderdeserved his good luck. Jumbo Wilkins was one of those who arguedmightily that there was no luck about it.

  "That doggoned Tex wore his bronc to a shadow waitin' on Miss 'Mona an'rescuin' her from trouble. She plumb had to marry him to git rid ofhim," he explained. "I never saw the beat of that boy's gall. Six monthsago he was ridin' the line with me. Now he's the _segundo_ of the wholeoutfit an' has married the daughter of the boss to boot."

  Jumbo was on hand with a sack of rice and an old shoe when the bride andgroom climbed into the buckboard to drive to the ranch. His admirationfound vent in one last shout as the horses broke into a run:

  "Oh, you Tex! Let 'em go, son!"

  THE END