by Rex Beach
XI
JUDGE ELLSWORTH EXACTS A PROMISE
On his way to the Lewis ranch Dave Law had a struggle with himself. Hehad earned a reputation as a man of violent temper, and the time wasnot long past when a fraction of the insult Ed Austin had offered himwould have provoked a vigorous counterblast. The fact that on thisoccasion he had managed to restrain himself argued an increase ofself-control that especially gratified him, because his naturaltendency to "fly off the handle" had led more than once to regrettableresults. In fact, it was only since he had assumed the duties of apeace officer that he had made a serious effort at self-government. ARanger's work calls for patience and forbearance, and Dave had begun torealize the perils of his temperament. Normally he was a level-headed,conservative fellow, but when angered a thousand devils sprang up inhim and he became capable of the wildest excess. This instability,indeed, had been largely to blame for his aimless roaming. Deep insidehimself he knew that it was nothing but his headstrong temper which hadbrought on all his misfortunes and left him, well along in histhirties, a wanderer, with nothing he could call his own. As with mostmen of his turbulent disposition, fits of fury were usually followed bykeen revulsions of feeling. In Dave these paroxysms had frequently beensucceeded by such a sense of shame as to drive him from the scene ofhis actions, and in the course of his rovings he had acquired an amplestore of regrets--bitter food for thought during the silent hours whenhe sat over his camp-fire or rode alone through the mesquite. Hishatreds were keen and relentless, his passions wild, and yet, so far ashe knew, they had never led him to commit a mean or a downright evildeed. He had killed men, to be sure, but never, he was thankful to say,in one of his moments of frenzy.
The killing of men in the fierce exultation of battle, the slaying of acriminal by an officer under stress of duty, even the taking of lifeunder severe personal provocation, were acts that did not put onebeyond the pale. Such blood washes off. But there were stains of adifferent kind.
Dave was glad that he had swallowed "Young Ed's" incivility, not onlyfor his own sake, but for the sake of Alaire.
After all, he argued, it was barely possible that Ed had spoken thetruth. There WERE many sorrel horses; the evidence of those rain-washedhoof-prints was far from conclusive; even the fact that Urbina belongedto the Tad Lewis outfit was no more than a suspicious circumstance. Andyet, earnestly as he strove to convince himself of these possibilities,the Ranger could not down the conviction that the rancher had lied andthat he himself was on the right track.
It was late when he arrived at his destination, but Lewis's house wasdark, and it required some effort to awaken the owner. When Tad at lastappeared, clad in undershirt and trousers, he greeted the Ranger with aleveled Winchester; but when Dave had made known his identity heinvited him in, though with surly reluctance.
Lewis was a sandy-complexioned man of about forty, with colorless browsand a mean, shifty eye. Formerly a cowboy, he had by the exercise ofsome natural ability acquired a good property--and a bad reputation.Just how or why he had prospered was a mystery which his neighborsnever tired of discussing.
Tad, it seemed, resented any interruption of his rest, and showed thefact plainly.
Yes, he employed a fellow named Urbina. What was wanted of him?
Law explained briefly.
"Why, he's one of my best men!" laughed the rancher. "He wouldn't stealnothing."
"Well, I had to shoot another good man of yours," Dave said, quietly.
Lewis fell back a step. "Which one? Who?" he inquired, quickly.
"Pino Garza." Dave told of the meeting at the branding-fire and itsoutcome. He was aware, meanwhile, that Lewis's family were listening,for behind a half-open bedroom door he could hear an excited whispering.
"Killed him the first shot, eh?" Tad was dumfounded. "Now I neverthought Pino was that bad. But you never can tell about these Greasers,can you? They'll all steal if they get a chance. I let Pino go, 'bout aweek back; but he's been hangin' around, aimin' to visit some of hisrelatives up in the brush country. It was probably one of them oldGuzman saw. Anyhow, it couldn't of been Adolfo Urbina; he was over toLas Palmas all the afternoon."
"Did you send him there?"
"Sure. Ed Austin can tell you."
"Where is Urbina now?"
"I reckon he's asleep somewhere. We'll dig him up and talk to him, ifyou say so."
"Good."
Tad's willingness to cooperate with the officer, now that he understoodthe situation, was in marked contrast to the behavior of Austin. Infact, his offer to help was almost too willingly given to suit Dave,who expected him to protest at being dragged out on such a night. Noprotest came, however; Lewis slipped into his boots and slicker,explaining meanwhile:
"I'm sorry this play came up, for I don't want folks to think I got agang of thieves workin' for me."
But Adolfo Urbina was nowhere to be found. No one had seen him sinceabout seven o'clock, nor could it be discovered where he was spendingthe night. Dave remembered that it had been about seven when he leftLas Palmas, and ascertained, indirectly, that Tad had a telephone. Onhis way from Austin's Law had stopped at a rancho for a bite to eat,but he could forgive himself for the delay if, as he surmised, Urbinahad been warned by wire of his coming.
"That's too bad, ain't it?" Lewis said. "But he'll be around again inthe morning, and I'll get him for you. You leave it to me."
There was plainly nothing to do but accept this offer since it couldavail nothing to wait here for Urbina's return. Unless the fellow gavehimself up, he probably could not be found, now that the alarm wasgiven, without a considerable search--in view of which Dave finallyremounted his borrowed horse and rode away in the direction ofJonesville.
It was after daylight when he dismounted stiffly at Blaze's gate. Hewas wet to the skin and bespattered with mud; he had been almostconstantly in the saddle for twenty-four hours, and Don Ricardo'scow-pony was almost exhausted.
Blaze and Paloma, of course, were tremendously interested in his story.
"Say, now, that's quick work," the latter exclaimed, heartily. "You'resome thief-buster, Dave, and if you'll just stay around here littlecalves can grow up with some comfort."
When Dave rode to Jonesville, after breakfast, he found that the bodyof his victim had been brought in during the night, and that the townwas already buzzing with news of the encounter. During the forenoon DonRicardo and his sons arrived, bringing additional information, whichthey promptly imparted to the Ranger. The Guzmans were people ofaction. All three of them had spent the night on horseback, and Pedrohad made a discovery. On the day previous Garza had been seen riding incompany with a man astride a sorrel pony, and this man had beenrecognized as Adolfo Urbina. Pedro's witness would swear to it.
Their distance from Las Palmas at the time when they had been seentogether proved, beyond question, that unless Urbina had flown he couldnot have arrived at the place in question by noon, the hour Ed Austinhad fixed.
This significant bit of information, however, Dave advised the Guzmansnot to make public for the time being.
Toward midday Tad Lewis and three of his men arrived with the news thatUrbina had left for Pueblo before they could intercept him.
"He's got a girl up there, and he's gone to get married," Tadexplained. "I'm sure sorry we missed him."
Dave smiled grimly at the speaker.
"Are you sure he didn't cross to the other side?" he asked.
Lewis retorted warmly: "Adolfo's an all-right hombre, and I'll backhim. So 'll Ed Austin, I guess me an' Ed are responsible, ain't we?"Some skeptical expression in his hearer's face prompted him to inquire,brusquely, "Don't you believe what I'm telling you about his goin' toPueblo?"
"I guess he's gone--somewhere."
Tad uttered an angry exclamation. "Looks to me like you'd made up yourmind to saddle this thing onto him whether he done it or not. Well,he's a poor Mexican, but I won't stand to see him railroaded, andneither will 'Young Ed.'"
"No?"
"You he
ard me! Ed will alibi him complete."
Law answered, sharply: "You tell Ed Austin to go slow with his alibis.And you take this for what it's worth to you: I'm going to get all thecattle-rustlers in this county--ALL of them, understand?"
Lewis flushed redly and sputtered: "If you make this stick with Adolfo,nobody 'll be safe. I reckon Urbina's word is as good as old Ricardo's.Everybody knows what HE is."
Later when Dave met the Guzmans, Ricardo told him, excitedly, "Thathorse Tad Lewis is riding is the one I saw yesterday."
"Are you sure?"
"Listen, senor. Men in cities remember the faces they see; I have livedall my life among horses, and to me they are like men. I seldom forget."
"Very well. Tad says Urbina has gone to Pueblo to get married, so I'mgoing to follow him, and I shall be there when he arrives."
"Bueno! Another matter"--Ricardo hesitated--"your bonita--the prettymare. She is buried deep."
"I'm glad," said Dave. "I think I shall sleep better for knowing that."
Since the recent rain had rendered the black valley roads impassablefor automobiles, Dave decided to go to Pueblo by rail, even though itwas a roundabout way, and that afternoon found him jolting over theleisurely miles between Jonesville and the main line. He was lookingforward to a good night's sleep when he arrived at the junction; but onboarding the north-bound through train he encountered Judge Ellsworth,who had just heard of the Garza killing, and of course was eager fordetails. The two sat in the observation-car talking until a late hour.
Knowing the judge for a man of honor and discretion. Dave unburdenedhimself with the utmost freedom regarding his suspicions of Ed Austin.
Ellsworth nodded. "Yes, Ed has thrown in with the Rebel junta in SanAntone, and Tad Lewis is the man they use to run arms and supplies inthis neighborhood. That's why he and Ed are so friendly. Urbina isprobably your cattle thief, but he has a hold over Ed, and so he rodeto Las Palmas when he was pursued, knowing that no jury would convicthim over Austin's testimony."
"Do you think Ed would perjure himself?" Dave asked.
"He has gone clean to the bad lately; there's no telling what he'll do.I'd hate to see you crowd him, Dave."
"They call you the best lawyer in this county because you settle somany cases out of court." The judge smiled at this. "Well, here's achance for you to do the county a good turn and keep Ed Austin out oftrouble."
"How?"
"The prosecuting attorney is a new man, and he wants to make areputation by breaking up the Lewis gang."
"Well?"
"He intends to cinch Urbina, on Ricardo's and my testimony. You're afriend of Austin's; you'd better tip him to set his watch ahead a fewhours and save himself a lot of trouble. The prosecuting attorney don'tlike Ed any too well. Understand?"
The judge pondered this suggestion for a moment. "'Young Ed' is a queerfellow. Once in a while he gets his neck bowed."
"So do I," Law declared, quietly. "He treated me like a hobo--sent meto the kitchen for a hand-out. That sticks. If I hadn't tamed downconsiderably these late years, I'd have--wound him up, right there."
From beneath his drooping lids Ellsworth regarded the Ranger curiously."You HAVE a bad temper, haven't you?"
"Rotten!"
"I know. You were a violent boy. I've often wondered how you weregetting along. How do you feel when you're--that way?"
It was the younger man's turn to hesitate. "Well, I don't feel anythingwhen I'm mad," he confessed. "I'm plumb crazy, I guess. But I feelplenty bad afterwards."
There was a flicker of the judge's eyelids.
Dave went on musingly: "I dare say it's inherited. They tell me myfather was the same. He was--a killer."
"Yes. He was all of that."
"Say! WAS he my father?"
Ellsworth started. "What do you mean?"
Dave lifted an abstracted gaze from the Pullman carpet. "I hardly knowwhat I mean, Judge. But you've had hunches, haven't you? Didn't youever KNOW that something you thought was true wasn't true at all? Well,I never felt as if I had Frank Law's blood in me."
"This is interesting!" Ellsworth stirred and leaned forward. "Whatevermade you doubt it, Dave?"
"Um-m. Nothing definite. That's what's so unsatisfactory. But, forinstance, my mother was Mexican---"
"Spanish."
"All right. Am I Spanish? Have I any Spanish blood in me?"
"She didn't look Spanish. She was light-complexioned, for one thing. Weboth know plenty of people with a Latin strain in them who look likeAnglo-Saxons. Isn't there anything else?"
"Nothing I can lay my finger on, except some kid fancies and--thathunch I spoke about."
Ellsworth sat back with a deep breath. "You were educated in the North,and your boyhood was spent at school and college, away from everythingMexican."
"That probably accounts for it," Law agreed; then his face lit with aslow smile. "By the way, don't tell Mrs. Austin that I'm a sort ofcollege person. She thinks I'm a red-neck, and she sends me books."
Ellsworth laughed silently. "Your talk is to blame, Dave. Has she sentyou The Swiss Family Robinson?"
"No. Mostly good, sad romances with an uplift--stories full of lancesat rest, and Willie-boys in tin sweaters. Life must have been mightyinteresting in olden days, there was so much loving and killing goingon. The good women were always beautiful, too, and the villains neverhad a redeeming trait. It's a shame how human nature has got mixed upsince then, isn't it? There isn't a 'my-lady' in all those books whocould bust a cow-pony or run a ranch like Las Palmas. Say, Judge, how'dyou like to have to live with a perfect lady?"
"Don't try your damned hog-Latin on me," chided the lawyer. "AlaireAustin's romance is sadder than any of those novels."
Dave nodded. "But she doesn't cry about it." Then he asked, gravely:"Why didn't she pick a real fellow, who'd kneel and kiss the hem of herdress and make a man of himself? That's what she wants--love andsacrifice, and lots of both. If I were Ed Austin I'd wear her glove inmy bosom and treat her like those queens in the stories. Incense andadoration and---"
"What's the matter with you?" queried the judge.
"I guess I'm lonesome."
"Are you smitten with that girl?"
Dave laughed. "Maybe! Who wouldn't be? Why doesn't she divorce thatbum--she could do it easy enough--and then marry a chap who could runLas Palmas for her?"
"A man about six feet three or four," acidly suggested the judge.
"That's the picture I have in mind."
"You think you could run Las Palmas?"
"I wouldn't mind trying."
"Really?"
"Foolish question number three."
"You must never marry," firmly declared the older man. "You'd make abad husband, Dave."
"She ought to know how to get along with a bad husband, by this time."
Both men had been but half serious. Ellsworth knew his companion'swords carried no disrespect; nevertheless, he said, gravely:
"If you ever think of marrying I want you to come to me. Promise?"
"I'll do it--on the way back from church."
"No. On the way to church. I'll have something to tell you."
"Tell me now," urged Law.
"There's nothing to tell, yet."
"I'll have no old ruffians kissing my brand-new bride," Dave averred.
The judge's face broadened in a smile. "Thank Heaven 'Young Ed' has theinsides of a steel range, and so my pet client is safe from yourmercenary schemes for some years. Just the same, if you ever do thinkof marrying--remember--I want you to come to me--and I'll cure you."