"The riff-raff of the county are back of it, but the worst of it is that they've got a lot of good people in with them. Some of the Flying V Y riders are in town too. I never saw so much drinking before."
"When is it to be?"
"I don't know."
"Who told you?"
"Bud Proctor. He says Yankie and Albeen and that crowd are spending hundreds of dollars at the bars."
"I knew there was somethin' on foot soon as we hit town—felt it in the air." The sheriff looked at his watch. "We can just catch the afternoon train, Jack. Take this bird downstairs an' lock him up. I'll join you in a minute."
"What are you going to do?" asked Lee as soon as they were alone.
"Goin' to slip Jim aboard the train an' take him to Santa Fe."
"Can you do it without being seen?"
"I'll tell you that later," he answered with a grim smile. "Much obliged, honey. I'm goin' to be right busy now, but I'll see you soon as I get back to town."
Lee nodded good-bye and wait out. She liked it in him that just now he had no time even for her. From the door she glanced back. Already he was busy getting his guns ready.
Prince got his keys and unlocked the room where Clanton was. Jim was on the bed reading an old newspaper.
"Hello, Billie," he grinned.
"We're leaving on the afternoon train, Jim. Get a move on you an' hustle yore things together."
"Thought you weren't goin' till next week."
"Changed my mind. Jim, there's trouble afoot. Yore enemies are all in town. I want to get you away."
Clanton did not bat an eye. "Plannin' a necktie party, are they?"
"They've got notions. Mine are different." "Do I get a gun if it comes to a showdown, Billie?"
"You do. I'll appoint you a deputy."
Jim laughed. "That sounds reasonable."
Goodheart joined them. The three men left the back door of the court-house and cut across the square. The station was three blocks distant. Before they had covered a hundred yards a boy on the other side of the street stopped, stared at them, and disappeared into the nearest saloon.
The prisoner looked at his friend and grinned gayly. "Somethin' stirrin' soon. We're liable to have a breeze in this neighborhood, looks like."
They reached the station without being molested, but down the street could be seen much bustle of men running to and fro. Prince looked at them anxiously.
"The clans are gathering," murmured Clanton nonchalantly, his hands in his pockets. "Don't you reckon maybe you'll have to feed me to the wolves after all, Billie?"
A saddled horse blinked in the sun beside the depot, the bridle rein trailing on the ground. Its owner sat on a dry-goods box and whittled. Jim glanced at the bronco casually. Jack Goodheart also observed the cowpony. He whispered to the sheriff.
Prince turned to his prisoner. "Jim, you can take that horse an' hit the dust, if you like."
"Meanin' that you can't protect me?"
The salient jaw of the sheriff tightened. He looked what he was, a man among ten thousand, quiet and forceful, strong as tested steel.
"You'll have exactly the same chance to weather this that we will."
A mob of men was moving down the street in loose formation. There was still time for a man to fling himself into the saddle and gallop away.
"You'd rather I'd stay, Billie."
"Yes. I'm sheriff. I'd like to show this drunken outfit they can't take a prisoner from me."
Clanton gave a little whoop of delight. "Go to it, son. You're law west of the Pecos. Let's see you make it stick."
Live-Oaks was as yet the terminus of the railroad. The train backed into the station just as the first of the mob arrived.
"Nothin' doin', Prince," announced Yankie, swaggering forward. "You're not goin' to take this fellow Clanton away. We've come to get him."
"That's right," agreed Albeen.
Jimmie-Go-Get-'Em grinned. "Makes twice now you've come to get me."
"We didn't make it go last time. Different now," said Bancock, moving forward.
"That's near enough," ordered Prince. "You've made a mistake, boys. I'm sheriff of Washington County, and this man's my prisoner."
"He's yore old side kick, too, ain't he?" jeered Yankie.
Goodheart, following the orders he had received, moved forward to the engine and climbed into the cab beside the engineer and fireman. The sheriff and his prisoner backed to the steps of the smoking-car. Billie had had a word with the brakeman, his young friend Bud Proctor, who had at once locked the door at the other end of the smoker.
"Now," said Prince in a low voice.
Jim ran up lightly to the platform of the coach and passed inside. A howl of anger rose from the mob. There was a rush forward. Billie was on the lower step. His long leg lifted, the toe caught Yankie on the point of the chin, and the rustler went back head first into the crowd as though he had been shot from a catapult.
Instantly Prince leaped for the platform and whirled on the mob. He held now a gun in each hand. His eyes glittered dangerously as they swept the upturned faces. They carried to every man in the crowd the message that his prisoner could not be taken as long as the sheriff was alive.
Clanton threw open a window of the coach, rested his arms on the sill, and looked out. Again there was a roar of rage and a forward surge of the dense pack on the station platform.
"He ain't even got irons on the man's hands!" a voice shouted. "It's a frame-up to git him away from us!"
"Don't hide back there in the rear, Roush. Come right up to the front an' tell me that," called back Prince. "You're right about one thing. I don't need to handcuff Clanton. He has surrendered for trial, an' I'm here to see he gets a fair one. I'll do it if I have to put irons in his hands—shootin' irons."
Jim Clanton, his head framed in the window, laughed insolently. He was a picture of raffish, devil-may-care ease.
"Don't let Billie bluff you, boys. We can't bump off more'n a dozen or so of you. Hop to it."
"You won't laugh so loud when the rope's round yore gullet," retorted
Albeen.
"That rope ain't woven, yet," flung back the young fellow coolly.
Even as he spoke a lariat whistled through the air. Jim threw up a hand and the loop slid harmlessly down the side of the car. One of the riders of the Flying V Y had tried to drag the prisoner out with a reata.
"You mean well, but you'll never win a roping contest, Syd," jeered Clanton. "Good of you an' all my old friends to gather here to see me off, I see you back there, Roush. It's been some years since we met, an' me always lookin' for you to say to you a few well-chosen words. I'll shoot straighter next time."
The vigilantes raised a howl of fury. They were like a wolf pack eager for the kill. Between them and their prey stood one man, cool, indomitable, steady as a rock. He held death in each hand, every man present knew it. They could get Clanton if they were willing to pay the price, but though there were game men in the mob, not one of them wanted to be the first to put his foot on the lower step of the coach.
From the other end of the car came the sudden noise of hammering. Some one had found a sledge in the baggage-room and with a dozen armed men back of him was trying to break down the door.
Prince called to his prisoner. "You've got to get in this, Jim. I appoint you deputy sheriff. Unstrap this belt from my waist. Take the other end of the car an' hold it. No shootin' unless it comes to a showdown. Understand?"
Clanton nodded. His eyes gleamed. "I'll behave proper, Billie."
Five seconds later the beating on the door stopped. The eyes of the big blacksmith with the hammer popped out with a ludicrous terror. Go-Get-'Em Jim was standing in the aisle grinning at him with a six-gun in each hand. With a wild whoop the horseshoer dropped the sledge and turned. He flung himself down the steps carrying with him half a dozen others. Not till he was safe in his own shop two blocks away did he stop running.
A shrill whistle rang out from the side of the tra
in farthest from the station. The wheels began to move slowly. There was a rush for the engine. Jack Goodheart stood in the door of the cab ready for business.
"No passengers allowed here, boys," he announced calmly. "Take the coaches in the rear."
A dozen revolvers cracked. There was a rattle of breaking windows. The engine, baggage-car, and smoker moved forward, leaving the rest of the train on the track.
Men, swarming like ants, had climbed to the top of the cars, evidently with some idea of getting at their victim from above. Some of these were on the forward coaches. They began to drop off hurriedly as the station fell to the rear.
The wheels turned faster. Bud Proctor swung aboard and joined the sheriff.
"I cut off the other cars and gave the signal to start," he explained triumphantly.
"Good boy, Bud. Knew I could tie to you," Prince answered with the warm smile that always won him friends.
They passed into the car together. Clanton was leaning far out of the window waving a mocking hand of farewell to the crowd on the platform. He drew his head in and handed the weapons back to his friend.
"Don't I make a good deputy, Billie? I didn't fire even once."
Chapter XXIX
"They Can't Hang Me If I ain't There"
The jury brought in a verdict of murder in the first degree. Clanton was sentenced to be hanged at Live-Oaks four weeks after the day the trial ended. Prince himself had been called back to Washington County to deal with a band of rustlers who had lately pulled off a series of bold, wholesale cattle thefts. He left Goodheart to bring the prisoner back with him in case of a conviction.
The deputy sheriff left the train at Los Vegas, to which point Prince had sent a man with horses to meet Jack and the convicted murderer. It was not likely that the enemies of Clanton would make another attempt to frustrate the law, but there was a chance that they would. Goodheart did not take the direct road to Live-Oaks, but followed the river valley toward Los Portales.
The party reached the Roubideau ranch at dusk of the third night. Pauline had been at the place three months keeping house for her father. She flew to meet Jim, her eyes filled with a divine pity. Both hands went out to his manacled ones impulsively. Her face glowed with a soft, welcoming warmth.
"You poor boy! You poor, poor boy!" she cried. Then, flaming, she turned on Goodheart: "Bel et bien! Why do you load him down with chains? Are you afraid of him?"
The deputy flushed. "I have no right to take any chances of an escape.
You know that."
"I know he is innocent. Why did they find him guilty?"
"I had no evidence," explained Jim simply. "Dad Wrayburn swore I shot twice at Webb just before I disappeared in the brush. Then a shot came out of the chaparral. It's not reasonable to suppose some one else fired it, especially when the bullet was one that fitted a forty-four."
"But you didn't fire it. You told me so in your letter."
"My word didn't count with the jury. I'd have to claim that, anyhow, to save my life. My notion is that the bullet didn't come from a six-gun at all, but from a seventy-three rifle. But I can't prove that either."
"It isn't fair. It—it's an outrage." Polly burst into tears and took the slim young fellow into her arms. "They ought to know you wouldn't do that. Why didn't your friends tell them so?"
He smiled, a little wistfully. "A gunman doesn't have friends, Polly. Outside of you an' Lee an' Billie I haven't any. All the newspapers in the territory an' all the politicians an' most of the decent people have been pullin' for a death sentence. Well, they've got it." He stroked her hair softly. "Don't you worry, girl. They won't get a chance to hang me."
Pauline released him, dabbed at her eyes, and ran, choking, into the house.
"You've got to be in trouble to make a real hit with Miss Roubideau," suggested the lank deputy, a little bitterly. "I'll take those bracelets off now, Clanton. You can wash for supper."
Polly saw to it, anyhow, that the prisoner had the best to eat there was in the house. She made a dinner of spring chicken, mashed potatoes, hot biscuits, jelly, and apple pie.
A rider for the Flying V Y dropped in after they had eaten and bridled like a turkey cock at sight of Clanton.
"Don't you let him git away from you, Jack," he warned the officer. "We're allowin' to have a holiday on the sixth up at our place so as to go to the show. It is the sixth, ain't it?" he jeered, turning to the handcuffed man on the lounge.
"The sixth is correct," answered Jim coolly, meeting him eye to eye.
"You wouldn't talk that way if Clanton was free," said Goodheart. "You're taggin' yoreself a bully an' a cheap skate when you do it."
"Say, is that any of yore business, Mr. Deputy Sheriff?"
"It is when you talk to my prisoner. Cut it out, Swartz."
"All right."
The cowpuncher turned to Pauline, who had come to the door and stood there. "You'll be goin' to the big show on the sixth, Miss Roubideau. Live-Oaks will be a sure-enough live town that day."
The young woman walked straight up to the big cowpuncher. Her eyes blazed. "Get out of this house. Don't ever come here again. Don't speak to me if you meet me."
The Flying V Y rider was taken aback. Like a good many young fellows within a radius of a hundred miles, he was a candidate for the favor of Pierre Roubideau's daughter.
"Why, I—I—" he stammered. "I didn't aim for to offend you. This fellow bushwhacked my boss. He—"
"That isn't true," she interrupted. "He didn't do it."
"Sure he did it. Go-Get-'Em Jim is a killer. A girl like you, Miss
Roubideau, has got no business stickin' up for a bad man who—"
"Didn't you hear me? I told you to go."
"You've been invited to remove yoreself from the place an' become a part of the outdoor scenery, Swartz," cut in Goodheart, a snap to his jaw. "I'd take that invite pronto if I was you."
The cowpuncher picked up his hat and walked out. The drawling voice of the prisoner followed him.
"Don't you worry, Polly. They can't hang me if I ain't there, can they?"
The deputy guessed that Pauline wished to talk alone with Clanton. Presently he arose and sauntered to the door. "I want to see yore father about some horses Billie needs. Back soon."
He gave them a half-hour, but he took pains to see that his assistant covered the back door while he watched the front of the house. The prisoner was handcuffed, but Jack did not intend to take any chances. Personally he believed that Clanton was guilty, but whether he was or not it was his duty to bring the convicted man safely to Live-Oaks. This he meant to do.
Chapter XXX
Polly has a Plan
Pauline moved across the room and sat down beside Jim. An eager light shone in her soft, brown eyes.
"Listen!" she ordered in a low voice. "I've got a plan. There's a chance that it will work, I think. But tell me first about your sleeping arrangements. Does Jack or the other guard sit up and watch you all the time?"
"No. The champion roper of New Mexico, Arizona, an' Texas throws the diamond hitch on yours truly. He does an expert job, tucks me up, an' says good-night. He knows I'm perfectly safe till mornin', especially since both he an' Brad sleep in the same room with me."
"Well, I'm going to give you dad's room." She leaned forward and whispered to him steadily for five minutes.
The sardonic mockery had vanished from the face of the prisoner. He listened, every nerve and fiber of him at alert attention. Occasionally he asked a question. Carefully she explained the plan, going over each detail of it again and again.
Jim Clanton was efficient. In those days it was a necessary quality for a bad man if he wished to continue to function. He offered a suggestion or two which Pauline incorporated in her proposed campaign of action. At best her scheme was hazardous. It depended upon all things dovetailing properly. But he was in no place to pick and choose. All he asked was a chance and an even break of luck.
"You dandy girl!" he cried softly,
and took her two hands between the palms of his fettered ones. "I'm a scalawag, Polly. But if you pull this off for me, I'll right-about-face. That's a promise. Somehow I've never acted like I wanted to. I've done a heap of wild an' foolish things, an' I've killed whenever it was put up to me. I don't reckon any woman that married me would be real happy. But if you'll take a chance 111 go away from here an' well Make a fresh start. You're the only girl there is for me."
A faint smile lay in her eyes. "You used to think Lee was the only girl, didn't you?"
"Well, I don't now. I like Polly Roubideau better."
Abruptly she flung at him a statement that was a question. "You didn't kill Mr. Webb."
"No. I never killed but one man without givin' him an even break. That was Peg-Leg Warren, an' he was a cold-blooded murderer."
A troubled little frown creased her forehead. "I've thought for more than a year now that you—liked me that way. And I've had it in my mind a great deal as to what I ought to do if you spoke to me about it. I wish you had a good wife, Jim. Maybe she could save you from yourself."
"Mebbe she could, Polly."
The lashes of her eyelids fell. She looked down at the bands of iron around his small wrists. "I—I've prayed over it, Jim. But I'm not clear that I've found an answer." Her low voice broke a little. "I don't know what to say."
"Is it that you are afraid of what I'm goin' to be? Can't you trust yore life with me? I shouldn't think you could."
Her eyes lifted and met his bravely. "I think that wouldn't stop me if—if I cared for you that way."
"It's Billie Prince, then, is it?"
"No, it isn't Billie Prince. Never mind who it is. What I must decide is whether I can make you the kind of wife you need without being exactly—"
"In love with me," he finished for her.
"Yes. I've always liked you very much. You've been good to me. I love you like a brother, I think. Oh, I don't know how to say it."
"Let's get this straight, Polly. Is there some one else you love?"
A tide of color flooded her face to the roots of the hair. She met his steady look reluctantly.
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