CHAPTER XIX.AT ODDS WITH THE SHERIFF.
It was midnight when Buffalo Bill turned his horse over to Sim Pierce to be taken to the corral, and stepped into the office of the Delmonico Hotel.
There were but three men in the office—Jordan, Isaacs and the clerk.
The moment the scout entered the room a load of anxiety seemed to drop from the sky pilot’s shoulders. He started toward the scout with outstretched hand.
“I’m more than glad to see you, Buffalo Bill!” he exclaimed. “Our friend Nate is the victim of some dastardly plot, and circumstantial evidence is all against him.”
“Let’s go to the jail and see him, Jordan,” said the scout.
“The sheriff won’t allow any one to see him.”
“I reckon he’ll let me.”
“He says he won’t let a soul into the jail to-night. But here’s some one else you can talk with—Abraham Isaacs, the man from whom the diamonds were taken.”
The scout whirled on Isaacs. Under his searching eyes, the Jew lowered his face. The two hands that held his battered satchel on his knees trembled perceptibly. In three strides the scout was at the Jew’s side.
“Your name is Abraham Isaacs, is it?” he demanded sharply.
“Yah, so,” the Jew answered, keeping his eyes averted.
“You say young Dunbar stole some diamonds from you?”
“I say dot I lose some tiamonts. Dey was foundt on Dunbar. Vat you t’ink?”
“I think there’s been a hocus-pocus, and that Dunbar is getting the worst of it. Where are the diamonds you lost, Isaacs?”
The Jew opened the satchel and took out a handful of rings, watch charms and buttons—all set with stones. The diamond-mounted buttons were affected by some of the wealthy cattle barons.
Buffalo Bill picked up one of the rings and looked at it closely. Isaacs scarcely breathed during the examination, fearing that Buffalo Bill might discover that the stone was an imitation.
“Nate wasn’t intending to return to the ranch for a day or two,” said the scout, dropping the ring into the Jew’s hand. “Why did he start back in the afternoon of the same day he reached Hackamore?”
“Pecause,” croaked Isaacs, “he wanted to get avay mit der tiamonts.”
“That wasn’t the reason,” spoke up Jordan calmly. “He didn’t know I had sent Sim Pierce to the Star-A ranch. When he saw Pierce, and Pierce told him, Nate came to my room and I gave him the information I had sent to you. He was worried, and decided to ride back to the ranch at once. There is no doubt but it was that move that aroused suspicion against him. The sheriff was here in the office when Isaacs reported the robbery, and he at once started after Nate with a posse. When Nate was overhauled and searched, the diamonds were found in his saddlebags.”
“How was it possible for Nate to take the stones—assuming that he did take them?”
“I vas mit him in vone of der hotel rooms,” answered the Jew, “und I sold him a tiamont ring vort’ vone hundert an’ feefty toller for vone hundert tollar. It must haf been vile he vas buying der ring dot he took der odder t’ings. Dot’s der only shance he vouldt haf.”
“You’re too sharp, Isaacs,” declared the scout, “to let any one fool you that way. Nate couldn’t have taken the stones right under your eyes.”
“Vell, how it vas der shtones vas foundt in his sattlepags?”
“There’s an explanation,” said the scout curtly, “and Nate isn’t involved in it. Were Benner, or any of his men, in town during the afternoon?”
“Jerry Benner was in town, Buffler Bill,” called the clerk from behind the counter.
“Was he at this hotel at the time of the robbery?”
“Nix, he wasn’t at this hotel at all. I only heerd he was in town from fellers that seen him.”
“Did you see Jerry Benner, Isaacs?” asked the scout, fixing a keen glance on the Jew.
“How shouldt I see him?” quavered Isaacs.
“I don’t know how you did, but did you?”
“No, I dit nod see Cherry.”
Once more the scout turned to the clerk.
“Keep your eyes on the Jew, will you,” he asked, “while Jordan and I go to the jail for a talk with Nate Dunbar? If he tries to get away, pull a gun on him. This robbery business is going to be sifted to the bottom, and those who have got Dunbar into this fix are going to suffer for it.”
“I’ll watch him, ye kin bet on that,” said the clerk.“He won’t leave here, Buffler Bill, an’ when ye want him ye’ll know whar ter find him.”
“Buenos!” The scout whirled away towards the door. “Come on, parson,” said he; “we’ll now move toward the jail.”
The jail was an isolated shanty at the end of the street. Gloomy shadows hung around it. As the scout and the sky pilot came up in front of the small structure, a man started up out of the shadows and planted himself in front of them.
“That’s far enough!” the man snapped.
“It’s not far enough to suit me,” returned the scout.
“Well, I’m the one that’s boss here.”
“Who are you?”
“Bloom, the sheriff.”
“AndI’m Buffalo Bill, and a friendof Nate Dunbar. I’ve come to talk with him, and Mr. Jordan is with me.”
“You can’t talk with him to-night. That shot goes as it lays.”
Bloom, the sheriff, had a rifle in his hands. As he spoke he brought it to “port arms” and glared at the scout over the barrel.
“I’d rather not have any trouble with you, Bloom,” said the scout, the words clicking like the snap of a breechblock, “but you’re putting on the screws at a time when it’s unnecessary and useless. Why can’t we go in and talk with Nate?”
“Because I tell you you can’t,” ground out the sheriff.
The next moment the scout had made a move. It was a lightning-like move, and when the sheriff had caught his breath the scout was standing in front of him with the rifle. Nor was the rifle at “port arms;” its point was leveled at Bloom’s breast.
“That’s the way you stack up, is it?” asked the sheriff, in a tense voice.
“It is,” was the cool reply. “Maybe you’d like to lock me up with Dunbar? Think twice before you try. This is not a time to say ‘no’ to me, Bloom. Lead the way into the jail.”
The sheriff hesitated.
“On an occasion like this I’m not in the habit of repeating an order,” went on the scout significantly.
The sheriff snapped his jaws together, whirled on his heel and unlocked the door of the jail. When he had stepped inside, the scout and the sky pilot crossed the threshold after him.
“Strike a light, Bloom,” ordered the scout.
A match was scratched and a lamp lighted. In the middle of the shanty’s one room stood a bench; and on the bench, wrists and ankles manacled, sat Dunbar.
His face was haggard, but a light of hope shone in his eyes as they rested on the scout.
“Buffalo Bill!” he exclaimed joyfully. “I thought you’d come as soon as you found out what had happened to me. Does Hattie know? Or Dick?”
“Neither of them has been told, Nate,” answered the scout, stepping to the young rancher’s side and dropping a kindly hand on his shoulder. “Nor will they know,” he added, “until we get you out of this and you tell them yourself.”
The handcuffs rattled as Dunbar gripped the scout’s hand.
“You’re a friend worth having, amigo,” he murmured, “same as Jordan, there.”
“This foul injustice, Nate,” said the sky pilot, “will not be allowed to continue long. Truth will prevail, andthose who have caused this trouble will be made to suffer for it.”
“What do you know about those diamonds they say you stole, Nate?” inquired the scout. “Anything?”
“Not a thing, Buffalo Bill,” protested Dunbar. “I was hiking for the ranch when Bloom, and three cowboys, came slashing up alongside my horse, with their guns out. They ordered me to lift my hands. I did as they told me. Bloom hunted through my saddlebags and pulled out the diamonds. That was the first time I ever saw them.”
“Likely yarn,” grunted Bloom. “Caught with the goods on, an’ you haven’t the nerve to own up.”
“I didn’t take the diamonds!” cried Dunbar angrily.
“You’ll have a chance to prove it in court. And I reckon you won’t prove it. You’ll go to the nearest ‘pen,’ and that’ll stop these troubles in the cow country.”
The scout turned slowly and swept his eyes over Bloom.
“You’re doing a heap of talking, seems to me,” said he, “for a man who’s merely an officer of the law. What is it to you whether Dunbar goes free, or goes over the road? Anything personal in it for you?”
The sheriff scowled but did not reply.
“He’s a friend of Lige Benner’s,” declared Dunbar, “and no friend of Perry’s or mine. While we were having our hard time on the Brazos, he was throwing the gaff into us every chance he got.”
“You’re a pill,” scowled Bloom, “and you ought to be run out of the country. That’s how I feel.”
“Well,” said the scout scathingly, “be advised by me, Bloom, and don’t let your personal spite interfere with your duties as a public officer.”
“You’re not so high an’ mighty,” sneered Bloom. “Because you’re a government scout, you ain’t bigger’n the whole State of Texas.”
“I’m big enough to look after you and take care of Nate,” replied Buffalo Bill. “The boy’s no thief.”
“Prove it!” grunted Bloom.
The door was kicked open just at that moment, and Wild Bill pushed breathlessly into the room.
“Sure we’ll prove it!” he cried; “by gorry, that’s what I’m here for—it’s what I’ve been pounding over this range for during the last five hours. Nate’s innocent! Listen to the mellow trill of my bazoo, all hands!”
Wild Bill dropped wearily down on the bench beside Dunbar.
The Laramie man presented an appearance that was badly demoralized, to say the least. He still wore his mismatched footgear and his torn slouch hat. Where the disguise had been stripped away his usual costume showed itself, but it did not appreciably improve his appearance. His hands, face and clothing were covered with grime.
“Can—can this be Mr. Hickok?” faltered the sky pilot.
“It’s Wild Bill, parson,” laughed the scout. “Where’d you come from, pard?”
“From the Star-A ranch last, amigo,” replied Wild Bill. “Old Nomad gave me a tip as to what had happened, and where you were, and I raced on here. Beeswax has had some travel to-night—and it was a bee line and the keen jump every foot of the way.”
“What happened at the Circle-B?”
“I’m getting to that. The Jew, Abe Isaacs, is at the hotel. I tarried there just long enough to see him in the office and to find out that you were at the jail. Ithink the Jew better be here with us while the case is tried.”
“This case ain’t goin’ to be tried,” cried the sheriff, “till it comes up in the regular way.”
“Who’s he, Pard Cody?” asked Wild Bill, nodding toward Bloom.
“He’s the sheriff,” answered the scout.
“Oh, is that all? Can’t he be quiet till he’s spoken to? You’re the judge, Buffalo Bill, and the parson is the jury. I’m attorney for the defense, and the sheriff can be attorney for the prosecution, if he wants to. Who’s going after Isaacs—the judge or the jury?”
“The jury had better go,” laughed Jordan; “the judge has to keep an eye on the attorney for the prosecution. I’ll be back before many minutes have passed.”
The sky pilot left the jail.
“I’ve stood for this foolishness about as long as I’m a-going to,” snarled Bloom. “Give me that gun, Buffalo Bill, and clear out o’ here.”
“Not till after the trial,” was the cool reply. “Calm down, Bloom. Don’t get rantankerous. I’ve got a Long Tom and two sixes, and Pard Hickok has a pair of forty-fives. Just reflect on the amount of lead we could throw at one broadside, and take things as you find them.”
“Has the sheriff got an ax to grind, Pard Cody,” asked Wild Bill, “or is he just naturally ugly?”
“A little of both, I reckon.”
“You fellers can’t ride roughshod over the law o’ this State,” cried Bloom.
“We’ll ride roughshod over you,” flung back Wild Bill, “if you give us any more of your back talk. WhatI’ve gone through to-night hasn’t sweetened my temper any.”
“Have you found out something that proves I’m not a thief?” asked Nate.
“I’m next to a whole lote, Nate, that maybe you never dreamed about,” said Wild Bill. “But wait till the case comes to trial; wait till—— Ah, the parson and the Hebrew! Here’s where we get busy.”
It seemed evident that Isaacs had not come willingly to the jail. The sky pilot had an arm hooked through his and was half dragging him along. From one of the Jew’s hands swung his always-present satchel.
Isaacs’ face was an ashen hue under the lamplight, and with his free hand he pulled nervously at his long beard.
“Here’s Mr. Isaacs, Buffalo Bill,” announced the sky pilot, pushing his companion forward.
“Don’t be scared, Isaacs,” said Wild Bill, getting up from the bench, “you’re only a witness. Sit down.”
“Chentlemen,” quavered the Jew, sinking down on the bench, “vat is der meaning of dis?”
“You’ll know in a little while,” answered Wild Bill. “If the attorney for the prosecution—or persecution—will state his case, I’ll come back at him with a handful of cold facts. Go on, Bloom.”
“You fellers’ll not make a fool o’ me,” growled the sheriff. “Just get done with your play and mosey out o’ here. That’s all I want o’ you.”
“Then, your honor,” said Wild Bill, bowing to the scout, “I might as well open up my bag of tricks. This Jew, Abraham Isaacs, came to the Circle-B ranch yesterday and had a palaver with Lige and Jerry Benner. Isaacs was piloted out there by Red Steve, as gracelessa scoundrel as ever went unhung. Lige selected about thirteen hundred dollars worth of jewelry from that bag of Isaacs’, but said he wouldn’t take the stuff unless Isaacs would help him prove Nate Dunbar a thief. Jerry Benner did most of the talking, and——”
“Lieber Gott,” wailed Isaacs suddenly, slumping down on the floor and hugging Wild Bill about the knees. “Dot iss plendy! Say no more, mein friendt! Say no more!”
Wild Bill kicked the peddler away.
“Get back on your bench,” he ordered sternly, “and don’t butt into my argument. Isaacs agreed to come back to Hackamore, while Dunbar was in town, and put up a howl that he had been robbed. Jerry Benner was also to come to town, get some fake diamonds from Isaacs, and put them in Dunbar’s saddlebags. That’s what happened. Lige Benner and his brother Jerry fixed up this little game, and Abraham Isaacs helped them carry it through. Is that so?” he cried, turning on the Jew. “Answer!”
“Ach, it iss so!” groaned Isaacs. “Vat a miserable mans I vas! I didn’t vant to do dot, aber I lose der sale if I don’t.”
“You admit,” went on Wild Bill, “that you gave those diamonds to Jerry Benner?”
“Yah, so!”
“And that Benner was going to put them in Dunbar’s saddlebags?”
“It vas like you say! Vat a most unhabby man iss me! Mercy, chentlemen! Don’t do nodding mit me. It vas Lige und Cherry Benner.”
“The defense rests,” said Wild Bill.
“The case goes to the jury,” said the scout, turning to the sky pilot. “What’s your verdict, parson?”
“Not guilty,” said the sky pilot promptly.
“The prisoner at the bar is discharged,” declared the scout. “Bloom, take off those manacles.”
“I’ll not do any such thing!” cried the sheriff. “I’ll let you kill me first.”
“He ought to be killed, Pard Cody,” growled the Laramie man, “even if you make up your mind you won’t do it. I’d like the pleasure of taking off those iron gyves myself. Hold that rifle on him while I go through his clothes.”
Buffalo Bill brought the rifle to bear on Bloom, and ordered him to put his hands in the air. Bloom fumed and protested, but his hands went up nevertheless.
The Laramie man searched his pockets, found a bunch of keys, and soon had the manacles off the young rancher’s wrists and ankles.
“You men will pay for this high-handed proceeding!” scowled Bloom.
Wild Bill laughed.
“You were the only one who did anything high-handed, sheriff,” he returned.
“How did you find out all this, Wild Bill?” queried the dazed Dunbar. “I had a notion that Lige Benner was back of the play, but there wasn’t any way I could prove it. I seemed to be tied up hard and fast in circumstantial evidence.”
Wild Bill told what had happened to him at the Circle-B ranch. He protected Ace Hawkins, however, by failing to mention his name in the presence of the sheriff. Bloom was manifestly a friend of the Benners, and not to be trusted with any information about Hawkins. TheLaramie man let it appear as though he had effected his own escape by way of the chimney.
“That sounds too good to be true,” said Bloom sarcastically.
“I reckon it does, to you,” returned Wild Bill.
“If you know when you’re well off, sheriff,” said the scout, “you’ll let this matter drop. You don’t show up very well in what has happened. I’m ready to meet you, though, on any grounds you care to cut out.”
Bloom made no answer, but stared stonily at the scout.
“Nate,” pursued Buffalo Bill, “you’ll march out of here arm in arm with your good friend, the sky pilot; Wild Bill, you’ll personally conduct Abe Isaacs back to the hotel office where we can get his testimony in writing; I’ll bring up the rear of the procession and stay company front with Bloom, ready to begin on him whenever he makes the proper sign.”
But the sheriff made no “sign.” The scout and his party walked unmolested out of the jail, and proceeded in the direction of the Delmonico Hotel.
“Shake, Pard Hickok,” said the scout, when they were nearing the hotel office. “You’ve done fine work, although it’s hard to understand how you slipped your bonds and got out of that chimney—but you’re here, and that proves that you called the turn somehow.”
Wild Bill chuckled as he looked around and took the scout’s hand.
“I’m in on this, Wild Bill,” spoke up Dunbar, seizing the Laramie man’s hand when the scout was through with it. “This is something more I owe the scout and his pards.”
“You owe more to the sky pilot, Dunbar, than to any one else,” answered Wild Bill.
“How is that?” asked Jordan.
“I’ll tell you later.”
The trembling Isaacs was conducted into the hotel office and made to write out an account of his agreement with Lige and Jerry Benner. Buffalo Bill, Wild Bill, and Jordan signed the paper as witnesses.
“Now, Isaacs,” said the scout, folding the paper and thrusting it into his pocket, “as it will soon be known to the Benners that they have lost out through you, I’d suggest that you do not linger in Hackamore. An extended sojourn might not be pleasant for you. It’s only a suggestion, however, and you can do as you please.”
“I vill go,” declared Isaacs eagerly, “und I vill go now.”
And he did go—taking Lige Benner’s five hundred dollars with him.
The morning gray was streaking the east when all this business was finished.
“Suppose we go to bed?” said the scout.
“Come out hyer fust, you men,” called a voice from the front of the hotel.
It was the clerk. He had accompanied Isaacs to the corral to make sure that he took his own horse, and he was now calling those in the office from the hitching pole.
Buffalo Bill, Wild Bill, and Jordan hurriedly answered the clerk’s summons. In the dim, ghostly light of coming day a weary horse could be seen with drooping head over the pole. A man was hanging to the saddle—bound to the horn and cantle by a rope. His arms hung limply, and his head was bowed over on the horse’s neck.
“Who is it?” demanded the scout.
“Pass the ante,” the clerk answered. “The hoss must hev come up hyer while I was at the c’ral. The man’s tied in the saddle. By jings, he’s shot an’ past talkin’! It’s—it’s one o’ Benner’s men. It’s Ace Hawkins.”
The sky pilot and Wild Bill both started hastily forward.