The inquest over the body of Mallette created quite a lot of interest, and the six jurors did not hesitate to bring in a verdict to the effect that Mallette had been killed by Peter Conley. Roaring Rigby refused to produce Pete in court.“That half-breed is behind the bars, neck intact,” he told the coroner, “and there he stays until he has to go into a reg’lar courtroom. There’s too much iron among those present, I’ll tell you that.”Jimmy Moran’s testimony regarding the poker game in which Mallette stole a card was rather in favor of Pete; and the audience enjoyed Jimmy’s story of how Roaring was chased by the posse. Jimmy admitted that it was he who brought Pete to jail that night.Every one noticed that Jimmy showed Dawn marked attention during the trial, and Slim was foolish enough to mention this to Jimmy later on.“Is it any of your damn business?” demanded Jimmy. “You may be in charge of my father’s cattle, but you’re not in charge of my father’s son. And get this straight, Slim. If I want to marry—”“Sure, sure,” nodded Slim hastily. “Excuse me, Jimmy.”Slim subsided, but he hurried to the telegraph office and sent a long telegram to Franklyn Moran, explaining what had happened and mentioning that Jimmy might need a bit of fatherly advice regarding matrimony. Not that it mattered to Slim, except that he had orders to keep Moran informed on Jimmy’s activities. Franklyn Moran loved Jimmy, in his own way, and he wanted Jimmy with the Big 4. According to his views of the matter, the sooner Jimmy went broke, the better, perhaps, for the relations between father and son.Kent Cutter, owner of the 7AL, failed to see any humor in Jimmy’s recital of the fruitless chase of Pete Conley. Kent went back to the Black Horse after the inquest, imbibed a sufficient number of drinks to make him free of speech and then proceeded to tell the world that he didn’t care very much for Jimmy Moran.Lovely Lucas, Jimmy’s sole remaining cowboy, was in the Black Horse and heard Cutter’s loud-voiced, profane opinion of Jimmy. Lovely was a huge figure of a man. In fact he was so big that his eight and one-half by six and one-half Stetson did not seem at all out of proportion on his head. He had a big nose and an enormous mouth. He had been born and raised in southern Texas, and he had an easy drawl. He sauntered over to the bar, rested one elbow lazily and considered Cutter.“You jist kinda like to talk, don’tcha?” he said slowly.Cutter turned his bloodshot eyes upon the bulky Lucas.“Mebby,” he said shortly, and turned his back.“He-he-he-he-he!” chuckled Lovely. He had imbibed a few drinks himself.“My talkin’ don’t ache you none, does it?” demanded Cutter frigidly.“It ain’t got that far—yit,” smiled Lovely, “but you’ve done got to remember that Jimmy Moran is my boss, Cutter. He ain’t no damn angel, so anythin’ you feel like sayin’ about him might better be said to his face, ’cause I’ll shore tell him what you said, and I might make it sound a heap worse ’n you would.”“Huh!” snorted Cutter. “That’s no dream!”“I’d prob’ly lie,” said Lovely softly.“You would,” admitted Cutter incautiously.Lovely Lucas moved swiftly for a big man. One huge hand caught the back of Cutter’s muffler, while the other caught the back of his cartridge-belt and, with a heave, he swung Cutter off the floor.“Comin’ up!” snorted Lovely, and he swung Cutter over the bar, letting loose of him in mid-air.The bartender fell out of the way, giving Cutter plenty of room to catch his legs across the top of the back-bar, hooking his spurred heels behind stacks of polished glasses, and bringing everything down on top of him when he crashed to the floor.Lovely whirled around and headed for the door, his mouth wide open in a chuckling laugh. No one tried to stop him. He crossed the street and went straight to the sheriff’s office, where he found Roaring Rigby and Wind River Jim. It was several moments before Lovely was able to tell them what had happened.“I jist kinda valised him over,” laughed Lovely.“Yeah, and you’ll wish you hadn’t,” said Roaring. “That whole 7AL gang will lay for you.”“But he called me a liar,” protested Lovely. “He said somethin’ ought to be done about Jimmy Moran marryin’ Dawn Conley.”Roaring Rigby shifted his eyes and looked down at his boots. Wind River Jim looked reprovingly at Lovely and shook his head. Wind River knew more about it than Lovely did. But Lovely didn’t understand.“If Jimmy wants to wed with that half-breed girl, I reckon we’ll all step out and help make it a success, eh, Roarin’?”Roaring rubbed a thumb along the edge of his boot-top.“Yea-a-ah,” he said slowly. “I reckon you’ve got to stick up for your friends, Lovely.”“Shore! That’s why I played ante-over with Cutter. He-he-he-he! I s’pose English Ed will send me a bill for damages. Cutter’s legs swept every glass off the back-bar.”“And you better tell Jimmy to look out for Ed,” advised Roaring. “That gambler ain’t forgot that Jimmy cooled him off the night that Mallette was killed.”“Oh, Jimmy ain’t asleep, Roarin’. Say, I’ll let you in on somethin’, if you’ll keep still about it. After the inquest, old Mose Conley told Jimmy to keep away from the Hot Creek ranch; said he appreciated what Jimmy was doin’ for ’em, but that Jimmy was to keep away from Dawn. I reckon it was because he hates Jimmy’s pa. He didn’t say that was the reason. Jimmy got kinda hot and told the old man he was aimin’ to marry Dawn. He-he-he-he! The old man says Jimmy better think it over a long time, ’cause Dawn is a half-breed; and Jimmy asks him how long he took to think things over before he married Dawn’s mother. He-he-he-he-he!“He had the old man up a stump, but the old man stuck to it. Jimmy asks him what he’ll do in case he decides to come to see Dawn. ‘I told you not to,’ says the old man. ‘All men look pretty much the same in the dark, and I’ve got to protect myself.’ And there you are. I didn’t talk with Jimmy afterwards; he piled on his bronc and went home.”Some one stopped at the doorway of the office, and they turned to see English Ed. He looked coldly at Lovely.“You owe me forty dollars, Lucas,” said the gambler. “That is the amount of glassware you broke awhile ago.”“Forty dollars,” said Lovely softly. “Lotta glasses, Ed.”“A month’s salary,” said Wind River Jim.“And here’s a letter to take to Jim Moran,” said English Ed, handing Lovely an envelope. “You see that he gets it.”“Yea-a-a-ah? And I owe you forty dollars, eh?” Lovely sat up straight and glared at the gambler. “Say! You cold-jawed card-slicker, do you think I’ll ever pay that? Pay you forty dollars for busted glasses! Why, I wouldn’t give forty dollars for everythin’ in your place, even if they’d throw in your hide and taller.“You think you’re runnin’ this town, don’tcha? You runs Jim Randall out, but the rest of us has kinda got our heels braced,sabe? You’ve got a couple gunmen dealers over there. Mack Ort and Keno Smiley, I’m meanin’. You had three, until Mallette got hung on the hot end of a bullet.“Well, you tell ’em to cut loose any old time. See if they can tear forty dollars’ worth out of my hide, English; and that’s the only way you’ll ever collect. Yeah, I know all about the warnin’ you sent to Jim Randall. You scared him out; but you ain’t scared old Judge Beal out yet. And if I was you, I’d turn right around and go back to my little playmates, knowin’ well that old man Lucas’ little boy ain’t never goin’ to give you that forty dollars. What do you think?”English Ed did not change expression, no matter what he felt. It was no place for him to protest Lovely’s decision. These three hard-bitted cowboys were closer than brothers and, judging from their expressions, welcomed any argument he might start. So he merely nodded coldly, turned and walked away.Lovely grinned widely and looked at the envelope. It was unsealed, and Lovely did not hesitate to open it and take out the enclosure. It read:Jim Moran: Your I.O.U.’s, aggregating over twelve hundred dollars, are long past due. These must be met at once, or I shall be obliged to levy an attachment on the Stumbling K.—EDWARD HOLMES“Twelve hundred dollars!” exploded Lovely. “Jimmy shore played high and handsome, didn’t he! Whooee! Levy an attachment, eh? What kind of a thing is that, Roarin’?”“Some law thing. I told you English Ed would shut down on Jimmy.”“And Jimmy can’t pay it,” declared Wind River Jim. “Why, he ain’t got it. Every time pay-day came around he had to sell enough cows to pay us off. Betcha he ain’t got fifty head of stock left. The Black Horse Saloon has got rich off of Jimmy Moran. He owes the bank, too. They’ve got a mortgage for a couple thousand.”“Yeah, it kinda looks as though Jimmy was about sunk,” agreed Lovely.He walked back to the door and looked out. Cutter was crossing the street, looking down toward the office. He met Ryker in front of the post-office, and they went up the street together.“Cutter and Ryker are pretty good friends, ain’t they?” asked Lovely.“Always have been,” grunted Roaring.“Cutter’s prob’ly fixin’ to have me arrested,” grinned Lovely. “Mebby I better go home while the way is clear. How soon do they have Pete’s trial?”“Next week,” replied Roaring.“Before Judge Beal?”“If he lives that long.”“Who—Pete?”“No, Judge Beal.”
The inquest over the body of Mallette created quite a lot of interest, and the six jurors did not hesitate to bring in a verdict to the effect that Mallette had been killed by Peter Conley. Roaring Rigby refused to produce Pete in court.
“That half-breed is behind the bars, neck intact,” he told the coroner, “and there he stays until he has to go into a reg’lar courtroom. There’s too much iron among those present, I’ll tell you that.”
Jimmy Moran’s testimony regarding the poker game in which Mallette stole a card was rather in favor of Pete; and the audience enjoyed Jimmy’s story of how Roaring was chased by the posse. Jimmy admitted that it was he who brought Pete to jail that night.
Every one noticed that Jimmy showed Dawn marked attention during the trial, and Slim was foolish enough to mention this to Jimmy later on.
“Is it any of your damn business?” demanded Jimmy. “You may be in charge of my father’s cattle, but you’re not in charge of my father’s son. And get this straight, Slim. If I want to marry—”
“Sure, sure,” nodded Slim hastily. “Excuse me, Jimmy.”
Slim subsided, but he hurried to the telegraph office and sent a long telegram to Franklyn Moran, explaining what had happened and mentioning that Jimmy might need a bit of fatherly advice regarding matrimony. Not that it mattered to Slim, except that he had orders to keep Moran informed on Jimmy’s activities. Franklyn Moran loved Jimmy, in his own way, and he wanted Jimmy with the Big 4. According to his views of the matter, the sooner Jimmy went broke, the better, perhaps, for the relations between father and son.
Kent Cutter, owner of the 7AL, failed to see any humor in Jimmy’s recital of the fruitless chase of Pete Conley. Kent went back to the Black Horse after the inquest, imbibed a sufficient number of drinks to make him free of speech and then proceeded to tell the world that he didn’t care very much for Jimmy Moran.
Lovely Lucas, Jimmy’s sole remaining cowboy, was in the Black Horse and heard Cutter’s loud-voiced, profane opinion of Jimmy. Lovely was a huge figure of a man. In fact he was so big that his eight and one-half by six and one-half Stetson did not seem at all out of proportion on his head. He had a big nose and an enormous mouth. He had been born and raised in southern Texas, and he had an easy drawl. He sauntered over to the bar, rested one elbow lazily and considered Cutter.
“You jist kinda like to talk, don’tcha?” he said slowly.
Cutter turned his bloodshot eyes upon the bulky Lucas.
“Mebby,” he said shortly, and turned his back.
“He-he-he-he-he!” chuckled Lovely. He had imbibed a few drinks himself.
“My talkin’ don’t ache you none, does it?” demanded Cutter frigidly.
“It ain’t got that far—yit,” smiled Lovely, “but you’ve done got to remember that Jimmy Moran is my boss, Cutter. He ain’t no damn angel, so anythin’ you feel like sayin’ about him might better be said to his face, ’cause I’ll shore tell him what you said, and I might make it sound a heap worse ’n you would.”
“Huh!” snorted Cutter. “That’s no dream!”
“I’d prob’ly lie,” said Lovely softly.
“You would,” admitted Cutter incautiously.
Lovely Lucas moved swiftly for a big man. One huge hand caught the back of Cutter’s muffler, while the other caught the back of his cartridge-belt and, with a heave, he swung Cutter off the floor.
“Comin’ up!” snorted Lovely, and he swung Cutter over the bar, letting loose of him in mid-air.
The bartender fell out of the way, giving Cutter plenty of room to catch his legs across the top of the back-bar, hooking his spurred heels behind stacks of polished glasses, and bringing everything down on top of him when he crashed to the floor.
Lovely whirled around and headed for the door, his mouth wide open in a chuckling laugh. No one tried to stop him. He crossed the street and went straight to the sheriff’s office, where he found Roaring Rigby and Wind River Jim. It was several moments before Lovely was able to tell them what had happened.
“I jist kinda valised him over,” laughed Lovely.
“Yeah, and you’ll wish you hadn’t,” said Roaring. “That whole 7AL gang will lay for you.”
“But he called me a liar,” protested Lovely. “He said somethin’ ought to be done about Jimmy Moran marryin’ Dawn Conley.”
Roaring Rigby shifted his eyes and looked down at his boots. Wind River Jim looked reprovingly at Lovely and shook his head. Wind River knew more about it than Lovely did. But Lovely didn’t understand.
“If Jimmy wants to wed with that half-breed girl, I reckon we’ll all step out and help make it a success, eh, Roarin’?”
Roaring rubbed a thumb along the edge of his boot-top.
“Yea-a-ah,” he said slowly. “I reckon you’ve got to stick up for your friends, Lovely.”
“Shore! That’s why I played ante-over with Cutter. He-he-he-he! I s’pose English Ed will send me a bill for damages. Cutter’s legs swept every glass off the back-bar.”
“And you better tell Jimmy to look out for Ed,” advised Roaring. “That gambler ain’t forgot that Jimmy cooled him off the night that Mallette was killed.”
“Oh, Jimmy ain’t asleep, Roarin’. Say, I’ll let you in on somethin’, if you’ll keep still about it. After the inquest, old Mose Conley told Jimmy to keep away from the Hot Creek ranch; said he appreciated what Jimmy was doin’ for ’em, but that Jimmy was to keep away from Dawn. I reckon it was because he hates Jimmy’s pa. He didn’t say that was the reason. Jimmy got kinda hot and told the old man he was aimin’ to marry Dawn. He-he-he-he! The old man says Jimmy better think it over a long time, ’cause Dawn is a half-breed; and Jimmy asks him how long he took to think things over before he married Dawn’s mother. He-he-he-he-he!
“He had the old man up a stump, but the old man stuck to it. Jimmy asks him what he’ll do in case he decides to come to see Dawn. ‘I told you not to,’ says the old man. ‘All men look pretty much the same in the dark, and I’ve got to protect myself.’ And there you are. I didn’t talk with Jimmy afterwards; he piled on his bronc and went home.”
Some one stopped at the doorway of the office, and they turned to see English Ed. He looked coldly at Lovely.
“You owe me forty dollars, Lucas,” said the gambler. “That is the amount of glassware you broke awhile ago.”
“Forty dollars,” said Lovely softly. “Lotta glasses, Ed.”
“A month’s salary,” said Wind River Jim.
“And here’s a letter to take to Jim Moran,” said English Ed, handing Lovely an envelope. “You see that he gets it.”
“Yea-a-a-ah? And I owe you forty dollars, eh?” Lovely sat up straight and glared at the gambler. “Say! You cold-jawed card-slicker, do you think I’ll ever pay that? Pay you forty dollars for busted glasses! Why, I wouldn’t give forty dollars for everythin’ in your place, even if they’d throw in your hide and taller.
“You think you’re runnin’ this town, don’tcha? You runs Jim Randall out, but the rest of us has kinda got our heels braced,sabe? You’ve got a couple gunmen dealers over there. Mack Ort and Keno Smiley, I’m meanin’. You had three, until Mallette got hung on the hot end of a bullet.
“Well, you tell ’em to cut loose any old time. See if they can tear forty dollars’ worth out of my hide, English; and that’s the only way you’ll ever collect. Yeah, I know all about the warnin’ you sent to Jim Randall. You scared him out; but you ain’t scared old Judge Beal out yet. And if I was you, I’d turn right around and go back to my little playmates, knowin’ well that old man Lucas’ little boy ain’t never goin’ to give you that forty dollars. What do you think?”
English Ed did not change expression, no matter what he felt. It was no place for him to protest Lovely’s decision. These three hard-bitted cowboys were closer than brothers and, judging from their expressions, welcomed any argument he might start. So he merely nodded coldly, turned and walked away.
Lovely grinned widely and looked at the envelope. It was unsealed, and Lovely did not hesitate to open it and take out the enclosure. It read:
Jim Moran: Your I.O.U.’s, aggregating over twelve hundred dollars, are long past due. These must be met at once, or I shall be obliged to levy an attachment on the Stumbling K.—EDWARD HOLMES
—EDWARD HOLMES
“Twelve hundred dollars!” exploded Lovely. “Jimmy shore played high and handsome, didn’t he! Whooee! Levy an attachment, eh? What kind of a thing is that, Roarin’?”
“Some law thing. I told you English Ed would shut down on Jimmy.”
“And Jimmy can’t pay it,” declared Wind River Jim. “Why, he ain’t got it. Every time pay-day came around he had to sell enough cows to pay us off. Betcha he ain’t got fifty head of stock left. The Black Horse Saloon has got rich off of Jimmy Moran. He owes the bank, too. They’ve got a mortgage for a couple thousand.”
“Yeah, it kinda looks as though Jimmy was about sunk,” agreed Lovely.
He walked back to the door and looked out. Cutter was crossing the street, looking down toward the office. He met Ryker in front of the post-office, and they went up the street together.
“Cutter and Ryker are pretty good friends, ain’t they?” asked Lovely.
“Always have been,” grunted Roaring.
“Cutter’s prob’ly fixin’ to have me arrested,” grinned Lovely. “Mebby I better go home while the way is clear. How soon do they have Pete’s trial?”
“Next week,” replied Roaring.
“Before Judge Beal?”
“If he lives that long.”
“Who—Pete?”
“No, Judge Beal.”