CHAPTER VII
THE PRELIMINARY
Very early in the morning of the day set for the preliminary hearing ofJesse Black, the young owner of the Three Bars ranch rode over toVelpen. He identified and claimed the animal held over from shipment byJim's persuasion. Brown gave possession with a rueful countenance.
"First time Billy Brown ever was taken in," he said, with great disgust.
Langford met with no interruption to his journey, either going orcoming, although that good cowpuncher of his, Jim Munson, had warned himto look sharp to his pistols and mind the bridge. Jim being of asomewhat belligerent turn of mind, his boss had not taken the words withmuch seriousness. As for the fracas at the pontoon, cowmen are touchywhen it comes to a question of precedence, and it might well be that theinflammable Jim had brought the sudden storm down on his head. PaulLangford rode through the sweet early summer air without let orhindrance and looking for none. He was jubilant. Now was Williston'sstory verified. The county attorney, Richard Gordon, had consideredWilliston's story, coupled with his reputation for strict honesty,strong and sufficient enough to bind Jesse Black over to appear at thenext regular term of the circuit court. Under ordinary circumstances,the State really had an excellent chance of binding over; but it had todeal with Jesse Black, and Jesse Black had flourished for many yearswest of the river with an unsavory character, but with an almost awesomereputation for the phenomenal facility with which he slipped out of thenet in which the law--in the person of its unpopular exponent, RichardGordon--was so indefatigably endeavoring to enmesh him. The State wasprepared for a hard fight. But now--here was the very steer Williston sawon the island with its Three Bars brand under Black's surveillance.Williston would identify it as the same. He, Langford, would swear tohis own animal. The defence would not know he had regained possessionand would not have time to readjust its evidence. It would fall down andhurt itself for the higher court, and Dick Gordon would know how to useany inadvertencies against it--when the time came. No wonder Langford waslight-hearted. In all his arrogant and unhampered career, he had neverbefore received such an affront to his pride and his sense of what wasdue to one of the biggest outfits that ranged cattle west of the river.Woe to him who had dared tamper with the concerns of Paul Langford ofthe Three Bars.
Williston drove in from the Lazy S in ample time for the mid-day dinnerat the hotel--the hearing was set for two o'clock--but his little partycontented itself with a luncheon prepared at home, and packed neatly andappetizingly in a tin bucket. It was not likely there would be arepetition of bad meat. It would be poor policy. Still, one could not besure, and it was most important that Williston ate no bad meat that day.
Gordon met them in the hot, stuffy, little parlor of the hotel.
"It was good of you to come," he said to Louise, with grave sincerity.
"I didn't want to," confessed Louise, honestly. "I'm afraid it is toobig and lonesome for me. I am sure I should have gone back to Velpenlast night to catch the early train had it not been for Mary. She isso--good."
"The worst is over now that you have conquered your first impulse tofly," he said.
"I cried, though. I hated myself for it, but I couldn't help it. You seeI never was so far from home before."
He was an absorbed, hard-working lawyer. Years of contact with theplain, hard realities of rough living in a new country had dried up,somewhat, his stream of sentiment. Maybe the source was only blockedwith debris, but certainly the stream was running dry. He could not helpthinking that a girl who cries because she is far from home had muchbetter stay at home and leave the grave things which are men's work tomen. But he was a gentleman and a kindly one, so he answered, quietly,"I trust you will like us better when you know us better," and, after afew more commonplaces, went his way.
"There's a man," said Louise, thoughtfully, on the way to McAllister'soffice "I like him, Mary."
"And yet there are men in this county who would kill him if they dared."
"Mary! what do you mean? Are there then so many cut-throats in thisawful country?"
"I think there are many desperate men among the rustlers who would nothesitate to kill either Paul Langford or Richard Gordon since theseprosecutions have begun. There are also many good people who think Mr.Gordon is just stirring up trouble and putting the county to expensewhen he can have no hope of conviction. They say that his failuresencourage the rustlers more than an inactive policy would."
"People who argue like that are either tainted with dishonestythemselves or they are foolish, one of the two," said Louise, withconviction.
"Mr. Gordon has one stanch supporter, anyway," said Mary, smiling."Maybe I had better tell him. Precious little encouragement or sympathyhe gets, poor fellow."
"Please do not," replied Louise, quickly. "I wonder if my friend, Mr.Jim Munson, has managed to escape 'battle, murder, and sudden death,'including death by poison, and is on hand with his testimony."
As they approached the office, the crowd of men around the doorway drewaside to let them pass.
"Our chances of worming ourselves through that jam seem pretty slim tome," whispered Mary, glancing into the already overcrowded room.
"Let me make a way for you," said Paul Langford, as he separated himselffrom the group of men standing in front, and came up to them.
"I have watered my horse," he said, flashing a merry smile at Mary as hebegan shoving his big shoulders through the press, closely followed bythe two young women.
It was a strange assembly through which they pressed; ranchmen andcowboys, most of them, just in from ranch and range, hot and dusty fromlong riding, perspiring freely, redolent of strong tobacco and thepeculiar smell that betokens recent and intimate companionship with thatpart and parcel of the plains, the horse. The room was indeed hot andclose and reeking with bad odors. There were also present a largedelegation of cattle dealers and saloon men from Velpen, and some fewIndians from Rosebud Agency, whose curiosity was insatiable where thecourts were concerned, far from picturesque in their ill-fitting,nondescript cowboy garments.
Yet they were kindly, most of the men gathered there. Though at firstthey refused, with stolid resentment, to be thus thrust aside by thebreezy and aggressive owner of the Three Bars, planting their feet themore firmly on the rough, uneven floor, and serenely oblivious to anyright of way so arrogantly demanded by the big shoulders, yet, when theyperceived for whom the way was being made, most of them stepped hastilyaside with muttered and abashed apologies. Here and there, however,though all made way, there would be no red-faced or stammering apology.Sometimes the little party was followed by insolent eyes, sometimes bymalignant ones. Had Mary Williston spoken truly when she said the willfor bloodshed was not lacking in the county?
But if there was aught of hatred or enmity in the heavy air of theimprovised court-room for others besides the high-minded young counselfor law and order, Mary Williston seemed serenely unconscious of it. Sheheld her head proudly. Most of these men she knew. She had done a man'swork among them for two years and more. In her man's work of riding theranges she had had good fellowship with many of them. After to-day muchof this must end. Much blame would accrue to her father for this day'swork, among friends as well as enemies, for the fear of the law-defierswas an omnipresent fear with the small owner, stalking abroad by day andby night. But Mary was glad and there was a new dignity about her thatbecame her well, and that grew out of this great call to rally to thethings that count.
At the far end of the room they found the justice of the peace enthronedbehind a long table. His Honor, Mr. James R. McAllister, more commonlyknown as Jimmie Mac, was a ranchman on a small scale. He was ignorant,but of an overweening conceit. He had been a justice of the peace forseveral years, and labored under the mistaken impression that he knewsome law; but Gordon, on short acquaintance, had dubbed him "OldNecessity" in despairing irony, after a certain high light of earlyterritorial days who "knew no law." Instead of deciding the facts in thecases brought before him from the point of view o
f an ordinary man ofcommon sense, McAllister went on the theory that each case was fraughtwith legal questions upon which the result of the case hung; and he hada way of placing himself in the most ridiculous lights by arguing longand arduously with skilled attorneys upon questions of law. He made themistake of always trying to give a reason for his rulings. His rulings,sometimes, were correct, but one would find it hard to say the same ofhis reasons for them.
Louise's little table was drawn closely before the window nearest thecourt. She owed this thoughtfulness to Gordon, who, nevertheless, wasnot in complete sympathy with her, because she had cried. The table wason the sunny side, but there was a breeze out of the west and it playedrefreshingly over her face, and blew short strands of her fair hairthere also. To Gordon, wrapped up as he was in graver matters, her sweetfemininity began to insist on a place in his mental as well as hisphysical vision. She was exquisitely neat and trim in her whiteshirt-waist with its low linen collar and dark blue ribbon tie of thesame shade as her walking skirt, and the smart little milliner's bow onher French sailor hat, though it is to be doubted if Gordon observed theharmony. She seemed strangely out of place in this room, so bare ofcomfort, so stuffy and stenchy and smoke-filled; yet, after all, sheseemed perfectly at home here. The man in Gordon awoke, and he was gladshe had not stayed at home or gone away because she cried.
Yes, Jim was there--and swaggering. It was impossible for Jim not toswagger a little on any occasion. The impulse to swagger had been bornin him. It had been carefully nurtured from the date of his firstconnection with the Three Bars. He bestowed an amiable grin ofrecognition on the new reporter from the far side of the room, which wasnot very far.
The prisoner was brought in. His was a familiar personality. He wasknown to most men west of the river--if not by personal acquaintance,certainly by hearsay. Many believed him to be the animating mind of anotorious gang of horse thieves and cattle rustlers that had beenoperating west of the river for several years. Lax laws were theirnourishment. They polluted the whole. It was a deadly taint to fastenitself on men's relations. Out of it grew fear, bribery, officialrottenness, perjury. There was an impudent half smile on his lips. Hewas a tall, lean, slouching-shouldered fellow. To-day, his jaws weredark with beard bristles of several days' standing. He bore himself withan easy, indifferent manner, and chewed tobacco enjoyingly.
Louise, glancing casually around at the mass of interested, sunbrownedfaces, suddenly gave a little start of surprise. Not far in front ofJimmie Mac's table stood the man of the sandy coloring who had soinsolently disputed their right of way the day before. His hard, lighteyes, malignant, sinister, significant, were fixed upon the prisoner ashe slouched forward to hear his arraignment. The man in custody yawnedoccasionally. He was bored. His whole body had a lazy droop. So far asLouise could make out he gave no sign of recognition of the man of sandycoloring.
Then came the first great surprise of this affair of many surprises.Jesse Black waived examination. It came like a thunderbolt to theprosecution. It was not Black's way of doing business, and it wasgenerally believed that, as Munson had so forcibly though inelegantlyexpressed it to Billy Brown, "He would fight like hell" to keep out ofthe circuit courts. He would kill this incipient Nemesis in the bud.What, then, had changed him? The county attorney had rather looked for ahard-fought defence--a shifting of the burden of responsibility for themisbranding to another, who would, of course, be off somewhere on abusiness trip, to be absent an indefinite length of time; or it might behe would try to make good a trumped-up story that he had but latelypurchased the animal from some Indian cattle-owner from up country whoclaimed to have a bill-of-sale from Langford. He would not have beentaken aback had Black calmly produced a bill-of-sale.
There were lines about the young attorney's mouth, crow's feet divergingfrom his eyes; his forehead was creased, too. He was a tall man, slightof build, with drooping shoulders. One of the noticeable things abouthim was his hands. They were beautiful--the long, slim, white kind thatattract attention, not so much, perhaps, on account of their gracefullines, as because they are so seldom still. They belong preeminently toa nervous temperament. Gordon had trained himself to immobility ofexpression under strain, but his hands he had not been able so todiscipline. They were always at something, fingering the papers on hisdesk, ruffling his hair, or noisily drumming. Now he folded them as ifto coerce them into quiet. He had handsome eyes, also, too keen, maybe,for everyday living; they would be irresistible if they caressed.
The absoluteness of the surprise flushed his clean-shaven face a little,although his grave immobility of expression underwent not a flicker. Itwas a surprise, but it was a good surprise. Jesse Black was bound overunder good and sufficient bond to appear at the next regular term of thecircuit court in December. That much accomplished, now he could buckledown for the big fight. How often had he been shipwrecked in theshifting sands of the really remarkable decisions of "Old Necessity" andhis kind. This time, as by a miracle, he had escaped sands and shoalsand sunken rocks, and rode in deep water.
A wave of enlightenment swept over Jim Munson.
"Boss," he whispered, "that gal reporter's a hummer."
"How so?" whispered Langford, amused. He proceeded to take aninterested, if hasty, inventory of her charms. "What a petite littlepersonage, to be sure! Almost too colorless, though. Why, Jim, she can'thold a tallow candle to Williston's girl."
"Who said she could?" demanded Jim, with a fine scorn and much relievedto find the Boss so unappreciative. Eden might not be lost to them afterall. Strict justice made him add: "But she's a wise one. Spotted themblamed meddlin' hoss thieves right from the word go. Yep. That's afac'."
"What 'blamed meddlin' hoss thieves,' Jim? You are on intimate termswith so many gentlemen of that stripe,--at least your language so leadsus to presume,--that I can't keep up with the procession."
"At the bridge yistidy. I told you 'bout it. Saw 'em first at the BonAmy--but they must a trailed me to the stockyards. She spotted 'em rightaway. She's a cute 'n. Made me shet my mouth when I was a blabbin' toomuch, jest before the fun began. Oh, she's a cute 'n!"
"Who were they, Jim?"
"One of 'em, I'm a thinkin', was Jake Sanderson, a red-headed devil whocame up here from hell, I reckon, or Wyoming, one of the two. Nobodyknows his biz. But he'll look like a stepped-on potato bug 'gainst I gitthrough with him. Didn't git on to t' other feller. Will next time, youbet!"
"But what makes you think they are mixed up in this affair?"
"They had their eyes on me to see what I was a doin' in Velpen. And Iwas a doin' things, too."
Langford gave a long, low whistle of comprehension. That would explainthe unexpected waiving of examination. Jesse Black knew the steer hadbeen recovered and saw the futility of fighting against his being boundover.
"Now, ain't she a hummer?" insisted Jim, admiringly, but addedslightingly, "Homely, though, as all git-out. Mouse-hair. Plumb homely."
"On the contrary, I think she is plumb pretty," retorted Langford, alaugh in his blue eyes. Jim fairly gasped with chagrin.
Unconcerned, grinning, Black slouched to the door and out. Oncestraighten out that lazy-looking body and you would have a big man inJesse Black. Yes, a big one and a quick one, too, maybe. The crowd madeway for him unconsciously. No one jostled him. He was a marked man fromthat day. His lawyer, Small, leaned back in his chair, radiating wavesof self-satisfaction as though he had but just gained a disputed point.It was a manner he affected when not on the floor in a frenzy of wordsand muscular action.
Jim Munson contrived to pass close by Jake Sanderson.
"So you followed me to find out about Mag, did you? Heap o' good it didyou! We knew you knew," he bragged, insultingly.
The man's face went white with wrath.
"Damn you!" he cried. His hand dropped to his belt.
The two glared at each other like fighting cocks. Men crowded around,suddenly aware that a quarrel was on.
"The Three Bars's a gittin' busy!" jeered Jim.
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"Come, Jim, I want you." It was Gordon's quiet voice. He laid arestraining hand on Munson's over-zealous arm.
"Dick Gordon, this ain't your put-in," snarled Sanderson. "Git out theway!" He shoved him roughly aside. "Now, snappin' turtle," to Jim, "theThree Bars'd better git busy!"
A feint at a blow, a clever little twist of the feet, and Munsonsprawled on the floor, men pressing back to give him the full force ofthe fall. They believed in fair play. But Jim, uncowed, was up with thenimbleness of a monkey.
"Hit away!" he cried, tauntingly. "I know 'nough to swear out a warrant'gainst you! 'T won't be so lonesome for Jesse now breakin' stones overto Sioux Falls."
"Jim!" It was Gordon's quiet, authoritative voice once more. "I told youI wanted you." He threw his arm over the belligerent's shoulder.
"Comin', Dick. I didn't mean to blab so much," Jim answered, contritely.
They moved away. Sanderson followed them up.
"Dick Gordon," he said with cool deliberateness, "you're too damnedanxious to stick your nose into other people's affairs. Learn yourlesson, will you? My favorite stunt is to teach meddlers how to mindtheir own business,--this way."
It was not a fair blow. Gordon doubled up with the force of the punch inhis stomach. In a moment all was confusion. Men drew their pistols. Itlooked as if there was to be a free-for-all fight.
Langford sprang to his friend's aid, using his fists with plentifulfreedom in his haste to get to him.
"Never mind me," whispered Gordon. He was leaning heavily on Jim'sshoulder. His face was pale, but he smiled reassuringly. There wassomething very sweet about his mouth when he smiled. "Never mind me," herepeated. "Get the girls out of this--quick, Paul."
Mary and Louise had sought refuge behind the big table.
"Quick, the back door!" cried Langford, leading the way; and as thethree passed out, he closed the door behind them, saying, "You are allright now. Run to the hotel. I must see how Dick is coming on."
"Do you think he is badly hurt?" asked Louise. "Can't we help?"
"I think you had best get out of this as quickly as you can. I don'tbelieve he is knocked out, by any means, but I want to be on hand forany future events which may be called. Just fly now, both of you."
The unfair blow in the stomach had given the sympathy of most of thebystanders, for the time being at least, to Gordon. Men forgot,momentarily, their grudge against him. Understanding from the blacklooks that he was not in touch with the crowd, Sanderson laughed--a shortsnort of contempt--and slipped out of the door. Unable to resist theimpulse, Jim bounded out after his enemy.
When Paul hastened around to the front of the building, the crowd wasnearly all in the street. The tension was relaxed. A dazed expressionprevailed--brought to life by the suddenness with which the affair haddeveloped to such interesting proportions and the quickness with whichit had flattened out to nothing. For Sanderson had disappeared,completely, mysteriously, and in all the level landscape, there was notrace of him nor sign.
"See a balloon, Jim?" asked Langford, slapping him on the shoulder withthe glimmer of a smile. "Well, your red-headed friend won't be down in aparachute--yet. Are you all right, Dick, old man?"
"Yes. Where are the girls?"
"They are all right. I took them through the back door and sent them tothe hotel."
"You kin bet on the Boss every time when it comes to petticoats," saidJim, disconsolately.
"Why, Jim, what's up?" asked Langford, in amused surprise.
But Jim only turned and walked away with his head in the air. Theserpent was leering at him.
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