The Sheriff of Badger: A Tale of the Southwest Borderland

by George Pattullo

  CHAPTER XII

  THE SHERIFF SETTLES A CONJUGAL DISPUTE

  About a year after the killing of Bud Walton, the sheriff was engagedone day in a game of pitch in the Fashion. Order in Badger had beenexcellent of late. This had not been accomplished by moral suasion,although that had been a factor, but by stern and often fearlessperformance of duty in quelling disorders. Johnson's reputation hadgrown apace. He always knew the precise moment to strike, whicheffectually nipped many threatening feuds.

  On this day, Sellers Hardin stopped his stage in front of the Fashionand inquired for the sheriff.

  "Say, Lafe," he said, "there's a guy over to the Cowboys' Rest bawlinghis wife out powerful strong. I'd sure have smeared the road with thatgen'l'man, only it weren't my business. Hey? Yes, I left 'em over there.They come off that El Paso train, the two of 'em."

  "I'll step across," said the sheriff.

  He threw down his cards and walked over to the rival saloon. Thelandlord, who had long forgiven the blow on the head and was now astaunch Johnson man, nodded at him and paused in his work of polishingglasses to point to the door of a rear room with the towel. Inside, aloud voice was raised in maudlin harangue.

  "You come along now. I'll show you. You bet we'll stay here. What? I'lllearn you who's boss right now. Didn't I send you your fare? Huh? Andyou done come ahead on the jump. But you're too good for me now all of asudden, ain't you? I'll--"

  Lafe found a man denouncing a young woman. She sat near the window, andshowed no fear as she watched him storm up and down the floor, pouringout reproaches and abuse. She was pale, but perfectly collected, and sherested her chin in her palm, regarding her companion with a species ofimpersonal speculation. He was a florid, youthful person of very baggyclothes and with his hair parted in the middle. The shoulders of hiscoat projected beyond his real shoulders to an astonishing width, and hewore peg-top trousers; also, his shoes had beautiful sloping heels andflowing bows. An intense, nervous irritability kept his arms jerkingabout. She listened placidly.

  "If you don't quit your fooling and come along with me--" he was saying,when she cautioned: "There's somebody behind you." He wheeled and beheldthe sheriff.

  "What's the trouble here?" Lafe asked.

  "None of your business. That's what. When we want any help in a fam'lydispute, we'll send for you."

  The sheriff, by way of answer, selected a chair and placed his hatcarefully on the floor.

  "You're drunk," he said, with the utmost good-nature. "Let's befriendly, now, and get this thing settled."

  Beyond a faint curiosity, the girl exhibited no interest in his arrival,but her companion planted himself in front of Johnson, with his feetwide apart, and made a strong effort to look threatening.

  "Well, I'll be doggoned," he said. "Who're you, anyway? What do youthink you're doing, butting into my private affairs this way? Ain't aman boss of his own wife? Ain't I got any rights? You get out now,before I throw you out."

  "This here party," Lafe said to her in a confidential aside, "is fixingto throw me into the road. He sure will, too. You can see that stickingout all over him. What do you want that I should do?"

  "You don't look very scared."

  "No, ma'am. I always try to hide my feelings. Do you reckon you canhandle him yourself, or will I take him along?"

  "Say, you! You pay attention to--"

  "Where'll you take him?" she asked.

  "Look a-here, you two--"

  "We've got a nice, peaceful lockup, where the rats is friendly,"answered the sheriff. "He won't be lonely. There's a Mexican thereright now, drunker'n he is."

  She shrugged her shoulders and looked out of the window. "Suityourself," she said.

  "Say," cried the gentleman of the peg-tops, "ain't I got anything to sayin this? You're getting too gay, you two. Do you hear? Ain't a man gotany rights in this country? I can run my wife alone, can't I?"

  "Does this here party belong to you, ma'am? Are you his wife?"

  "No."

  "What? You ain't? You sit there and say you ain't my wife? Why--"

  "I married him, but I'm not his wife."

  "Sure," said the sheriff, "I see. I don't blame you, ma'am." He put onhis hat. The other was watching him doubtfully.

  "You come along with me," said Lafe.

  "Come along, my foot. What do you think you are, anyway?"

  "That's all right. I'm sheriff here. And if I wasn't, I'd take youalong. It's one of the rules of this here town that a man can't talk tohis wife like you done. Understand? Get a-going, now. I'm liable to getpeevish directly."

  Still he hesitated. Lafe was growing angry. His rage always seemedsudden, but this was by design. In reality it was the release oflong-pent and controlled passion.

  Said the sheriff: "Hurry up, Harris."

  "My name ain't Harris. It's Jackson."

  "Jackson or Harris, it's all the same to me. You were Harris when me andBuf'lo Jim done run you out of Cananea. I reckon you ain't forgot that,have you?"

  A quick glimmer of recognition showed that Mr. Harris had not. Hesobered with amazing celerity.

  "Where're we going?" he asked.

  "You get moving first," said the sheriff, "and then we'll figure onthat."

  "I won't go," was the emphatic rejoinder. "No, sir; not me. Tell him toleave us alone, Hetty. I'm within my rights. And you're framing upsomething. I can tell."

  "Say, Harris, you're fixing to get hurt awful bad." The sheriff's airwas regretful. He stepped to the door and held it open, nodding atJackson. That young man gave him a swift look and banged his hat downover his curling bang. Without even a word to the girl, who wasregarding the tableau much as a spectator from a seat in the stalls, hewalked out. The sheriff followed. Within a minute he stuck his headinside again to say: "I'll be back right away." She made no response.

  The two walked out to the residence of Dutch Annie, Johnson a yard inadvance.

  Dutch Annie said: "Don't you bring that rat in here, Mr. Johnson."

  She was a forceful woman, of startling precision of speech. Annie wouldnot open the door, but surveyed the abject Harris through a crack abouttwo inches wide. The sheriff kept the toe of his boot inside, to preventDutch Annie slamming it against them.

  "I'm not here to make trouble for you, Annie," he hastened to say, "butjust take a look at this feller. Ain't you seen him before?"

  "Huh! I reckon so. He done married Sarah last year and run off and lefther on my hands. Hush--best to get away quiet. If she hears he's here,there'll be no holding of Sarah."

  "That's all," said Lafe, and the door banged in their faces.

  "Now," he said to Harris, "you hit for foreign shores. I start shootingat forty. Quick."

  This does not pretend to be an exact reproduction of the sheriff'sspeech, because he had an honest man's loathing and contempt for thiskind of male. But it is the gist of his words. The procurer made thefirst hundred yards in fifteen seconds flat, so the sheriff speeded hiscount, lest he get out of range. The satisfaction was accorded him ofdusting Jackson's heels as he ran, and Lafe repaired to the Cowboys'Rest in a better frame of mind.

  "She ain't here," the landlord told him. "She's done gone."

  The sheriff found her at the Fashion. "You reckon you're a marriedwoman, I take it, ma'am?'" he inquired cheerily.

  "I married him in El Paso. Yes, I had to. He'd paid my fare. Yes, I do."

  "Well, you ain't," said Lafe. "He's got one wife already that I know of,that fine gen'l'man, and probably bunches more, besides."

  She thought this over for a minute. There was no surprise; neither wasthere any of the joy he had anticipated; and no sign of reaction ortears.