Louisiana Lou

by William West Winter

  CHAPTER XV

  THE SHERIFF FINDS A CLEW

  "Miss Pettis," Captain Wilding remarked to his office attendant, a dayor two after he had been summoned to meet Solange and had heard herrather remarkable story, "I'll have to be going to Maryville for a dayor two on this D'Albret case. I don't believe there will be anythingto discover regarding the mine and the man who killed her father, but,in case we do run into anything, I'd like to be fortified withwhatever recollection you may have of the affair."

  "I don't know a thing except what I told the dame," said Marian,rather sullenly. "This guy Louisiana bumps the old man off after heleaves our place. Pete was comin' in and was goin' to take granddad inwith him on the mine, but he can't even tell where it was except thatit was somewhere along the way he had come. You got to remember that Iwas just a kid and I don't rightly remember anything about it exceptthat this Louisiana was some little baby doll, himself. His looks weresure deceiving."

  "Well, how old was he at this time?"

  "Oh, pretty young, I guess. Not much more than a kid. Say that Frenchdame has a crust, hasn't she, comin' in here after all these years,swellin' round with her face covered as if she's afraid her complexionwouldn't stand the sun, and expectin' to run onto that mine, which, ifshe did find it would be as much mine as it is hers. And who's thisDelonny guy she's bringin' with her? Looks to me like a bolshevikanarchist or a panhandler."

  "Humph!" said Wilding, musingly. "He's nothing like that. Fact is,she's got a gold mine right there, and she wants to divorce it. Now,you're sure Louisiana did this and that he left the country? Ever hearwhat became of him?"

  "Nary a word," said the girl, indifferently. "I reckon everybody hasforgotten him around here except Snake Murphy, who works for Johnnythe Greek. Snake used to know this guy, and it was for shootin' himthat Louisiana was run out of the country. Fact is, I've heard most ofwhat I know from Snake."

  "I'd better interview him, I suppose," said Wilding.

  "If you can get any info out of him as to where that mine is you oughtto tell me as quick as that French dame," said Marian. "Believe me,I'm needing gold mines a lot more than she does. She ain't so hard upthat she can't go chasing around the country and livin' at swellhotels and hiring lawyers and things while I got to work for what Iget. Anyway, half of that mine belongs to me."

  "The mine belongs to whoever finds it," said Wilding. "It was neverfiled on, and any claim D'Albret might have had was lost at his death.In any event, I imagine that it has been so long ago that the chanceof locating it now is practically nonexistent."

  "Me, too," said Marian. "Unless----" and she paused.

  "Unless what?"

  "Whatever brings this dame clear over from France to look for a mineafter twenty years? D'you reckon that any one in their sober senseswould squander money on a thing like that if they didn't have someinside info as to where to look? Seems to me this Frog lady must havegot some tip that we haven't had."

  "Perhaps she has," said Wilding. "In fact, she would hardly come here,as you say, with nothing definite to go on. But I'm not interested inthe mine. What I want to know is where this Louisiana went after heleft here."

  "Maybe Snake Murphy knows," said Marian.

  Wilding was inclined to agree with her. At least no other source ofinformation appeared to offer any better prospects, so with somedistaste he sought out Murphy at the pool room. He began by tactfullyremarking about the changes from the old times, to which Murphyagreed.

  "You've lived here since before the Falls was built, haven't you,Murphy?" asked Wilding, after Snake had expressed some contempt fornew times and new ways.

  "Me!" said Snake, boastfully. "Why, when I come here there wasn'tanything here but sunshine and jack rabbits. I _was_ the town ofSulphur Falls. I run a ferry and a road house down here when therewasn't another place within five miles in any direction."

  "You knew the old-timers, then?"

  "Nobody knew them any better. They all had to stop at my placewhenever they were crossin' the river. There wasn't no ford."

  Wilding leaned over and grew confidential.

  "Snake," he said, in a low tone, "I've heard that you know somethingabout this old-time gunman, Louisiana, and the killing of French Peteback about the first of the century. Is there anything in that?"

  Snake eyed him coolly and appraisingly before he answered.

  "There seems to be a lot of interest cropping up in this Louisiana andFrench Pete all of a sudden," he remarked. "What's the big idea?"

  "I'm looking for Louisiana," said Wilding.

  "And not fer French Pete's mine?"

  "No interest at all in the mine," Wilding assured him. "I've got anidea that Louisiana could be convicted of that murder if we could layhands on him."

  "Well, you're welcome to go to it if you want," said Snake, dryly. Heheld up his stiffened right wrist and eyed it cynically. "But,personally, if it was me and I knowed that Louisiana was stillkickin', I'd indulge in considerable reflection before I wentsquanderin' around lookin' to lay anything on him. This hereLouisiana, I'm free to state, wasn't no hombre to aggravatecarelessly. _I_ found that out."

  "How?" Wilding asked.

  "Oh, it was my own fault, I'll admit at this day. There was a ladyused to frequent my place who wasn't any better than she should be.She took a grudge against Louisiana and, bein' right fond of her atthe time, I was foolish enough to horn in on the ruction. I'll saythis for Louisiana: he could just as well have beefed me completeinstead of just shootin' the derringer out of my fist the way he done.Takin' it all together, I'd say he was plumb considerate."

  "He was a bad man, then?"

  "Why, no, I wouldn't say he was. He was a rattlesnake with asix-shooter, but, takin' it altogether, he never run wild with it. Notuntil he beefs French Pete--that is, if he did down him. As for me, Inever knew anything about that except what I was told because I wasnursin' a busted wrist about that time. All I know was that the boysthat hung around here was after him for gettin' me and that he headedout south, stoppin' at Twin Forks and then goin' on south toward themountains. Nobody ever saw him again, and from that day to this heain't never been heard of."

  "Looks like he had some reason better than shooting you up to keepgoing and never come back, don't it?"

  "It looks like it. But I don't know anything about it. Might have beenthat he was just tired of us all and decided to quit us. Anyhow, ifthere's anything rightly known about it I reckon it'll be over atMaryville. There's where they held the inquest at the time."

  Snake evidently knew nothing more than he had told and Wilding againdecided that his only chance of gaining any real information would beat Maryville. Accordingly, he got an automobile and started for thatsomnolent village on the next day.

  After arriving at the little town, he spent two or three days inpreliminary work looking toward filing the petition for mademoiselle'sdivorce and arranging to secure her nominal residence in Nevada. Notuntil this had been accomplished did he set out to get informationregarding the long-forgotten Louisiana.

  His first place of call was the coroner's office. A local undertakerheld the position at this time and he had been in the country no morethan ten years. He knew nothing of his predecessors and had few oftheir records, none going back as far as this event.

  "There seems to be a lot of curiosity cropping up about this oldmurder," he volunteered, when Wilding broached the subject. "Anotherman was in here yesterday asking about the same thing. Tall,good-looking fellow, dressed like a cowman and wearing a gun. Knowhim?"

  Wilding asked a few further details and recognized the description asthat of De Launay. This satisfied him, as he had no doubt thatmademoiselle's nominal husband was employed on the same errand ashimself. So he merely stated that it was probably the man in whoseinterests he was working.

  "Well, I didn't know anything about him and didn't discuss the matterwith him. Fact is, I never heard of the murder so I couldn't tell himmuch about it."

  "Still, I'm sure there was an inqu
est at the time," said Wilding.

  "There probably was, but that wouldn't mean any too much. In the olddays the coroner's juries had a way of returning any old verdict thatstruck their fancies. I've heard of men being shot tackling some notedgun fighter and the jury bringing in a verdict of suicide because heought to have known better than to take such a chance. Then it's by nomeans uncommon to find them laying a murder whose perpetrator wasunknown or out of reach against a Chinaman or Indian or some extremelyunpopular individual on the theory that, if he hadn't done this one,he might eventually commit one and, anyway, they ought to hang him ongeneral principles and get rid of him. This was in 1900, you say?"

  "About then."

  "That doesn't sound early enough for one of the freak verdicts. Still,this country was still primitive at that time, and they might havedone almost anything. Anyway there are no coroner's records going backto that date, so I'm afraid that I can't help you or your client."

  Wilding was discouraged, but he thought there might still be a chancein another direction, although the prospects appeared slim. Leavingthe coroner he sought out the sheriff's office and encountered a burlyindividual who welcomed him as some one to relieve the monotony of hisdays. This man was also a newcomer, or comparatively so. He hadfifteen years of residence behind him. But he, too, knew nothing ofFrench Pete's murder.

  "To be sure," he said, after reflecting, "I've heard something aboutit and I have a slight recollection that I've run onto it at sometime. There used to be considerable talk about the mine this hereBasco had found and many a man has hunted all over the map after it.But it ain't never been found. I've heard that he was shot from ambushby a gunman, and his name might have been Louisiana. Seems to me thatwhoever shot him must have done it because he had found the mine, andsince the mine ain't ever been discovered it looks like the murderermust have wanted its secret to remain hidden. That looks reasonable,don't it?"

  "There might be something in it," admitted Wilding.

  "Well, if that's the case, it's just as reasonable to figure that, ifit was a white man that shot him, he'd come back in time to locate themine. But he ain't ever done it. Then I'd say that proves one of twothings: either it wasn't no white man that shot him or if it was theman was himself killed before he could return. Ain't that right?"

  "But if not a white man who would have done it?"

  "Indians," said the sheriff, solemnly. "Them Indians don't want whitemen ringing in here and digging up the country where they hunt. Backin those days I reckon there was heaps of Indians round here and mostlikely one of them shot him. But, come to think of it, the files mayhave a record of it in 'em. We'll go and look."

  Wilding followed him, still further convinced that he was on ahopeless search. The sheriff went into the office and led the way upto an unlighted second-story room, hardly more than an attic where, inthe dust and gloom, slightly dissipated by the rays of a flashlight,he disclosed several boxes and transfer cases over which he stooped.

  "Nineteen hundred. It wouldn't be in one of these transfer casesbecause I know they didn't have no such traps in those days. One ofthese old boxes might have something. Lend a hand while I haul themout."

  The two of them hauled out and opened two or three boxes before theyfound one the papers in which seemed to be dated in the years beforeand after nineteen hundred. This they carried downstairs and soon werebusy in pawing over the dusty, faded documents. The search producedonly one thing. The sheriff came upon it and held it up just as theywere giving up hope. Then, with Wilding eagerly leaning over hisshoulder, he read it slowly.

  REWARD!

  The sheriff of Esmeralda County, State of Nevada, hereby offers a reward of FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS for the capture, dead or alive, and evidence leading to the conviction of Lewis Delaney, alias Louisiana Lou, alias Louisiana, who is wanted for the murder, on October 18, 1900, of Peter Dalbray, commonly known as French Pete, at a point near the entrance of Shoestring Canyon in Township 42 N., Range 5 East. This reward is guaranteed and authorized by Isaac Brandon, of Twin Forks, Nevada.

  DESCRIPTION!

  Just short of six feet, slim, quick, regular features, age about nineteen or twenty years, smooth face, brown hair, gray eyes. Dressed when last seen in open flap chaps, silver conchas, blue shirt. Boss of the Range Stetson, wearing wide belt with conchas and holster stamped with sunflowers. Carried a black rubber-handled Colt .41-caliber gun with which he is very expert. Has probably picked up a 30-30 rifle, Winchester or Marlin, since last seen, with which he committed the crime. Speaks with slight Southern accent. Police of all cities notified.

  "That," said the sheriff, reluctantly, "seems to dispose of my Indiantheory. They wouldn't have offered any such reward if they hadn't beenpretty sure they had the right man. But it's equally sure that theynever caught him or we'd have some record of it. On my second theorythen, he's either dead, or else he'd have come back to locate thatmine, or else he's been taken up for some other crime and has beenserving time somewhere."

  Wilding took the faded, yellow handbill with its crude printing. "Itlooks that way," he said. "Evidently they couldn't get a photograph ofhim, and the description seems to be vague except as to his weaponsand accouterments."

  "That's the way with them old-timers. They didn't pay so muchattention to a man's looks as to his saddle and horse and gun. But ifit'll do you any good take it along. It's outlawed as far as thereward's concerned, so I don't reckon I'll go hunting this fellow. Thecounty wouldn't pay me, and old Brandon's been dead a year or more."

  The lawyer had to be satisfied with this, and, indeed, it seemed tosettle the matter fairly conclusively. His business having beencompleted, he got out his automobile and once more headed back forSulphur Falls.

  That evening he drew up at Wallace's ranch and there found Solangeabout to start into the mountains. He stayed the night, and deliveredto her the handbill after telling her what he had done regarding thedivorce and the search for the murderer. Solange listened to the firstpart of it with slight interest. Her desire to be free of De Launayhad lost its force lately and she found herself somewhat indifferent.As Wilding formally laid down the procedure she would have to gothrough she even found herself vaguely regretting that she had movedso promptly in that matter. Somehow, in this land of strangers, kindand sympathetic as they had been, she felt that her search washopeless without some more intimate help. The tall soldier, broken anddesperate as he seemed to be, was closer to her than any one else andshe felt that, if she should lose him, her plight would be forlorn. Asshe had last seen him standing in his cell, making his quiet promiseof service to her, he appeared to be a rock on which she could lean.To her mind came back the stories she had heard of him, the wild andstormy tale of his rise from an outcast of the L?gion des Etrangers toa high and honored place in the French army. He had done wonderfulthings and had overcome tremendous obstacles. Such a man could stilldo marvels, and it was marvels that one must do to help her in hersearch.

  Some inborn superstition of her native mountains worked upon her. Inhis absence the things which had prejudiced her against him fadedwhile the smooth efficiency and ease of her journey to this distantland was recalled, with the realization that that comfort and speedmust have been due entirely to him whom she had thought spending histime in drunken carouses. He had brought her so far, to the verythreshold of what she sought, and, if he should now abandon her, thatthreshold must remain uncrossed. De Launay had taken on some of theattributes of a guardian angel, a jinni who alone could guide her tothe goal she sought. And she was about to divorce him, to cut theslight tie that bound him to her.

  This was her feeling when Wilding showed her the handbill, and theancient, faded poster carried instant conviction to her that she wasat last on the trail of the murderer. When the lawyer repeated thesheriff's deductions as to Louisiana's death or detention, she merelyshook her head. Although the description carried little meaning to hershe seemed to envision a figu
re, sinister and evil, something to seekand something to find. Or something that De Launay would surelyfind!

  She went out to where the two young men were working with the packoutfit and horses which had been brought in for their journey.

  "My friends," she said soberly, "we must hurry and be gone to-morrow.I have a feeling that we shall find this man. But it will be withMonsieur de Launay's help. I do not know why but I feel that he willbring us to the man. We must rejoin him as soon as possible."

  "All right," said Sucatash, shortly. Dave muttered, "Damn De Launay!"But they both turned back to their work and hastened theirpreparations.