CHAPTER XXVII
"JUST ME AND HER"
Sheriff Banks tossed Corliss's note on his desk, reached in his pocketand drew forth a jack-knife with which he began to trim hisfinger-nails. He paid no apparent attention to the arrival of one ofhis deputies, but proceeded with his manipulation of the knife. Thedeputy sidled to a chair and sat watching the sheriff.
Presently Banks closed his knife, slid it into his pocket, and leanedback in his chair. "Lone Johnny gone back?" he queried.
The deputy nodded.
Banks proffered his companion a cigar and lit one himself. For a whilehe smoked and gazed at the ceiling. "I got two cards to play," hesaid, straightening up and brushing cigar-ash from his vest. "Lastelection was pretty close. By rights I ought to be at the county-seat.Got any idea why they side-tracked me here in Antelope?"
The deputy grinned. "It's right handy to the line. And I guess theysaw what was comin' and figured to put you up against it. Theycouldn't beat you at the polls, so they tried to put you where youwouldn't come back."
"Correct. And there's no use running against the rope. Now I want youto call on every citizen in Antelope and tell every dog-goned one of'em what Lone Johnny kind of hinted at regarding the Concho and Loring.And show 'em this note from Jack. Tell 'em I'm going to swear in eachof 'em as a special. I want to go on record as having done what Icould."
The deputy rose. "All right, Jim. Kind of late to make that move,ain't it?"
"I got another card," said the sheriff. "Tell 'em we'll be ready tostart about twelve. It's ten, now."
With the departure of the deputy the sheriff reached in his desk andbrought forth a book. It was thumbed and soiled. He turned the pagesslowly, pausing to read a line here and there. Finally he settled backand became immersed in the perennial delight of "Huckleberry Finn." Heread uninterruptedly for an hour, drifting on the broad current of theMississippi to eventually disembark in Antelope as the deputy shadowedthe doorway. The sheriff closed the book and glanced up. He read hisanswer in the deputy's eyes.
"'T ain't that they don't like you," said the deputy. "But they ain'tone of 'em that'll do anything for Loring or do anything against JackCorliss."
The sheriff smiled. "Public opinion is setting on the fence andhanging on with both hands. All right, Joe. I'll play her alone. Igot a wire from Hank that he's got the herder, Fernando. Due here onthe two-thirty. You hang around and tell Hank to keep on--take theMexican along up to Usher."
"Goin' to go after the Concho boys and Loring's herders?"
"Sure thing. And I'm going alone. Then they won't make a fuss.They'll come back with me all right."
"But you couldn't get a jury to send one of 'em over--not in thiscounty."
"Correct, Joe. But the county's paying me to go through themotions--don't matter what I think personally. If they've pulled off ashooting-match at the water-hole, the thing's settled by this time. Ithad to come and if it's over, I'm dam' glad. It'll clear the air forquite a spell to come."
"The papers'll sure make a holler--" began the deputy.
"Not so much as you think. They got one good reason to keep still andthat's because the free range is like to be opened up to homesteadersany day. Too much noise about cattle-and-sheep war would scare goodmoney from coming to the State. I heard the other day that thatSundown Jack picked up is settled at the water-hole. I took him for atenderfoot once. I reckon he ain't. It's hard to figure on thosequeer kind. Well, you meet the two-thirty. I guess I'll ride over tothe Concho and see the boys."
The Loring-Corliss case is now a matter of record in the dusty files ofthe "Usher Sentinel" and its decidedly disesteemed contemporary, the"Mesa News." The case was dismissed for lack of anything like definiteevidence, though Loring and Corliss were bound over to keep the peace.Incidentally one tall and angular witness refused to testify, and wassentenced to pay a not insignificant fine for contempt of court. Thathis fine was promptly paid by Corliss furnished a more or lessgratuitous excuse for a wordy vilification of the rancher and his"hireling assassin," "menace to public welfare," and the like.Sundown, however, stuck to his guns, even to the extent of searchingout the editor of the "Mesa News" and offering graciously to engage inhand-to-hand combat, provided the editor, or what was left of him afterthe battle, would insert an apology in the next issue of the paper--theapology to be dictated by Sundown.
The editor temporized by asking the indignant Sundown to frame theapology, which he did. Then the wily autocrat of the "Mesa News,"after reading the apology, agreed to an armistice and mentioned thefact that it was a hot day. Sundown intimated that he knew one or twoplaces in Usher which he was not averse to visiting under thecircumstances. And so the treaty was ratified.
Perhaps among Sundown's possessions there is none so cherished,speaking broadly, as a certain clipping from an Arizona newspaper inwhich the editor prints a strangely worded and colorful apology, abovehis personal signature, for having been misled temporarily in hisestimation of a "certain person of warlike proclivities who visited oursanctum bent upon eradicating us in a physical sense." The apologyfollows. In a separate paragraph, however, is this information:
"We find it imperative, however, to state that the above apology is apersonal matter and in no wise affects our permanent attitude towardthe lawlessness manifest so recently in our midst. Moreover, we wereforced at the muzzle of a six-shooter, in the hands of theabove-mentioned Sundown, to insert that illiterate and blood-thirstygentleman's screed in the MESA NEWS, as he, together with the gang ofcutthroats with whom he seems in league, stood over us with drawnweapons until the entire issue had been run off. Such is the conditionof affairs under the present corrupt administration of our sufferingState."
Such advertising, Sundown reflected, breathing of battle and carnage,would obviate the necessity for future upholding of his reputation in aphysical sense. Great is the power of the press! It became whisperedabout that he was a two-gun man of dexterous attainments in dispensinglead and that his mild and even apologetic manner was but a cloak.Accident and the tongues of men earned for Sundown that peace which heso thoroughly loved. He became immune to strife. When he felt hisoutward attitude sagging a little, he re-read the clipping and bracedup.
Sundown rode to the Concho gate, dismounted and opened it. Chance ranahead, leaping up as Corliss came from the ranch-house.
"Got them holes plugged in the tank," said Sundown. "Got the enginerunnin' ag'in and things is fine. You goin' to put them cattle back onthe water-hole range?"
"Yes, as soon as Bud can get around again. He's up, but he can't rideyet."
"How's Bull?"
"Oh, he's all right. Mebby-So's laid up yet. He got it pretty bad."
"Well, I reckon they ain't goin' to be no more fightin' 'bout cattleand sheep. I stopped by to the Loring ranch. Ole man Loring was sureugly, so I reckon he's feelin' nacheral ag'in. He was like to get madat me for stopping but his gal, Nell, she smoothed down his wool andasked me to stay and eat. I wasn't feelin' extra hungry, so I comealong up here."
"I have some good news," said Corliss. "Got a letter from Billy lastweek. Didn't have time to tell you. He's working for a broker in'Frisco. I shouldn't wonder if he should turn up one of these days.How would you like to drive over to Antelope and meet him when hecomes?"
"I'd sure be glad. Always did like Billy. 'Course you don't know whenhe's comin'--and I got to do some drivin' meself right soon."
"So?"
"Yep. 'Course I got the wagon, but they ain't no style to that. I waswantin' a rig with style to it--like the buckboard." Sundown fidgetednervously with the buttons of his shirt. He coughed, took off his hat,and mopped his face with a red bandanna. Despite his efforts he grewwarmer and warmer. He was about to approach a delicate subject.Finally he seized the bull by the horns, so to speak, and his tannedface grew red. "I was wantin' to borrow that buckboard, mebby,Saturday."
"Sure! Going to Antelope?"
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p; "Nope--not first. I got business over to Chico Miguel's place. I'mgoin' to call on a lady."
"Oh, I see! Anita?"
"Well, I sure ain't goin' to call on her ma--she's married a'ready."
Despite himself, Corliss smiled. "So that's what you wanted that newbed and table and the chairs for. Did they get marked up much comingin?"
"The legs some. I rubbed 'em with that hoss-liniment you give me. Youcan hardly tell. It kind of smelled like turpentine, and I didn't havenothin' else."
"Well, anything you want--"
"I know, boss. But this is goin' to be a quiet weddin'. Nobrass-bands or ice-cream or pop-corn or style. Just me and herand--and I reckon a priest, seein' she was brung up that way. I ain'tasked her yet."
"What? About getting married, or the priest?"
"Nothin'. We got kind of a eye-understandin' and her ma and me is goodfriends. It's like this. Bein' no hand to do love-makin' stylish, Ijust passes her a couple of bouquets onct or twict and said a fewwords. Now, you see, if I get that buckboard and a couple of hosses--Isure would like the white ones--and drive over lookin' like businessand slip the ole man a box of cigars I bought, and Mrs. Miguel thatthere red-and-yella serape I paid ten dollars for in Antelope, and showAnita me new contract with the Concho for pumpin' water forseventy-five bones a month, I reckon the rest of it'll come easy. I'mfigurin' strong on them white hosses, likewise. Bein' white'll kind oflook like gettin' married, without me sayin' it. You see, boss, I'mshort on the Spanish talk and so I have to do some figurin'."
"Well, Sun, you have come along a lot since you first hit the Concho!Go ahead, and good luck to you! If you need any money--"
"I was comin' to that. Seein' as you kind of know me--and seein' I'mgoin' to git hitched--I was thinkin' you might lend me mebby a hundredon the contrac'."
"I guess I can. Will that be enough?"
"Plenty. You see I was figurin' on buyin' a few head of stock to runwith yourn on the water-hole range."
"Why, I can let you have the stock. You can pay me when you get ready."
"That's just it. You'd kind of give 'em to me and I ain't askin'favors, except the buckboard and the white hosses."
"But what do you want to monkey with cattle for? You're doing prettywell with the water."
"That's just it. You see, Anita thinks I'm a rarin', high-ridin',cussin', tearin', bronco-bustin' cow-puncher from over the hill. Ireckon you know I ain't, but I got to live up to it and kind of let herdown easy-like. I can put on me spurs and chaps onct or twict a weekand go flyin' out and whoopin' around me stock, and scarin' 'em todeath, pertendin' I'm mighty interested in ridin' range. If you got alady's goat, you want to keep it. 'Course, later on, I can kind o'slack up. Then I'm goin' to learn her to read American, and she canread that piece in the paper about me. I reckon that'll kind of cinchup the idea that her husband sure is the real thing. But I got to havethem cows till she can learn to read."
"We've got to brand a few yearlings that got by last round-up. Budsaid there was about fifteen of them. You can ride over after you getsettled and help cut 'em out. What iron do you want to put on them?"
"Well, seein' it's me own brand, I reckon it will be like this: A kindof half-circle for the sun, and a lot of little lines runnin' out toshow that it's shinin', and underneath a straight line meanin' theearth, which is 'Sundown'--me own brand. Could Johnny make one likethat?"
"I don't know. That's a pretty big order. You go over and tell Johnnywhat you want. And I'll send the buckboard over Saturday."
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