The Rider of Golden Bar

by William Patterson White

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  WHAT HAZEL THOUGHT

  Nate Samson, weighing sugar for Hazel Walton, looked at her sidewise."Heard the news, Hazel?"

  She removed her gaze from the flyspecked window and stared abstractedlyat Nate. "What news?"

  Nate swelled his chest with satisfaction. Some people enjoy being thebearers of evil tidings. Besides, Nate had stopped going to see Hazel.Somehow he had been made to feel that his visits were not the brightspots in her drab existence that he had considered them to be. Therewas more than a little malice in Nate's make-up. And the news----

  "Somebody killed Tip O'Gorman in his own house last night."

  Nate's hand pushed the sliding weight several notches along the scalebeam. Red Herring, the town marshal, slouching with seemingaimlessness against a showcase at the other end of the counter,covertly watched the girl.

  "Somebody killed Tip O'Gorman in his own house last night," said Nate.

  Hazel wondered why Nate's eyes never left her face. "Tip O'Gorman! Hewas one of Uncle Tom's friends. Who did it?"

  Nate's eyes were fairly devouring her. The man looked positivelypleased. "They don't know yet. But--" He paused.

  She waited. What was he goggling and boggling at? "Well?"

  "They found Bill Wingo's quirt on the floor beside the body and rightinside the door a snakeskin hat-band the whole town knows belongs toBill."

  Hazel's cheeks began to glow. "That doesn't prove anything," shedeclared in a level voice. "Bill owns three quirts to my knowledge,and he hasn't worn that snake hatband since last July. It began tostretch then and was always working up off the crown, and he couldn'ttighten it without ruining the skin, so he stopped wearing it."

  "It worked off the crown once too often last night," offered Nate.

  Hazel's black eyes were glittering through slitted eyelids. Really,Nate Samson should have been warned.

  "You think Bill did it?" asked Hazel Walton.

  Nate nodded. "So does everybody else."

  This was not strictly true. Billy Wingo had several warm friends.

  "At any rate," Nate pursued with relish, "there's a warrant out forBill."

  "Another warrant!" Hazel's hand moved imperceptibly nearer abroad-bladed cheese-knife that lay on the counter.

  "Another warrant. You bet another warrant. That makes three countshe's wanted on--stage robbery, rustling that chestnut horse of SamLarder's and now this murder. I always said Bill Wingo was too good tobe true."

  Hazel Walton made no further remark. She reached for the cheese-knife.Nate Samson ducked under the counter. The cheese-knife whirred withinan inch of his prickling scalp and stuck quivering in the edge of ashelf.

  "Liar!" announced Hazel in a loud, unsympathetic tone. "I'm only sorryI haven't a gun with me. Talking like that about a man you're not fitto say hello to. Here, I don't want any of this stuff! You can keepit."

  So saying, she toppled over her whole pile of wrapped purchases andmarched out of the store. The marshal followed her to the door. Hereturned to his post at the counter a minute later.

  "It's all right, Nate," he said. "She's gone over to the other store."

  Nate Samson emerged slowly. His pouchy cheeks were pale with fear.There was a dew of perspiration on his forehead.

  "She--she threw a knife at me," said Nate Samson.

  "It's stuck in the shelf behind you." Thus the marshal withindifference.

  "That's assault with a deadly weapon," averred Nate, freeing the deadlyweapon and putting it carefully out of reach of other possibly petulantcustomers. "Why didn't you arrest her, Red?"

  "She missed you, Nate. She'd have had to cut you some before I couldarrest her. 'Threaten or Inflict a wound,' the statutes say, and shedidn't do either. No."

  "But she might have," grumbled the discomforted Nate. "If I hadn'tdodged, she'd have split my head open."

  "That's so," the marshal assented with relish. "Do you know, Nate, I'mglad it happened. I dunno that I'd have thought of it if I hadn't seenher buzz that knife at you."

  "Thought of what?" fretted Nate, stopping to gather up the parcels thathad cascaded over his head to the floor. "What you talking about,anyway?"

  The marshal settled himself to elucidate. "I know that Bill had cutyou out with Hazel and----"

  "No such thing," Nate contradicted sharply, with a reddening cheek."No such thing. You got it all wrong, Red. I stopped going to seeHazel because it was so far and all. I--uh--I got tired ridin' allthat distance."

  "All right," the marshal gave in pacifically, "you stopped goin' to seeher because it was so far from town. Bill started going to see her,and he went to see her right smart for a spell."

  "He didn't go any more than that good-for-nothing flibberty-gibbet of aRiley Tyler or any other of half a dozen chaps," declared Nate.

  "Aw right, aw right, have it your own way for Gawd's sake! If youdon't shut up, I won't tell you what I think!"

  "I'll tell you what I think! I think I'm a idjit to let you stoparound my store alla time and fill your fat stomach to the neck with myprunes and dried peaches and sweet crackers, It would be bad enough ifyou took the salt fellers, but not you. Oh, no, not a-tall. Mr.Herring has to have sweet ones!"

  "I like them best," Mr. Herring said matter-of-factly. "Lessee, wherewas I? Oh, yeah, you had gotten wore to a frazzle by the distance tothe Walton ranch, and Bill had started goin' in that direction,himself. Then this winter sometime he stopped goin' to see Hazel,didn't he?"

  "She got tired of him--naturally."

  "You dunno what happened. Neither do I know. But that they had afight is as good a guess as any, and Love's young dream went bust. Weall thought so, didn't we, and while we were trailin' Bill we didn'ttake Hazel into consideration a-tall. But what happens to-day when yourun down Bill to her face. She slings a knife at you so prompt andfree you almost lost four fifths of your looks. She said things too,and all going to show that they've made it up and she's in love againwith Bill. Well then, if she's in love with Bill, he's either comingto see her off and on or else she knows where he is."

  "Not necessarily. It don't follow a-tall."

  "You've soured on the girl, that's all the matter with you. I tellyou, Nate, if a girl as pretty as Hazel Walton is in love with afeller, do you think for a minute he wouldn't come to see hersometimes, or anyway let her know where he is? Why, you poor flap,he'd be a wooden man if he didn't do one or both of those things. AndBill Wingo ain't anybody's wooden man. Not that boy. He's anupstandin' citizen with all his brains and legs and arms and fingersand feet, and that's the kind of hairpin he is."

  "All that's a heap interesting, but let's hear the point of thejoke--if there is one."

  "The point is that if a gent was to watch Hazel Walton and hertraipsings to and fro, by and by he'd get news of Bill Wingo. And I'ma great li'l watcher myself--especially when there's two thousanddollars reward, like there is for Bill. It's worth some trouble. Tellyou, Nate, I'm glad I dropped in here this morning."

  "You're marshal," pointed out Nate. "You can't leave town."

  "I ain't supposed to work all night--only day-times and part of theevening. It's a cinch Bill won't make any social calls in daylight andit's a cinch the distance from town to Walton's won't tire me out likeit has you."

  "Putting it that way," said Nate, suddenly perceiving an opportunity tomake a little easy money, "putting it that way, maybe I'll go too."

  "It ain't necessary," protested the marshal, alarmed at the barethought of dividing a profit. "I can manage it myself."

  "I'll help you, though."

  "Look here, whose scheme is this, huh?"

  "You may have thought of it," conceded Nate, "but she was my girlfirst, and I got as much right to go out there again and see her as youhave, and I got as much right to that two thousand dollars as you have."

  The marshal swore frankly. "I'll never tell you anything again.Taking advantage of a feller this way. I t
hought you were my friend."

  "I am. We'll go out together, huh?"

  "We will not," contradicted the marshal. "So you can just as well stopstretching your mouth about it."

  "Is that so? Is _that_ so?"

  "Yes, that's so. This is my private party, and you wanna keep pawsoff."

  "Aw, go sit on yourself!"

  "Remember what I told you," the marshal said in part and took hisdeparture.

  Arrived home, Hazel unhitched and unharnessed, turned the team into thecorral and carried her purchases into the kitchen and dumped them onthe table. She hung up her man's hat on one of the hooks that held theWinchester, and fluffed the hair about her temples by the aid of themirror that hung below the Terry clock her uncle had brought West withhim. She had always liked the Terry clock,--from the cheerful paintedpumpkins and grapes that graced the patterned top to the peculiarthrobbing ring it gave on striking the hour, she liked it.

  And on a day the old clock was destined to repay that liking fullmeasure, pressed down and running over.

  While she was fixing her hair, the clock struck three.

  Silently she unwrapped her bundles and stored away the contents incrock and box and drawer. A tidy person, Hazel. Then, because she wasstill in a temper with Nate Samson, she changed her dress, donned apair of overalls and began to scrub the kitchen floor.

  "Liar!" she said aloud, scraping a vigorous brush under the dresser."Liar! I hope your old store burns up!"

  So occupied was she with her thoughts and her work that she failed tohear the approach of a rider.

  "'Lo, Hazel," was the rider's greeting delivered across the doorsill.

  Hazel's brush stopped swishing to and fro.

  "Hello, Sally Jane," she said smilingly, supporting herself on one armand pushing back the hair that had fallen over her hot face. "Put yourhorse in the corral and come on in."

  "I tied him to the wagon," said Sally Jane.

  Out of respect for the wet floor she jigged on her heels across to achair and seated herself, hooking her heels in a rung. Sally Janelooked at Hazel with speculation in her eyes.

  "You look mad, dear," Sally Jane said.

  "I am," declared Hazel, and began to sizzle anew. "Just listen," shecontinued, hopping up to seat herself on the table, "to what I heard intown this morning. Nate told me--"

  "----there now," she concluded. "What do you think of that for aput-up job? Why, it's not even clever."

  "No," agreed Sally Jane. "Too many articles belonging to Bill. Eitherthe quirt or the hatband, but not both. I'd like to know how they gothold of them."

  "They?"

  "Or he. It may have been one man, and it may have been more than one.You can't tell. Tip had enemies--several. But I'm afraid the gangwon't take that into consideration,--much. All they'll be able to seeis the quirt and the hatband. And on top of what's happened already!Confound it, Bill shouldn't have disappeared this way. All his friendsknow he didn't--couldn't have either held up the stage or reallyrustled Sam Larder's precious horse, which, by the way, was found mudto the ears near Sam's corral this morning. Fact, Dad told me. Butwhy didn't Bill stay and face the music? That's what I'd like to know.He should have known he'd only hurt himself by running off this way.That's where he made one big mistake."

  At which Hazel jumped right off the table. Her black eyes snapped."He didn't make any mistake!" she cried. "He did just right! I knowhe did. If he ran--went away--he had a good reason and you can't tellme different, Sally Jane Prescott!"

  The older girl threw out a hand in mock alarm. "There, there, honey,calm down. I didn't mean anything against your precious Bill. Not athing."

  "He's not my precious Bill," denied Hazel with vigor. "He's just agood fuf-friend."

  Sally Jane looked at her shrewdly. "What makes you think your--frienddidn't make a mistake in going away?"

  "Because he couldn't make a mistake if he tried. That's why." Oh, thedefiance in the voice of Hazel.

  "Heavens above, child! Men are only human beings and human beings makemistakes. Bill's a man, and he's liable to make mistakes like anyother one of them."

  "Not Bill," Hazel contradicted flatly. "He--he's different. He----"

  Alarums and excursions without--the gallop of several horses, shouts ofmen, the jingle and stamp of riders dismounting at the door. Enteredthen Felix Craft and Sam Larder with drawn guns, in their rear thedistrict attorney, likewise with weapon displayed.

  "Whose horse is that?" Craft demanded, fixing Hazel with a baleful eye.

  "If you mean the one tied to the wagon," replied Hazel, "it belongs toSally Jane Prescott."

  "What of it?" demanded Sally Jane, appraising the trio with a coolglance.

  "Visitors in my kitchen take off their hats," reminded Hazel severely.

  The three men sheepishly removed their hats and sheathed their firearms.

  "That's better," said Hazel. "You don't know how silly you looked,rushing in here brandishing your guns that way. I was quite frightenedfor a minute." Here she giggled and winked at Sally Jane.

  "We thought maybe Bill Wingo was here," said Craft.

  "And what made you think Bill Wingo was here?" asked Hazel.

  "That horse outside," he replied, watching her shrewdly. "Do you mindif I search the house?"

  "I certain do mind!" cried Hazel. "You dare search this house! Justyou try it!"

  "I'll bet the man's here," struck in the district attorney, pushing tothe front. "Good thing we surrounded the house first. If you've gotBill Wingo hidden anywhere, you give him up, do you hear, Hazel?"

  "Miss Walton to you, do you hear, Rale?"

  He eyed her a moment venomously.

  "Gettin' particular, ain't you?" he sneered. "Any one would think--"His tongue ceased suddenly to wag as she dipped the floor brush in thedirty water of the bucket and drew back her arm.

  "Yes?" prompted Hazel, her eyes beginning to glitter with a dangerouslight.

  "Nothing," capitulated the district attorney and tried to smile. "Iwas thinking of a joke I heard last night, Miss Walton."

  "That's better," approved Hazel.

  "Look here," said the district attorney, "if Bill Wingo ain't here,what did you go to town for to-day and buy all those supplies?"

  Genuine astonishment showed on Hazel's countenance. "Those supplieswere my regular supplies. Don't you suppose I buy something to eatonce in a while?"

  "Queer you should have come in and got that stuff the day after TipO'Gorman was murdered."

  "We figure," said Sam Larder, "that Bill Wingo will have to eat rightalong, and that unless he's left the country, it's natural he'll gethis supplies from his friends, and we know that you drove in town andbought supplies this morning."

  "Well, I've told you who I bought 'em for," snapped Hazel. "Anythingelse?"

  "There is," said the district attorney smoothly. "We're going tosearch the house."

  "You won't take my word that Bill Wingo isn't here?" demanded Hazel.

  "In a matter like this we can't," replied the district attorney.

  "One moment," murmured Hazel, stepping back.

  The next instant she had jerked her Winchester off the hooks and cockedthe hammer. "Now," she resumed, holding the weapon level with herbelt, "now go ahead and search the house."

  The district attorney, with a haste that was ludicrous, slid behind thefat bulk of Sam Larder. Even Felix Craft smiled.

  "She's bluffing," declared the district attorney. "I'll go out and getthe marshal."

  He departed hurriedly, to return almost immediately with Red Herring.The latter, sheepish as to the face and with shambling legs, advancedinto the room. The district attorney pointed dramatically at Hazel.

  "Arrest her," he directed.

  "Huh?" remarked the marshal, eyeing Hazel's artillery.

  "Arrest her, I said. To threaten with a deadly weapon is a statutoryoffense."

  "Well, I dunno," balked the marshal.

 
"Go on and arrest her. I'll back you up."

  "Will you?" Absolutely no enthusiasm on the part of the marshal.

  "G'on! What are you waiting for?" barked the exasperated districtattorney.

  "I'm waiting for her to put up her gun," was the truthful reply.

  "What you afraid of? She won't shoot. She's only bluffing, I tellyou."

  "You arrest her then. I ain't none sure I got a right to. I'm onlysupposed to make arrests in town. You better get one of the deputiesto arrest her, Arthur, I--I'd rather you would."

  The marshal oozed outdoors. The district attorney said something.

  "No more of that," Sam Larder enjoined him. "You stop your cussin',you hear. There's ladies present."

  "Where?" the district attorney demanded, staring about him insolently.

  "My father will ask you what you mean by that," said Sally Jane.

  "I didn't mean you," mumbled the angry man, perceiving that he had gonea little too far. "I--I was a li'l hasty, I guess. No offense,ladies, I hope."

  He achieved a clumsy bow and again faced Hazel. "Now, look here, youcan't go on acting this way, you know. You're only hurting your owncase. Be reasonable, be reasonable."

  "And let you poke all through my house!" she snapped him up. "Notmuch. I don't want any trouble, but I'll have to shoot the first manthat goes beyond this room."

  "Told you you'd get her all stirred up," said Sam Larder.

  "We didn't want you to come along anyway, Rale," contributed FelixCraft. "You're too buffle-headed for any human use. Y'oughta takethings more easy with the girl. If you'd left it to us, everythingwould have been all right."

  "I suppose busting in with your guns pulled is one way of taking iteasy."

  "I notice you had yours out," supplied Felix.

  "I thought the man might be here, same as you," defended the districtattorney.

  "Which is why you let us go first," sneered Sam.

  "When you're quite through bickering among yourselves--" drawled Hazel.

  "I wish you'd point that rifle somewhere else," the district attorneyremarked uneasily.

  "It's all right where it is," was the instant return.

  "I could arrest you, you know, if I wanted to," he pointed out.

  "I heard you say something like that to the marshal," nodded Hazel.

  The district attorney stared a moment.

  "Huh!" he muttered finally and strode to the door. "Hey, Red!" hecalled. "Come here a minute, will you?"

  "Now I ain't gonna arrest her for you and that's flat!" announced asulky voice without.

  "Nobody's asking you to. Come in, man, come in."

  The marshal sidled in, stumbling in his efforts to keep one eye on thedistrict attorney and the other on Hazel's Winchester.

  "You were in Nate Samson's store this morning, weren't you, Red?" Itwas more of a statement than a question.

  The marshal immediately gave the district attorney the full benefit ofboth eyes. "Huh?"

  "You were there when this girl, Miss Walton, made some purchases,weren't you?"

  "Yeah," admitted the marshal.

  "When Nate told her of the murder and the warrant sworn out again BillWingo, what did she do?"

  "Why--" stuttered the marshal.

  "She flew into a rage, didn't she? She threw a knife at Nate, didn'tshe?"

  "Who told you all this?" the marshal wished to know.

  "Nate told me."

  "Damn Nate, that's all I got to say," pronounced the marshal, disgustedat the duplicity of a former friend. "I was wonderin' where you gotthe notion so sudden of coming out here. Damn that-- Excuse me, Miss,for cussin'. What's that you want to know, Rale? Yes, I was there andshe slung a knife at Nate. With any luck she'd had hit him and servehim right, the flat-tongued snitch."

  "There now," exclaimed the triumphant district attorney, "you hearthat, Miss Walton? You drove into town the morning after the murder.When you are told of the murder and the warrant, you fly into a passionand try to kill the inoffensive storekeeper who told you the news. Notcontent with this, you throw what you've already bought at thestorekeeper and make your purchases at the other store. I have learnedthat among the purchases were twelve boxes of .45-90 rifle cartridgesand six boxes of .45 caliber Colt cartridges. I have reason to believethat these cartridges are not intended for your personal use. In fact,I am positive you bought them for the murderer, William H. Wingo."

  The marshal glanced quickly at the district attorney. He himself hadnot been aware of the ammunition item. The marshal inwardly cursed thedistrict attorney and Nate Samson.

  "Well," boomed the district attorney, when Hazel did not instantlyspeak, "what have you to say?"

  "Plenty," said she then. "I bought those cartridges for my personaluse. This Winchester is a .45-90 and my six-shooter is a .45. I guessI've got a right to buy ammunition now and then if I like."

  "Rats!" snarled the district attorney, stiff in his conceit. "Whatdoes a girl want with two hundred and forty rifle cartridges and threehundred revolver cartridges? Those revolver cartridges especially?You won't have use for 'em in ten years. You bought them for BillWingo. You can't fool me! You know where he is, you know you do, andI know you do, and I intend to put you in jail as a suspiciouscharacter until you tell us where he is."

  "What a filthy animal you are, anyway, Rale! I didn't know such thingsas you lived!" Thus Sally Jane, her upper lip fairly, curling withdisgust.

  "When I get back to Golden Bar, Miss Walton," fumed the districtattorney, unmoved by the insult, "I intend to swear out a warrant foryour arrest, and have it served by deputy sheriffs. If necessary, Ishall swear in deputies other than the two men, Shotgun Shillman andRiley Tyler, for the purpose of serving this warrant. I intend to havethe law obeyed."

  "She ain't busted any law that I can see," struck in Sam Larder gruffly.

  Neither he nor Felix Craft had intended to go as far as an actualarrest of the girl. They were bad enough, in all conscience, but theydrew the line somewhere.

  Felix Craft shook his head. "No arrest, Arthur. That don't go."

  "I can arrest her, I tell you," insisted the district attorney.

  "No," said Craft firmly. "Miss Walton," he went on, turning to thegirl, "we were a li'l excited when we came in here. Seeing that horseoutside and all, we got the idea that maybe Bill was here. Will yougive us your word he isn't?"

  "Why, certainly," she said. "Bill isn't here, I give you my word."

  "Fair enough," said Craft. "We'll be going. Come along, Arthur, move."

  He and Sam hustled the district attorney out between them. Craftcalled in the cordon of horsemen that had surrounded the ranch-house.

  "Crawl your horse, Arthur," ordered Craft. "What you waiting for?"

  Arthur, swearing heartily, did as directed. "I don't see why you don'twant me to have her arrested," he said in part as they rode townward."A few days in the cooler----"

  "No sense in it," declared Craft. "A lot of folks in the countywouldn't like it either, she being a woman and a good-lookin' onebesides. You leave her alone."

  "Yeah," slipped in Sam, "wait till you get some real evidence againsther. Suspicion ain't anything."

  "It would be enough for me to arrest her all right," persisted thedistrict attorney.

  "Blah! You couldn't hold her a week," averred Craft, "and you know it.And lemme tell you, I don't believe she knows any more about Bill Wingothan I do. You know they busted up this winter some time."

  "Changed your tune mighty sudden," sneered the district attorney. "Onthe way out you were as sure as the rest of us we'd get some kind of aclue at Walton's. Those cartridges----"

  "Dry up about those cartridges!" exclaimed Felix. "You got cartridgeson the brain."

  Then the wrangle became general.

  Hazel, standing in the doorway, watched the cavalcade disappear aroundthe bend in the draw.

  "I guess," she said, taking a box of cartridges from the top sh
elf andsnicking open the sealing with a finger nail, "I guess I'd better loadthis rifle."