CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
JONESY'S ULTIMATUM
"You can't tell me that infernal Bill Wingo ain't at the bottom of allthis business!" snarled Felix Craft. "Guerilla Melody and that Dawsonfriend of his didn't get Slike by themselves any more than I did. Itell you flat, Bill Wingo was the boss of that job. He was the brains,and you can't tell me different."
"And there was a time when we thought Bill didn't have any brains," SamLarder grieved bitterly.
"I didn't," avowed the district attorney. "I always knew----"
"Oh, you!" interrupted Felix with a sneer. "You know it all, you do.You know so much, maybe you'll explain why Reelfoot says you told himTip O'Gorman was gonna tangle him up in the Walton murder and that theeasiest way was for him to down Tip."
"He says Rafe Tuckleton told him that," corrected the district attorney.
"He says you did too," accused Sam Larder. "What did you tell him athing like that for?"
"Reelfoot's a liar," declared the district attorney. "I never told himanything of the kind. Why should I?"
"I don't know. I'd like to find out." The fat man's stare was brightwith suspicion.
The district attorney bristled. "Good Lord, man, I was always friendlywith Tip."
"You were friendlier with Rafe Tuckleton," pointed out Felix, "and weall know Tip didn't have any use for Rafe after that Walton deal, andRafe knew it."
"It's just possible," put in Sam Larder, "that Rafe put Reelfoot up todowning Tip."
"In which case," supplemented Felix, "you bein' so friendly with Rafe,it would be natural for you to help him."
"Next thing you'll be saying I killed Tip." Thus the district attorneywith sarcasm.
"No, because that wouldn't be true. I know you didn't kill him. ButI'm not sure you aren't an accessory before and after the fact."
The district attorney went pale. But he made no attempt to go afterhis gun. Not against Felix Craft. Not now at any rate. "I'll settlethis with you later," he began. "I----"
"You'll never settle anything with anybody," Felix flung the insultwith contempt.
"We'll gain nothing by fighting among ourselves," went on the districtattorney evenly. "If we don't stick together, we'll hang together, andyou can gamble on that. If Slike talks----"
"He'll implicate you and Tuckleton," Larder chipped in swiftly. "We'reout of _that_ proposition."
"But we all aided him to escape from jail, so we are all guilty offelony. If Slike should choose to blat about it--" The districtattorney left the remainder of the sentence to his comrades'imagination.
"He's right," said Sam Larder suddenly. "We've got to stick together."
"All right," Felix Craft said grudgingly, "I'll wait until we're out ofthis muss before I ask you any more questions about egging Reelfoot todown Tip O'Gorman, Rale. Afterward I'll get the truth out of you if Ihave to choke you to death first. Oh, you needn't show your teeth atme, feller. You won't bite."
The district attorney swallowed hard. "You'll find your suspicion isbaseless, Felix, baseless and unjust. I had absolutely nothing to dowith the murder of Tip O'Gorman. Whoever told you----"
"Nobody told me anything. I----"
"Let it go for now," broke in Sam Larder. "We've got to think of ourskins. And if we don't catch Bill Wingo, they'll be gone skins."
"You bet they will," said the district attorney. "That man at large isa menace. He'd bushwhack any or all of us three without a moment'shesitation. He's--he's capable of anything."
"I know he's capable of anything," Sam Larder said with deep feeling,thinking of Billy's escape from the Larder ranch house. "And I'd givea good deal to know he was two feet underground. But Gawd knows wecan't do more than we have done to catch him. Felix and me have riddenourselves bowlegged combin' the Medicines for him."
"You bet we have," agreed Felix. "There ain't a square foot of thosemountains we don't know intimate. Speaking personal, I've ridden--"He paused and looked across at Sam Larder. "That bet was I'd ride morethan six hundred miles in sixty days. Remember, Sam? And the sixtydays ain't up yet, and I've ridden more than six hundred already."
"What bet's that?" asked the district attorney chattily, anxious toreestablish friendly relations. "Who you bettin' with?"
"Nobody you're interested in," parried Felix Craft, it having beenthought better to keep the district attorney in the dark regarding thehappenings at the Larder ranch house on the day of the stage hold-up.
"I'll go the limit we've covered a thousand miles," groaned Sam. "I'velost thirty pounds myself. I don't believe Bill ever went near theMedicines."
"Oh, he went there, all right," said the district attorney. "Take myword----"
A pounding on the office door cut the sentence in half.
"You are certainly jumpy this evening, Rale," Felix Craft said dryly."Open the door. Maybe it's our friend Bill."
The district attorney obeyed with caution. Not that he expected Billy.But then, he did not quite know what to expect. That it would besomething to trouble him he was positive. He was not disappointed. Itwas a trio of the Tuckleton outfit, to wit, the foreman, Jonesy, andtwo punchers, Ben Shanklin and Tim Mullin. All three were in the worstof tempers.
"Look here, Rale," Jonesy began without preliminary, "you've fooledwith us long enough, and we're sick of it."
"We want action," rapped out Ben Shanklin.
"You can't come any of this high and mighty stuff over me," said thedistrict attorney, with an eye that flickered in spite of himself. "Idon't know what you're talking about, but if you want anything, you'llhave to ask for it in the right way, and maybe you'll get it and maybeyou won't."
"Is that so?" fleered Jonesy. "We'll see about that. What have youdone in Rafe's case?"
"We hope to land the murderer very soon. We have several clues.We----"
Jonesy banged his fist down on the table with a force that made thewindows dance. "Shut up! You and your 'we's!' Rafe's murderer isthat damn niece of Walton's, and you know it. You had her in the jugand you turned her loose. The evidence was insufficient to hold heron, you said. You said at that time you had evidence against BillWingo and expected to catch him soon. You haven't caught him, and wewant to know what the evidence against him is. What is it? C'mon!Spit it out!"
"Now look here," temporized the district attorney, "I can't tellyou----"
"You bet you can't," interrupted the angry Shanklin. "'Cause why?'Cause you haven't any evidence against him! The only evidence you'vegot is against Hazel Walton, and you've got enough of that to put herover the jumps."
"Lemme do the talkin', Ben," directed Jonesy. "Look here, Rale, eitheryou tell us what evidence you got against Bill Wingo, or you issue awarrant for Hazel Walton's arrest. One or the other. Take yourchoice."
"Say, are you friends of Bill Wingo?" demanded the district attorney.
"You know better than that," snapped back Jonesy. "It's just thatwe're gonna know what's what."
"But what good will it do to rearrest Hazel Walton?"
"Then you haven't any evidence against Bill Wingo?" persisted Jonesy.
"I didn't say that. I----"
"If you can't tell us what the evidence is, we'll take it you haven'tany. I knew there was some trick in it when you turned Hazel loose.You and your evidence against Bill Wingo! You lousy liar, you gottaget up early in the morning to pile us! You listen to me! You issue awarrant for that girl's arrest immediate!"
"I can't," denied the district attorney. "I haven't the power to issuewarrants. No justice of the peace has yet been appointed to fillDriver's place, and the nearest judge is Donelson at Hillsville."
"Under the law," horned in Felix Craft, suddenly choosing his side,"when a felony has been committed, and there is reasonable cause forbelieving that the person to be arrested has committed it, that personmay be arrested without a warrant."
"I thought you didn't want anything to happen to Hazel Walton," fleeredthe district attor
ney.
"I don't want her hurt, that's all. I haven't any objection to herbeing tried for the murder of Tuckleton. But I ain't going to have youhaze her around. Understand?"
"There y'are," said Jonesy. "You don't need a warrant for the girl.All you have to do is to give your orders to Shotgun and Riley.They'll do the rest."
"But after turning her loose thisaway--" began the thoroughlyfrightened district attorney.
"You can rearrest her and have her tried on that butcher-knifeevidence," insisted the stubborn Jonesy. "Just going by what she saysherself, there's enough to fix her clock twice over. You dump her,Rale, and dump her quick."
"Or we'll fix your clock," inserted Tim Mullin.
The hapless district attorney cast his distressed gaze this way andthat. But every eye that met his either was unfriendly or wrathfullyhostile. Certainly there was no help for him in that room. Thedistrict attorney shuddered. He knew Jonesy and the rest of theTuckleton outfit; knew, too, if he did not do as these men of violencedemanded, that they would make him hard to find. On the other hand, ifhe obeyed them, Bill Wingo would as surely kill him. The districtattorney shuddered again.
"What you shivering about?" demanded the sarcastic Tim Mullin.
The district attorney squared his afflicted shoulders and did theobvious,--chose the more remote of the two evils. "I'll send Shotgunand Tyler to Prescott's to-morrow," he said, rose to his feet and,--thedoor flew open, and, Jerry Fern, wild-eyed with liquor, stumbled intothe room. The stage driver rolled straight to Felix Craft and pawedhim. "Fuf-felix," he babbled, "I wan' shush-shome mon-money."
The furious Felix shook him off. But Jerry Fern was nothing if notpersistent. He returned with bellowings.
The grinning faces of Guerilla Melody, Johnny Dawson, Shotgun and Rileylooked in through the open doorway.
"Come along, Jerry," called Guerilla. "We been hunting you all over."
Jerry Fern was not in the least interested in coming along. He hadanother and very definite end in view. "Fuf-felix, gug-gimme shomemum-money!"
Felix bit off a curse. "Look here, Jerry," he said soothingly, pattingthe hysterical drunkard on the back, "you go home and sleep it off.You don't want to go whoppin' round this way at your age."
The district attorney, Jonesy and his two punchers stared. This wasanother Felix. The Felix they knew would have knocked the sot down.
"I wuh-wuh-wan' shush-shome mum-money," gargled Jerry, even as Billy'sfour friends pushed in through the open doorway.
"You come along with me," urged Felix, gently propelling Jerry towardthe street.
Jerry braced his feet mulewise. "I wuh-won't! I wuh-won't! Iwuh-wan' mum-money you promised me."
"I didn't promise you a nickel," said Felix, wrestling with hisemotions. "But come along, and I'll give you some money if you're hardup."
"Huh-how much?"
"Plenty. I'll give you what you deserve." There was cream and butterin the gambler's voice, but there was grisly menace in his restlesseyes.
"Gug-guve mum-me more than you gug-gave bub-before?"
"Yes, yes. C'mon!"
"Wuh-want mum-money now!" yelped the contumacious Jerry, "or I'llpup-put you in jail!"
At which Felix lost his patience and his head and gave Jerry the bum'srush through the doorway. Jerry skidded across the sidewalk and slid ayard on his nose. This annoyed him considerably. He sat up,supporting himself on a wavering elbow and squalled, "Yuh-younun-needn't thuh-think I'm gug-gonna lul-lie for you nun-no longer! Ifyou dud-don't gug-gimme plenty mum-money, I'm gug-gonna tell folks howyuh-you huh-held up the sush-stage yourself all dressed up in BillWingo's clothes sho you cuc-could throw the bub-blame on him!"
Most certainly then the gambler would have put a bullet through JerryFern had not Shotgun Shillman and Riley Tyler been too quick for him.
"Now, now, Felix, calm down," suggested Shotgun.
"He's a liar!" foamed Felix, struggling to jerk his gun arm free. "Inever held up the stage! Bill Wingo did it himself! Ask Sam Larder!"
"Was Sam there, too?" said Riley, with fresh interest. "Here, Sam,wait a minute. What's your hurry?"
"Got to see a man," mumbled Sam. "Be right back."
"Stay a while," invited Riley Tyler.
Sam Larder regarded the muzzle of Riley's gun. "All right," said SamLarder.
"Felix," said Shotgun Shillman, "I don't _want_ to plug you."
Felix Craft took the hint.
Johnny Dawson went out into the street and returned with Jerry Fern,who had forgotten his grievance against Felix Craft and wished only tosleep.
Shotgun Shillman looked at the district attorney. "Rale, this sort ofputs a crimp in the notion that Bill Wingo held up the stage."
"It looks like it," admitted the district attorney, fumbling the paperson his desk. "Of course, we'll have to do some more investigatingfirst."
"Before any investigating is done, we want Hazel Walton arrested,"tucked in the malevolent Jonesy.
"All right! All right!" snarled the badgered Rale. "I'll have herarrested first thing in the morning."
The Rider of Golden Bar Page 25
