Tex

by B. M. Bower

  *CHAPTER XI*

  *EMPTY HONORS*

  The dramatic death of Bud Haines created a ripple of excitement inWindsor which ran a notch higher than any killing of recent years. Thelate gunman posed as a gunman, swaggeringly, exultantly. Himself acontributor of victims to Boot Hill, his going there aroused a greatdeal more satisfaction than resentment. He was unmourned, but notunsung, and the question raised by his passing concerned the living morethan the dead. How would his conqueror behave?

  Bud was an out-and-out killer, cold, dispassionate, calculating; onewhose gun was for hire and salary. He had no sympathy, no softer side tohis nature, if his fellow-townsmen knew him right. The crooked mouth,grown into a lop-sided sneer, had been a danger signal to everyone whosaw him, and through his up-to-then invincible gun Williams had passedhis days in confidence, his nights in sleep. He had been taciturn,unsmiling, grim, and the few words he occasionally uttered were nevercryptic. On the other hand Tex Jones was voluble, talked loosely andfoolishly and had shown signs at poker that his courage was not what itshould be to wrap the mantle of the fallen man about him and play hispart; but had it been truly shown? Was his poker playing a true indexto his whole nature? There was his brief, high-speed, complete masteryover Jake, himself a man bad enough to merit wholesome respect; therewas the cool killing of Bud, and the nonchalant actions of the victorafter the tragedy. He scarcely had given his victim a second look.

  This question, as all questions do, provided argument. Gus Williams,sullen and morose at losing a valuable man in whose fidelity he couldplace full trust, and on whose prowess his own power largely rested,maintained that Tex Jones had pulled the trigger mechanically, and thatit had been for him a lucky accident. His nephew took issue with himand paid his new companion full credit. The miners were about evenlydivided, while Carney openly exulted and made the victory his principaltopic of conversation. It helped him in another way, for there are somewho blindly follow a champion, and the Windsor champion kept his horseand spent many of his spare hours at Carney's. John Graves sighed withrelief at Bud's passing, due to an old score he had feared would bereopened, and he urged the appointment of Tex Jones for city marshal, aposition hitherto unfilled in Windsor. Carney was for this heart andsoul, and offered a marshal's office rent free. It was a lean-toadjoining his saloon.

  The railroad element breathed easier now. Tim Murphy wanted to bet onthe new man against anyone, at any style, and he glowed with pride as herealized that he, perhaps, was nearer to Tex Jones than any man in town.He had no trouble in persuading Costigan to look with warm favor on thesuccessor to Bud Haines. Jerry Saunders, remembering a bit of gunpractice, said he was not surprised and he exulted secretly. Tex Joneshad been the first man outside of the railroad circle to give him a kindword and to show friendship; but he had little to say about it after thedoor of his home closed upon him.

  Jerry's sister puzzled him. He saw traces of tears, strange moods cameover her which swept her from gaiety to black despondency in the courseof an hour or two, and no matter how he figured, he could not understandher. The story of how the affair had started and of Tommy Watkins' partin it made her moods more complex and unfathomable. Jane, he decided,was not only peculiar, but downright foolish. Bud Haines, being but afree member of Williams' own body, executing his wishes and the wishesof the detestable nephew, had been an evil whose potentiality could onlybe conjectured. He had been swept off the board and his conqueror wasat heart very friendly to the Saunders family. They no longer were themost helpless people in town.

  When Jerry had gone home on the day of the tragedy he had been full ofthe exploit, for Murphy and he had discussed it from every angle, and hehad absorbed a great deal of the big Irishman's open delight.

  Stunned at first, Jane flatly refused to talk about it, and had fledfrom the supper table to her room. Later on when he had cautiouslybroached the subject again, quoting the enthusiastic Murphy almostentirely, to show that his own opinions were well founded, she hadlistened to all he had to say, but had remained dumb. The evening wasanything but pleasant and he had gone to bed in an unconcealed huff.She gave credit to Watkins but withheld it from Jones, who had earned itall. "D--n women, anyhow," had been his summing up.

  The following morning he ate a silent breakfast and hurried to thestation as he would flee to an oasis from the open desert. He found Timwaiting for him, eager to talk it all over again.

  Hardly had the station been opened when Tex rode up, leaped from themagnificent roan, and sauntered to the door. His face was grave, hismanner dignified and calm. "How'd'y, boys," he said in greeting.

  "Proud I am this mornin'," beamed Murphy, his thick, huge hand closingover the lean, sinewy one of the gunman. "'Twas a fine job ye done,Tex, my boy; an' a fine way ye did it! Gave th' beast th' first shot!There's not another man could do it."

  "There's plenty could," answered Tex. "I can name two, an' there's manymore. I'm no gunman, understand: I'm just plain Tex Jones. But Ididn't come here to hold any pow-pow--I'm wonderin' if you'd let me lookin th' toolhouse--I might 'a' left it there when we loaded th' handcar."

  "An' what's 'it'?" asked Murphy.

  "My knife."

  "Come along then," said the section-boss, swinging his keys and leadingthe way. They found no knife, but Murphy was given some informationwhich he considered worth while. As they reached the station door againTex burst out laughing.

  "I know where it is! Cuss me for a fool, I left it in Carney's stable,stickin' in th' side of th' harness closet. Oh, well; there's no harmdone." He turned to Jerry. "I wonder if Miss Saunders would likeanother bit of practice today?"

  Jerry's face clouded. No matter how much he might admire Bud Haines'master in the late Bud's profession of gun-throwing, and no matter howmuch he might admire him for sundry other matters, nevertheless none ofthem qualified the new-found friend as an aspirant for his sister'shand. He did not wish to offend Tex, and certainly he did not want hisenmity. To him came Jane's inexplicable behavior and in coming itbrought an inspiration. Jane, he thought, could handle this matter farbetter than he could.

  "She didn't seem to be feeling well this morning," he answered. "Still,I never guess right about her. If you feel like riding again, go up andask her."

  "I hear there's some talk about them makin' you marshal of this town,"said Tim. "Don't you shelve it. This town needs a fair man in thatjob. It's been quiet of late, but ye can't allus tell. Wait till th'rains come an' start th' placerin' a-goin'. They'll have money tospend, then, an' trouble is shore to follow that. You take that job,Tex."

  Jerry nodded eagerly, pointed to some bullet holes in the frame of oneof the windows of the office and, grasping Tex by the arm, led himcloser to the window. "See that bullet hole in there, just over thetable an' below the calendar? The first shot startled me and made medrop my pen--I stooped to pick it up. When I sat up again there was ahole in the glass and under the calendar. When I stooped I saved mylife. Just a drunken joke, a miner feeling his oats. One dead man aweek was under the average. This town, under normal conditions, is alittle bit out of h--l. Take that job, Jones: the town needs you."

  Tex laughed. "You better wait till it's offered to me, Jerry. There'squite some people in this town that don't want any marshal. GusWilliams is the man to start it."

  "He will," declared Tim. "Bud was his bodyguard, but he was more.Williams has a lot of property to be protected, an' now Bud is gone, th'saints be praised. He'll start it."

  While they spoke, a miner was seen striding toward the station and soonjoined them. "How'd'y," he said, carelessly, glancing coldly at Tim andJerry. His eyes rested on Tex and glowed a little. "Th' boss wants totalk with you, Jones. Come a-runnin'."

  "Come a-runnin'," rang in Tex's ears and it did not please him. If hewas going to be the city marshal it would be well to start off right.

  "Th' boss?" he asked nonplused.

  "Sh
ore; Gus--Gus Williams," rejoined the messenger crisply and with alittle irritation. "You know who I mean. Git a move on."

  "Mr. Jones' compliments to Mr. Williams," replied Tex with exaggeratedformality, "an' say that Mr. Jones will call on him at Mr. Jones'convenience. Just at present I'm very busy--good day to you, sir."

  The miner stood stock-still while he reviewed the surprising words.

  Tex ignored him. "No," he said, "I ain't lookin' for no change in th'weather till th' moon changes," he explained to the two railroad men."But, of course, you know th' old sayin': 'In times of drought all signsfail.' An' there never was a truer one. I wouldn't be surprised if itrained any day; an' when it comes it's goin' to rain hard. Still, Iain't exactly lookin' for it, barrin' the sayin', till th' moon changes.That's my prophecy, gents; you wait an' see if I ain't right. Well, Ireckon I'll be amblin'. Good day."

  They watched him walk to the roan, throw the reins over an arm, and leadit slowly down the street, followed by the conjecturing messenger. TexJones evidently was in no hurry, for he stopped in two places beforeentering the hotel, and in there he remained for a quarter of an hour.When premature congratulations were offered him he accepted them withbecoming modesty and explained that he was not yet appointed.

  Gus Williams looked up with some irritation when the door opened andadmitted Tex into the store. The newcomer leaned against the counter,nodded to Gus and grinned at Henry. "Hear you want to see me aboutsomethin'," he said, flickering dust from his boots with a softlysnapping handkerchief.

  "What made you shoot Bud Haines?" growled the proprietor, turning on thestepladder against the shelves.

  Tex shook his head in befitting sorrow. "I shore didn't want to shootBud," he answered slowly. "Bud hadn't never done nothin' to me; but,"he explained, wearily, "he just made me do it. I dassn't let him shoottwice, dast I?"

  Williams growled something and replaced several articles of merchandise.

  "Hennery says you had to do it," he grudgingly admitted. "I reckonmebby you did--_but_, I don't see why you went at Bud like that, in th'first place."

  "I aimed to stop a killin'," muttered Tex, contritely; "an', instead ofdoin' it, I went an' made one. I ain't none surprised," he said, sighingresignedly, "for I generally play in bad luck. Ever since I shot thatblack cat, up at Laramie, I've had bad luck--not that I'm what you mightcall superstitious," he quickly and defiantly explained.

  "Well, a man can't allus help things like that," admitted Williams. "Ihad streaks of luck that looked like they never would peter out." Heshifted several articles, leaned back to study their arrangement, andslowly continued. "You see, Bud had a job that ain't very common; an'men like Bud ain't very common, neither. He allus was plumb gratefulbecause I saved his life once in a--stampede," he naively finished. "Igot a lot of valuable property in this here town, and Windsor gets quitelively when th' placerin' is going good. I shore feel sort of lostwithout Bud." He wiped his dusty hands on his trousers and slowlyclimbed down. "Now, I remembered that Scrub Oak an' Willow both haspeace officers, an' Windsor shore ain't taking a back seat from townslike them. Hennery was sayin' that folks here sort of been talkin'about a city marshal, an' mentionin' you for th' office. We ought tohave our valuable property pertected, an' me, bein' the owner of most ofth' valuable property here an' hereabouts, nat'rally leans to that idea;but, bein' th' biggest owner of valuable property, I sort of got to lookthe man over purty well before I appoint him. I got to have a good man,a man that'll pertect th' most property first. What you think aboutit?"

  Tex removed his sombrero, turned it over slowly in his hands and staredat its dents. Punching them out and pushing in new ones, he gravelyconsidered them. "Well," he drawled, "you see, if that letter comes--Idon't know how long I'm goin' to stay in town; but if I did stay, I'dshore do my damndest to pertect property, an' you havin' the most of it,you'd nat'rally be pertected more'n others that had less."

  Williams glanced swiftly at his nephew. "You still expectin' thatletter, Jones?" he slyly demanded.

  Tex hesitated and turned the hat over again. "Can't hardly say I am," headmitted, frowning at Henry. "But there's a sayin' that hope springsinfernal--an' I reckon that's th' h--l of it; a man never knows when toquit waitin' for it to spring. Meanwhile I got to eat--an' I like a gameof poker once in awhile. Here, tell you what--I'll take the job as longas I can hold it, if the pay is right. What you reckon the job's worth,in a lawless, desperate town like this, where no man's life or propertyis worth very much?"

  Williams scowled. "This here town ain't lawless an' desperate," hedenied. "There ain't a more peaceable town in Kansas!"

  "Which same ain't payin' no compliments to Kansas towns, once the rainscome," chuckled Tex. "I'm admirin' your humor, Mr. Williams--I ain'tnever heard dryer," he beamed in frank admiration. "But, wet or dry,there's allus them mean low-down cow-wrastlers comin' to town to likkerup--an' them an' miners are as friendly as a badger and a dog. Let'sname over them as would want the pertection of a marshal, an' thenfigger how much they'd sweeten the pot. Take Carney, now--he ought tobe willin' to ante up han'some, his business bein' so healthy."

  "Carney," sneered Williams in open contempt. "Huh! Here, gimme thatpencil an' that old envelope!" He worked laboriously, revised thefigures several times and then looked up. "I reckon two hundred a monthought to be enough. Scrub Oak pays that--Willow does likewise. You gotyour outfit. We furnish th' office, ammernition, an' pay extraexpenses. That's th' best Windsor can do. Yore office will be next doorto this store."

  Tex looked questioningly at Henry, who nodded decisively, and carefullyput the hat back on his head. "All right," he said. "When do I startin?"

  "Right now," answered Williams, fumbling under the counter. "We ain'tgot no marshal's badge, but I got a sheriff's star somewhere around. Hewas killed up on Buffaler Crick last spring. Yep--here it is: this'lldo for awhile. Lean over here, Marshal," he chuckled. "There: It ain'tevery marshal that's a sheriff, too." Smiling at Henry he said,jokingly, "Now let her rain!"

  Tex nodded. "Let it come," he said. "Everybody that deserves it willhave a slicker ag'in' th' rain. As marshal I'm playin' nofavorites--there's no strings to a city marshal. My job's to keep th'peace of Windsor, an' let th' devil whistle." He smiled enigmatically,hitched up his belt, and then looked at Henry. "You know where Bud'sbelt an' gun are?"

  Henry nodded. "Baldy's got 'em, behind th' bar. Want 'em?"

  "Yes," answered Tex, slowly turning. "When it starts rainin', two gunswill keep me on an even keel. My left hand feels empty-like. ReckonI'll go git Bud's outfit an' have th' harness-maker turn th' holster soit'll set right for th' left side; or mebby he's got a cavalry sheath,which won't need so much changin'."

  "But you ought to have a rifle heavier than a .38 short," suggested GusWilliams. "That ain't no gun for this country."

  Tex smiled. "For town use that's plenty heavy enough. But we won'targue about that because I ain't got it no more. I swapped with thatsection-boss, paying him fifteen dollars to-boot. To a thick Mick likehim there ain't much difference between a .38 short and a .45-90. Hecan't use either one worth a cuss, anyhow. I'd say I was luckystumblin' on him." He turned and walked toward the door, glanced up atthe cloudless sky, and chuckled. "No signs of rain, yet. Oh, well;it'll come when it gets here. _Adios_," and the slow steps of thewalking roan grew softer down the street.

  The harness-maker looked from the belt and holster to an up-ended boxand waved at the latter. "Set down, Mr. Jones. 'Twon't take a minute,but you might as well set. Many a one I've turned. A new cut here, anew strap, an' a scallop out of th' top on th' other side so yorefingers'll close on th' butt first thing. Let's see th' other. Yep;deep cut down to th' guard. Now, if I put it back on th' belt at th'same place, it'll throw th' buckle around back--all right, then. Theywon't match each other, but that don't make no difference, I reckon.Ain't there been some talk of appointin' you city marshal?"

  Tex nodded. "This s
tar was th' only one they had," he explained.

  "Well, you may be workin' both jobs afore long if Gus Williams has th'say-so," commented the harness-maker. "Funny, but I never work on a gunsheath but I think of th' one I made to order for Jack Slade after hegot around ag'in from Old Jules' shotgun. Jack blamed it on his holster,an' it shore made him particular. That was back in Old Julesburg when Iwas a harness-apprentice there. Soon after that he was sent up to takecharge of th' Rocky Ridge division of th' stage line, which was th'worst division of th' whole line. Holdups was a reg'lar thing. Theysoon stopped after he took charge. He was th' best man with a short gunI ever saw. I heard that he wore that holster to th' day th' vigilantesgot him, up in Virginia City, Montanny. Now, Mr. Marshal, strap this onyou an' see if th' gun comes out right. Sometimes they got to be shapeda little mite--ah, that looks all right. Reckon it'll do?"

  With the newly acquired belt hanging over the old one, sloping looselyfrom the right hip across his body to a point below the left, themarshal went out, mounted the roan, and rode carelessly down to thetoolshed, where he told Murphy of his appointment and of the fictitiousswapping of rifles, and then went up to the station. As he neared itJerry came out of the door, caught the flash of the sun on thenickel-plated star and turned, grinning, to await the coming of the newmarshal.

  "That looks mighty good to the station agent," Jerry laughed. "An' soyou're wearin two guns instead of one? Gosh, that looks business-like!"

  Tex reined in and grinned down at him. "Any time you feel urged toshoot up th' town, Mr. Agent, you'll find out that it is business-like.Better start by gettin' th' marshal first: it'll be a lot safer, thatway."

  "That's good advice, and I won't forget it," replied Jerry. "I'llnotify the company of your appointment. That ought to make it feelgood, and it might want to pay its share of your salary. I'm certainlywishing you luck."

  "I may be needin' it," responded the marshal. "Reckon I'll go on to th'house an' show off my new bright an' shinin' star." He glanced down atthe badge and grinned. "Seein' how you reads 'Sheriff' instead of'Marshal' she'll mebby wonder what you are. So-long, Jerry!"

  Reaching the little house, Tex swung gravely off Omar and proceeded tothe door in mock dignity. Knocking heavily, he assumed a stern demeanorand waited. When the door opened he removed his sombrero, bowed, andgrinned. "Behold the Law, Miss Saunders, in the person of the marshalof Windsor."

  "I congratulate you, Marshal," she coldly replied. "Doubtless you maynow take life with legal authority. It is too bad it comes a littlelate."

  "I did not need legal authority, Miss Saunders, if I rightly interpretyour remark," he rejoined. "The authority of Nature ever precedes andtranscends it. Self-preservation is the first law. He fired, and I didnot dare let him fire again."

  "You provoked his attack!" she flashed. "He could do nothing else."

  "That was because I preferred to risk his life than the certainty of himtaking that of Tommy Watkins, who was being deliberately baited. Budlost his rights when he drew his gun against an unsuspecting man. I amsorry if you look upon the unfortunate incident in any other light; butI am so sure of my position that I would repeat it today under the sameconditions. Besides I am naturally prejudiced against assassins."

  "Why did you give him his gun before he had time to master his anger?"she demanded, her eyes flashing.

  "Because I wanted to show him how impersonal my interference was, and tohelp smooth over a tense situation. It was one of those high-tensionmoments when a false move might easily precipitate a shambles. Therewere a dozen armed men in the room, a ratio of ten to two. I followedmy best judgment. I am not apologizing, Miss Saunders, even to you; I ammerely explaining the situation as it existed. When Bud Haines drew hisgun from the side to shoot a man who did not know of his danger, hebroke our rules. I would have been justified in shooting him down atthe move. Instead I tried to stop his shot and give him a way out ofit." While he spoke his right hand had risen to his belt and now hungthere by a crooked thumb, a position he was in the habit of assumingwhen he spoke earnestly.

  She glanced down at it involuntarily, shuddered, and slowly closed thedoor.

  "I am very sorry, Mr. Jones, but--" the closing of the door ended theconversation for both.

  He studied the warped, weather-beaten panel and the white, china knobfor a full minute, and then slowly replaced his hat and slowly walkedback to his horse. Patting the silky neck he shook his head. "Omar,it's been comin' to me for twenty years--but it might have waited till Ireally deserved it. Come on--we'll go back to th' herd, where webelong."

  Thoughtfully he rode away, his face older and sterner, its linesseemingly a little deeper.