The Rider of Golden Bar Part 7

"Don't you think their intentions are honorable?"

Sally Jane's laughter was sardonic.

"Are they trying to fool me, or what?" he persisted.

"I don't know whether they're trying to fool you or not," was the reply, "but they're trying to fool somebody, that's a cinch."

"Do you know now, Sally Jane, I was thinking something like that myself."

She looked at him with a gleam of respect in her eyes. "I wonder if you really have a brain after all, William. Occasionally you give out a spark that leads one to believe that there may be a trace of reasoning power underneath your waving hair. What makes you think they have an ulterior motive?"

"Humanly speaking, I dunno why; but I do."

"Instinct is the white woman's burden, boy. You'd better leave it alone. But it doesn't take any instinct to tell me that there's a man and brother hiding in the cord-wood. To find the dark-hued gentleman--that is the question."

"Why take the trouble?"

"Why? Listen to the man! Why? So you'll know what you're up against, that's why."

"But I'm not up against anything," he objected mildly. "I told 'em I didn't want the job."

"What?"

He rubbed an outraged ear. "No need to deafen me," said he.

"Deafen you?" she cried. "I could take a club to you, you fat-head!

The opportunity of a lifetime and you turn it down! Oh! I could shriek my head off with rage! I never was so hopping in my life! The first time an honest man is offered a political job in this county, for the honest man to turn up his nose, is----" Words failed her. She almost choked.

"So-o, so-o," he soothed. "Don't get so excited. Remember we are young but once, and every outburst brings us nearer the grave. I hadn't reached the end of my tale when you blew up and hit the ceiling.

Lemme finish, that's a good child. I told 'em I didn't want the job, but they wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. They said for me to think it over, and they'd be back in a couple of days and take it up with me again."

"Bill," said Sally Jane, leaning forward, her violet eyes shining, "I'm serious."

"I'll try to believe it," he said, regarding her with admiration. "But just this minute you look like the most unserious thing I ever saw--and the most beautiful. Listen, Sally Jane, I wish you'd do as I ask you.

Close your eyes and plunge right in. We'd be as happy as two pups in a basket. Sign on the dotted line and leave the rest to me."

Which nonsense she quite properly disregarded utterly. "Bill, I want you to take that nomination."

"But why, Sally Jane? I don't wanna be sheriff."

"Suppose I want you to?"

"But why should you want me to?"

"Isn't it enough that I ask it?"

"You flirt! You're utterly shameless! You know you can twist me all round your li'l pink finger like a piece of string. You know I'm fool enough to do anything you ask, and----"

"Well then, good fool," she smiled her interruption, "it's all settled.

You accept the nomination, and if you don't make things hum after you're elected, you're not the man I take you for."

Bill slipped right off the porch rail and sat down limply on the floor.

His eye-b.a.l.l.s rolled up. His hand fluttered over his heart. He breathed with difficulty. "At last," he muttered. "Accepted! The shock will be the death of me! Water! Water! With a little whisky stirred in. Just a little. Not more than four or five fingers, or perhaps six. No sugar."

He got to his feet slowly and reseated himself on the rail. "You won't go back on your word, Sally Jane," he told her soberly.

"I can do lots of things you never heard of," said she. "But making two meanings grow where only one grew before is not one of them."

"Joking aside," he said, "will you marry me if I take this sheriff job?"

"Joking aside," said she, "would you want me for a reason like that?"

"Well, no," he admitted frankly. "I'd want you to love me a lot."

"I'd make a pretty worthless wife otherwise. Honestly, Bill, I like you a great deal, but there's something lacking. And when there's something lacking, there's nothing to be done. Love is the greatest thing in the world, Bill. It's what makes life worth living. And you mustn't cheat it. If you do, you might better never have been born."

He nodded. Try as he might, he was unable to feel very badly. He decided to give it up as a hopeless job.

"I see," he said gravely. "Sometimes, Sally Jane, I get an idea that maybe you and me won't marry each other, after all. But no matter what happens, I'll always be a brother to you. You can count on me."

He arose and made her a flourishing bow.

"That," said Sally Jane, with her bright smile, "takes a load off my heart. As a sister, I know I'd fill every requirement. Be a good brother now, and do as I ask. Be a sheriff."

"All right," said Billy Wingo. "I will."

CHAPTER FOUR

HAZEL WALTON

"Now there," said Riley Tyler, staring at the driver of a buckboard who was tying her team in front of the Rocky Mountain store, "now there is a girl that is pretty as a li'l red wagon, new-painted."

Billy Wingo, unmoved, continued to whittle the end of the packing case he was sharing with Tyler. He did not even look at the girl, and she was a very handsome girl.

"Yeah," said Billy Wingo.

"Not that I cotton to a female girl as a usual thing," resumed Riley, "ever since a experience I had when young. I'll tell you about it some time; maybe I better now."

"No, not now," Billy made haste to say; for he had heard the story of every single one of Tyler's love affairs at least a dozen times. "Le's talk about somethin' pleasant. Try the weather."

"You know, just for that," trundled on Riley Tyler, "we'll go on talking about young Hazel Walton over there. Pity she's gone in the store. You've never taken a good look at her, have you?"

"Nor I don't want to," denied Billy with what seemed to Riley an unnecessary heat.

"Why not? Do your eyes good. Tell you, Bill, she's got the best-looking black hair y'ever saw."