The Sheriff of Badger Part 37

"It ain't fair," he said in a loud voice, "it isn't fair. And the dice are loaded. But--well, I'll try. I'm innocent, and I reckon He'll see me through, somehow."

Saying this, Ba.s.s rattled the dice in his hand and clapped them down with all his strength. So violent was his pa.s.sion that they rolled off the rock upon the ground.

"The throw counts!" the crowd yelled--"the throw's got to count. He's trying to gain time."

Lafe bent to examine the dice. As he did so he began to shout frantically, and he waved the crowd back.

"Look there!" he yelled, and pointed to three pieces of ivory on the ground.

The force of Ba.s.s's throw had broken a dice. One of them registered a six. The half of the other showed a six. And the broken half showed one.

The total was thirteen. He had done the impossible; he had beaten the half-breed by a point.

Baptismo gazed down at the fragments in stupefaction. His mouth was open, but for a minute at least no sound came from it. Then he whispered: "It's the judgment of G.o.d."

He collapsed and huddled in an abject heap, clasping Lafe's knees. And in that position he sobbed out his confession. Yes, he had killed Sellers--killed him there by the spring. They had long been enemies, and Sellers had insulted him in front of Florence Steel. He had followed when Jerry went to the spring. Sellers was singing. Sellers had angered the girl and she urged him to pick a quarrel. When he struck, Florence was coming down the path close behind. She saw it all, for she was quite close. He threw away the knife--he had found it--and ran to the barn.

There he saw Ba.s.s coming from the bushes beside the spring. He knew of Mordecai's quarrel with Sellers, and when he perceived that Ba.s.s was about to ride off, he resolved to stay at the ranch.

"I reckon," said Lafe, as he and Ba.s.s moved along the homeward trail that night, "I reckon you'd best leave Florence be, Mordecai. What do you think? Seems to me she set more store by that feller swinging back there."

"Don't," Ba.s.s entreated. "Yes, I reckon she did, Lafe. She must have loved him a heap."

"Women are queer," said Lafe.

"Say," he said suddenly again, "if you were in the bushes there, you must have seen the killing. Why didn't you speak out?"

His companion flushed and looked uncomfortable. Luckily it was dark.

"No, I didn't see who stabbed him, at all. I didn't see Baptismo there.

I only saw Florence coming along the path. And I'd lent her my knife, and--"

Both were silent a long time. Their ponies went steadily forward, their riders' legs occasionally touching. Finally Ba.s.s roused.

"What beats me," he said, "is how you happened to pick on Baptismo."

"Why," said Lafe, in a satisfied voice, "that was simple. I happened to sing that song. You know--'Oh, bury me not'--the one poor ol' Jerry was singing when Baptismo sneaked up behind. I was shuffling the cards and happened to look up sudden. And when I saw his face, I knew right away."

CHAPTER x.x.xVI

RESPONSIBILITY SITS HEAVILY ON LAFE

"It's a wonder," said Johnson to his wife one day, "it's a wonder we ain't never heard anything from Steve Moffatt."

She looked up from her sewing in curiosity. "Surely you don't want to hear from him, do you? I declare, one would think, to hear you talk, that you were sorry."

Lafe did not dispute this, but got down on his knees that his son might mount and ride him. Lafe, Jr., was pleased to consider his father a bucking bronco on these occasions and used to dig his heels gleefully into his ribs. Time--two months after Mordecai Ba.s.s and the half-breed shook dice against death, and they hanged Baptismo to a stout tree.

The boss of the Anvil freed himself from his rider by pitching him over his shoulder, and rose and dusted his knees.

"Well, anyhow," he said, "you remember what he done wrote to me when me and you were married. He said 'adios,' you mind. And he told me he wouldn't bother me until after the honeymoon."

"I remember well enough. What of it?"

"It's a mighty long time since the honeymoon," said her husband, shaking his head dubiously.

Hetty laughed, but the look she turned on Lafe was not wholly devoid of anxiety. For this was but one of a series of incidents. His behavior and recent trend of thought worried her. Since Jerry's tragic death, he seemed another individual. Lafe had grown subject to fits of depression and frequently gave utterance to the gloomiest forebodings. What had he on his mind? Nothing--not a thing in the world. Yet he continued to hint darkly that it would be just their luck if he fell ill, or were killed, leaving Hetty and the boy alone to starve.

"Nonsense!" cried Hetty, after she had listened patiently to several repet.i.tions of this obsession. "We're doing fine. You've got this place and six hundred dollars saved. And Mr. Horne pays you a hundred and twenty-five a month, and Bob owes you three hundred--"

Lafe gave a hollow laugh. "Yes," said he, "Bob owes me three hundred.

Ha-ha! That's a fine a.s.set--what Bob owes--ain't it?"

"So you think he's going to rob you? Say it. Say it right out. What did you lend it to him for, then?" she exclaimed.

"Because you done worried me into it," he retorted, but perceiving that he had offended her, he began to weaken, and ended by apologizing.

Although he scoffed at the prospect of his brother-in-law ever repaying the loan, it is my belief that Johnson had full confidence in Bob and would have resented with bodily injury any imputation from an outsider.

"If a man can't roast his friends, who can?" said he once, when I remonstrated with him concerning a criticism of Ferrier. "My friends knock me, I reckon. If they don't, then they can't think such a heap of me. No, sir. Bob's behaved like a no-account. Why, man alive, I had to let him have forty dollars more yesterday. What do you think of that--hey?"

Every one of his acquaintance had remarked the transformation in Johnson and all of us were at a loss. The change was revolutionary. It had never been my fortune to meet with an individual so reckless of the morrow as Lafe had been before marriage. Not only had he gambled daily with his life, but had held to it that money was to spend, and the prospect of poverty never appeared to enter into his calculations. Indeed, he had scorned those who showed reluctance to toss their hard-won earnings to the winds. Himself had always been penniless or in debt, but he had gone his way cheerily, indulging no worry over his plight.

Then he married, and now he talked like this: "I swan, Dan, when I think of what I married Hetty on, it sure makes me shake like a leaf. It's a wonder we didn't starve. A man's pluckier or he don't think of these things when he's younger--don't you reckon? I'd never dare do it over again now."

"Pluckier? No. Simply irresponsible--that's all. A lot of 'em hope for a miracle--these young people," said I.

"And d.a.m.n my eyes if they don't usually get it," Lafe said. "It's most amazing how things will turn up to help people who can't help themselves--just when you think you're done for, too."

"Then why are you worrying so now?"

"Am I worrying?" he asked, looking sharply at me.

I could see he was displeased, and consequently dropped the subject. But Horne and others told me that Johnson was much concerned about his health merely because he had contracted a cold. This was to them a symptom of hopeless effeminacy.

On a night when Lafe and I were riding under myriads of stars, and a drink of mezcal had contributed to warm the confidential impulses begotten by a long day together in the saddle, the boss inquired abruptly whether I would look after Lafe, Jr., in the event of anything happening to him. I gaped at him.

"What on earth's going to happen to you? You're as healthy as a goat."

"Dan, it makes me ashamed, but, consarn it, I lie awake nights often, wondering what would become of Hetty and the kid if I was to be killed or got hurt or fell sick. We ain't got enough saved to--"

"Oh, pshaw!" I protested. "Forget it. This isn't like you, Lafe."

Really anxious, I took the opportunity to mention to Hetty that her husband was suffering from indigestion and that it behooved her to get him fit again.

"Do you know," said she, "I've been wondering if that wasn't what ailed him. A man is only half a man when his stomach is out of order. He's got to get his meals all proper or he won't amount to anything. Thank you, Dan, I'll attend to it."