The Light of the Western Stars by Zane Grey (book club suggestions .TXT) 📖

an' town folks, along with some strangers. I was about to get started up this way when Pat Hawe come in.

“Pat he's the sheriff. I reckon, Miss Majesty, thet sheriffs are new to you, an' fer sake of the West I'll explain to you thet we don't hev many of the real thing any more. Garrett, who killed Billy the Kid an' was killed himself near a year or so ago—he was the kind of sheriff thet helps to make a self-respectin' country. But this Pat Hawe—wal, I reckon there's no good in me sayin' what I think of him. He come into the hall, an' he was roarin' about things. He was goin' to arrest Danny Mains on sight. Wal, I jest polite-like told Pat thet the money was mine an' he needn't get riled about it. An' if I wanted to trail the thief I reckon I could do it as well as anybody. Pat howled thet law was law, an' he was goin' to lay down the law. Sure it 'peared to me thet Pat was daid set to arrest the first man he could find excuse to.

“Then he cooled down a bit an' was askin' questions about the wounded Greaser when Gene Stewart come in. Whenever Pat an' Gene come together it reminds me of the early days back in the 'seventies. Jest naturally everybody shut up. Fer Pat hates Gene, an' I reckon Gene ain't very sweet on Pat. They're jest natural foes in the first place, an' then the course of events here in El Cajon has been aggravatin'.

“'Hello, Stewart! You're the feller I'm lookin' fer,' said Pat.

“Stewart eyed him an' said, mighty cool an' sarcastic, 'Hawe, you look a good deal fer me when I'm hittin' up the dust the other way.'

“Pat went red at thet, but he held in. 'Say, Stewart, you-all think a lot of thet roan horse of yourn, with the aristocratic name?'

“'I reckon I do,' replied Gene, shortly.

“'Wal, where is he?'

“'Thet's none of your business, Hawe.'

“'Oho! it ain't, hey? Wal, I guess I can make it my business. Stewart, there was some queer goings-on last night thet you know somethin' about. Danny Mains robbed—Stillwell's money gone—your roan horse gone—thet little hussy Bonita gone—an' this Greaser near gone, too. Now, seein' thet you was up late an' prowlin' round the station where this Greaser was found, it ain't onreasonable to think you might know how he got plugged—is it?'

“Stewart laughed kind of cold, an' he rolled a cigarette, all the time eyin' Pat, an' then he said if he'd plugged the Greaser it 'd never hev been sich a bunglin' job.

“'I can arrest you on suspicion, Stewart, but before I go thet far I want some evidence. I want to round up Danny Mains an' thet little Greaser girl. I want to find out what's become of your hoss. You've never lent him since you hed him, an' there ain't enough raiders across the border to steal him from you. It's got a queer look—thet hoss bein' gone.'

“'You sure are a swell detective, Hawe, an' I wish you a heap of luck,' replied Stewart.

“Thet 'peared to nettle Pat beyond bounds, an' he stamped around an' swore. Then he had an idea. It jest stuck out all over him, an' he shook his finger in Stewart's face.

“'You was drunk last night?'

“Stewart never batted an eye.

“'You met some woman on Number Eight, didn't you?' shouted Hawe.

“'I met a lady,' replied Stewart, quiet an' menacin' like.

“'You met Al Hammond's sister, an' you took her up to Kingsley's. An' cinch this, my cowboy cavalier, I'm goin' up there an' ask this grand dame some questions, an' if she's as close-mouthed as you are I'll arrest her!'

“Gene Stewart turned white. I fer one expected to see him jump like lightnin', as he does when he's riled sudden. But he was calm an' he was thinkin' hard. Presently he said:

“'Pat, thet's a fool idee, an' if you do the trick it'll hurt you all the rest of your life. There's absolutely no reason to frighten Miss Hammond. An' tryin' to arrest her would be such a damned outrage as won't be stood fer in El Cajon. If you're sore on me send me to jail. I'll go. If you want to hurt Al Hammond, go an' do it some man kind of way. Don't take your spite out on us by insultin' a lady who has come hyar to hev a little visit. We're bad enough without bein' low-down as Greasers.'

“It was a long talk for Gene, an' I was as surprised as the rest of the fellers. Think of Gene Stewart talkin' soft an' sweet to thet red-eyed coyote of a sheriff! An' Pat, he looked so devilishly gleeful thet if somethin' about Gene hedn't held me tight I'd hev got in the game myself. It was plain to me an' others who spoke of it afterwards thet Pat Hawe hed forgotten the law an' the officer in the man an' his hate.

“'I'm a-goin', an' I'm a-goin' right now!' he shouted. “An' after thet any one could hev heerd a clock tick a mile off. Stewart seemed kind of chokin', an' he seemed to hev been bewildered by the idee of Hawe's confrontin' you.

“An' finally he burst out: 'But, man, think who it is! It's Miss Hammond! If you seen her, even if you was locoed or drunk, you—you couldn't do it.'

“'Couldn't I? Wal, I'll show you damn quick. What do I care who she is? Them swell Eastern women—I've heerd of them. They're not so much. This Hammond woman—'

“Suddenly Hawe shut up, an' with his red mug turnin' green he went for his gun.”

Stillwell paused in his narrative to get breath, and he wiped his moist brow. And now his face began to lose its cragginess. It changed, it softened, it rippled and wrinkled, and all that strange mobility focused and shone in a wonderful smile.

“An' then, Miss Majesty, then there was somethin' happened. Stewart took Pat's gun away from him and throwed it on the floor. An' what followed was beautiful. Sure it was the beautifulest sight I ever seen. Only it was over so soon! A little while after, when the doctor came, he hed another patient besides the wounded Greaser, an' he said thet this new one would require about four months to be up an' around cheerful-like again. An' Gene Stewart hed hit the trail for the border.”