CHAPTER XX: THE SHERIFF COMES
Nan’s ankle was pretty sore the next morning, but she insisted on dressing, and Len carried her out to breakfast. Sailor had already eaten his breakfast, and was down at the stable.
Len told her about the boys going out to look for Hashknife, and that he was anxious to find out whether anything serious had happened. Little Larry was down at the stable with Sailor, who was saddling a burro for him to ride. They could hear Larry’s high-pitched voice as he gave expert advice on the matter.
“He’s a lovable little fellow,” said Nan. “This ranch will be wonderful for him, Len.”
“Then you don’t mind havin’ him here, Nan?”
“Oh, I love it.”
“I wondered if yuh would. Where do yuh want to sit this mornin’? You can’t do much movin’ around, yuh know, and I’d kinda like to ride to town and see if they found Hartley.”
“On the front porch. Don’t hurry on my account, Len.”
“Well, I won’t be gone long.”
He carried her out on the porch and made her comfortable in a rocker, stacking up some old magazines beside her.
“Len,” she said seriously, “you are awful good to me.”
“Mebby I am and mebby I ain’t,” he said brusquely. “See you later.”
Larry came up to see her after a while, his face flushed, clothes dusty.
“Me and the mule got along great,” he told her, with a triumphant note in his voice. “Sailor says I rode him to a frazzle. Sailor’s makin’ over a saddle for me. Well, I’ve got to get back to work, I s’pose.”
“What kind of work, Larry?” she asked.
“Cuttin’ wood for Whisperin’.”
“You should call him Mr. Taylor, Larry.”
“I did—once. Then he said we was well enough acquainted to call each other by our first names. What was all this about Mr. Hartley bein’ missin’?”
“Nobody seems to know, Larry.”
“Gee, I hope he’s all right. Me and him are waitin’ for the big wind to come along, so we can fly a kite. When yore ankle gets better you can help us.”
“All right, Larry. Perhaps your father will help, too.”
Larry thought a while.
“Mebby. It’s funny to think of him bein’ my father. Do you like him?”
“Why do you ask that, Larry?”
“Well, I guess he likes you.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“He told me that the boss was a nice lady. He wouldn’t say that unless he liked you, would he?”
“I don’t know, I’m sure. I hope he likes me, Larry.”
“Uh-huh. Well, I’ve got to cut some wood.”
It was after twelve o’clock when Whispering beat the dinner gong, and Sailor came up from the stable with Larry. Whispering asked Nan whether they should carry her to the table or serve her meal out there. She decided in favour of eating on the porch.
It was Sailor who brought the tray out there. Nan held it, while Sailor brought out a small table.
“You carried my message to Mr. Baggs, didn’t you, Sailor?” she asked, still holding the tray in both hands.
“No, ma’am, I didn’t,” he said. “Couldn’t find him last night, and I plumb forgot to tell yuh this mornin’.”
The tray slipped from Nan’s fingers, struck on her two knees and went upside down on the porch, the dishes clattering down the steps. Her arms fell limply to her sides and she sagged back in her chair, her face turning white.
“My golly!” blurted Sailor. “Whatsa matter? Yore ankle?”
For several moments Nan did not speak, while Sailor watched her anxiously. Hearing the crash of the dishes, Whispering and Larry came running out.
“I reckon her ankle hurt,” said Sailor.
“You prob’ly stepped on it!” snorted Whispering.
“Aw, I wasn’t near her. She⸺”
“It’s all right,” whispered Nan painfully. “Oh, I’m sorry about the dishes.”
“Shucks, that’s all right,” assured Whispering. “I’ll load up another bunch for yuh.”
Nan shook her head wearily.
“No, don’t do that, Whispering; I’m not hungry now.”
“I know how yuh feel,” he said. “I had a sprained leg once. Them pains shore do shoot through. You jist take it easy, and when yuh get hungry I’ll fix up a snack for yuh.”
They went back to the dining-room, leaving Nan to stare out at the hills, wondering what would happen next. She knew that Baggs would watch for her to leave Lobo Wells, and when she did not appear at the station he would have her arrested.
Several times Whispering came out to the porch, anxious to prepare a meal for her, but she had no appetite. Her eyes ached from watching the road to Lobo Wells, and when she did see a cloud of dust, presaging the approach of a rider, she clenched her hands and swore she would be game, while cold chills raced up and down her spine.
She recognised Len at a distance, but the other rider was not familiar, until they came in through the big gate, when she recognised the huge figure of Ben Dillon, the sheriff. She gripped the arms of her chair and watched them ride up to her and dismount. The sheriff was coming for her, she knew. Len’s face seemed very grave, as he said:
“Ben, you’ve met Miss Singer, ain’t yuh?”
“Howdy,” said the sheriff. “I ain’t never had the pleasure.”
Nan couldn’t speak. Their faces seemed blurred.
“You remember sendin’ Sailor Jones to town last night?” asked the sheriff.
“Hey!” blurted Len quickly. “She’s fainted, Ben.”
“By God, that’s what she’s done, Len! What do yuh do for⸺”
Len picked her up in his arms and carried her into the house, placing her on the couch.
“What’s the hell’s been goin’ on now?” wailed Whispering.
“Get some cold water!” snapped Len.
Len bathed her face with cold water, which revived her in a few moments. Her mind was clear again, and she waited for the sheriff to say or do something, but he walked from the room with Len. Out on the porch he said:
“She ain’t in no shape to talk, Len. Personally, I don’t think Sailor had anythin’ to do with it, but Breezy said that Sailor was along about that time, and I jist wanted to kinda find out if she knew what time he got home.”
“I told yuh she didn’t, Ben. Sailor never went up to the house after he got back. It was only a little while before Stevens and Breezy came bustin’ out, lookin’ for Hashknife. Anyway, Sailor wouldn’t bushwhack anybody, and yuh say that Hartley was bushwhacked.”
“Hartley never said anythin’—it was Breezy. Sleepy told him. I saw Hartley this mornin’, and he shore had a close call. It’s got me all balled up. If you can tell me why anybody would try to shoot his head off with a shotgun I’ll put in with yuh. Why, the man is a stranger around here.”
“Yeah, that’s true, Ben. Kinda funny. First off they kill Prentice; then they try to kill Amos Baggs. Now they ambush Hartley. Who will be next? What did Hartley say?”
“Grinned like a danged fool. I asked him if he wasn’t scared, and he said he shore was—scared to death.”
Len smiled and rubbed his chin.
“Yuh say they threw him off the bridge?”
“Yeah. Prob’ly thought he was dead.”
“Hm-m-m. I wonder if Hartley has any idea who done it, Ben?”
“I asked Stevens the same question, and he said he didn’t. I told Hartley I was goin’ to try and find out who shot him, and he said he’d be much obliged if I could. Sometimes he makes me so damn mad, with his grinnin’—but yuh can’t help likin’ him, Len. And he ain’t a man I’d choose for a fight.
“Packs his gun pretty low,” nodded Len, “and them eyes of his are pretty steady, even when he grins with his mouth.”
“How’s the boy, Len?”
“Fine.”
“Well, I’ll be driftin’ back. Sorry I bothered Miss Singer, Len; but this deal is gittin’ me up in the air.”
“That’s all right, Ben.”
Len Ayres watched him ride away, and then went back into the house. Nan was curled up on the couch.
“Where is the sheriff?” she asked.
“Oh, he went back to town, Nan. He said he was sorry to bother yuh, but there was a few things he wanted to know. Last night somebody tried to kill Hartley on the road between here and town. Shot him off his horse and threw him in the river. Sailor was the only man along the road at that time. Breezy Hill knew what time Sailor left town, and the sheriff wanted to see if you had any idea what time Sailor got back here to the ranch. I guess he didn’t believe me.”
“But I didn’t see Sailor after he got back last night,” said Nan wearily.
“That’s what I told him. Do yuh feel better, Nan?”
“Much better.”
“Ankle pretty sore, ain’t it? I’ll betcha. Mebby I better take yuh to the doctor, Nan.”
“Well, that—yes, Len, that would give me a chance to talk with Mr. Baggs. He expected me this morning. Sailor never delivered my message to him. I guess he wasn’t able to find Mr. Baggs.”
“Shore. But I’ll tell yuh what we’re goin’ to do, Nan: we’re goin’ to take yore case away from Baggs. I don’t trust him. We’ll demand the will and all the papers and turn ’em over to another lawyer. Jist cut Mr. Baggs off at the pockets.”
Nan stared at him rather wildly. The idea was good, but the consequences might be terrible. She thought quickly.
“I—I don’t know whether I could stand the ride, Len,” she said weakly. “This ankle is awful sore. Maybe you better have the doctor come out here.”
“Whatever yuh want to do, Nan. Shall I bring Baggs out?”
“We—we’ll let him—I’ll be all right in a few days. You just tell him I got hurt, will you, Len?”
“Oh, shore.”
After Len left the room Nan wiped the perspiration off her brow and offered up a prayer for this short respite. If Len explained her condition to Baggs it might save her for a few more days.