CHAPTER XXI—THE FINISH AT THE JML
“What didja find out, Jim?”
Jim Langley helped himself to a generous cut of beef and leaned aside to let One-Eye Connell pour him a cup of coffee.
“Didn’t find out a thing, Jess.”
“Yuh seen Hartley, yuh say?” queried Jess Fohl.
“Yeah, I saw him. One-Eye, this coffee is cold.”
“Yuh didn’t give me time to heat her, Jim. We had supper two hours ago. You didn’t say when you’d come back.”
“Heat the stuff up a little, will yuh?”
“What did Hartley want yuh for, Jim?” asked Briggs.
“Not a thing! I think you and One-Eye are loco.”
“Like hell!” snorted Briggs. “Leave it to One-Eye if he didn’t say he came to see yuh. He even wanted to wait for yuh. Ain’t that right, One-Eye?”
“Gospel truth, Jim.”
“Well, he didn’t say a word to me about bein’ here.”
“That’s what looks funny to me,” said Briggs. “He’s no fool, Jim. Are you goin’ to ignore everythin’ Slim told yuh about him?”
Langley swallowed a mouthful of food, blinking thoughtfully.
“He’s got nothin’ on us, Boomer,” said Langley.
“Yuh don’t know a thing about him. Angel stayed in town, didn’t he? Drinkin’?”
“That’s his business; he’s of age, Boomer.”
“And with the brain of a five-year-old savage. He’ll get drunk and pull a fight with somebody. He’s sore at Slim Caldwell over that girl business. You know him well enough to sock him over the head and bring him out here roped on a bronc. By God, I’ve had about enough of him myself, Jim. He ain’t quite human, if yuh ask me about him.”
“If you’re scared, why don’t yuh quit?” asked Langley.
“The road is wide open, Roper.”
“I’m no quitter, Jim,” quickly. “Neither am I a fool. My neck is worth more to me than most anythin’ I’ve got, and I don’t like to have a crazy fool riskin’ it for me.”
Langley shoved back his plate impatiently.
“Write yore own ticket, Boomer,” he said wearily. “I’m tired of bearin’ yuh complain. Let’s have a round of poker.”
“Here or in the bunk-house?” asked Fohl.
“Here.”
One-Eye cleared off the table, wiped up the crumbs, and stacked the dishes in a pan, while Langley produced the chip-rack and the cards.
“Yuh got to stand me off for a few dollars,” said Jess Fohl. “I’m plumb busted, Jim.”
Roper Briggs walked through the front room and out to the front porch. It was very dark, but he could see a dull glow in the direction of Red Arrow. He watched it several moments, and then came back into the house, where he picked up Langley’s field-glasses.
“There’s a fire in Red Arrow,” he called to the boys, and went out on the porch.
They followed him out. It was rather hard to tell just where the fire was. It seemed much closer than Red Arrow.
“Must be in town,” said Langley. “No house or hay-stack between here and Red Arrow.”
“Jist enough wind to burn the town,” said Fohl.
“Well, we can’t help it,” said Langley. “Let’s play cards.”
They went back and started their game, but there was an undercurrent of nervousness which caused them to play in a forced, jerky manner. Briggs continually listened, and he soon had the others doing the same thing.
“Aw, hell!” snorted Langley. “This makes me tired. What are you listenin’ for, Roper?”
“I dunno,” confessed Roper foolishly. “What’s the rest of yuh listenin’ for? I’m not doin’ it alone.”
“Well, quit it! Yuh make me jumpy. Gimme three cards, One-Eye. Three cards! My God, can’tcha count? Not five—three!”
“Don’t bark at me!” roared One-Eye, who was usually rather soft-spoken.
“You’ve got it, too, have yuh?” Langley threw his cards down on the table and shoved his chair back.
“What’s that?” exclaimed Roper Briggs.
It was the sound of a running horse which stopped down by the corral. Roper stepped to the door and flung it open, while the others crowded in behind him. They could hear a voice swearing—Angel McCoy’s voice.
Jim Langley shoved the other men aside and went striding down to the corral, followed by the others. It was so dark they could not see Angel and his horse until they were close to him. He was laughing drunkenly.
“What is wrong with you, Angel?” demanded Langley.
“Wrong with me?” Angel laughed drunkenly. “Nothin’ wrong with me. But I made that town set up and notice. They’ll remember me, damn their dirty skins! Whoa, Sally Ann!”
“Who have you got there?” snapped Langley. “A—a woman! Angel, you fool! What have you done now?”
“My woman!” rasped Angel. “Git away from her, Langley!”
“A woman?” gasped Briggs.
“His woman?” wondered Fohl. “Why, the fool ain’t——-”
Langley scratched a match, shielding it from the breeze. Angel was backed against his horse, one arm flung around Lila, the other hand holding a cocked six-shooter. Lila’s face was bloodless, her waist torn, a sleeve fluttering in the wind. Then the match went out.
“Oh, you fool!” wailed Briggs. “You awful fool!”
“Angel”—Langley’s voice shook with emotion—“Angel, have a little sense. My God, don’tcha know what you’ve done? C’mon in the house.”
“What have I done?” Angel’s voice was querulous. “I’m my own boss, ain’t I? They gave me the worst of it, and I’m payin’ ’em back. And I’m payin’ Slim Caldwell, damn his dirty heart. Don’t touch me, Langley—none of yuh.”
“Come in the house,” begged Langley. “Mebby we can git things straight.”
“I’ll come in, Langley; but don’t touch us. Go ahead—we’ll come.”
The men of the JML went ahead and entered the lighted kitchen, while close behind them came Angel and Lila. He had her right hand gripped at the wrist, and was still carrying his cocked gun. He shoved her in ahead of him, and stood there, glaring at them. He was hatless, and there were marks on his face which showed that Lila had not come willingly. She was panting heavily, and Langley thought she was going to faint, but when he started to get her a chair, Angel threw up his gun.
“Stay where yuh are, Langley,” he said harshly.
“Sure,” agreed Langley.
“Oh, let me go,” begged Lila.
Angel laughed mockingly.
“The—the house was on fire,” panted Lila. “We—we upset the table and the lamp fell.”
“So that’s what the fire was, eh?” muttered Briggs. “We could see it from here.”
“Nice little blaze, eh?” laughed Angel. “Oh, they’ll all remember me. I paid him back, the greaser. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! This is good!”
“And they’ll hang you so damned high——!” exclaimed Briggs.
“Hang me? I wasn’t born to be hung, Roper.”
“But don’t yuh realize what this will mean?” asked Langley. “They’ll know you took her, Angel.”
“How will they? Nobody seen me. They’ll think she burned in the fire. Oh, I was sure she was alone. I seen Mrs. Parker in the store. That house was half-burned before anybody discovered it, I’ll bet.”
Langley shrugged his shoulders helplessly.
“Go and take her back, Angel. Sneak around and leave her in town. If they come here after you, it’ll give yuh a chance to make a getaway.”
“The hell yuh say! Give her up? You must think I’m crazy.”
“You can’t keep her here, Angel.”
“I didn’t intend to. Give her up? Why, you damned fool, it took me a long time to get her this far. I didn’t know a woman could fight so hard.”
“But where can yuh take her, Angel? You’ll never get her out of this Valley.”
“Won’t I? Once I get into the lava beds, all hell won’t stop me.”
“You crazy fool!” grunted Briggs. “You haven’t a——”
Briggs had been standing with his arms folded, but now he dropped his hands, and perhaps Angel thought he was going to draw a gun. At any rate, Angel’s wrist crooked and the report of his revolver shot shook the room. Briggs jerked sideways, falling into Fohl, who tried to save him, and almost fell with him.
“Good God!” exclaimed Langley.
Angel was crouched forward, his gun held tensely in his hand. Lila swayed against the wall, her eyes wide with the horror of what she had seen.
“Keep away from me,” warned Angel. “Nobody can stop me, I tell yuh. Keep yore hands where they are. By God, I’ll kill anybody who tries to stop me.”
“Nobody goin’ to stop yuh, Angel,” said Langley. “Don’t shoot any more. We’ll help yuh get away.”
“There’s somebody comin’!” exclaimed Fohl. “Hear ’em?”
Angel released Lila in order to swing the door shut with a kick of his elbow.
“The lamp!” whispered Fohl. “They can see through a window.”
With a single stride Angel reached the table and blew out the lamp. “Keep away from me,” he warned. “Don’t touch me, damn yuh!”
“Shut up, you fool!” hissed Fohl, bold in the darkness. “Lila, if you’re wise, get down on the floor.”
“Stay where yuh are, Lila,” commanded Angel.
Except for their labored breathing, there was no sound in the room. Langley had moved into the front room, and was trying to see through the front windows.
“I heard several horses,” whispered Fohl.
“Shut up!” hissed Angel.
“... the brain of a five-year-old savage,” muttered a voice. It was Roper Briggs, talking in a delirium.
“I’m no quitter,” he said distinctly. “... neck’s worth more to me—my God, I’m thirsty! Whatcha drinkin’, Jim?”
“Make that fool shut up!” rasped Angel.
“He’s out of his head,” whispered Fohl.
“... put all our necks in a noose,” babbled Briggs.
“Choke that fool!”
“Choke him yourself—you shot him.”
“Water,” begged Roper.
“Can’t I get him some water?” asked Lila.
“Stay where yuh are,” ordered Angel.
“Can yuh see anythin’ from there, Jim?” whispered One-Eye.
“Not a damn thing. Are yuh sure yuh heard any——”
Some one was knocking on the front door.
“Come out, Langley.”
It was Slim Caldwell’s voice, hoarse with emotion.
“Sh-h-h-h!” warned Angel.
“Don’t play ’possum,” warned Slim. “The place is surrounded. We found Angel McCoy’s horse, and we know he’s in there. Bring him out, Jim. And another thing; if that girl is harmed, we’ll hang every damned one of yuh.”
“Yuh see!” whispered Fohl bitterly. “They’ve got all of us, Angel. Damn yore skin, I’d like to kill you.”
“Let me go out,” begged Lila.
Angel laughed softly. He still had her wrist.
Roper Briggs was trying to sing.
“... for I’m a poo-o-o-or cowboy and I know I’ve done wrong. Beat the drum slowly and play the fi-i-ife slowly; play the dead march as you bear me alo-o-o-ong.”
“Roper, for God’s sake, don’t sing that,” begged Fohl.
“Kick him in the head,” said Angel callously.
“You try it!” snapped Fohl. “If I knowed just where you was——”
“Are yuh comin’ out, Langley?” asked Slim Caldwell.
“No, damn yuh!” roared Langley. “If yuh want me, come and get me.”
“And that finishes everythin’,” wailed One-Eye.
Angel laughed with evident pleasure.
“Laugh, you crazy devil!” gritted Fohl.
“It’s a fifty-fifty bet,” said Langley. “We won’t go out and they don’t dare come in.”
“Ninety-ten,” corrected One-Eye. “We’ll have to come out sooner or later.”
“You yaller old quitter,” sneered Angel. “We’ll show ’em a trick or two, Jim.”
“Take the girl upstairs,” said Langley. “There’s no use in her gettin’ shot up.”
“She goes where I go,” declared Angel. “Whither thou goest, I will go, eh, Lila? Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! All my life I’ve wanted to fight against odds, and now I’ve got a chance.”
“You crazy fool,” wailed Fohl. “Why didn’t yuh pick yore odds a long ways from here?”
“Quit, if yuh want to, Jess,” said Langley. “Walk right out and give up. They might pad the rope for yuh.”
“Aw, they can’t hang us,” said One-Eye hopefully.
“They can hang Angel,” said Fohl, with a great deal of satisfaction.
“They’ll be skatin’ in hell a long time before they ever hang me,” swore Angel.
“Oh, shut up,” said Langley wearily. “No use snappin’ at each other. We’re all in on this deal. Let’s plan what to do. How about makin’ a break, boys? We might be lucky, eh?”
“Go ahead,” said a voice outside the kitchen door. “We been wonderin’ why yuh didn’t.”
“That’s Hashknife Hartley’s voice,” said Fohl.
Angel swore hollowly. It sounded as though he was losing his nerve.
“How about the upstairs winders?” queried One-Eye. “We could drop to the ground, Jim.”
“And get shot en route, eh?” sneered Fohl. “They’d be lookin’ for us to do that.”
Suddenly the front door banged open. Langley, who was on the floor in the connecting doorway, fired three times toward the doorway and then rolled into the corner. But there was no answering shot. Langley swore impotently. He had forgotten to lock the door.
“Keep out of line with the door,” warned Langley.
“They’re afraid of hurtin’ the girl!” exclaimed Fohl. “By God, we’ve got the best of ’em, Jim!”
“Water,” begged Briggs. “They’re burnin’ the house.”
“Please get him some water,” said Lila. “Won’t somebody get him some water?”
“Don’t pay any attention to him,” said Angel.
Fohl swore angrily and began moving along the floor.
“I’ll get yuh some water, Roper,” he said. “I may want some myself pretty soon.”
“Keep out of line with that door,” warned Langley.
They heard Fohl rattling a dipper in the bucket, and in a moment he was slithering back along the floor. They could hear Briggs drinking the water.
“Thank you, Mr. Fohl,” said Lila.
“Shut up!” growled Angel disgustedly.
“Don’t thank me, miss,” said Fohl. “Roper’s my bunkie.”
“What’s the matter with everybody?” whispered Briggs. “It’s so damned dark in here.”
“Angel shot yuh, Roper. Don’t yuh remember it?”
“He did? Where is he, Jess? He ain’t here in the dark, is he? Oh, I remember now—that girl.”
“Choke that fool off, will yuh?” rasped Angel.
“That’s him!” panted Briggs. “I know his voice. Jess, I can’t—my God, I’m as weak as a rabbit. Funny, ain’t it? He hit me in the chest, Jess. I’m awful hot inside.”
“What are they doin’ outside?” wondered Langley.
“Fixin’ to git us,” said One-Eye, his voice filled with discouragement. “Let’s send the girl out, Jim. She’s what they want, anyway.”
“Like hell, you will!” exploded Angel. “She’s our ace-in-the-hole, you fool. As long as she’s in here, they don’t dare shoot at us.”
“What’s that noise?” asked Langley.
They listened closely. From the rear of the building came a sharp bump, followed by a scraping sound. None of the men were able to explain it. Langley crawled back into the front room and went to the window on the right-hand side, but it was so dark he could not see anything.
He slid along the wall toward the front of the room. That open front door intrigued him. Once in the open he would have a fighting chance, he thought. The rest of them could take care of themselves. He reached the doorway, where he waited, straining his ears for any sound. Except for the slight rustle of the wind, all was quiet.
He stretched out flat, gun in hand, and began inching over the doorsill. His belt-buckle caught on the sill, and he twisted sideways to release it, when something crashed down on his head and he ceased crawling. But he still continued to move slowly ahead across the porch, drawn by the arms of a man who chuckled softly. It sounded much like the chuckle of Sleepy Stevens.
Roper Briggs had been talking brokenly, deliriously.
“Where’s Langley?” demanded Angel in a hoarse whisper.
“Over by one of the front winders,” replied One-Eye.
“I think he went upstairs,” said Fohl. “I heard him.”
“I thought I heard him up there,” said Angel. “I wish them damned fools would start somethin’.”
“Don’t worry—they will,” assured Fohl. “You kidnapped Slim Caldwell’s girl, yuh remember—and he’s out there. Why didn’t yuh rob a bank or kill somebody, instead of what yuh done? Give yoreself a fightin’ chance, Angel.”
“Jim’s comin’ down,” said One-Eye.
They heard him crawling from the stairway, the knees of his overalls rasping softly on the floor.
“See anybody, Jim?” asked Fohl.
“No,” he whispered. “Where are yuh, Angel?”
“Over here,” growled Angel. “What do yuh want, Jim?”
“I’ve got a scheme.”
“Make up your mind to come out, folks.”
It was Slim Caldwell’s voice, speaking near the kitchen door.
“You go to hell!” snapped Angel. “We’re not comin’ out. And lemme tell yuh somethin’ else, Caldwell; this girl ain’t comin’ out neither. You start anythin’, and she’ll suffer for it.”
Slim made no reply to Angel’s threat. Came the sound of some one changing his position on the floor, a gurgle, which might have been a curse—the sound of a blow.
“What in hell was that?” demanded Fohl. “Angel, did you hit that girl?”
“I—I’m all right,” gasped Lila. “What——”
“Fohl!”
It was not Jim Langley’s voice.
“Who in hell was that?” asked One-Eye quickly. “That ain’t Jim’s voice!”
“What do yuh want?”
Fohl’s voice was high-pitched, nervous.
“The game is up, boys,” said Hashknife Hartley. “Unless I’m mistaken, Jim Langley is plumb safe. Angel is out of the fight. One of yuh light the lamp.”
“Well, I’ll be a liar!” exclaimed One-Eye. “It’s Hartley, Jess. Go easy. My God, we’re——”
“I’ll light it,” said Fohl. “I’m through; so don’t shoot.”
He managed to find the lamp, and after breaking several matches he lighted the wick. Hashknife squatted on his heels against the kitchen door, his six-shooter leveled from his knee, a grin on his lips. Angel was stretched out on his face, while nearer the corner was Lila, bracing herself on one elbow, wide-eyed, a smudge of dirt across her cheek.
Roper Briggs was lying against the opposite wall, his head fallen forward on his chest, and near him was One-Eye Connell, blinking his remaining optic at everything. Fohl had backed away from the table, where he had placed his gun, and was holding his hands shoulder-high.
“All right, cowboy?” yelled Sleepy from the front door.
“All set!” yelled Hashknife, and in came Sleepy, Slim, and Chuck, their guns ready for anything that might happen.
“Yuh kinda busted up the nest, didn’t yuh?” laughed Sleepy.
Slim went straight to Lila and helped her to her feet. She was beyond words as she clung to his arm.
“It’s all right,” he told her.
“It’s all right,” echoed Jess Fohl. “We was a lot of fools to try and help him out. I’m glad we didn’t hurt anybody, ’cause that kinda lets us out. Angel shot Roper Briggs.”
Hashknife looked curiously at Fohl.
“Lets you out, eh?” He turned to Sleepy. “Go upstairs and get the old man.”
“Old man who?” asked Sleepy.
“Old Rance McCoy.”
Sleepy lighted another lamp and went up the stairs. Angel groaned and sat up, blinking foolishly. His eyes were dull and he swung his head like a sick animal.
“You must ’a’ popped him a good one, Hashknife,” said Slim.
“I shore did. That old ladder done the trick. It let me in that upstairs window, and I was at the bottom of the stairs when I heard somebody get slugged at the front door. And then I heard somebody ask for Langley. I knew he was the missin’ link; so I played Langley long enough to whisper to Angel with my gun barrel.”
Angel sat up. His head was clearing fast, and his eyes flashed to Lila, who was standing close to Slim. No one was paying any attention to Roper Briggs, who had lifted his head and was peering across the room at Angel. Briggs had a gun beneath the crook of his knee, and his groping fingers closed around it.
Sleepy was coming back down the stairs, making plenty of noise. He was half-carrying old Rance McCoy, who was barefooted, naked to the waist, and hardly able to take a step.
“The old boy’s in bad shape,” panted Sleepy. “Don’t sabe what it’s all about. Cussed hell out of me.”
As they turned to look at the old man, blinking in the lamplight, Angel grasped the corner of the table and surged to his feet. At the same instant he saw Jess Fohl’s six-shooter on the table, and as quick as a flash he grabbed it with his right hand.
“Damn yuh!” he choked. “My turn, by God! If yuh move, I’ll——”
But Angel didn’t finish his threat. Roper Briggs had shot from his twisted position on the floor, and Angel buckled at the knees, striking his shoulders against the table, and falling backwards in the center of the room.
Roper chuckled and slid forward. The jar of the shot seemed to shock old Rance to a semblance of himself. He peered at Lila through the haze of powder smoke.
“Lila, why are you here?” he asked hoarsely. “What’s it all about, anyway?”
“Angel kidnapped her, Rance,” said Slim. “He was drunk and crazy. Langley is a prisoner, and I think Angel is dead.”
“He’s dead?” Old Rance limped forward, looking down at him.
Hashknife made a quick examination, nodding slowly.
“I’m sorry, Rance,” he said. “He can’t blame anybody.”
“Let me set down,” said Rance wearily. “Yuh see, they burned my feet tryin’ to make me tell where the money was. But I didn’t tell.”
“Did Angel do that to yuh, Rance?”
“Not Angel—Langley. Angel wasn’t in on it.”
“The hell he wasn’t!” snorted Fohl. “He was the one that framed it all, Rance.”
“Yore own son,” said Hashknife.
Rance looked curiously at Hashknife.
“He—he framed it all? He thought I robbed that train? My God, I thought he done it.”
“You thought he knocked you down and robbed you the night of the robbery, didn’t yuh, Rance?” asked Hashknife.
“I was pretty sure he did, and I didn’t want anybody to suspect him, so I let ’em think I done it.”
“Billy DuMond robbed you that night,” said Hashknife. “But why did you take Angel’s I.O.U. for seventy-eight hundred, Rance?”
“I never thought about DuMond doin’ it. I—I wanted to help Angel out. He was busted, so I took his I.O.U.”
“That’s what Langley and Angel were tryin’ to find at the Circle Spade,” said Hashknife. “I thought it was.”
“But did you know Rance was here?” asked Sleepy.
“Suspected it, Sleepy.”
“Roper said yuh did,” said Fohl. “He was scared.”
“But Reimer and Kid Glover are in jail, Jess,” said Chuck. “They’ve confessed to robbin’ the train. Glover killed DuMond and Corby.”
“My God!” blurted Fohl. “Old Rance didn’t know anythin’ about it—and Langley burned his feet to make him tell.”
“It hurt like hell,” said old Rance simply. He was staring at Angel, whose white face showed in the lamplight.
“Heredity,” he said slowly. Then he looked up at Hashknife. “Do you believe in it, Hartley?”
“Not much.”
Lila was looking at old Rance, her eyes wide.
“I didn’t, Hartley. Jim Stevens did. He was educated, dyin’ from consumption, but one of the whitest men God ever made. His wife went insane. Tried to kill him. They took her to the asylum, where she died.”
Old Rance sighed heavily and shook his head wearily.
“I’ve kept still all these years, boys, but I’m tellin’ it now. I was broke. My wife was dead and I had a kid to take care of, so I robbed a bank. But they blocked me, and I had to drop the money.
“I got away and headed for my shack. I knew I was caught, but I aimed to put up a fight. As I went through the doorway, I thought they had beat me to it. A man was there, and I shot him.”
Old Rance looked around at the tense faces of the men.
“Yeah, I shot him; It was Jim Stevens—he came to see me. Poor old Jim—my only friend at that time. I told him what had happened and he forgave me. He said it didn’t make any difference. I reckon I was half-crazy. And then he asked me if they had recognized me.
“I didn’t think they had. And then he made me a proposition. Boys, it was a sneakin’ thing to do; but I put my coat and hat on him, strapped my belt on him, took my extra gun and fired it down through a hole in the floor; so it wouldn’t make much noise.
“Them men was comin’. They was sure the robber went to my cabin. But before they surrounded us, I went to the door and waved to ’em to come on. They found old Jim on the floor. I swore I didn’t know what it was all about; that Jim ran in on me, and we swapped shots.
“They told me what Jim had done. They knowed he was the right man, because of that old gray coat. They took him away, wonderin’ what would happen to Jim’s kid; but I told ’em I’d take it. They knew old Jim was my friend, and none of ’em wanted the kid, anyway.
But old Jim had my promise before he died. I swore I’d never let the kid know anythin’ of the truth. Jim believed in heredity. He said it was partly a state of mind, and if the kid never knew—mebby it would be all right. And I never told anybody, boys. I kept my oath to old Jim Stevens. Even when things went ag’in’ me—I stuck it out.”
Lila went to him and put an arm around his shoulders.
“And they said you had no conscience,” she sobbed. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Daddy Rance. I went away when you needed me, but I’m going to stay with you now. I don’t believe in heredity.”
Old Rance looked up at her, his eyes wet with tears.
“I’m a damned old fool, Lila,” he said. “I sacrificed my own to keep my word. Don’t you see what I mean, Lila? Jim Stevens’s baby was a boy!”
For several moments no one said a word. They were trying to understand what old Rance meant.
“You—you mean—Angel?” whispered Lila.
Old Rance nodded quickly.
“Billy DuMond got it kinda twisted,” he said.
“I hope we can find some slippers around here; I can’t wear boots.”
“And you can all thank Hashknife,” said Slim, looking around. “He dug it all out for us. Where’s Hashknife?”
“Where’s Sleepy?” asked Chuck.
But nobody knew. They had tiptoed their way out, mounted their horses, and were heading for Red Arrow, leaving the sheriff and Chuck to mop up things. Neither of them could stand to be thanked.
They found Scotty McKay at the office, along with a dozen other men, including Jim Parker. They were waiting some word from Slim regarding Lila, and almost mobbed Hashknife and Sleepy for information.
“She’s safe,” said Hashknife. “Angel McCoy and Roper Briggs are dead; they shot each other. Angel kidnapped Lila to get back at Slim, and upset the lamp in Parker’s house. Rance McCoy is all right. Langley and his gang were tryin’ to force him to tell where the loot from the express car was cached. Slim is bringin’ ’em all in, and you’ll get the whole story from him. Was there any telegram, Scotty?”
Wonderingly Scotty handed Hashknife the telegram, which had been sent to Slim Caldwell. It read:
PAULSEN CONFESSED ARREST REIMER GLOVER DUMOND CONGRATULATIONS YOU WIN THE REWARD
WELLS FARGO
Hashknife grinned and handed the telegram back to Scotty.
“Well, that shore settles it,” he said. “C’mon, Sleepy.”