[CHAPTER SIXTEEN]
"WHO SHOT BAT AND ED WHITE"
Life would sometimes be simpler if events were more evenly spaced and periods of inaction put to a better use by letting them hold the incidents that otherwise must pile on top of one another and crowd one day overfull of excitement. But so long as we remain unscientific enough to take things just as they come and let our emotions rule our hands and feet, life will continue to go steady by jerks.
Take this day in Smoky Ford and at the Palmer ranch, just seven miles out yet well within the trouble zone. If there is anything in thought vibrations, Tony and Bud must have owned powerful mental dynamos and set them working full speed that morning. The pity is that they did not work altogether in harmony, but instead set up different currents of violent thought action—and most of the mental activity gyrated around that money looted from the bank.
The money itself was safe enough, once it reached Delkin's stable. Delkin was a shrewd man when sudden misfortune did not upset him, and his method of safeguarding the bank's property was truly ingenious.
Among his horses was one with the significant name, The Butcher. His character lived up to his name, and with the exception of the stableman and Delkin himself, not a man in Smoky Ford would venture within reach of his teeth or his heels—and both had an amazing reach, by the way. Delkin studied long and deeply over the safest place—barring the bank—for the money and papers, and his cogitations brought him finally to The Butcher. The bank, he considered, was out of the question for the present. Some one would be sure to see them carrying the stuff inside, and the news would spread like scandal. Until Palmer's gang was safe behind the bars, it must be taken for granted that the money was still missing.
This naturally left Delkin thinking of The Butcher, and the more he thought of him the easier he felt in his mind. The Butcher had his own little corral for exercise, his own box stall. Moreover, the manger was built high and had a false bottom nearly two feet from the floor. Who in Smoky Ford would ever dream of finding anything in The Butcher's box stall, even if they dared look there?
Delkin did not say a word until they reached the stable and he had sent the stableman up into the office to watch for chance callers. The Butcher was out in the corral, and Delkin closed the stall door to make sure that the horse would stay outside for a while. Even then he took only Bradley into his confidence, after the others had gone to see what was doing in the saloons and whether the Palmer men were still in town, and what the Meadowlark boys had gained by confession. Not even Bud suspected Delkin of having a secret, but supposed that the money would be kept in the office until it could be transferred to the bank vault.
Instead, the two men carried it into the box stall, pried up a board in the manger and dropped everything underneath, replaced the board and the hay in the manger and heaved sighs of relief. Then Delkin waved Bradley out of the stall, opened the outer door and called The Butcher in. He came, nickering softly for a lump of sugar, got it and nibbled daintily while Delkin slipped out and shut the door. It was a bit early to shut up The Butcher, but the stableman would not bother with him unless he had to; Delkin knew that.
"There! We needn't worry about anybody stealing it to-night," grinned Delkin. "Unless the stable gets afire we're dead safe, Brad. We can leave it right here until we are ready to open up the bank again. Now, let's get after Palmer and his gang."