“Charley seems to be in a hurry,” remarked the agent, looking down the street at a cowboy, a friend of the sheriff, who was coming at a dead gallop. The sheriff looked and Charley waved his arm. As he came within hailing distance he shouted:
“The Orphan killed Jimmy Ford this morning on Twenty Mile Trail! His pardner got away by shootin’ The Orphan’s horse and taking to the trail through Little Arroyo. But he’s shot, just the same, ’though not bad. The rest of the Cross Bar-8 outfit are going out for him; they’ve been out, but they can’t follow his trail.”
“Hell!” cried the sheriff, running toward his corral. “Wait!” he shouted over his shoulder as he turned the corner. In less than five minutes he was back again, and on his best horse, and following the impatient cowboy, swung down the street at a gallop in the direction of Twenty Mile Trail.
As they left the town behind and swung through the arroyo leading to the Limping Water, through which the stage route lay, Charley began to speak again:
“Jimmy and Pete Carson were taking a rest in the shade of the chaparral and playin’ old sledge, when they looked up and saw The Orphan looking down at them. They’re rather easy-going, and so they asked him to take a hand. He said he would, and got off his cayuse and sat down with them. Jimmy started a new deal, but The Orphan objected to old sledge and wanted poker, at the same time throwing a bag of dust down in front of him. Jimmy looked at Pete, who nodded, and put his wealth in front of him. Well, they played along for a while, and The Orphan began to have great luck. When he had won five straight jack pots it was more than Jimmy could stand, him being young and hasty. He saw his new Cheyenne saddle, what he was going to buy, getting further away all the time, and he yelled ‘Cheat!’ grabbing for his gun, what was plumb crazy for him to do.
“The Orphan fired from his hip quick as a wink, and Jimmy fell back just as Pete drew. The Orphan swung on him and ordered him to drop his gun, which same Pete did, being sick at the stomach at Jimmy’s passing. Then The Orphan told him to take his dirty money and his cheap life and go back to his mamma. Pete didn’t stop none to argue, but mounted and rode away. But the fool wasn’t satisfied at having a whole skin after a run-in with The Orphan, and when he got off about four hundred yards and right on the edge of Little Arroyo, where he could get cover in one jump, he up and let drive, killing The Orphan’s horse. Pete got two holes in his shoulder before he could get out of sight, and he remembered that his shot had hardly left his gun before he had ’em, too. Pete says he wonders how in h–l The Orphan could shoot twice so quick, when his gun’s a Sharp’s single shot.”
Shields was pleased with the knowledge that it was not a plain murder this time, and fell to wondering if the other killings in which The Orphan had figured had not in a measure been justified. Hearsay cried “Murderer,” but his own personal experience denied the term. Did not The Orphan know that Shields was after him, and that the sheriff was no man to be taken lightly when he had shown mercy near the big bowlder? The outlaw must be fair and square, reasoned the sheriff, else he would not have looked for those qualities in another, and least of all in an enemy. The outlaw had given him plenty of chances to kill and had thought nothing of it, time and time again turning his back without hesitation. True, The Orphan had covered him when his hand had streaked for his tobacco; but the sheriff would have done the same, because the movement was decidedly hostile, and he had been fortunate in not having paid dearly for his rash action. The Orphan had taken a chance when he refrained from pulling the trigger.
Charley continued: “Jimmy’s outfit swear they’ll have a lynchin’ bee to square things for the Kid. They are plumb crazy about it. Jimmy was a whole lot liked by them, and the foreman is going to give them a week off with no questions asked. They are getting things ready now.”
The sheriff turned to his companion, his hazel eyes aflame with anger at this threat of lynching when he had given plain warning that such lawlessness would not for one minute be tolerated by him.
“We’ll call on the Cross Bar-8 first, Charley, and find out when this lynching bee is due to come off,” he said, turning toward the northwest. Charley looked surprised at the sudden change in the plans, but followed without comment, secretly glad that trouble was in store for the ranch he had no use for.