Presently he began to speak of the feud which had been the bane of his office during four of the six months of his tenure. When I proffered the suggestion, in a spirit of hope, that there must have been a beautiful fight before the Walton faction secured Rooker, he dismissed that possibility with an impatient snort. It was like that Jeff Thomas had been away, he said; probably south of the Border, on some meanness or other. As for Tom, he had not mixed much in the trouble in town. Perhaps they had picked on him because he was Jeff's closest friend.
"We'll know right soon now. Gee, ain't the heat a fright? Say, Dan, if you take my advice, you'll hit the grit out of Badger just as hard as you can make it."
I resolutely declined to hit the grit as proposed. Soon we came in sight of the town. It showed uncertainly on the horizon like a lake of mist, with a few wavering windmills swaying therein; it might have been an impressionistic painting of a Dutch canal. A mile from the first house, the sheriff pulled up and bade me remain where I was, whilst he entered Badger. His instructions were that I should hold back for ten minutes precisely, then proceed casually into town, leaving my horse at the cattle company's corral, and meet him at dinner in the Fashion.
"No, you can't come with me," he said. "So let that soak into your hide. It's like some fool will start something and I don't want you on my mind. You'd only be in the way."
This was not flattering, but every man to his business. The sheriff made preparations for his by looking carefully to his six-shooter. Then he nodded and rode ahead into Badger. Ten minutes and ten seconds later, I followed.
Badger suggests in its exterior a woman of the street, made up carefully as to the face and run-down at the heel. To left and to right as you enter from the west, are the Fashion and the Cowboys' Rest, both of frame, and pretentious structures for that region. Then there is the Wells-Fargo express office, with a tin roof which catches all the heat of the ages and sends it sizzling over Badger. There are a general store and a butcher shop; two Eating Houses, one at the Fashion, the other conducted by a Chinaman; and a broken line of one-story, two-roomed dwellings of rough boards. Beyond that again, a few adobe huts straggle for a full half-mile. They are the abodes of natives. The cattle company's corral is at the extreme edge of town, and there is a stable attached. From there one can see the habitation of Dutch Annie and her handmaidens. Usually the tinkle of a piano greets the wayfarer, and sometimes bursts of laughter which have no tinkle in them, nor any musical quality whatever.
The sheriff's horse slouched in front of the Fashion as I proceeded down the street. Not a human being moved in sight. The express agent waved a friendly hand at me from the interior of his darkened office, and bestowed a sardonic grin. Then he made a fanciful gesture, as of drawing a loop around his neck. Next, he was fighting violently for breath, and he was still engaged in this agreeable pantomime when I passed beyond his ken. A mongrel collie, stretched in the hot dust, retreated sluggishly to give me right of way, and, sitting on his rump, began to scratch for fleas.
"Say, Dan, hell's a-poppin'," said Tim Haverty cheerfully.
Mr. Haverty takes care of the company's corral and counts that day lost when no fracas promises. He told me all about it now, with a most unholy glee, although he is an old, old man, who ought to be giving thought to heavenly things.
His tale ran thus—the town of Badger was divided against itself. Jeff Thomas had come up from the south, weary of Mexican chuck and sullen from failure. He had said nothing when informed of Tom Rooker's demise and the manner thereof, but, amply refreshed, had started a hunt for Walton in order to fasten a row on him. It happened that Bud was away in the mountains when his enemy made the round of his usual haunts, and Jeff's slowly enunciated insults to Bud's adherents had not been taken up. So, fearing an outbreak that would stain Badger's fair name, the express agent and the general-store man, the butcher, and five other reputable citizens had proposed a compromise, in order to preserve peace—to wit, a division of the city of Badger. All north of the street was to be Thomas' hunting ground; the section to the south was free to Bud to wander in at his pleasure. Both men had been prevailed upon to accept this arbitration—Thomas, with a show of reluctance, but real willingness; the other, grudgingly, after persuasion.