Then Truedale opened the third envelope and an enclosed letter fell out, bearing the postmark of the Junction near Pine Cone!
There was a small electric reading lamp on the arm of Truedale’s chair; he turned the light on and, while his face was in shadow, the words before him stood out illumined.
“Sir—Mister Truedale.” The sheriff had evidently been sorely perplexed as to the proper beginning of the task he had undertaken.
“I send this by old Doc McPherson, not knowing any better way.”
(Jim’s epistle was nearly innocent of punctuation, his words ran on almost unbroken and gave the reader some trouble in following.)
Your letter to a certain young person has come and been destroyed owing to my thinking under the present circumstances, some folks what don’t know about you, better not hear now. I took the letter to Lone Dome as you set down for me to do meaning to give it to Nella-Rose like what you said, but she wasn’t there. Pete was there and Marg—she’s Nella-Rose’s sister, and getting ready to marry that torn-down scamp Jed Martin which to my way of thinking is about the best punishment what could be dealt out to him. Pete was right sober for him and spruced up owing to facts I am now coming to and when Pete’s sober there ain’t a more sensible cuss than what he is nor a gentlemaner. Well, I asked natural like for Nella-Rose and Marg scrooged up her mouth, knowing full well as how I knew Jed was second choice for her—but Pete he done tell me that Nella-Rose had married Burke Lawson and run to safer parts and when I got over the shock I was certainly thankful for being a sheriff ain’t all it might be when your ideas of justice and liking gets crossed. I didn’t ask any more questions. Peter was sober—he only lies when he’s drunk and not having any wish to rouse Marg I just come away and burned the letter what you sent. But I’ve done some thinking on my own ’count since your letter came and I reckon I’ve studied the thing clear on circumstantial evidence which is what I mostly have to go on in the sticks. I certainly done you a black insult that day I came upon you and Nella-Rose. I didn’t let on, and I never will, about her being to my place, but no wonder the poor child was terrible upset when I came in. She had come to me, so I study out, and found you—stark stranger! How you ever soothed the poor little thing I don’t know—her being wild as a flea—but on top of that, in I slam and lit out on you both and ’corse she couldn’t ’splain about Burke before you and that’s plain enough what she had come to do, and I didn’t leave either one of you a leg to stand on. I’ve been pretty low in my spirits I can tell you and I beg your pardon humble, young feller, and if ever I can do Nella-Rose a turn by letting Burke free, no matter what he does—I will! But ’tain’t likely he’ll act up for some time. Nella-Rose always could tame him and he’s been close on her trail ever since she was a toddler. I’m right glad they took things in their own hands and left. She didn’t sense the right black meaning I had in my heart that day when she ran—but you did and I sure am ashamed of the part I done played.
If you can overlook what no man has a call to overlook in another—your welcome is red hot here for you at any time.
JIM WHITE
Sheriff.
Truedale read and reread this amazing production until he began to feel his way through the tangle of words and catch a meaning—false, ridiculously false of course, but none the less designed as an explanation and excuse. Then the non-essentials dropped away and one bald fact remained! Truedale sank back in his chair, turned off the electric light, and closed his eyes.