“If we didn’t have three men in jail, facin’ a charge of holdin’ up a train, I’d say that this here Legg person was the fourth one of the gang, and that some of ’em tried to bump him off for somethin’.”
“Well, I’ll be ——!” snorted Porter. “If we can’t hang it on to the Taylor gang, that might be worth workin’ on, Scotty. But who are these two strange cowpunchers who rode in with the AK gang tonight? Johnny Grant acts kinda friendly with ’em.”
“I don’t know, Al. I reckon I’ll hit the hay. Tomorrow we hold a hearin’ for the Taylor gang, and we’ll see what we’ll see. You better feed that —— dog before yuh go to bed, or he might mistake old Judge Parkridge for a strip of jerky. —— knows, he looks like one.”
IX—COMPLICATIONS
The Taylor hearing was more or less of a farce, but it left Apostle Paul, Buck and Peeler, the half-breed, high and dry in the Blue Wells jail until the next term of court. Old Judge Parkridge, near-sighted, more than slightly deaf, a mummified old jurist, set their bail at one thousand dollars cash, each—bail which no one would furnish.
There was no evidence against them, except the fact that they had the dog, and that they could not prove that they had spent the night on Yellow Horn Mesa. So they were formally charged with train robbery and held until the next session of court, which would not be held for three weeks.
Apostle Paul Taylor cursed the judge, who could not hear it, and went back to the jail, followed by Buck and Peeler. Marion was broken-hearted, but did not show it. She sat down in the sheriff’s office and tried to reason out just what to do. The Double Bar 8 could not afford to hire men, and she could not do the work alone.
The sheriff did not try to solace her. He was tongue-tied in her presence. Then Tex Alden showed up. He had not been at the hearing, but had been told all about it.
“That’s sure tough, Marion,” he told her. “I’ll tell yuh what I’ll do—I’ll send some of my men down to run the ranch for yuh, and it won’t cost yuh a cent.”
“No, thank you, Mr. Alden.”