Frederick R. Bechdolt

“ Brazos said to himself. “And Bulltoad made him think that he was chasing them. It sure does take that breed of coyote to get the other fellow's money and make him like it.”
When the next dawn was reddening the easten sky, the creaking of the pump-handle brought Brazos out in front of the stage station. To him the methods of the proprietors of Bitter Wells had an uncanny fascination. He stood watching the spectacle at the water trough as if it were a play arranged. with the special purpose of appealing to his sardonic sense of humor, Wilson was giving drink to a pair of decrepit white horses ”

“ In that grim border country nature's first law was inflexible and none knew it better than Brazos. He was pondering on the problem of self-preservation when he returned from the corral. Five hundred dollars is five hundred dollars and the news of that reward would set others thinking besides himself. Sooner or later the time would come when some of these others might take a long chance. One cannot go on forever sleeping with one eye open. ”

“ He smiled unpleasantly, considering their helplessness.
“That team won't take you far,” he growled.
Wilson turned a despairing face toward him.
“Are you trying to make fun of us?” he cried.
But Brazos did not appear to heed him. “Two or three days,” he said grimly. “It's all they're good for. But the way they'll travel, you ought to make the Gila in two days. You'll strike the stage road there.” He was fumbling with a knot on his pommel strings. As it came untied he edged his pony closer to the wagon.
“Take my advice and stage it on to Tucson. This country is too raw for tenderfeet.” ”

“ While he was sorting out the miserable baled hay which his hosts kept in the stable he scowled at his pony. “This place,” he growled, “is getting too popular for us. We got to get out soon. We certainly got to get out soon.”
Leaving the corral he found himself again face to face with the young tenderfoot.
“My name,” the latter announced, “is Wilson.” There was no avoiding the boy's outstretched hand. Brazos took it with a scowl.
“That so?”
“Yes, sir.” There was a sort of helpless eagerness in the speaker's manner as he fell in beside the outlaw. “I wanted to ask you about the road west.” ”

“ I'd like to see a man that could of done better than you have,” she told him quietly. “It ain't your fault because we come among such folks as those back there. You done the very best that any man could do. ”

“ He wagged his head. “Them two fools is too green to be away from home. They'll be lucky if they make the Gila.” He flung a gold piece on the blanket and drew his cards.
“How much did you get for their hosses, Bulltoad?” Brazos asked quietly.
“Eight hundred dollars in Shakespeare,” the fat man answered over his shoulder. “And sold 'em two buzzards fer four hundred more. Why don't you take a hand, Brazos? Mebbe yo' can git some of this tenderfoot money. Easy come, easy go.”
“Mebbe I can.” The outlaw smiled unpleasantly. “Anyhow I'm going to try.” He took his place beside the blanket. ”