Frederick R. Bechdolt

“ For Paradise was in a moribund condition. The mules which were indulging themselves in a series of skirmishes down in Pony Deal's corrals had been bickering there in idleness for a fortnight now. The wagons had not turned a wheel. And as one day had succeeded another, the listless pessimism which comes with idleness had grown among the leading citizens. ”

“ Twice every month the swarthy smugglers from half a dozen Sonoran villages, with their huge silver-decked sombreros and their bell-mouthed trousers, had spread a blanket on the adobe's earthen floor, to bicker over prices in border Spanish with the three partners, tossing the enormous silver dollars of their country upon the cloth before them when the bargaining was done. Twice every month they had loaded their pack-mules with the dry-goods, hardware, cheap perfumes and gewgaws which were the only output of the Bronco Mine. ”

“ And in the interims between those fortnightly visits, Pony Deal's wagon-train had brought from Tucson new stores of goods.
Trade begets trade. Sometimes Curt Wilcox and the cowboys from the Double Dobe Ranch dropped into Paradise to buy a few supplies; occasionally some of the hard-eyed rustlers from the San Simon rode into town for chewing-tobacco, whisky or cartridges. But such stray visitors brought little in the way of business. Upon the boarding of the teamsters and their custom at the store of Beaver Smith, prosperity depended. ”

“ EIGHTEEN hours later six bewildered Mexicans sat on the earthen floor of the old adobe house at the Bronco Mine while Bronco Bob Lee, Tinkham and Shotgun Moore dumped the huge dobe dollars from two rawhide aparejos upon an outspread blanket. The silver made a goodly heap. The smugglers looked first at the pile and then at the faces of the partners, two of whom were red-eyed from weariness. ”

“ What can we do? We ride to save our lives.”
He drank again.
“Two weeks ago,” he went on slowly, “we see some men in this same place and do not like the looks of them. So we turn back. Maybe, I think, these are the same. I do not know.”
“All right!” Bronco Bob Lee turned toward the door. “You come along with me, Tinkham; we'll saddle up.”
BEFORE the store of Beaver Smith, Bronco Bob Lee told the story to the men of Paradise in about ten words, and when the tale was done, he nodded to old Santa Cruz Casteñada, the wagon-master.
“Hook up four mules to that light rig,” said he. ”

“ A moment later Bronco Bob Lee opened the front door.
“All right, boys,” he told his two friends. “We'll be shovin' on.” He smiled grimly on the dancers in the rear of the long room.
“Enj'y yo'selves,” he bade them. “Don't let our leavin' spile the fun.”
THEIR horses were waiting at the hitching-rack. They swung into the saddles.
“Take yo'r time,” the leader said. “We have got a long ride ahaid of us. An' nobody's goin' to foller. We done run off every pony in the place. Tinkham, yo' can dump that grain-sack anywheres along here.” ”

“ Then one comes riding down to meet us in the trail, a great tall man with a thick mustache that reaches below his chin. He is alone, and so we let him come right on. I see him shaking Ramirez by the hand.” He flung out his own hands in a wide gesture. “I hear a shot and see Ramirez fall. This big man spurs his horse away, and it is like the Apaches; every rock is spitting the bullets upon us. ”

“ Make yo'selves to home.”
“What we ort to do,” Beaver Smith declared when they had learned the news down by the barn, “is to lynch them two. It would learn folks not to go lendin' their hosses to them outlaws every time they come along.”
“No use gettin' peevish,” Curt Wilcox admonished him. “Turkey Crick has got 'em all buffaloed in this end of the county.”
“Well,” Bull Lewis growled, “I reckon we may's well ride back home.”' ”

“ Bronco Bob demanded.
“Search me,” the last speaker told him. “All I know is, they took ten hosses out of the corral an' left theirn here. —Yo'r deal, Ed. —How's things in Paradise?”
“So-so.” Bronco Bob opened the door. “Some of the boys is outside. Ef I was you, I'd stay right where yo' be.”
“Don't bother your haids about us,” they assured him. “We're plumb used to mindin' our own business. ”

“ They glanced up sharply, and their eyes narrowed, meeting the muzzle of the weapon, then lowered indifferently.
“Jest keep yo'r han's above the table,” Bob bade them quietly. “We got yo' covered from outside.”
“High, jack an' game fer you.” The tobacco-chewer spat and glanced sidelong at Bronco Bob. “'Pears like yo' fellers are after somebody.” ”