J. Allan Dunn

“ The B-in-a-box men were breaking up, those who still held their saddles or who had not given up the fight. The light was failing. In the dusk Dave Lorton fired to kill and missed though the bullet ran a tiny groove above the sheriff’s ear. He pulled trigger again, wondering why Gorman did not shoot. The black mare was riding him off as he wheeled and rode with spurs sunk in his horse’s flanks, reloading.
“Put ’em up, Dave!” cried the sheriff. For answer Lorton, three shells in his gun, twisted in his saddle. He was sure that Gorman’s guns must be empty, both of them. ”

“ The eminent counsel did not care to take the witness. But he endeavored to discredit the new method. The jury did not accept his arguments.
“Gorman,” said Doctor Mason when the prisoner was remanded into the custody of the sheriff, pending transport to the State penitentiary, “what are you going to do now? How about a holiday?”
“After I’ve handed Bradey over, I don’t mind if I do. First, I aim to retire.”
“If you try to you’ll make the most popular man in the county the most unpopular. The governor won’t accept it. Man, you’re famous! You’re headlining the press of the country.” ”

“ Bradey was not charged by Gorman with complicity in Jordan’s murder. He was convinced that Bradey only wanted the gun to protect Dave, now beyond protection. But Bradey was confident of acquittal on the charge of stealing cattle. Moore was dead. There were no proofs. And he faced the trial, coming in from bail liberty to it, surrounded by attorneys, believing that he held the favor of the court. His chief counsel was affable, calculating on shattering the witnesses who might try to swear to the identity of the steers. ”