William Patterson White

“ I may be poor—I may starve to death, but I will never be an old man's plaything. Better death than dishonor-rur-rur. Don't be so melodramatic, Tip. Who am I to doubt you? You? What a question!"
The fingers with which Billy Wingo then proceeded to make a cigarette were steady and sure in every movement. Billy licked the length of the white roll, smoothed it down and twisted one end. Tip O'Gorman did not know what to make of him. ”

“ Procuring an assassin to do the dirty work is always a good plan. Rafe knew a gunman, named Slike, in a neighboring territory. For two hundred and fifty dollars, according to Rafe, Dan Slike would murder almost any one. For five hundred it was any one, without the almost.
"Can he do it?" doubted Tom Driver.
"We all know how slow Tom Walton is on the draw," sneered Rafe. "Which he's slower than Sam Prescott. If Slike don't plug Walton three times before he can draw, I'll eat my shirt."
"That sounds well," said Tip O'Gorman, eyeing Rafe with frank disgust. ”

“ Rafe Tuckleton sprang back two yards. His temper had again gained the ascendancy. He was so mad he could have beaten her to a frazzle. But there was not a club handy, and moreover the lady had, by way of reinforcing the kettle, slipped a butcher knife from the table drawer.
"All right," gritted Rafe, and turned around from the door to shake his fist at her. "I'll get you, you li'l devil! You needn't think for a minute you can get away from me by marrying some one else. I don't give a damn whether it's Bill Wingo or who it is! Within a week after you get married, you'll be a widow! ”

“ When he returned with the bread and butter, Billy discovered that the pepper had been overlooked.
"For Gawd's sake use salt on 'em!" implored Felix. "I never use pepper, I don't. Salt is just as good. Healthier, too."
"But I don't like salt," protested Billy. "I've got no manner of use for it. I want pepper, I do."
"Use salt," mumbled Craft, stoking busily.
Billy pushed right back from the table and refused to be comforted. "I want some pepper! Whatsa matter with you jiggers—tryin' to starve me to death? Sam, you lazy lump of slumgullion, get me some pepper, will you?" ”

“ Billy cut him short. "No evidence a-tall. Not a smidgin. No. You were too previous, Arthur, with your duty and your oath of office. Damn your duty, damn your oath of office. I've got a sneaking idea, old settler, that you are cluttering up the face of the earth. Be reasonable now, don't you think so yourself?"
But this was more than the district attorney was willing to admit. "I'll tell you what I think," he grunted. "I think if Hazel Walton didn't kill Rafe Tuckleton then you did." ”

“ Even as he spoke he leaped with cat-like agility upon the district attorney where he sat in his chair and wrenched the right arm of that surprised gentleman around behind his back. With his left hand, despite the struggles and protesting roars of the captive, he removed a six-shooter from a shoulder holster and a derringer from a vest pocket.
"You must be scared of some one," observed Billy Wingo, as the derringer followed the six-shooter to a place on the table. "Arise, pushing your stomach ahead of you, and depart in peace." ”

“ You're considerably older than me, Judge, considerably. The gray is in your hair like frost on a punkin, and the devil has drawn two mighty mean lines down from your nose to the corners of your mouth, and the crows have messed up your eye-corners too, for that matter, and may the Lord have mercy on your soul, you miserable sinner, because I won't—if you don't do exactly what I tell you to do. ”

“ Simon Reelfoot gaped at both of them. "Why, we fixed it up between us. You know we did. You even wanted two cows killed so's to make it look lifelike to the deputies."
Rafe looked at the district attorney. "The man's mad."
Simon's teeth snapped together like a cornered coyote. "If you're trying to put this thing all off on me—" he began, and stopped.
"We're not trying to put anything off on you," the district attorney told him silkily. "There's nothing to put off on you anyway. Not a thing. You're nervous, that's all, Simon. Your imagination is working overtime." ”

“ Riley nodded and went out.
"And that's that," said Billy Wingo, smiling.
The judge's hands gripped the arms of the chair. "You know that the man Melody is an enemy of mine," he said in a shaken voice.
"I know that he is an honest man," returned Billy Wingo.
"I won't go," the judge declared feebly.
"You said that before," said Billy Wingo, in no wise moved. "You'll go all right. Yes, indeedy. Do you wanna know why? I'll tell you. You see, Judge, I know what I'm up against. I know that the only barrier that stands between me and the graveyard is the lead in this gun. I like life. ”

“ Hazel Walton, jogging along the homeward way, was overtaken by a horseman. He nodded and called, "'Lo," as he galloped by. She returned his greeting with careful courtesy. But she scowled and made a little face after his retreating back. She did not like Jack Murray. She never had. The man had repelled her from the moment she first set eyes on him.
It is human nature for one to take an interest in the movement of a person one dislikes. Hazel wondered where Jack Murray was riding so fast. ”

“ Reelfoot gaped at him. Then his jaws closed with a click. But they reopened immediately in violent speech. "What about my cows?" he squalled. "What you gonna do about them cattle?"
"We can't unscramble any eggs for you, Reelfoot, not being magicians, but maybe we can dump the rustlers for you. How will you have them—shot or half-shot? Now, son, you shut up, close your trap, swallow your tongue or something. Riley Tyler is the only one allowed to swear around me. Where do you want to cool off—in here or out in a snowdrift?"
Simon Reelfoot subsided into a chair. ”

“ It was obvious that Jack was in liquor.
"He don't care how much he picks on you, does he?" observed Jack.
Riley Tyler did not move hand or foot. But a subtle change took place. Iron turning into steel undergoes such a metamorphosis. The sixth sense of an observing old gentleman across the street and directly in line with Jack Murray informed its owner of the sudden chill in the air. The observing old gentleman, whose name was Wildcat Simms, oozed backward through a doorway into the Old Hickory saloon.
"Why are you walking like a crab, Wildcat?" queried his friend the bartender. ”

“ Hazel shook her head. "I don't want to, Sally Jane. He went east to Missouri to visit his folks, and I'm not going to spoil his good time. He'll be back in time for the spring round-up, though."
"That won't be till next month," objected Sally Jane. "Anything might happen in the meantime. Land alive, just look at this afternoon!"
"Well, look at it. Not a thing happened to hurt, did it? Lord, Sally Jane, men are the easiest things in the world to handle when you know how."
"You don't give them half enough credit," said Sally Jane dryly. "Scratch a man and you'll catch a savage every time. ”

“ Billy Wingo leaned forward, his chin jutting out. His eyes were unpleasantly cold. They matched his voice when he spoke.
"Don't talk to me of the law," he said. "It's you and your friends that have made the law in Crocker County a spectacle for decent men. Law! You've dragged the statutes in the mud till you can't tell 'em apart from the turnips underground. Law! You've prostituted your office for a little filthy money here, there and everywhere, till it's a wonder you're able to live with yourself. How do you do it? Don't you ever get tired of your own stink, you polecat?" ”

“ I'll bet he loves you fast enough! Land alive, if you've got Love in your grasp, don't turn it down! Love is the greatest thing in the world, and if you throw it away, you'll never have any luck the rest of your life. And you won't deserve any either."
Hazel drew out a damp ball of a handkerchief and blew her nose vigorously. "It's no use," she told her friend with a catch in her voice. "I couldn't tell him. I just couldn't."
Sally Jane flung up her hands. "You're a coward, that's what you are. A moral coward. ”

“ Billy drew his knees up to the level of his chin and hugged them.
"No," he drawled, "too fishy. Folks don't kidnap folks nowadays—only in books. Shucks, I'll bet you fellers were counting on just that particular snag in human nature. Looks like you've got me, don't it?"
Tip nodded his head. "Looks like it."
"You've only got yourself to blame," said Felix Craft, studying the gun on the table so handy to his fingers.
"True," acquiesced Billy. "I've only got myself to blame. So what care I for poverty or precious stones? ”

“ And he made up his mind to know why. For among his other vices, Simon was friendly with Rafe Tuckleton and his precious gang.
Billy Wingo, shoving cartridges through the loading-gate of a Winchester, slouched casually past the window through which Simon was looking. He perceived, kicking his way through the snow, Mr. Tom Driver, the local Justice of the Peace. There was no one else in sight.
"Lordy, how the snow dazzles your eyes," remarked Billy, stepping back and squinting. "Is that Tom Driver coming here?"
"Where?" inquired Simon Reelfoot, and looked through the wrong window. ”

“ Nate Samson, weighing sugar for Hazel Walton, looked at her sidewise. "Heard the news, Hazel?"
She removed her gaze from the flyspecked window and stared abstractedly at Nate. "What news?"
Nate swelled his chest with satisfaction. Some people enjoy being the bearers of evil tidings. Besides, Nate had stopped going to see Hazel. Somehow he had been made to feel that his visits were not the bright spots in her drab existence that he had considered them to be. There was more than a little malice in Nate's make-up. And the news——
"Somebody killed Tip O'Gorman in his own house last night." ”

“ Hazel's life was in jeopardy every split second, but so was another life, and it was of this other life she was thinking. Reach that white-hatted rider she must before he came within thousand-yard range of the man behind the outcrop.
Within thousand-yard range, yes. Jack Murray's reputation with the long arm was of territorial proportions. He had made in practice, hunting and open competition almost unbelievable scores. Given anything like a fair shot, and it would be hard if he could not hit an object the size of Billy Wingo. ”

“ Fists doubled, Billy started for Slike. The latter side-stepped and feinted Billy into a position between himself and Dawson. Slike crouched. His right hand flashed downward. The fingers fumbled at his bootleg. Billy ran in, expecting to beat Slike flat.
"Look out!" cried Dawson, as Slike's hand shot up and out, accompanied by the vicious twinkle of steel.
But Billy, coming in with the speed of a springing wildcat, slipped a bootsole on a rock and fell. Slike's thrust sped past his head so close that Slike's knuckles brushed his ear. ”

“ But he was not in love with her. Oh, no, not he. After his latest turn-down by Sally Jane, he had made a resolve not to fall in love again, ever. But there was no harm in going to see a girl. How could there be? Quite so.
"Your uncle home?" he asked after a cigarette had been constructed and lit.
"He'll be in for dinner," replied Hazel, with a swift flash of dark eyes. "And there I was hoping all along you had come to see me."
"I came to see you, too."
"Me too is worse, lots worse. Shows what an afterthought I am. ”

“ He swore bitterly as he pulled taut the cinch strap of the second horse. Fastening the robbery on Craft was one thing, obtaining his indictment and conviction were decidedly two others. What though Judge Donelson would do his best to see justice done, the doing of said justice would rest in the laps of twelve men, each and every one of them the opposite of good and true. But at least he, Billy Wingo, would not be the victim of an outrageous conspiracy. There was that much gained.
He led the two horses to the kitchen door and went within to fetch out Felix Craft. ”

“ The head of this other man was turned away from Billy. He was watching the draw through the front window. But there was no life in the draw—yet.
Billy waited. He continued to wait. His feet began to get cold. They gradually grew numb. The hand that held the six-shooter began to have a fellow feeling, or lack of it rather, with the feet. He changed hands and stuffed the chilled hand under his nightshirt into his armpit. A cramp seized his left knee. He straightened it gingerly and ironed out the cramp with the back of his gun hand.
The cold crept up both legs. ”

“ Think I don't know, huh, you deceivin' hussy! Trying to make small of me, carryin' on with other men, huh?"
She said nothing. It is doubtful if she heard him, for all his roaring voice and gesturing fists. Billy Wingo! Her Billy—once. He had loved her too—once. What a queer, queer world it was. Everybody and everything at cross-purposes. Yet there was a reason for it all. Must be. Even a reason for Rafe. She looked up at Rafe. ”

“ A burdened led horse was an impossibility, even if he had had time to carry out Craft and tie him to the saddle. The punchers would be at the ranch house in another sixty seconds, and if they should discover him with their bound and unconscious employer and two of his friends, they would shoot first and ask questions later. Any one would,—under the circumstances.
Billy topped his mount, struck in the spurs and fled. The other horse he perforce left standing. ”

“ It reminded him so much of her mother. "If I was you," he went on, without waiting for an answer, "and the feller which tried to make me do all those things was young Bill here, I'd do 'em. I really believe he likes you, Sally Jane."
"You think so, do you?" sighed Sally Jane, smoothing her frock down over her ankles. "You too, Samuel? What chance has a poor girl got—without a club?"
"I told her if she married me," spoke up Bill, "she could have jam on Sundays and butter the rest of the week."
"There, you see, Sally Jane!" said Sam Prescott. "He'll be good and generous. ”