Jim Waring

“ The wives of the American folks down there wouldn't speak to me. And the Mexican women hated me. I was the wife of Jim Waring, 'the killer.' I think I went crazy."
"Well, I never did believe in talking shop, Annie."
"That's just it. You were always polite—and calling what you did, 'shop'! I don't believe you ever cared for a single person on this earth!" ”

“ And Donovan eyed Quigley. "Jim Waring is too dam' high and mighty to suit me. Every time he tackles a job he is the big boss till it's done. If he comes back, all right. If he don't—we'll charge it up to profit and loss. But his name goes off the pay-roll to-day."
Quigley grinned. He knew that Donovan was afraid of Waring. Waring was the one man in Donovan's employ that he could not bully. Moreover, the big Irishman hated to pay Waring's price, which was stiff. ”

“ Dog-gone it! You know how it is tryin' to explain things to a woman. Wimmin don't understand them kind of things."
"I don't know about that, Lorry."
Lorry nodded. "I tell you, dad—you kind of set a pace for me. And I figure I don't want folks to say: 'There goes Jim Waring's boy.' If they're goin' to say anything, I want it to be: 'There goes Lorry Waring.'"
Waring knew that kind of pride if he knew anything. He was proud of his son. And Waring's most difficult task was to keep from influencing him in any way. He wanted the boy to feel free to do as he thought best. ”

“ Say, High, that hombre ridin' the big buckskin hoss there could make us look about as fast as a couple of fence-posts when it comes to handlin' a gun. And his pardner ain't what you'd call slow."
High Chin's lean face darkened as he recognized Waring riding beside a gaunt, long-legged man whose gray eyes twinkled as he surveyed the little group.
"Pat—and Jim Waring," muttered Shoop. "And us just finished what some would call a ole-time shootin'-bee!" ”

“ The lank man nodded. "There's a time coming when they'll do more than that. That old man down south is losing his grip. I don't say this for general information. And if Jim Waring happens to ride into town, just tell him who you are and pinch him for smuggling; unless I see him first."
"What did I ever do to you?"
Pat laughed silently. "Oh, he ain't a fool. It's only a fool that'll throw away a chance to play safe."
"You got me interested in that Waring hombre. I'll sure nail him like you said; but if he goes for his gun I don't want you plantin' no cucumber seed on my restin'-place. ”

“ I got no orders to hold Andy Brewster, but I'm holdin' him for evidence. And I'm holdin' Waring for premeditated contempt and shootin' to death of said Bob Brewster and his brother Tony. And I got said gun what did it."
"So you pinched Jim's gun, eh? And when he couldn't lift a finger or say a word to stop you. Do you want to know what would happen if you was to try to get a holt of said gun if Jim Waring was on his two feet? Well, Jim Waring would pull said trigger, and Criswell would bury said city marshal."
"The law is the law. This town's payin' me to do my duty, and I'm goin' to do it." ”

“ We ransacked the desk and got what money there was, [Pg 227] locked and bolted the doors, and climbed out of the side window, under which she dropped the knife among the bushes. 'They'll never suspect us in the world, Mike,' she said. 'It's the lieutenant's knife that did it, and, as he was going to fight him anyhow, he'll get the credit of it all.' Then we drove up the levee, put Waring in Anatole's boat, sculls and all, and shoved him off. 'I'll muzzle Jim,' she said. 'I'll make him believe 'twas he that did it when he was drunk.' She took most of the money, and the watch and ring. ”

“ Listen! You and Jim Waring and Pat used me white. I'm sore at that I.W.W. bunch, but I dassent make a break. They'd get me. But listen! If the boys knowed I was tellin' you this they'd cut me in two. Two trucks just came into camp from up north. Them trucks was loaded to the guards. Every man in camp's got a automatic and fifty rounds. And they was settin' up a machine gun when I slipped through and beat it, lookin' for you. You better fan it out of this while you got the chanct."
"Did they send you over to push that bluff—or are you talkin' straight?" ”

“ But only while you was talkin'. That boy is your boy all right, but he's got a lot of Jim Waring under his hide. And if you want to keep that there hide from gettin' shot full of holes by a no-account outlaw, you'll just pack up and come along."
Bud wiped his forehead, and puffed. This sort of thing was not exactly in his line.
"Here's the point, Annie," he continued. "If I get there afore Lorry, and you're there, he won't get into trouble. Mebby you could hold him with your hand on the bridle, but he's runnin' loose right where he is. Can't you get some lady in town to run the place?" ”

“ Waring, gazing beyond the rural, saw the head of a horse top the rise. In the saddle sat Ramon, hatless, his black hair flung back from his forehead, a gun in his hand. Waring drew a deep breath. Would Ramon bungle it by calling out, or would he have nerve enough to make an end of it on the instant?
Although Waring was unarmed, the rural dared not turn. The gringo had been known to slip out of as tight a place despite the threat of a gun almost against his chest. With a despondent shrug, Waring lowered his arms. ”

“ Be kind of careful about repeatin' what 'they say' to anybody. You got nothin' to back you up if somebody calls your hand. 'They' ain't goin' to see you through. And you named the Brewster boys. Now, just suppose one of the Brewster boys heard of it and come over askin' you what you meant? I bet you a new hat Jim Waring ain't said Brewster's name to a soul—and he knows. I'm goin' over to Stacey. Any mail the stage didn't get?"
"Letter for Mrs. Adams."
"Uh-uh. Lorry writes to his ma like he was her beau—reg'lar and plenty. Funny thing, you can't get a word out of him about wimmin-folk, neither. ”

“ The western sun trailed long shadows across the cañon; shadows that drifted imperceptibly farther and farther, spreading, commingling, softening the broken outlines of ledge and brush until the walled solitude was brimmed with dusk, save where a red shaft cleft the fast-fading twilight, burning like a great spotlight on a picketed horse and a man asleep, his head pillowed on a saddle.
As the dusk drew down, the horse ceased grazing, sniffed the coming night, and nickered softly. Waring rose and led the horse to water, and, returning, emptied half the grain in the morral on a blanket. ”

“ That voice had been strangely dispassionate, detached; not the voice of a human being. But now the Voice was that of his friend Pat softly reiterating: "Not this way, Jim."
And Waring cursed. His plan was made. He would suffer no interference. If Brewster were at the Starr Ranch, he would question him first. If he were not, there would be no questioning. Waring determined to trail him. If Brewster had left that part of the country, that would prove his guilt.
Waring knew that Hardy and his men had ridden south, endeavoring to find some clue to the murderer's whereabouts. ”

“ Wimmin kind of liked him, but he never paid much attention to them. He worked for me as deputy a spell, and I never hired a better man. But he wouldn't stay with one job long. When Las Cruces got quiet he pulled his freight. Next I heard of him he was married and living in Sonora. It didn't take Diaz long to find out that he could use him. Waring was a wizard with a gun—and he had the nerve back of it. But Waring quit Diaz, for Jim wasn't that kind of a killer. I guess he found plenty of work down there. He never was one to lay around living on his reputation and waiting for nothing to happen. ”

“ Waring, his hand gripping the stirrup, was dragging across the sand beside the horse that stepped sideways and carefully as Waring urged him on. Dex worked nearer to High Chin, but so slowly that High Chin thought it was some horrible phantasy sent to awaken fear in his dulled brain. But that dragging figure, white-faced and terrible—that was real! Within a few paces of High Chin, Dex stopped and turned his head to look down at Waring. ”

“ He may want to set up for himself some day. I married young."
"I'd like to see the girl that's good enough for my Lorry."
Waring smiled. "Or good enough to call you 'mother.'"
"Jim, you're trying to plague me."
"But you will some day. There's always some girl. And Lorry is a pretty live boy. He isn't going to ride a lone trail forever."
Mrs. Adams affected an indifference that she by no means felt.
"You're a lot better to-day, Jim." ”

“ Unused to physical inactivity, Waring had grown somber of mind these latter days. Despite the promise of more comfortable years, he had never felt more lonely. With the coming of Lorry the old order would change. Young blood, new life would have its way. ”

“ Because you can't set down to a meal without both your hands and feet agoing and one ear laid back, you call us old because we chew slow. But you're right. Jim and I are getting kind of gray around the ears."
"Well, you fellas can fight it out. I came over to say that them rurales got their hoss. But one of 'em let it slip, in Mexican, that they weren't through yet."
"So?" said Pat. "Well, you go ahead and feed the stock. We'll be over to the house poco tiempo."
Waring and the collector entered the cantina. ”

“ Waring drew his hand across his eyes, and, entering the saloon, asked for whiskey. As in a dream, he saw men sitting in the back of the place. They leaned on their elbows and talked. He drank and called for more. The loafers in the saloon glanced at each other. Three men had just ridden through town and down into the desert, going over-light for such a journey. And here was the fourth. They glanced at Waring's boots, his belt, his strong shoulders, and his dusty sombrero. Whoever he was, he fitted his clothes. But a man "going in" was a fool to take more than one drink. ”

“ Waring was startled by his own voice. He thrust the gun in his waistband. The twilight deepened rapidly. Rocks and ridges in the arroyo assumed peculiar shapes like those of men crouching; men prone; men with heads up, listening, watching, waiting. Yet Waring's instinct for hidden danger told him that there was no living thing in the arroyo—unless—Suddenly he sprang forward and dropped to his knees beside a huddled shape near a boulder.
"Pat!" he whispered.
Then he knew; saw it all as clearly as though he had witnessed it—the ambushment in the blinding sandstorm; the terror-stricken Waco ”

“ Waring, riding in with the crew, found the ranch-house deserted and the pinto ponies dragging the shreds of a broken harness, grazing along the fence. Waring sent a man to catch up the team. Ramon cooked supper. The men ate in silence.
After supper Waring changed his clothes, saddled Dex, and packed some food in the saddle-pockets. "I am going out to look for Pat," he told one of his men. "If Waco shows up, keep him here till I get back. Those horses didn't get away from Pat. Here's a signed check. Get what you need and keep on with the work. ”

“ Waring. "They are coming!" he whispered.
Waring shook his head. "You hear our horses. The rurales won't ride into this pocket before daylight. Stay right here till I come back."
He rose and worked cautiously down the eastern slope, searching for Dex in the valley. In the gray gloom he saw the outline of his horse grazing alone. He stepped down to him. The big horse raised its head. Waring spoke. Reassured, Dex plodded to his master, who turned and tracked back to the pocket in the rocks. "I think your cayuse has drifted south," he told Ramon.
The young Mexican showed no surprise. ”

“ And while Armigo had always professed to be Waring's friend, sympathy of blood and the appeal of money easily come by might change the placid face of things considerably.
Waring strode to the house, washed and ate with Juan in the kitchen; then he invited the Mexican out to the corral.
"José and Ramon are your countrymen, Juan."
"Si, señor. I am sorry for Ramon. This thing was not of his doing. He is but a boy—"
Waring touched the other's arm. "There will be no trouble, Juan. Only keep better track of your horses while I ride this part of the country." ”

“ Again Waring heard the Voice, as though from a distance, and yet the voice was his own: "You will turn back from the hunting of men."
"Like hell I will!" muttered Waring.
Ramon, who rode immediately ahead of him, turned in the saddle. Waring gestured to him to ride on.
The heat grew less intense as an occasional, vagrant breeze stirred in the brush and fluttered the handkerchief round Waring's throat. Ahead, the cañon broadened to the mesa lands, where the distant green of a line of trees marked the boundary of the Armigo rancho.
Presently Vaca began to sing ”

“ The bandit's eyes glistened as he watched Waring depart. If the gringo entered the house of Pedro Salazar, he would not find the gold and he would not come out alive. The gringo gunman had killed the brother of Pedro Salazar down in the desert country years ago. And Salazar had had nothing to do with the Ortez Mine robbery. Vaca thought that the gold was still safe in his tapaderas. The gringo was a fool.
Waring led the two saddled horses to the house. Ramon, coming from the kitchen, blinked in the sunlight.
"It is my horse, but not my saddle, señor."
"You are an honest man," laughed Waring. ”