that you're the
law
here?"
"That doesn't tell me what you were doin' up by marker 416."
Billy sighed. Life seemed to be one long explanation. "Till ten days ago, Willie, I was the poorest cowboy in Arizona. That's pure fact. I had misfortune like it was a sickness."
Willie rubbed his long jaw uneasily. "Juries are startin' to take a dim view of bad luck. Yuma jail's full of it."
Billy ripped a biscuit. "What do you think I'll get? TWo years? If they pass out pardons the way they used to, that'll mean six months. I can stand that. Don't look forward to it, o' course."
Willie cast a worried glance at Kate. Her eyes held the same concern. Billy couldn't have known, but the laws had changed. Railroad robbery in the territory was now an automatic hanging sentence, but the last pair of holdup men had been commuted to life. Billy would have to settle for that. Being Billy, he'd break out.
After a silent moment, Kate spoke optimistically. "Why, honey, he came here to the sheriff's house, surrendered, turned over every nickel, dime, dollar, watch, gold ring..."
Willie exploded, "He did
what?
"
Billy caught on and grinned. "You saw me out there, Willie. A Iamb come to slaughter ... a terrible sinner askin' for forgiveness, jus' oozin' repentance, my hands high in the air, my gun in the dirt, beggin' you..."
Kate began to laugh, then all three of them broke up.
3
ABOUT ELEVEN THIRTY in the morning, the sheriff and Billy trotted toward Polkton along the road they'd so often traveled together.
Willie said thoughtfully, "You know, I just might lose money on you."
Billy glanced over, puzzled.
"I figure you went about two hundred forty miles, an' at thirty cents a mile, that's seventy-two dollars for my troubles. I get two more for serving the felony warrant, which I'll draw up in the morning. But then I got to pay for the pack mule, four days' tracker grub..."
"You on piecework?" Billy asked.
The sheriff laughed. "Almost."
Billy fell into a thoughtful silence. After another hundred yards, he said, "I'd really hate for you to lose money on me, Willie. That wouldn't be right."
Willie frowned over at him. "I'm glad you finally know right from wrong."
"If you'll jus' look the other way, half of this saddlebag'll spill out while I dig some meat hooks into this mare..."
Willie chuckled. "That sounds like bribery."
Billy shrugged. "Jus' an idea."
They trotted on, horses moving easily on the fine-dusted road.
"Shame I didn't stick to ranchin'," Billy said.
Willie remained silent.
"If you hadn't gotten married, no tellin' we might have had the best ranch in this county."
Willie glanced over. "I wasn't going to bring Kate up again. Not unless you did."
There was a silence for a short stretch. Billy punctured it. "Nothin' happened," he said. "I didn't lay a finger on her."
Willie's laugh was hollow but certain. "I know that."
Billy's head whipped around. "Well, don't be so damn sure it couldn't happen."
Willie stiffened.
"In fact, Willie, I think Kate may be gettin' tired of bein' married to seven square feet of the Rock of Ages. Deacon Monroe, damn me!"
Willie glared over at his friend, shaking his head.
"Boy, when you reformed, you went all the way," the prisoner said.
"I didn't know you were an expert on marriages." Willie's voice had an edge.
"I'm an expert on women."
"The kind that sleep under saloon tables," Willie snorted.
They got to Polkton about 12:40.
***
THE ONLY OBJECTS marring the surface of the desk were two feather pens in an onyx holder and an ornate cigar box. The morning sun, arrowing through the second-floor windows of the courthouse, made it glisten. P. J. Wilson was fussy-woman neat.
There was a bay rum smell in the air and P.J.'s face glowed from a new shave. His brown boots gleamed, as did his square fingernails. With a persuasive tongue, always impressive In front of a jury, eyes on better places than Polkton, he seldom lost a case.
He intoned, "You won't get sympathy from the railroads,
law
here?"
"That doesn't tell me what you were doin' up by marker 416."
Billy sighed. Life seemed to be one long explanation. "Till ten days ago, Willie, I was the poorest cowboy in Arizona. That's pure fact. I had misfortune like it was a sickness."
Willie rubbed his long jaw uneasily. "Juries are startin' to take a dim view of bad luck. Yuma jail's full of it."
Billy ripped a biscuit. "What do you think I'll get? TWo years? If they pass out pardons the way they used to, that'll mean six months. I can stand that. Don't look forward to it, o' course."
Willie cast a worried glance at Kate. Her eyes held the same concern. Billy couldn't have known, but the laws had changed. Railroad robbery in the territory was now an automatic hanging sentence, but the last pair of holdup men had been commuted to life. Billy would have to settle for that. Being Billy, he'd break out.
After a silent moment, Kate spoke optimistically. "Why, honey, he came here to the sheriff's house, surrendered, turned over every nickel, dime, dollar, watch, gold ring..."
Willie exploded, "He did
what?
"
Billy caught on and grinned. "You saw me out there, Willie. A Iamb come to slaughter ... a terrible sinner askin' for forgiveness, jus' oozin' repentance, my hands high in the air, my gun in the dirt, beggin' you..."
Kate began to laugh, then all three of them broke up.
3
ABOUT ELEVEN THIRTY in the morning, the sheriff and Billy trotted toward Polkton along the road they'd so often traveled together.
Willie said thoughtfully, "You know, I just might lose money on you."
Billy glanced over, puzzled.
"I figure you went about two hundred forty miles, an' at thirty cents a mile, that's seventy-two dollars for my troubles. I get two more for serving the felony warrant, which I'll draw up in the morning. But then I got to pay for the pack mule, four days' tracker grub..."
"You on piecework?" Billy asked.
The sheriff laughed. "Almost."
Billy fell into a thoughtful silence. After another hundred yards, he said, "I'd really hate for you to lose money on me, Willie. That wouldn't be right."
Willie frowned over at him. "I'm glad you finally know right from wrong."
"If you'll jus' look the other way, half of this saddlebag'll spill out while I dig some meat hooks into this mare..."
Willie chuckled. "That sounds like bribery."
Billy shrugged. "Jus' an idea."
They trotted on, horses moving easily on the fine-dusted road.
"Shame I didn't stick to ranchin'," Billy said.
Willie remained silent.
"If you hadn't gotten married, no tellin' we might have had the best ranch in this county."
Willie glanced over. "I wasn't going to bring Kate up again. Not unless you did."
There was a silence for a short stretch. Billy punctured it. "Nothin' happened," he said. "I didn't lay a finger on her."
Willie's laugh was hollow but certain. "I know that."
Billy's head whipped around. "Well, don't be so damn sure it couldn't happen."
Willie stiffened.
"In fact, Willie, I think Kate may be gettin' tired of bein' married to seven square feet of the Rock of Ages. Deacon Monroe, damn me!"
Willie glared over at his friend, shaking his head.
"Boy, when you reformed, you went all the way," the prisoner said.
"I didn't know you were an expert on marriages." Willie's voice had an edge.
"I'm an expert on women."
"The kind that sleep under saloon tables," Willie snorted.
They got to Polkton about 12:40.
***
THE ONLY OBJECTS marring the surface of the desk were two feather pens in an onyx holder and an ornate cigar box. The morning sun, arrowing through the second-floor windows of the courthouse, made it glisten. P. J. Wilson was fussy-woman neat.
There was a bay rum smell in the air and P.J.'s face glowed from a new shave. His brown boots gleamed, as did his square fingernails. With a persuasive tongue, always impressive In front of a jury, eyes on better places than Polkton, he seldom lost a case.
He intoned, "You won't get sympathy from the railroads,
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