holler at him?”
“I was going to after I got done in the outhouse, but he was gone by then. I know I should have hollered at him quick as I seen him, but the outhouse couldn’t wait, you know what I mean. Besides, I was surprised to see him, and I figured I’d best wait until I could see him better to be sure.”
“You saw his face?”
“Uh…no. But it was Ben’s horse, I’m right sure.”
“Right sure. But not full sure.”
“Well…no.”
“Ben’s horse has nothing about it that would make it easy to recognize from any distance. From fifty feet away it looks like a hundred other horses you see in this town.”
“I know.” Dewitt stood and paced. “But the way this fellow sat his saddle, the way he wore his hat, everything about him, it just made me think it was Ben.”
“Let me think through this, Dewitt. Ben left for Kentucky by train. He took his horse with him on the stable car so he’d have it to ride when he was in Kentucky. So assuming that really was Ben you saw, that means he came back, got his horse off the train’s stable car, and saddled it up. He wouldn’t do that just to ride to the jail from the train station,Dewitt. Too close. He’d just put his horse in the livery and walk over here.”
“Well, I figured he was going home and would come around into town later.”
“Tell you what, Dewitt, let’s check. You and me, we’ll ride out to Ben’s place and see if he’s there.”
Luke enjoyed the ride, largely owing to amusement at getting to watch Dewitt’s locally famous means of transportation: a large, aged mule that, for reasons known only to Dewitt, was named Eric the Mighty. The beast was slightly arthritic, limped, and was prone to make loud, threatening brays at all who came too near—all but Dewitt, anyway. The animal seemed to hold Dewitt in great affection. Everyone in Wiles County knew Dewitt and his mule.
Eric was doing well today, stepping gamely along with Dewitt firmly rooted on his back. “I don’t believe Eric is limping as much as he used to,” Luke said.
“Yeah, he’s better,” Dewitt replied.
“You’ve been praying for him, right?”
“I have. But I didn’t want to say that because I didn’t want you laughing. Ought not laugh at praying.”
“I wouldn’t laugh,” Luke said. “I think your prayers might have helped that old mule. Something surely has.”
“Lord loves mules, too,” Dewitt said.
“I’ll take your word for it, Dewitt.”
They rode westward, to where the Kansas flatlands gave way to a more broken and hilly region. It was in this terrain, in a small, lonely farmhouse,that Ben Keely lived his bachelor existence while serving as Wiles town marshal.
“We just going to ride down to the house?” Dewitt asked.
“Let’s get up on that little woody ridge south of Ben’s place and have a look from there. We can probably tell from there if somebody’s been about the place.”
“You don’t believe me when I say I seen him, do you!”
“I figure you saw somebody, but I still can’t believe Ben would have come back and not looked me up right away.”
“All I can tell you, Luke, is that it sure looked like Ben. Mostly the way he carried himself, sat the saddle, and wore his hat kind of turned down toward the front. You know what I mean.”
“That does sound like Ben.”
“It was him, I tell you!”
With horse and mule tied off to trees, the two men slipped through the grove at the top of the sloping ridge until Ben Keely’s small farmhouse came into view. They watched it silently for several minutes, but there was no evidence of movement or life. At length, though, something moved in the breezeway of the barn that sat near the house. A small-framed figure emerged, and Luke squinted and looked closely.
It wasn’t Ben. It was Jakey Wills, a boy who lived with his family on a ranch that adjoined Ben’s small piece of property and who also happened to be the little brother of Jimmy Wills, desk clerk at the Gable
“I was going to after I got done in the outhouse, but he was gone by then. I know I should have hollered at him quick as I seen him, but the outhouse couldn’t wait, you know what I mean. Besides, I was surprised to see him, and I figured I’d best wait until I could see him better to be sure.”
“You saw his face?”
“Uh…no. But it was Ben’s horse, I’m right sure.”
“Right sure. But not full sure.”
“Well…no.”
“Ben’s horse has nothing about it that would make it easy to recognize from any distance. From fifty feet away it looks like a hundred other horses you see in this town.”
“I know.” Dewitt stood and paced. “But the way this fellow sat his saddle, the way he wore his hat, everything about him, it just made me think it was Ben.”
“Let me think through this, Dewitt. Ben left for Kentucky by train. He took his horse with him on the stable car so he’d have it to ride when he was in Kentucky. So assuming that really was Ben you saw, that means he came back, got his horse off the train’s stable car, and saddled it up. He wouldn’t do that just to ride to the jail from the train station,Dewitt. Too close. He’d just put his horse in the livery and walk over here.”
“Well, I figured he was going home and would come around into town later.”
“Tell you what, Dewitt, let’s check. You and me, we’ll ride out to Ben’s place and see if he’s there.”
Luke enjoyed the ride, largely owing to amusement at getting to watch Dewitt’s locally famous means of transportation: a large, aged mule that, for reasons known only to Dewitt, was named Eric the Mighty. The beast was slightly arthritic, limped, and was prone to make loud, threatening brays at all who came too near—all but Dewitt, anyway. The animal seemed to hold Dewitt in great affection. Everyone in Wiles County knew Dewitt and his mule.
Eric was doing well today, stepping gamely along with Dewitt firmly rooted on his back. “I don’t believe Eric is limping as much as he used to,” Luke said.
“Yeah, he’s better,” Dewitt replied.
“You’ve been praying for him, right?”
“I have. But I didn’t want to say that because I didn’t want you laughing. Ought not laugh at praying.”
“I wouldn’t laugh,” Luke said. “I think your prayers might have helped that old mule. Something surely has.”
“Lord loves mules, too,” Dewitt said.
“I’ll take your word for it, Dewitt.”
They rode westward, to where the Kansas flatlands gave way to a more broken and hilly region. It was in this terrain, in a small, lonely farmhouse,that Ben Keely lived his bachelor existence while serving as Wiles town marshal.
“We just going to ride down to the house?” Dewitt asked.
“Let’s get up on that little woody ridge south of Ben’s place and have a look from there. We can probably tell from there if somebody’s been about the place.”
“You don’t believe me when I say I seen him, do you!”
“I figure you saw somebody, but I still can’t believe Ben would have come back and not looked me up right away.”
“All I can tell you, Luke, is that it sure looked like Ben. Mostly the way he carried himself, sat the saddle, and wore his hat kind of turned down toward the front. You know what I mean.”
“That does sound like Ben.”
“It was him, I tell you!”
With horse and mule tied off to trees, the two men slipped through the grove at the top of the sloping ridge until Ben Keely’s small farmhouse came into view. They watched it silently for several minutes, but there was no evidence of movement or life. At length, though, something moved in the breezeway of the barn that sat near the house. A small-framed figure emerged, and Luke squinted and looked closely.
It wasn’t Ben. It was Jakey Wills, a boy who lived with his family on a ranch that adjoined Ben’s small piece of property and who also happened to be the little brother of Jimmy Wills, desk clerk at the Gable
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