© Alan LeMay
WNU Service
CHAPTER XIV
Ye
The early sun was upon the broad
main street of Inspiration as Billy
Wheeler drove Horse Dunn’s tour-
ing car into the little cow town. Old
Man Coffee was in the back seat,
this time without any of his dogs.
Marian, who had been dozing
against Billy's shoulder, sat up and
looked at the vacant street with a
detached curiosity. It seemed
strange to see the street so empty
and silent, where last they had seen
it full of knotted groups of men. No
stealthy movement in doorways this
time, no eyes covertly watching
them from under ten-gallon hats—
nothing but clean horizontal sunlight
on quiet dust, as if nothing lived in
this place at all.
Marian said, “You still don’t
want to tell me what you're going
to do?”
“It isn’t that [ don’t want to tell
you. It's just that it’s—it’'s got to
come to you in another way."
“This is a dramatic thing—rather
a terrible thing,” Marian said, ‘‘this
coming to the end of a killer's
trail.”
“Don’t look at it that way. |
want you to think of this thing with
all the impartiality you can. You
know now that our western code is
a different code. Not the six-gun
code of the old days, nor the wild
kind of thing some people have tried
to make out it is, such as never ex-
isted here or any place else. But
just a kind of a way of going about
things that is bred into dry country
men—the way of each man making
his own right and wrong, each man
looking only to himself for approval
in the end. Maybe—you're only go-
ing to learn the story of a kind of—
a kind of private execution; maybe
by a man who believed with all his
heart that he was in the right.”
She looked at him wonderingly for
a minute; she had never heard him
talk in that way before. ‘Billy,
Billy, don’t you trust me to face out
anything, even yet? Don't you think
I have any courage at all?”
“I trust your courage more than
I've ever trusted anything in my
life. Or you wouldn't be here now."
Vheeler drove through the town
and turned up a side street to the
house where Sheriff Walt Amos
lived. Leaving Marian and Old Man
Coffee in the car he walked around
the little house to the back door;
there was a smell of breakfast cook-
ing here, and Walt Amos himself
was souzling water over his face
and hair at a wash bench beside a
pump. The young sheriff straight-
ened up and stared at Wheeler for
a long moment through dripping wa-
ter. ‘‘Hardly expected to see you
here.”
“I've come to make a deal with
you,” Wheeler said.
“Don’t hardly seem there's any
deal to be made between you and
me. Horse Dunn isn't going out on
bail. Get it out of your head.”
Amos began to dry his face and
hair.
‘““This is something else,” Wheel-
er said. ‘You've wanted me out of
this picture. You've wanted me out
of it from the start. You know why,
and there's no need for us to go into
why.”
“I got enough troubles on this
range,” Amos said, “without outside
capital pitching in to make things
worse for the common run of cow-
men.”
“In short, you and your gang has
been afraid I'd help Dunn save the
94. You tried to railroad me. here
in Judge Shafer's court—but you
didn't get away with it. Maybe
you've got other things in mind to
try, to get me out of the way of
your plans. 1 don't know anything
about that.”
“People from outside, that figure
to throw in against the best inter-
ests of this range—"" Amos began.
“All right. Now you've got a
chance to get rid of me. You give
me what I want and I'll promise
you I'll be out of this killing case
within 24 hours.”
“You haven't got any official
standing in this case to begin with,”
Amos pointed out.
“You'd like to see me drag my
freight, just the same! And here's
how you can get it done.”
“Well?”
“Old Man Coffee and Horse
Dunn’s niece are here with me. Give
us an hour to talk to Horse Dunn
alone. That's the proposition and
all of the proposition.”
“And if 1 do that you'll pull out
of here?”
“Within 24 hours. I'll stay out
until the killing case against Horse
Dunn is cleared up, one way or
another. After that maybe I'll come
back to the 94 and maybe I'll help
it with its finance; I don’t say one
way or the other. But if you want
me out of it for the time being,
here's your chance.”
“There's a hook in this some
place.” Amos said. ‘But I'll take a
chance. Horse Dunn's in the jail,
where he belongs. I'll take you there
and I'll give you an hour.”
The Inspiration jail was tiny, but
it was perhaps the most modern
thing in the town. It sat by itself
on a rise of ground 200 yards be-
hind Walt Amos’ house, which was
the nearest dwelling.
In structure it was a 20-foot
square cube of concrete, with tiny
air holes near the roof, and an iron
door. Within was an inner cage of
steel bars, separated from the
outer shell, all the way around, by a
corridor four feet wide. The place
had no great capacity, but it would
have been a double job for a good
cracksman to make his way out.
Old Man Coffee was reluctant to
visit Horse Dunn here. “Don’t hard-
ly seem fitting."
“There's a special reason 1 want
you to come, for a minute or two.”
‘‘Have it your own way."
Sheriff Walt Amos swung wide the
outer door. “I'm putting you on
your honor not to try any funny
business,” he said. ‘But in case of
doubt—just remember how easy it
would be to cut loose on you from
the house!"
“You talk like a child,” said Cof-
fee.
It seemed strange, Billy Wheeler
thought, that the old king of cattle,
the man who could not only dream a
cow kingdom but make it live, was
to be found standing here in a two-
by-four jail. Yet, within the black
Then "Speak Out, Man!" He Said
shadows of concrete and steel Horse
Dunn towered bigger than ever,
straighter than ever; he seemed,
rope, but a young giant, easy in his
strength. The great sense of latent
power that radiated from Horse
Dunn made it seem that he only
walls because he wilfully used his
own -great body as a pawn, laid in
hazard while he awaited his ad-
vantage.
3ut there were tears in Marian's
Horse Dunn grinned upward and
about him at the steel and concrete.
The walls could not shame him—it
was he who shamed the walls. “A
thousand miles of range have to be
held by money and cows and men-—
not by a little tin contrivance
palmed off on the county by some
hardware salesman. You think they
can hold me here an hour, once 1
decide to move out?”
No one answered him. There
where the daylight could hardly en-
ter, the silence had a way of de-
scending sharply, like the closing of
iron doors. After a little of that
quiet no one could forget that a man
had been found dead in the Red
Sleep, and another at Ace Springs,
and still another at the head of a
gorge without a name.
Wheeler knew that Old Man Cof-
fee's eyes were watching him, wait-
ing for him to speak. He drew a
deep breath and broke the silence.
“Horse,” he said, ‘the whole
works has been-—kind of stood on its
head, since I saw you last.”
Horse Dunn's voice rumbled.
“Well, that's good!”
Wheeler's voice was very low; he
found that he could hardly speak.
“No, Horse; it isn't good. This is
maybe the worst thing that any of
us have come to, ever, in all our
long trails.”
Held in that sharp, hard silence
that could clamp down so suddenly
here they could feel the chill of the
walls. Wheeler was seeking a way
to go on.
Marian was holding her uncle's
hand against her cheek, and now
Horse drew his hand away. “Billy,”
he said; and hesitated. Then,
“Speak out, man!” he said at last.
“Two-three different things have
happened,” Wheeler said. “Marian
and I found Lon Magoon dead, a lit
tle way back in the hills. Coffee,
here, he went to Pahranagat—""
“How'd Magoon die?” Horse
Dunn asked.
Wheeler would not be turned
aside. “I guess that don’t so much
matter, Horse, in view of a couple
of other things. For one thing, Mar-
ian had her horse shot out from
under her, in plain light, cack in the
hills. I've been thinking a whole
lot, Horse," he went on, ‘about how
anybody would ever come to take a
shot at her, Now-—I think I know.”
“What are you coming to, boy?"
Horse Dunn said.
“Horse,” said Billy Wheeler—
‘““Horse—I know who killed Marian’s
pony last night; and I know why.”
He saw Horse Dunn's big shaggy
head sway and tip a little to one
side as the old man sought to peer
more closely into Wheeler's eyes,
“If you know that—'' he began.
Wheeler's voice was flat and re-
laxed with utter certainty. “You
know I do, Horse.”
Billy Wheeler could hear his own
blood beating in his ears, like a far-
off Indian drum; and this time the
silence was a terrible silence, un-
endurable to those gathered there.
“Coffee,” Horse Dunn said in an
unnatural voice, “I'll talk to this
boy alone.”
Perhaps some faint persistent
hope that he was wrong had lasted
somewhere in Billy Wheeler's mind.
But when Horse Dunn told Old Man
Coffee to go out, Wheeler knew that
he had not been wrong, but that
they were at the end.
Old Man Coffee moved quickly,
with the smooth, sliding stride of
one of his own lion hounds. He
was glad to be out of there. For a
moment the young sun splashed
through the open door with the bril-
liance of a powder flare-up; then
the half-dark closed again as Coffee
let the door swing shut behind him.
They heard the crunch of his heels
in the dirt as he walked off down
the side of the hill.
“You go too, Marian,” Horse
Dunn said softly. *“‘Billy and I want
to"
“You want her
Horse, I think.”
"Stay here?" The old man's voice
was blurred by a strange and unac-
customed uncertainty. “You want
her to stay here?”
“It's you that needs her here,’
Wheeler told him. Then after a mo-
ment he said, almost inaudibly—
“Tell her, Horse."
to stay here,
shaggy head and the sweep of a
great shoulder, but his eyes they
could not see. As he spoke it seemed
that it was not the big old fighter
who stood there, but an old man as
her?” he said dimly. “You want
me to tell her"
Once more the silence descended,
brutal, complete; it held on end-
lessly, as if no one of them was ever
going to be able to break it again.
And still Horse Dunn did not speak
nor move, but stood like a frozen
to say something, anything, to break
that terrible taut stillness; but he
could not.
Suddenly Marian Dunn stumbled
forward, against the bars. She
reached through, drew Horse
Dunn's wrists through the barrier,
and hid her face in his two great
hands. Her voice came to them
choked and smothered.
“1 didn't know—I didn't know-""
Horse Dunn's words shuddered as
he cried out—""What—what didn't
you know?"
“That you—could love me-—so
much . "
Wheeler saw the old fighter sway;
but in a moment he was steady
again. He spoke across Marian's
bent head, and his voice had a hard
edge. "You don’t know what you're
talking about. Old Man Coffee has
been loading you with— Look here:
is he in on this?"
“I'm virtually certain he knows,
though he figured it out different
than I did.”
“Figured out what? Spit it out,
man!"
“Horse,” said Wheeler with more
sadness in his voice than he had
ever known in the world before, “I
can name you every step of-—"'
Horse Dunn's voice blazed up,
breaking restraint. “In God's name,
how did you find out?”
“From something Marian said.
After the first shot at her, she said,
‘I'm glad it happened. I can’t tell
you why." I know now what she
works,
enough
near her,
night when you taped up your ankle
where it was skinned, and spoke of
straightening your spur. Of course,
to do that; and a derringer would
have fitted in—a derringer carrying
a shotgun shell. The shot in the
saddle fooled Coffee, for a while;
it looked to him like it came from
farther away than the horses had
stood apart, and made him think
there was a third man. But I just
happened to think that the shot could
have come from a short, weak gun
with the same effect. Well--"'
Wheeler finished—‘ ‘Coffee has been
to Pahranagat; he found out that
Flagg came through there like a
bum."
“Dear God,” Horse Dunn whis-
pered. ‘‘It's—the end of the rope.”
He pulled his hands away, and be-
gan to pace the two strides that the
cell permitted—back and forth,
back and forth.
“Marian,” Wheeler begged, ‘tell
him you see"
Marian raised her face, surpris-
ingly in command of herself again.
Her voice was steady. “I do see
it! I see it all!”
Dunn's pacing stopped; he raised
big shaking hands, pleading hands.
“And yet you-—you ain't—you don't
think—"'
Marian cried out to him-—and
there was pain in her voice, but
there was glory in it, too—"'‘1 think
nobody ever loved anybody so much
as you have proved you love me!”
“l —~ 1 can't hardly believe —
Horse Dunn sagged down onto the
bare steel cot within his cell. ‘“Mar-
ian, if you're telling me that you—
you know—and yet you're backing
me, still"
The girl was pressed against the
bars that kept her from him. “I'm
telling you that I believe in you with
all my heart!”
Horse Dunn stood up slowly, like
He said, "How much have you
told her, boy?"
“She knows only what she's
guessed, I think. The rest of the
story has to come from you.”
The boss of the 94 appeared to
consider for what seemed a long
time. “I-I don’t know as I can
make out to do that. Life hasn't
gone easy, or smooth, with me.
Other times, long ago, I've faced
down other men, more men than
these. But I swear I never raised
gun to any man, without he got his
break! I stood with empty hands,
always, until their guns showed."
“She has to know it all,” Billy
insisted; “from the very beginning.”
“I can’t hardly expect her to un-
derstand how it come up. Those
shots I threw so close to her—that's
the crazy part, that a man can't
hardly explain. I couldn't ever have
done it, if I didn’t know for certain
that I could put a slug into a two-
bit piece at a hundred yards—ten
out of ten, easy as you'd put your
finger on a nail. It seems a wild
and crazy thing, even to me. But—
I tell you, never a man lived that
could throw the fear into me that
this kid has always been able to—
just on the scare that she'd quit
me. And I thought if there was one
thing she'd be sure of on earth, it
was that I'd give my life to save
the least hair of her head from
harm. And I took that way; so that
she'd always be dead certain, what-
ever might happen or be proved
later, that it couldn't be true that it
was me killed Flagg.”
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Teach a boy to add fractions
pleasurably and confidently, says
Dr. Charles A. Stone of Chicago, the
“arithmetic doctor,” and overnight
his ambitions are likely to change
from a desire to be a policeman to
a hope he can be President of the
United States.
He probably will become aggres-
sive, sureminded, determined, in
contrast to his previous shyness,
backwardness and tardiness in
grasping ideas, contends the De
Paul university professor who ac-
quired the sobriquet, the “arithme-
tic doctor” by devising a new meth-
od of teaching mathematics.
Recently Dr. Stone established a
special arithmetic “clinic” as an ex-
periment in “treating” lagging pu-
pils. He decided to diagnose the
case of each “ailing” student in
much the same manner as a physi
cian uses for his patients.
Tests were given to locate the
particular place of difficulty for each
“patient,” and when the trouble-
some area was found, treatment was
concentrated there. In most cases,
he said, he discovered that an in-
ability to add, or to work with deci-
mals or fractions, or to apply the
processes of arithmetic in solving
problems of every day life befogged
a student's mind generallly.
When those points were thorough-
ly explained and the students mas-
tered their problems, Dr. Stone
said, many of them discovered they
could figure fractions or work with
decimals as well as any average
student. Then they realized, possibly
for the first time in their lives, he
said, their mentality was on a par
with fellow pupils and they had no
reason to look up to anyone. Im-
mediately, he added, their entire per-
sonalities were virtually remodeled.
They romped and played with new
vigor, entered into their studies with
a new zest and disclosed an eager
ness to cultivate new friertiships.
Making Over a Chair of
O modernize the old walnut
chair at the right the pieces
under the arms were removed and
most of the carving covered up.
The padding at the back was re-
moved entirely and replaced by
a fiber board which was covered
by a loose cotton filled cushion
tufted like an old fashioned bed |
comfort except that the tied
hread ends of the tufting were
left on wrong side.
This back cushion was fastened
in place with tapes that slipped |
over the knobs at the ends of the |
upper carving. If the knobs to |
hold the cushion had been lacking |
it could have been tacked in place |
along the top on the under side |
by using a strip of heavy card-
board to keep the tacks from pull-
ing through the fabric as shown |
here for tacking the box pleated |
ruffle around the seat as at A. |
A plain rust colored heavy cotton |
upholstery material was used for |
the covering.
Every Homemaker should have
a copy of Mrs. Spears’ new book,
i
the
Home Heating
Hints *hn sarc |
Don't Shake Down Low Fire—
Give Fresh Coal Good Start
Then Shake Grates Gently i
HERE'S a little fault with the |
firing of quite a few
home-owners that I should like to
correct. They have a mistaken |
idea that when a fire is low, all |
they have to do is to shake the
grates vigorously and the fire will
flare up again
Nothing could be further from
the fact. A shallow, half-burned-
out fire cannot be revived by shak- |
ing most of the remaining coals
method
into the ashpit. The simple way
to revive it is to add a sprinkling
of fresh coal, giving it time to
ignite. When it is burning well,
shake the grates gently, stopping
when the first red glow shows in
the ashpit.
Then refuel the fire, remember-
ing to fill the firebox to the level
of the bottom of the fire door.
This will provide a deep fire,
which is considerably more eco-
Also, it minimizes
shallow fire in trying to revive it.
WNU Service.
Adam and Eve had but one fault
The “man of few words’ doesn’t
realize how tiresome they be-
A statistician in listing the com-
mon causes of fatigue in men,
overlooked a waistline of 46
inches.
Alone They're Insufficient
Memories are all right to live
on provided you have something
else,
A few men in the audience who
laugh uproariously in the right
place are a great asset to the
speaker,
Never bestow real criticism of
the faults of your friends when
they a=k it. Sidestep it, somehow.
the Ginger-Bread Era.
SEWING. Forty-eight pages of
step-by-step directions for making
slipcovers and dressing tables;
restoring and upholstering chairs,
couches; making curtains for ev-
ery type of room and purpose.
Making ]
mans and other useful articles for
the home. Readers wishing a
should send ad-
8, to Mrs.
Tr 1a .
Desplaines St.,
| + ehades noe (yt Yr
lampshades, rugs, otto-
dress, enclosing 2
Spears, 210 South
Chicago, Illin
HOUSEHOLD
QUESTIONS \/
0is.
that are
better
For Meringues.—Eggs
several days old make
* s *
Preparing Starch.—Stir a plece
of lard about as big as a five-cent
piece into your starch while it is
boiling. Your clothes will take on
a nice gloss, and the iron will not
stick.
» * *
Selecting Meats.—Good beef or
pork or calves’ liver is very bright
in color and has little odor. Re-
»se¢ points when select-
Watering House Planis.—Rinse
water from milk bottles will make
Preserving Stockings.—Because
perspiration acids are among the
worst enemies of good hose, cloth-
ing experts advise washing stock-
warm water with mild soap.
COLDS
FEVER
first day
LIQUID. TABLETS .
SALVE. NOSE Drops Headache, 30 minutes.
Try “Rub-My-Tism"— World's Best Lintmenx
Sacred Abuse
The older the abuse the more
sacred it is.--Voltaire.
Many doctors recommend Nujol
because of its gentle action on
the bowels. Don’t confuse Nujol
with unknown products.
Cupr. 1997 Stamos Ine.
Wa) Ma!
| got my name
in the paper!
®
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Headlines may scream of death and
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It isn't by accident that this paper
prints so many stories which vitally
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of remote places is stated briefly and
interpreted. Local news is covered fully,
because all good editors know that the
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especially for you. Just for fun ask
yourself this question: How could we
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