Jim Waring of Sonora-Town Part 18

"Gunman! Your father?"

Lorry straightened up from polis.h.i.+ng the car. "I clean forgot what I was sayin'. I guess my foot slipped that time."

"I am sorry I asked," said Mrs. Weston. "It really doesn't matter."

"Oh, it ain't your fault. But I wasn't aimin' to tell. Dad he married my mother, and they went to live in Sonora, down in Mexico. Some of the minin' outfits down there hired him regular to--to protect their interests. I guess ma couldn't stand that kind of life, for after a few years she brought me up here. I was just a kid then. Ma she built up a good trade at this hotel. Folks call her Mrs. Adams. Her name was Adams afore she got married. We been here ten years. Dad didn't know where she was till last week he showed up here. I reckon she thought he got killed long ago. Folks would talk about it if they knowed he was her husband, so I guess she asked dad to say nothin' about that. He said he came up to see me. I guess he don't aim to stay long."

"I think I understand," said Mrs. Weston.

"Well, it ain't none of my business, long as ma is all right. Say, she s.h.i.+nes like a new hack, eh?"

"You have cleaned the car beautifully."

"Oh, I dunno. Now, if it was a hoss--And say, I guess you'll be startin'

to-morrow. That axle will be all right in about an hour."

Just then Anita came to call them to luncheon. She had heard them talking at the rear of the hotel shortly after Sheriff Hardy had inquired for Lorry. Several townsfolk came in, ate, and departed on their several ways.

After luncheon Mrs. Weston went to her room. She thought she would lie down and sleep for an hour or so, but the noon heat made the room rather close. She picked up a book and came down, where she found it comfortably cool on the veranda.

The town was quiet. A hand-car with its section crew of Mexicans clicked past, and hummed on down the glittering rails. A stray burro meandered about, and finally came to a stop in the middle of the street, where he stood, stoically enduring the sun, a veritable long-eared statue of dejection. Mrs. Weston turned a page, but the printed word was flat and insignificant.

She felt as though she were in a kind of twilight valley, midway between the hills of slumber and wakefulness. For the moment she forgot the name of the town itself. She knew that she could recall it if she tried. A dog lay asleep beneath the station platform opposite, one relaxed paw over his nose. Some one was calling to some one in the kitchen. A figure pa.s.sed in the street; a young man who smiled and nodded. It was the boy, Lorry. He had been working on the car that morning. She had watched him work, rather enjoying his energy. A healthy young animal as unsophisticated as a kitten, and really innately kind and innocent of intent to flatter. He was not at all like the bright young savage who had roped and almost choked to death that awful man.

It was impossible to judge a person at first sight and especially under unusual circ.u.mstances. And he seemed not at all chagrined that he had not gone with the others to the hills. Alice had enjoyed reading about Westerners--rough, boisterous beings intolerable to Mrs. Weston even in print. And Mrs. Weston thought that proper environment and a.s.sociation might bring out their better qualities, even as the boy, Lorry, seemed to have improved--well, since yesterday morning. Perhaps he was on his good behavior because they were there.

It seemed past comprehension that anything startling could happen in that drowsy atmosphere.

The young cowboy was coming back down the street, some part of the car over his shoulder. Mrs. Weston antic.i.p.ated his nod, and nodded lazily as he pa.s.sed. She could hear him tinkering at the car.

A few blocks up the street, Buck Hardy was seated in his office talking with the undersheriff. The undersheriff twisted the end of his black mustache and looked wise.

"They told me at the hotel that he had gone riding with them Easterners," said Hardy. "And now you say he's been in town all day working on that automobile."

"Yep. He's been to the blacksmith twice to-day. I didn't say anything to him, seein' you was over to Larkins's, and said he was out of town. I'd hate to think he done anything like that."

"That hobo was gone when I went to talk to him this morning. The lock was busted. I can't figure it out. Young Lorry stood to win the reward, and he could use the money."

"Hear anything by wire?" queried the undersheriff.

"Nothing. The man didn't get by on any of the trains. I notified both stations. He's afoot and he's gone."

"Well, I guess the kid loses out, eh?"

"That ain't all. This county will jump me for letting that guy get away.

It won't help us any next election."

"Well, my idea is to have a talk with Adams," said the undersheriff.

"I'm going to do that. I like the kid, and then there's his mother--"

"And you'd hold him for lettin' the guy loose, eh?"

"I would. I'd hold my own brother for playing a trick like that."

"Well, I don't sabe it," a.s.serted the undersheriff. "Lorry Adams always had a good name."

"We'll have a talk with him, Bill."

"Are you sure Adams did it, Buck?"

"No, not sure, but I'm going to find out. I'll throw a scare into him that'll make him talk."

"Mebby he won't scare."

"Then I'll run him in. He's some enterprising, if I do say it. He put High-Chin Bob out of business over by the water-hole yesterday."

"High Chin! The h.e.l.l you say!"

"That's what I thought when I heard it. High was beating up the hobo, and Lorry claimed him as his prisoner. Jim Waring says the kid walloped High on the head and knocked him stiff."

"Whew! Bob will get his hide for that."

"I don't know. Jim Waring is riding the country just now."

"What's that got to do with it?"

"More than I'm going to tell you, Bill. But take it from me, he's interested in young Adams a whole lot."

When Hardy and his deputy rode over to the hotel there was a pause in the chatter. Alice Weston was describing their journey to her mother and calling upon Waring to substantiate her vivid a.s.sertions of the wonderful adventure. The saddle-horse still stood at the hitching-rail, and Hardy, who had an eye for a good horse, openly admired the big buckskin. Waring was talking with Lorry. Mrs. Adams had gone in. Hardy indicated that he wanted to speak to Lorry, and he included Waring in his gesture. Lorry rose and glanced quickly at Alice Weston. She was leaning forward in her chair, suddenly aware of a subtle undercurrent of seriousness. The undersheriff was patting the nose of the big buckskin.

The men stepped down from the veranda, and stood near the horses.

"That hobo got away," said the sheriff. "Do you know anything about it?"

"I turned him loose," said Lorry, without hesitation.

"What for?"

"I changed my mind. I didn't want any blood-money for arrestin' a tramp."

"That's all right. But you can't change the law so easy. That man was my prisoner. Why didn't you come to me?"

"Well, if you want to know, in company," said Lorry, "High Chin and the boys had it framed up to give that hobo a goin'-over for stealin' a Starr horse. They figured to bust in the jail, same as I did. I got that straight; I didn't aim to let High Chin get his hands on my prisoner."

"Well, Lorry, I don't like to do it, but I got to hold you till we get him."