Chapter V

Skeeter Bill slept little that night. One of the outlaw’s saddlehorses drifted into the camp and Skeeter Bill caught it. The horse had belonged to Mears. Somehow, Skeeter Bill was indignant at Leeds for sending his men on this mission. He felt that Mears and Brent had received their just deserts for robbing the wagon-train, and for some reason he did not feel this way because of anything antagonistic to Leeds.

Skeeter Bill found himself alined with law and order, but quickly recovered. Didn’t he come down there to rob? Did the presence of this girl and the old preacher make him glad he was too late to beat Leeds’ gang? No, that was not it. The girl did not interest him at all and he had no sympathy for the minister.

He knew that Leeds and his gang would put him out of the way as speedily as possible when he showed up in Sunbeam. There were plenty ways of doing this--ways that would exonerate any one concerned. Skeeter was no supershot. It would be a dozen against one. He knew that the wisest course would be to start traveling away from Sunbeam, but Skeeter Bill had little wisdom in these things.

No, he would go back in spite of Leeds. The idea of backing the preacher amused Skeeter. He knew that Leeds and several other men would balk at a sermon in Sunbeam.

“Anyway,” decided Skeeter, “I’ve got to go back after the judge, and this sky-pilot gives me a excuse. I’ve got to present Leeds with his daughter. Skeeter Bill, it’s goin’ to be a busy day for you.”

Skeeter Bill prepared breakfast. Mary Leeds was cheerful, but Skeeter was able to see that she had slept little. The old minister walked with a decided limp and his left arm was very painful, but he talked cheerfully.

“Tell me something of this town of Sunbeam,” said the minister as he watched Skeeter deftly removing slices of bacon from the spattering grease.

Skeeter looked over his shoulder at the old man.

“---- was built a long time ago, but somebody got hold of a map of it and built Sunbeam after the same idea.”

“I--I--uh--surely you exaggerate,” stammered the old minister. “Perhaps you are prejudiced.”

Skeeter fished out more bacon before he replied.

“Yuh got me fightin’ my own head, parson. Two of them words I don’t _sabe_ a-tall. You and the judge would make a good pair to draw to. He swallowed a dictionary. Put on your nose-bags, folks. That coffee looks like stewed gunnysacks, don’t it? If I was cookin’ for saw-mills I wouldn’t get a splinter. The judge does the cookin’ at our shack, when he’s sober enough, which ain’t three meals a day reg’lar. Parson, I wish you’d temperance him for a while. The ---- old fool is goin’ to kill himself. First time he seen a pink elephant, and the second time it was a green buffalo, and now I’m bettin’ he’s about due to see a pinto geewhinkus. Any time he sees a pinto gee-whinkus he’s due to hammer a harp, yuh know it?”

The minister and Mary Leeds, neither of whom knew what Skeeter Bill meant, both nodded their heads and sat down to eat. Skeeter grinned, but the grin faded and he rubbed a hand across his chin. He turned to the minister and the girl.

“Folks, I want yuh to understand that Sunbeam ain’t no civilized place. You’re goin’ into a camp-town, where everythin’ goes except the cook-stove and three joints of pipe. Far as I can see you’re both buckin’ a brace game, and I just been figurin’ out a combination that might help yuh both.

“Suppose, parson, that you kinda adopts the lady. Let everybody think she’s your daughter. It ain’t goin’ to hurt neither one of you, is it? Kinda gives her protection, parson.”

The old minister nodded slowly over his coffee and turned to the girl.

“My dear, I think our friend is right. I am more than ready to offer my protection, if you will accept.”

“But why should we stoop to deception?” asked Mary. “Surely there is no harm in my going to Sunbeam to seek my father.”

“Sunbeam,” said Skeeter, “won’t care a ---- what you came there for. You’d be a maverick, miss. No, yuh better go in there as a preacher’s daughter.”

“Well,” said Mary wearily, “it does not make the slightest difference to me. I fail to see why I should do this, except to humor you, Mr. Bill.”

Skeeter Bill nodded seriously, but his face broke into a wide smile as he looked at her.

“Name’s Sarg, ma’am. Everybody calls me Skeeter Bill for short. I dunno whether you made any more mistakes in your discourse or not, ’cause I don’t _sabe_ anythin’ except English and cuss-words, but I appears to decipher that you’ll be the preacher’s daughter.”

Mary Leeds nodded and smiled. It was almost impossible to look at Skeeter’s homely face without smiling. The old man was slowly sipping at his coffee, looking absently off across the desert, but now he turned to Skeeter.

“My son, what line of endeavor do you pursue?”

Skeeter looked up quickly and stared at the old man.

“Just grazed me, parson,” he said softly. “Hit me dead center with plain United States, will yuh?”

“I do not understand you.”

Skeeter reached out a hand to the minister.

“Shake,” he grinned. “_Sabe_ sign-talk?”

“Sign-talk? No, I--I----”

“We’re kinda ace-deuce, I reckon, parson. Your talk goes antegodlin’ to me and I reckon my _wau-wau_ fogs your brain complete-like. Just what did you ask me?”

“He wants to know what you do for a living,” explained Mary Leeds, smiling at Skeeter’s serious expression.

“Me?” Skeeter debated for a moment. “I’m a horse-thief.”

“A horse-thief?” echoed Mary, while both of them stared blankly at Skeeter.

“When there’s horses,” nodded Skeeter. “Feller can’t be too particular, yuh know. Might get into a goat country and starve to death.”

“I can not believe that statement,” declared Mary.

“Yuh can’t?” Skeeter’s smile faded. “That’s the worst of it,” he wailed. “If I lied you’d believe me, but when I tell the truth I’m called a liar.”

“Surely you are not sincere,” said the minister. “No man will willingly admit a thing that would incriminate himself. It is ridiculous for you to assert to us that you follow such a sordid profession.”

Skeeter got slowly to his feet and brushed some crumbs off his wrinkled shirt.

“I reckon you two can ride my bronc to Sunbeam. He’s broke to pack double, but I dunno a ---- thing about this hammer-headed ring-tail what belonged to Mears; so I’ll fork him myself.”

“I do not attempt to follow your discourse,” stated the minister, “but I wish you would eliminate the profanity, especially in the presence of the lady.”

“My ----!” gasped Skeeter Bill, and turned to Mary. “Ma’am, I spent six weeks in a Cree Indian lodge. Had a busted leg, and the sheriff was ridin’ sign on me. It was natcheral that I hankered for information, but the old war-whoop didn’t _sabe_ English and I didn’t _sabe_ Cree; so we argued to beat ---- for six weeks and parted friends, ’cause neither one of us knowed what the other one meant. I’m kinda between, I reckon. A wise man uses words which I don’t _sabe_, and a ---- fool talks stuff that there ain’t no sense to.”

“Please do not swear so much,” begged the minister.

“Swear--so--much?” Skeeter Bill was amazed. “Why, parson, I ain’t swore once.”

“I do not wish to appear critical,” stated the minister, “but your adjectives are a--uh--trifle--uh----”

Skeeter Bill scratched his chin and studied the old minister, who was trying to grasp the proper word to convey the exact meaning. Mary Leeds turned away to hide a smile. Skeeter broke the silence.

“We’ll let her go as she lays, parson. There’s peace between us now, but I’ll send you a red belt as sure as ----, if yuh don’t quit talkin’ thataway. Let’s hit the trail. I want to get home before the judge gets so drunk I can’t rope him to a saddle.”