Chapter VII

The silver dollar worked wonders with Judge Tareyton. After the second drink he began to realize the seriousness of his position. Leeds’ warning, as told by Skeeter, came back to him. Nervously he ran the back of his hand across his lips and turned his head slowly, feeling that some one was watching him.

Behind him, leaning against the edge of a table, stood Tug Leeds. They faced each other. The liquor had made the judge strangely cool, and his form straightened in dignity as he gazed upon the man who had ordered him out of the town. Then Tug Leeds spoke.

“Still in town, eh?”

“I beg your pa’don,” drawled the judge slowly, brushing an imaginary speck from the lapel of his frayed coat. “You spoke to me, sir?”

Tug Leeds walked slowly up to the judge, his heavy under-jaw shoved out, as if trying to intimidate the other with his physical appearance. He halted with his face within a foot of the judge’s face and stared into his eyes.

“You know ---- well I spoke to you!” snarled Tug. “I told Sarg I’d give yuh both five hours to git out of this country. I reckon he had brains enough to take my warnin’.”

“You gave us five hours?” queried the judge. “By gad, that was generous of you, sir--mighty generous. Not to be outdone in generosity, Skeeter Bill gave us five hours, and the least I could do would be to reciprocate, which gave us a grand total of fifteen hours. I am sure that Skeeter Bill will join me in thanking you kindly, sir.”

For a moment Tug Leeds studied this reply. Tug was slow of understanding, but it suddenly dawned upon him that the judge was making a fool of him and belittling his warning.

Like a flash, Tug drew back his right hand and drove his fist into the judge’s face. The blow sent the judge staggering back, blinded by the impact. Leeds sprang into him, striking with both hands. The judge went to his knees, with both hands covering his face.

Came the scrape of a boot across the threshold and a lithe, lanky figure flashed past the crouched figure of the old judge and faced Tug Leeds. Skeeter Bill’s face was white with wrath. His eyes were mere, indistinct slits under his eyebrows, and the big humorous mouth was as narrow and harsh as a pencil-mark.

Tug Leeds’ hand dropped to his gun and he tried to move back, but Skeeter struck--struck as the panther strikes, and the blow, curving downward, struck Leeds on the chin. The force of the blow seemed to unhook Leeds’ under-jaw and paralyze his nerves.

Swiftly Skeeter moved ahead half a step. A long, left arm uncoiled, with the weight of that long, muscular body behind it and the fist caught Leeds under that sagging chin. Came the snap of teeth, a short animal-like grunt, and Tug Leeds slumped in a heap--knocked cold.

Quickly Skeeter Bill caught his balance and faced the room, a heavy Colt pistol tense at his hip. But the awed crowd made no move. Several of Leeds’ men were in the audience, but they remained unmoved. The judge got slowly to his feet, blood trickling from his battered face, and looked around. Tug Leeds did not move. The judge looked from Tug to Skeeter, and then stepped over beside Tug, where he appeared to examine the fallen man.

“Skeeter Bill,” he said painfully, “I’m sorry you hit him so hard.”

“You feelin’ sorry for him?” Skeeter’s voice was barely audible.

The judge nodded.

“Skeeter, I am sorry for any man who was born without any conception of humor. This man would be a good citizen if he knew when to laugh.”

Skeeter did not reply. It is doubtful whether he knew what the judge meant. He had not taken his eyes off the men in front of him. Now he spoke.

“I just want to say to yuh all; I’m goin’ to stay in Sunbeam--as--long--as--I--live. Any of yuh can pack that talk to Tug Leeds when he wakes up. Yuh can tell him that I’m goin’ to kill the next man what touches my pardner. That goes for Sunbeam; _sabe?_”

Without turning his head he spoke to the judge--

“Go out ahead of me, pardner.”

The judge turned and went out of the door, and Skeeter Bill backed slowly out of the place until he hit the rickety board sidewalk, where he stepped swiftly aside out of range of the windows and hurried after the judge.

They walked back to their shack and went inside before either spoke a word. Skeeter got a towel and sponged the blood from the judge’s face, working as tenderly as a woman.

“Ought to ’a’ let him start to pull,” muttered Skeeter. “Reckon I forgot I had a gun.”

Skeeter finished his rough surgery, and the judge walked over across the room to where the mirror had hung, but remembered smashing it.

“I am beginning to be superstitious, Skeeter Bill,” he said, turning to Skeeter. “I smashed our mirror today, and the old belief concerning broken mirrors seems to have started its baleful predictions.”

“Tug Leeds must ’a’ smashed one, too,” grinned Skeeter, examining his sore knuckles. Then, seriously, “What did he say to you, judge?”

“Chided me for not obeying his order. He was under the impression that you had left the country. By the way, Skeeter Bill, the miners are forming a vigilance committee to run out outlawry from Sunbeam.”

“What?” Skeeter Bill got to his feet staring at the judge. “Vigilance committee? How do yuh know?”

“One of them came looking for you.”

* * * * *

Skeeter Bill’s eyes were serious and the lines deepened around his mouth. It was one thing to fight outlaws and another to fight against law and order. It was true that no one knew him as one of the outlaws, none that he knew about, but why should one of the committee come to find him? The judge’s voice brought him out of his reveries.

“What about this minister and the girl, Skeeter Bill? What did you mean by saying that you were going to back them?”

“What I said, I reckon,” replied Skeeter, staring at the floor.

“Getting religious, Skeeter Bill?” softly.

Skeeter looked at the judge and a smile wreathed his lips.

“No-o-o, I reckon not, judge. Yuh see I kinda figured that a sky-pilot would rasp Tug Leeds plumb ragged. Tug orates that he owns the town, and I knowed he’d just about rise and shine at the idea of holdin’ church in Sunbeam.”

“Just where did you discover these folks?”

Skeeter told him of the fight at the Poplar Springs, and the wiping out of the whole outfit, with the exceptions of the minister and the girl. Judge Tareyton listened closely to the description of the burial, shaking his head sadly.

“I knew Williams,” he said softly. “Tug Leeds’ soul, if he has a soul, should shrivel and die with last night’s work. Williams was a good man. By gad, Skeeter Bill, this outlawry should be wiped out! Leeds and his crew should be dangling from ropes at this minute. I’m----”

“Hol’ on,” said Skeeter hoarsely, “Hol’ on, judge. I’m no better than they are. I ain’t never killed no helpless folks--ain’t never killed no man who ain’t had a even break, but I reckon mebbe they’d better string me up with the rest of ’em.”

Judge Tareyton stared at Skeeter Bill’s outburst. It was not often that Skeeter Bill showed any emotion by voice or action, but now his homely face was very serious, and his long arms dangled loosely at his sides as he stared into space.

For an appreciable space of time not a word was spoken; then the judge crossed the room and put his hand on Skeeter Bill’s shoulder.

Skeeter looked up quickly.

“Don’t say it, pardner. You’d argue that I wasn’t as bad as that bunch and didn’t deserve what they do, but you’re wrong. If they deserve a rope--so do I.”

“Skeeter Bill,” said the judge softly, “you jump at conclusions. I was just going to agree with you.”

Skeeter looked up at the serious expression on Judge Tareyton’s face and broke into a laugh. Skeeter Bill did not confine his merriment to facial contortions and vocal expression--he laughed from his heels to his head.

“They may hang you,” said the judge when Skeeter had regained normal conditions, “but I am fairly sure that you will be the only one at the occasion to see any humor in the situation.”

“I hope it’s a funny hangin’,” said Skeeter, serious again. “’Pears to me that it’s a even bet whether I get hung or killed with a bullet. Kinda between the devil and the deep blue sea, as my dad used to say. I ain’t got much choice, I reckon, unless it is to get out of town, and I hates to be herded.”

“Perhaps we had better go,” suggested the judge. “There are many, many places where we could go, Skeeter Bill. Suppose we pack up our belongings and----”

“Hol’ on!” Skeeter shook his head. “What about the old minister and the girl? I reckon I’ve got to see that they gets a square deal. I tol’ the old sky-pilot that I was with him from the dally to the hondo, and I can’t renege, judge.”

“But what can you do?” argued the judge. “One man against a dozen or more. No, I think we had better go.”

Skeeter Bill shook his head.

“Nope.”

Judge Tareyton studied Skeeter for a while, a half-smile on his face.

“Has this--uh--young lady anything to do with your ---- stubbornness, Skeeter Bill?”

Skeeter looked up quickly.

“I don’t reckon so, judge. No-o-o, I wasn’t thinkin’ about her.”

“Nice looking girl,” observed the judge wisely. “Very fine face. Well worth knowing, I might say. Her father did wrong in bringing her here.”

“He didn’t.” Skeeter shook his head. “Not the way you mean, judge. She came lookin’ for him.”

“Looking for him? What do you mean?”

Skeeter smiled.

“That preacher ain’t her father. I just fixed it up thataway so she’d have protection. She comes here kinda huntin’ her father, like I said before, but I--her father is--Tug Leeds.”

“Tug Leeds?” The judge’s voice was scarcely above a whisper.

“Her name is Mary Leeds,” explained Skeeter. “She’s likely forgot what he looks like, bein’ as she ain’t seen him for fourteen years. She heard somebody say that a man named Leeds lived in Sunbeam. I dunno how to tell her, ’cause Tug ain’t fit to be her dad.”

Judge Tareyton’s mouth twitched and his hand trembled as he wiped it across his dry lips. For a few moments he seemed incapable of speech.

“I dunno how we can keep her from findin’ it out,” said Skeeter helplessly. “She don’t know how low her dad is, judge.”

“No,” said the judge hoarsely. “No, she don’t, Skeeter Bill, and we’ve got to keep her from ever findin’ it out, if we can.”

“Which don’t stop him from bein’ her dad,” said Skeeter. “She’s got to find it out pretty soon. Tug Leeds is too prominent, and somebody is bound to mention him where she can hear it. Nobody outside of me and you and his gang knows what he really is, but everybody knows he kinda bosses the town, and they all knows the kind of--shucks!”

“You had a fair start, Skeeter Bill, but you got all tangled up with words. I know what you mean anyway. Just what is to be done? We must try and keep the girl from meeting him, because she is too fine, I think, to have her future marred by knowing that she is the daughter of Tug Leeds.”

Skeeter stared at the judge for a moment and got to his feet. He was very deliberate as he dug under the pillow on the bunk and took out one of the heavy pistols, which he shoved inside the waist-band of his overalls.

“What is the idea, Skeeter Bill?” asked the judge.

Skeeter half-smiled.

“I’m goin’ to kill Tug Leeds, judge. Mebbe we can get somebody to tell her that Bill Jones got in the road of my bullet. Anyway, we can get him buried before she has a chance to find out who he was, and, anyway, she ain’t seen him for years.”

The judge nodded slowly, as if in agreement with Skeeter’s scheme, but when Skeeter finished the judge said:

“Rough in construction, Skeeter Bill. The intent is very good, I might say, but your scheme reminds me of the Frenchman’s flea-powder directions, ‘First you must catch de leetle flea.’ When you open that door again, you are an animated target for Leeds’ men. Does----”

* * * * *

Both men glanced at the door and at each other. Some one was knocking softly on the outside. Skeeter Bill backed against the wall, loosened both guns and nodded to the judge, who had walked close to the door. He opened the door, shielding himself with it as he swung it open.

Three men, one of them the miner who had inquired for Skeeter that morning, were standing at the door. He nodded to the judge and said--

“Sarg in yet?”

“Sure is,” said Skeeter Bill, moving toward the door.

He had a smile on his face, a careless swing to his slow movements, but both hands were kept near his guns, as he came up beside the judge.

“Like to talk to yuh, Sarg,” said the miner. “Can we come inside?”

“Sure--come on in,” nodded Sarg, and the three men filed past him.

Two of them sat down, but the spokesman stood near the table. He was a middle-aged man, his beard and hair slightly gray. The other two were younger, but their clothes and general appearance proclaimed them to be placer miners.

“My name’s John McClung,” stated the spokesman, “McClung of the Solomon.” He pointed to the other two. “This is Jerry Byler, of the Ophir, and Dick Franklyn, of the Keystone.”

“Glad t’ meetcha,” nodded Skeeter. “Gents, this is Judge Tareyton, my pardner. Whatcha got on your mind?”

McClung hesitated, as if a trifle afraid to start the conversation. He cleared his throat softly.

“Sarg, you killed Jeff Billings yesterday.”

Skeeter’s eyes flashed from face to face, but there was nothing to show that these men were more than mildly interested in the fact that he had killed Billings.

“Uh-huh,” nodded Skeeter. “An’ then what?”

“Billings was a gun-fighter,” stated McClung. “He had a bad rep. We found out today that Billings was the leader of the gang that robbed my place and took two hundred ounces of gold.”

“Two men was killed,” said Byler. “Two men that we didn’t know. They has been buried.”

“Two hundred ounces of gold ain’t goin’ to break me,” continued McClung, “but it shows that we’ve got to protect ourselves. Billings wasn’t alone in this here robbery. We just heard that Rance Williams was killed at Poplar Springs last night and his whole outfit wiped out--all except a preacher and his girl. This preacher told Jerry.”

“Jerry was over to see Mrs. Porter,” said Franklyn meaningly. “He has dirty shirts every day in the week and two on Sunday.”

“I found ’em,” nodded Skeeter.

“They said yuh did,” agreed Byler. “That’s one of the reasons we come to see yuh. McClung was lookin’ for yuh this mornin’. After we found out that yuh brought the preacher and the girl in, we came again.”

“Just why did yuh want to see me?” asked Skeeter.

“’Cause you’ve got nerve,” stated McClung quickly. “Sunbeam needs a man with nerve right now.” He looked at the judge and back at Skeeter. “Your pardner is a lawyer, and we kinda reckoned that a lawyer won’t hurt us none, bein’ as we wants this kinda done right. We’re formin’ a vigilance committee and we need a leader. You are the man we need.”

Skeeter turned his head slightly and looked at the judge, who was staring at the floor, a half-smile on his flabby face.

“Tug Leeds said you was the right man to get,” said Byler.

Skeeter’s mouth sagged for a moment at this statement, but he turned slowly to Byler, a quizzical smile on his lips.

“Tug Leeds said that?”

“Today,” nodded McClung. “Kinda funny, at that. We talked about you last night. Tug has bought half-interest in the Keystone--bought it this mornin’, and he comes to Dick and opines that the best thing to do is to get up a vigilance committee to stamp out the outlaws. He said that you was the one man in Sunbeam to be the leader.”

“Anybody speak about me before he did?” asked Skeeter.

“I did,” replied Franklyn. “Tug offered me a big price for half of my claim, and after the deal was all closed, he suggested this committee. I told him we had talked it over, and kinda figured on gettin’ you for a leader. He said he thought it was a good scheme, but he said he’d take charge if we couldn’t get hold of you.”

“It’s goin’ to take a little time,” said McClung. “We don’t know just what we’re goin’ to do first, and we don’t want to make no bad moves. All we wants is for you to take charge of it, if yuh can. Yore pardner can give us the benefit of what he knows about law. We don’t want to go ----in’ into somethin’ and do it all wrong.”

“No,” agreed the judge absently, “you do not want to do things wrong. It is a weighty problem, gentlemen, and I would like to talk things over with Mr. Sarg before he decides what he will do.”

“Sure, take your time,” agreed McClung. “This ain’t nothin’ yuh can rush, but we’ve got to kinda get organized as soon as possible. When can yuh let us know?”

“Tomorrow,” replied the judge. “Tomorrow morning, I reckon.”

“Seen Leeds lately?” asked Skeeter.

“Not since early this mornin’,” replied Franklyn. “He came to my cabin and bought in with me. Said he thought you had left Sunbeam for good.”

“Might be a good thing for you to have a talk with Leeds,” suggested McClung. “Seems like he’s got some good ideas on handlin’ this here proposition.”

Skeeter nodded slowly.

“Mebbe I better do that, McClung. I’ll try and see yuh tomorrow.”

* * * * *

The three miners shook hands with Skeeter and the judge and went out. Skeeter watched them walk back toward the north end of town and then turned back to the judge, who was sitting on the edge of the bunk, holding his head in his hands.

“Skeeter Bill,” he said hoarsely, “I want to laugh. I want to shake my sides with merriment, but I am--too-- ---- dry. I’d sell my soul to a scavenger for one drink of bad whisky.”

Skeeter studied him for a few moments. There was no question but what Judge Tareyton was suffering. Skeeter walked to a corner of the room, lifted a half-nailed board and groped under the rough flooring. His hand came up holding a quart flask of liquor, and he looked at it in disgust. He looked back at the humped figure on the bunk, and the lines of his face softened.

“Judge,” he said, as he walked slowly over to the bunk, “I had this cached away for a rainy day. I reckon we’ll prognosticate a stormy night.”

Judge Tareyton lifted his head and stared at the bottle. His tongue-tip ran slowly across his dry upper lip and his bushy eyebrows lifted perceptibly, as he reached for the bottle.

“Skeeter Bill, you have saved my life,” he whispered. “The devil laughs at a time like this.”

He lifted the bottle to his lips and drank greedily. The liquor flashed through his being and he shrugged his heavy shoulders, as if shuddering from pain.

“Well!” He looked up at Skeeter seriously. “Well, I hope he gets a good laugh out of it, because I believe in giving the devil his due.”

“What do you think of Leeds?” asked Skeeter.

“Clever scoundrel,” pronounced the judge; “anticipated the vigilantes by joining at once. Became a mine-owner for self-protection.”

“Told ’em I’d make a good leader,” mused Skeeter.

“Protecting himself in case you are assassinated,” declared the judge. “Make you the leader, because you can’t very well denounce him without incriminating yourself. You will soon be killed and he will be the leader. Tug Leeds is fairly clever, Skeeter Bill, and he will use the vigilante organization to further his own ends.”

“No, I can’t tell on him,” agreed Skeeter. “I kinda like these miners, judge. They’re right, don’t yuh know they are? I ain’t no danged milk-fed calf, judge, but I kinda wish me and you was right. Aw, I ain’t afraid of Tug Leeds, nor afraid of them honest miners, but----”

Judge Tareyton sat staring at the half-empty bottle, scratching at the dirty label with a rough thumb nail. He looked up at Skeeter.

“I know how yuh feel, Skeeter Bill. God put a spark of something into all of us--a spark that flares up once in a while. I had one--once, but I guess I drowned it with hooch.”

“Aw-w, you’re all right,” said Skeeter quickly; “I was thinkin’ about me. I’ve stole cows, horses, money and I’ve killed men. I’ve been a ----winder of a cute little person, ain’t I?

“Now, some honest men comes along and asks me to help ’em put a rope around the necks of my own kind. Me and you and Tug Leeds are the only ones in Sunbeam what knows who I am. Tug knowed about me from somebody down Mohave way, I reckon, and that’s why he asks me to work with him. Billings and ‘Blondy’ Jones and ‘Kid’ Sisler knowed I was in that Solomon deal, but they’re all gone now. Tug is the only one of the gang what could yelp out loud about me. The rest could only say what they’ve heard.”

“You promised to help that preacher,” reminded the judge.

“Sure did, judge. That goes as she lays, and I reckon the only way I can help out his cause is to kill Tug Leeds right away.”

Skeeter opened the door to go out, but stopped on the threshold, facing the Reverend Josiah Weston.