The Rangeland Avenger by Max Brand

  15

  Sinclair watched him out of sight. He turned to find that Jig hadslumped against the tree and stood with his arm thrown across his face.It reminded him, with a curious pang of mingled pity and disgust, ofthe way Gaspar had faced the masked men of Sour Creek's posse the daybefore. There was the same unmanly abnegation of the courage to meetdanger and look it in the eye. Here, again, the schoolteacher waswincing from the very memory of a crisis.

  "Look here!" exclaimed Sinclair. His contempt rang in his voice. "Theyain't any danger now. Turn around here and buck up. Keep your chin highand look a man in the face, will you?"

  Slowly the arm descended. He found himself looking into a white andtortured face. His respect for the schoolteacher rose somewhat. Thevery fact that the little man could endure such pain in silence, nomatter what that pain might be, was something to his credit.

  "Now come out with it, Gaspar. You double-crossed this Cartwright, eh?"

  "Yes," whispered Jig.

  "Will you tell me? Not that I make a business of prying into theaffairs of other gents, but I figure I might be able to help youstraighten things out with this Cartwright."

  He made a wry face and then rubbed the side of his head where a lumpwas slowly growing.

  "Of all the gents that I ever seen," said Sinclair softly, "I ain'tnever seen none that made me want to tangle with 'em so powerful bad.And of all the poisoned fatheads, all the mean, sneakin'advantage-takin' skunks that ever I run up again', this gent Cartwrightis the worst. If his hide was worth a million an inch, I would have it.If he was to pay me a hundred thousand a day, I wouldn't be his pal fora minute." He paused. "Them, taking 'em by and large, is my sentimentsabout this here Cartwright. So open up and tell me what you done tohim."

  To his very real surprise the schoolteacher shook his head. "I can't doit."

  "H'm," said Sinclair, cut to the quick. "Can't you trust me with it,eh?"

  "Ah," murmured Gaspar, "of all the men in the world, you're the one I'dtell it to most easily. But I can't--I can't."

  "I don't care whether you tell me or not. Whatever you done, it musthave been plumb bad if you can't even tell it to a gent that likesCartwright like he likes poison."

  "It was bad," said Jig slowly. "It was very bad--it was a sin. Until Idie I can never repay him for what I have done."

  Sinclair recovered some of his good nature at this outburst ofself-accusation.

  "I'll be hanged if I believe it," he declared bluntly. "Not a word ofit! When you come right down to the point you'll find out that youain't been half so bad as you think. The way I figure you is this, Jig.You ain't so bad, except that you ain't got no nerve. Was it a matterof losing your nerve that made Cartwright mad at you?"

  "Yes. It was altogether that."

  Sinclair sighed. "Too bad! I don't blame you for not wanting to talkabout it. They's a flaw in everything, Jig, and this is yours. If I wasto be around you much, d'you know what I'd do?"

  "What?"

  "I'd try to plumb forget about this flaw of yours: That's a fact. Butas far as Cartwright goes, to blazes with him! And that's where he'sapt to wind up pronto if he's as good as his word and comes after mewith a gun. In the meantime you grab your hoss, kid, and slide backinto Sour Creek and show the boys this here confession I've written.You can add one thing. I didn't put it in because I knowed theywouldn't believe me. I killed Quade fair and square. I give him thefirst move for his gun, and then I beat him to the draw and killed himon an even break. That's the straight of it. I know they won't believeit. Matter of fact I'm saying it for you, Jig, more'n I am for them!"

  It was an amazing thing to see the sudden light that flooded the faceof the schoolteacher.

  "And I do believe you, Sinclair," he said. "With all my heart I believeyou and know you couldn't have taken an unfair advantage!"

  "H'm," muttered Riley. "It ain't bad to hear you say that. And now trotalong, son."

  Cold Feet made no move to obey.

  "Not that I wouldn't like to have you along, but where I got to go,you'd be a weight around my neck. Besides, your game is to show thefolks down yonder that you ain't a murderer, and that paper I've giveyou will prove it. We'll drift together along the trail part way, anddown yonder I turn up for the tall timber."

  To all this Jig returned no answer, but in a peculiarly lifeless mannerwent to his horse and climbed in his awkward way into the saddle. Theywent down the trail slowly.

  "Because," explained the cowpuncher, "if I save my hoss's wind I may besaving my own life."

  Where the trail bent like an elbow and shot sheer down for the plainand Sour Creek, Riley Sinclair pointed his horse's nose up to thetaller mountains, but Jig sat his horse in melancholy silence andlooked mournfully up at his companion.

  "So long," said Sinclair cheerily. "And when you get down yonder, it'llhappen most likely that pretty soon you'll hear a lot of hard thingsabout Riley Sinclair."

  "If I do--if I hear a syllable against you," cried the schoolteacherwith a flare of color, "I'll--I'll drive the words back into theirteeth!"

  He shook with his emotion; Riley Sinclair shook with controlledlaughter.

  "Would you do all of that, partner? Well, I believe you'd try. What Imean to say is this: No matter what they say, you can lay to it thatSinclair has tried to play square and clean according to his ownlights, which ain't always the best in the world. So long!"

  There was no answer. He found himself looking down into the quiveringface of the schoolteacher.

  "Why, kid, you look all busted up!"

  "Riley," gasped Jig very faintly, "I can't go!"

  "And why not?"

  "Because I can't meet Jude."

  "Cartwright, eh? But you got to, sooner or later."

  "I'll die first."

  "Would your nerve hold you up through that?"

  "So easily," said Jig. There was such a simple gravity and despair inhis expression that Sinclair believed it. He grunted and stared hard.

  "This Cartwright gent is worse'n death to you?"

  "A thousand, thousand times!"

  "How come?"

  "I can't tell you."

  "I kind of wish," said Sinclair thoughtfully, "that I'd kept my grip amite longer."

  "No, no!"

  "You don't wish him dead?"

  Jig shuddered.

  "You plumb beat me, partner. And now you want to come along with me?"Sinclair grinned. "An outlaw's life ain't what it's cracked up to be,son. You'd last about a day doing what I have to do."

  "You'll find," said the schoolteacher eagerly, "that I can stand itamazingly well. I'll--I'll be far, far stronger than you expect!"

  "Somehow I kind of believe it. But it's for your own fool sake, son,that I don't want you along."

  "Let me try," pleaded Jig eagerly.

  The other shook his head and seemed to change his mind in the verymidst of the gesture.

  "Why not?" he asked himself. "You'll get enough of it inside of a day.And then you'll find out that they's some things about as bad asdeath--or Cartwright. Come on, kid!"