The Sheriff of Pecos/Chapter 13

N A room of the Lazy S ranch house Sam Fisher lay upon a cot; another held Steve Arnold, both men bandaged, splinted, and smoking sheerfully [sic]. Beside the sheriff of Pecos sat Estella Shumway, in her eyes a glow of happiness such as they had not known for months.

Jake Harper, caressing his glossy black mustache, stood in the center of the room. He was just leaving for town. Behind him stood his half-crippled foreman, surveying Sam Fisher with a wolfish smile on his ancient features.

Jake clapped his foreman on the shoulder.

"Listen, Sam!" he said earnestly. "This here old relic, which same has fit more Injuns than kids like you ever seen, is agoin' to camp outside the door of that there cell we puts Mr. Buck into. Three more of my outfit camps in the jail likewise, until you gits there in person. If you figger Buck gittin' away from them four you guess again."

"C'rect, Jake," and Sam Fisher laughed softly. "Hold Buck there until I can reach town, that's all. You don't think any one will try to rescue him?"

Jake Harper pursed up his lips.

"Rescue him? Not much. The coroner's verdict will guarantee him a quick trial for the murder of Miguel, won't it? And I'm goin' to stick around town my ownself. Don't you worry none about any rescue. Them decrepit Injun fighters of mine is runnin' his whole outfit, or what's left of it, out the county."

"All right," said Fisher, nodding. "You take the keys to the sheriff's office—they're with the others I gave you—and look inside the sheriff's desk for those papers about Buck and Murphy. They must go to the governor a once; I'll have to go with 'em, I guess, so that puts it off a few days. Those papers are more important than anything else, Buck; they prove that Frank Shumway was framed and that it was done through Murphy. We'll get a full confession out of Murphy, beyond a doubt. So we want to get the matter up to the governor and get a pardon for Frank at the earliest moment."

"I'll attend to them," promised Jake. He stepped forward and held out his hand. "So long! Hasta la vista!"

"Say, Jake!" Over their clasped hands Fisher looked up, a twinkle in his eye. "One thing more! Send that preacher out here to-morrow will you?"

"What for?" demanded Jake in surprise.

"Never mind. You send him."

"All right. So long, Stella; see you later!"

Jake and his foreman stamped out. Stella Shumway looked at the sheriff of Pecos, her face very red.

"Sam, what do you want that preacher for?"

"Wait a minute." Fisher lifted himself on his good elbow, and looked at the adjoining cot. He met the grinning features of Steve Arnold, and made a fierce grimace. "You, Steve! If I was you, cowboy, I'd look the other way—right at that wall. It's a heap interesting."

With a chuckle Steve obeyed and turned his head.

Fisher dropped on his pillows, and reaching out, seized the hand of the girl.

"Stella, I done bought the ranch, and I'll pay that mortgage, too—but you ain't told me yet if it's done with your consent. You know, Stella"

The girl's eyes met his in a smiling glory.

"I don't aim to leave the old place, Sam," she said softly, and bent her lips to his.