She hesitated, and then obeyed.
“It isn't possible,” she moaned. “He can't be here!”
Sheriff Caswell stepped through the door, his left arm dangling oddly by his side.
“To tell you true,” he said quietly, “a couple of times during the ride it didn't look noways possible to me, either. Once when we come to the slide, and then when you shot my hoss.” He shook his head. “That wasn't hardly fair play, but then I never see a woman that wouldn't shave pretty close to the shady side of things. This is how I'm here: I went back to the ranch after you drilled my hoss and got another, and my second hoss was some piece of deviltry and leather. They wasn't no wear out to that hoss, but I wore him out, anyways. He dropped a while back, and I come on by foot and staged this little surprise party just when I'd give up my last hope. Jess, I'll trouble you to go over there and cut my friend Norman loose. I see you been entertaining him a plenty.”
Without a word Dreer obeyed. At the touch of his knife the rope fell apart, and Gus Norman rose. He showed no exultation because of the presence of the sheriff. In fact, he hated the man who had seen him tied and helpless.
“Looks like you're making ropes popular for clothes, Jess,” went on the sheriff. “First it's Clancy; now it's Norman. If you don't mind, I'll give you the same sort of a rig—unless you'll give me your parole, pardner?”
“Of course, I'm a goner. I've always felt, Caswell, that if you ever got your teeth into me the game would be up. And now I suppose it is. But I'll keep trying.”
“All right, Jess. Then it's the rope; which I hate to use 'em on a man-sized man. Norman, will you oblige me by slipping a couple of nooses around Dreer's arms and legs?”
The other spoke for the first time.
“Pardner,” he said viciously, “they's one thing that would put him out of trouble. Why not try it and save the rope?”
He touched his revolver significantly.
“You do what I say,” said the sheriff. “I don't need no suggestions.”
So Gus Norman went ahead sullenly with the work of tying Dreer. Presently the sheriff spoke again.
“You needn't sink them nooses into the flesh, Norman.”
“And now, if you'll take the lady's guns, I'll be real obliged, Norman. Thanks.” He added, to Mary: “You might get careless. I've seen it happen.”
He sat down cross-legged on the floor; a great spot of red was growing and spreading around his left shoulder.
“Now, Norman, just cut away my shirt and make a bandage for this shoulder of mine. Then ride into Windville and send out a buckboard, so we can all go in together.”
“You mean you're going to trust Dreer to another jail?”
He added softly: “He's worth just as much dead as he is alive, Sheriff.”
“Listen,” murmured Caswell. “You're getting me real peeved, Norman. In the first place, I don't like the way you say it; second place, I don't like the thing you say. Dreer is going to stay alive till the judge hands him the rope. Now, do what I say. You can be back here in two hours. I'll take care of 'em in the meanwhile.”
And Gus Norman, with a black face, obeyed, and drew the bandages which they improvised hastily around the sheriffs shoulders.
A moment later he was on his horse and clattering away.
“So here we are,” murmured Jess Dreer. “Mary, could you do me a terrible big favor?”
She, had been sitting with her head bowed in her hands, trembling. “Yes,” she murmured.
“Wonder if you'd be any hand at rolling a cigarette?”
“I've done them for the boys often. Yes.”
“Pocket of this shirt is where the makings are.”
She took out the papers and tobacco. “And one thing more. Smile for me, Mary.”
It was a white caricature of a smile with which she obeyed him. She said nothing while she rolled the cigarette, placed it between his lips, and lighted it. He thanked her with a nod.
“Are you in a pile of pain, Sheriff?”
“Not me, Jess. I'm comfortable, well enough. Besides, it's only a couple of hours to wait.”
“Less'n that. Norman ain't going to town. He's got his gang and Claney cached away up in the hills yonder. He'll be back with 'em inside an hour and a half, or less.”
“But how can they move me without a buckboard? I can't sit a saddle with this.”
“It ain't you they're worrying about. They're thinking about me. Steady, Mary!”
“Yes,” she whispered, and set her teeth.
The sheriff looked from one to the other with a frown; then he shook his head.
“A thousand, Caswell, and welcome.”
“Where was you and the girl figuring to head together?”
“I dunno,” said Jess Dreer, as though the thought had just come into his head. “What was we figuring on, Mary?”
She could not speak; but a pitiful ghost of a smile came on her face and went out again as she looked at him.
“They ain't any use of feeling cut up, Sheriff. It was simply the end of my luck. The old gun went back on me.”
“Went back on you? Jess, that was the neatest snap shot I ever seen. There I was standing with the gun in my hand, and yet you beat me to the shot.”
“Maybe it looked that. But as a matter of fact she hung in the holster. And when I got the gun on you at last, I had to hurry the shot. A hundredth part of a second more—I'm sorry to say it, Caswell—and you'd of been dead as a thousand years ago.”
The sheriff moistened his pale lips.
“I kind of half believe you, Jess. But then, wasn't it luck for you that my shot hit your own gun instead of hitting you?”
“It wouldn't of hit me. My gun was two inches away from my side. That snap shot of yours was traveling wide, Caswell, when it hit my gun. No, I figure the luck was with you.”
The sheriff cautiously raised the back of his hand that held the gun and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. He shifted his position a little to one side, so that he could look at a more favorable angle on the girl, but as he did so, forgetfully he threw his weight on his left arm. There was no muscular reaction, of course, but the bones of the arm shoved up against the injured shoulder and strained heavily against the bandage. The sheriff, white with pain, settled suddenly back in the shadow.
“Not a bit, Jess. Just a twinge. That's all.”
But a moment later he knew that he had belied the situation. The strain had loosened the bandage at the same time that it opened the raw wound, and when the pain subsided a little, he was aware of something hot running down his side in a steady trickle. He tried to raise his shoulder so that the bandage would press again on the wound and cut off the bleeding. It was no use.
With a touch of coldness he realized that an hour at least must run before Norman returned, and in the meantime, what might not that steady flow do to him? It would render him helpless as a woman.
As the smile occurred to him, he looked at the girl. Aye, more helpless than this girl, certainly, who had ridden with the daring of more than most men that night. Dreer himself was securely bound. But what of the girl? How could he disarm her in the same manner?
“Jess,” he said, “they's one thing I want to ask.”
“Fire away, Sheriff,” replied the outlaw, maintaining his unvarying good nature.
“I could of had Norman tie the girl, you know.”
“And if it come to a pinch, it'd sort of run agin' nature for me to fight a woman, Jess.”
“I know that. You're white enough, Caswell.”
“Well, then, all I ask is that you won't let the girl help you no way to escape.”
“I'll promise I won't take no help from her.”
“Don't!” cried Mary Valentine suddenly. “Don't say it, Jess. I tell you, something is happening. And he knows it! He knows it!”
The sheriff grinned feebly at her.
“I know it, Mary Valentine. But he's promised.”
“You got something to learn, lady,” answered the sheriff. “No matter how you get it, Dreer's word is good as gold. I'm going fast, but mind you, Jess, not a finger of help from the girl!”
“What the devil is the matter?” cried the outlaw. “What's got into you, Caswell? You look like a ghost!”
He swayed over and showed a thin pool of crimson beside him. His smile was ghastly.
Jess Dreer groaned. Then: “Caswell, you fool, would you die like this?”
“I dunno, Jess. Yep, I'd put death under taking you. I've got you, son, and I'll die sooner than let you go loose.”
“Let's dicker, Caswell. Mary, here, will bandage you up so's you'll be safe. They ain't any danger if that bleeding can be stopped. You're safe, and you let Mary cut my ropes.”
The sheriff sighed, and then shook his head.
“Here I stay,” he said, “living or dead. And there you stay, Dreer, until they come for you.”
