15 Western Short Stories — page 26: what you’re looking at

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26 and fetch him back to jail alive, if he could.” “Evidence? We've got plenty of that, Bess. Frank Hepler and you were fixin’ to get married. Your Un- cle Mart didn’t want that. He had a - quarrel with Hepler in town the day before the killin’. Plenty of men heard it. He told Hepler ‘Keep away from my niece, or I'l] kill you!” “T heard tell about that,’ Bess con- fessed. “The next day, Frank Hepler was found beside the trail, dead from a couple of gun slugs. Your uncle’s gun was found not far from the body. Treddy dropped it in his haste to get away, I s’pose.” “One of my uncle’s guns,” Bess cor- rected. “His old .45. First good gun he ever owned. That’s why he kept it, even if it was old and always getting out of order. The other day, he gave it to a man to fix.” “What man?” the sheriff snapped at her. “Tm not saying. The man would only deny it. Uncle Mart will ’tend to it all. He’ll get the evidence. Uncle Mart knows what happened, and so do I. But it’s got to be proved, or Uncle Mart will be lied to the hanging gal- lows.” To SHERIFF glanced at his men. They signalled they had searched ‘the outbuildings without success. The sheriff motioned for them to join him, and they spurred forward. “If you've got some real evidence, it’s illegal for you to hold it back from the Law,” the sheriff told Bess. “Tt’s also a serious offense to harbor a fugitive. Tell me what you know, and Ill investigate.” She looked around at the six posse- men. She knew them all: and Clyde Roskin was one. She stared at him as she replied to the sheriff: “Pll tell you this much—I was in love with Frank Hepler, and he with me, and we planned to be married come September. There was another man—he didn’t love me, but wanted me. I was afraid that might cause trouble, afraid for Frank—” “What about your Uncle Mart?” the sheriff broke in. WESTERN SHORT STORIES “He didn’t mind about me and Frank getting married.” “How can you expect us to believe that, Bess? If he was approvin’ the match, why did he quatrel with Hep- ler and order him to keep away from you?” “The quarrel was for another rea- son.” “Bess, were goin’ to search the house from cellar to garret. If your uncle is in it, hell either surrender or there’ll be some shootin’.” “You can search if that’s your mind. I’m not stopping you.” She bent to the basket and got another damp gar- ment to pin on the clothesline. The sheriff’s face showed anger. He gestured to his men, and they dis- mounted and trailed their reins, got guns from their holsters and went to- ward the house. Bess watched them. Clyde Roskin was the last to dismount, and he loi- tered behind the others. “I’m right surprised, Clyde, that your brother Steve isn’t riding with the posse, too,” Bess said. “Somebody had to do the work at our place. Steve said he'd ’tend to things while I went with the sheriff. You can blame yourself for this fuss, Bess. Frank Hepler wasn’t any good. Just a drifter. Been around here four months doin’ nothin’. I wouldn’t blame your uncle for killin’ him.” “Uncle Mart didn’t kill Frank. He told me he didn’t, and I believe him.” She picked another garment out of the basket and turned to the clothes- line again. IFTEEN minutes later, the sher- iff and his men came out of the house. Lucas marched ahead of the others as they returned to the horses. He was still angry when he stopped beside Bess. “We didn’t find him,” he reported. “You know where he went, and you've . got to tell me. The talk you made ‘bout evidence, and trailin’, and some other man bein’ mixed up in this thing —I want you to tell me all about it, and right now!” “Uncle Mart is my kin,” she replied. “I’m his brother’s daughter. He gave me a home when my parents got killed in a runaway five years ago. I’m stick- CoOMmiclboo (CO)