15 Western Short Stories — page 27: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE GIRL IN THE JAIL ing to my kin. So, ’m not telling you anything.” “Why not, if itll clear your uncle from a murder charge?” “Tf I told, maybe I’d be found shot dead, too. It wouldn’t be safe for me to tell.” Clyde Roskin declared, “The girl’s makin’ a fool of you, Sheriff. Talkin’ a lot of guff and keepin’ us here while her murderin’ uncle keeps on ridin’ ” Sheriff Lucas turned to Bess again. “You're hidin’ guilty knowledge from the Law. That’s a criminal offense. Talk, and right now, or I’ll take you to jail and hold you as an accessory to murder.” “All right,” she said, quietly. “Give me time to take these clothes off the line and change to a better dress.” “Ym meanin’ it!’ Lucas warned. “Your uncle has been right mys- terious since he came here three years ago and bought this tumbledown pov- erty outfit. Runnin’ a few spindlin’ cows, buildin’s fallin’ in, fences wrecked! How does he make a livin’? Always has money for grub and stuff. Folks have been suspicious of him. And you ain’t makin’ them have warm feelin’s towards you by actin’ like this.” “T’ll have to lock the house, and leave feed for the chickens,” Bess said. “Ull turn out the work team, and ride my pony in with you, and you can stable him in town. The other stock will be all right.” “So it’s nothin’ for you to be locked in a jail cell? Maybe you’ve been locked up befcre now,” the sheriff raged. “Maybe you know more about your wuncle’s activities than you’ve been lettin’ on. He's made several mysterious trips to the countyseat, it’s known. But who he may meet and what he may do on the way there and back 1s somethin’ we don’t know.” “Uncle Mart hasn't done wrong,” she declared. “So you'd rather be locked up than tell me all you know?” “Yes. It's not safe for me to be here at the ranch alone. But T1l make a deal with you, Sheriff Lucas. If Uncle Mart doesn’t show up with the evi- dence you need by tomorrow evening, I'll tell you all I know.”... any 27 LYDE ROSKIN and another man rode ahead into the town to spread the news of Bess Treddy’s arrest. The other four possemen went with the sheriff and Bess. She rode on the sheriff’s leit, looking straight ahead, refusing to make conversation. Bess knew well that her uncle had been secretive about his personal affairs, and this incensed the prying gossips. When she loped into the end of the street with the others now, Bess knew she would face an ordeal. She saw most of the townspeople grouped in front of the few business establishments. The women waited to see how she acted while riding to the jail. Children pointed her out to each other. She overheard remarks: “...kin to a murderer...won’t tell where he’s hidin’...always did think there was somethin’ wrong with them Tred- dys...” The cavalcade stopped in front of the little stone jail, and the townspeo- ple strolled toward it. Bess got out of her saddle and tied her pony to the hitch rail, where the sheriff was te- thering his own mount; and the posse- men remained in their saddles. Bess supposed that as soon as she was safe- ly jailed they would gallop up to the saloon. She would be the topic of con- versation there. “You'll take good care of my po- ny?” she asked the sheriff. “T’ll do that. Come on.” He unlocked the front door of the jail and led her into a small, dusty, sparsely-furnished office room. He took her on into the rear room, which held two cells, each containing a cot, a chair and a slop jar. “TI hate to do this, Bess, but you’re forcin’ me,” Lucas told her. “I never put a woman in jail before.” “It’s your duty, I suppose.” “T’ll bring your meals on a tray. My wife will cook ’em. You want any- thing special?” “No.” She sat on the rickety chair and removed her sunbonnet and brushed back her hair with her hands. Metal clanged as the sheriff closed the door and turned the big key in the lock, “You didn’t search me,” she re- minded him. “Maybe I’ve got a gun, or COMmiclhoo SS (CO