15 Western Short Stories — page 28: what you’re looking at

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28 some dynamite to blow up your jail with, or a saw to cut my way out.” “T don’t aim to search any woman. I judge you ain’t dangerous, only stub- born and silly.” The sheriff hurried into the office and closed the door between it and the cell room. Bess could hear the voices of men and women in front of the jail. Some children came to the rear of the build- ing and began throwing stones against it. “Woman jailbird!” one yelled. The others took up the cry and caanted it with childish cruelty. fi CHILDREN went away final- ly. It was past midday now, and the blazing rays of the sun came through the window and made the cell an oven. Bess’ sweltered, moved around some and fanned herself with her sunbonnet, but always returned to either the chair and cot to sit again, and think. Before her uncle had hit his saddle to ride, he had made a plan with Bess. She went over the plan again in her mind now. Everything had gone right so far. But the plan might fail, and that was her great fear. Failure of the plan would mean more to her than any peril in which she might find herself. The sheriff returned with a tray of food, and put a small table into the cell and placed the tray on it. Bess drank some coffee first. “Remember your promise to me... if your uncle doesn’t show up by tomorrow evenin’, you'll tell me what you know,” Lucas reminded her. “That talk was only for the others to hear.” His face blazed. “Are you tryin’ tricks on me? “Only for the others to hear’...what’d you mean by that?” “IT wanted your men to. spread around that I’d promised to tell some- thing if Uncle Mart didn’t show up. If a certain man heard of it, he might try to kill me between now and to- morrow evening so I couldn’t tell. Then you'd learn who killed Frank Hepler.” The sheriff's jaw sagged in an ex- pression of astonishment, and his eyes became mere slits between the lids. “Bess, are you-tryin’ to tell me you’re makin’ a sort of decoy of yourself? WESTERN SHORT STORIES You're willin’ to risk your life to bring a killer out into the open?” “I’m willing to risk it for Uncle Mart. He’s my kin, my only living kin.” “Tell me now, Bess, whatever it is you know or think you know. If your uncle didn’t kill Hepler, I want to get the man who did.” She looked straight at him. “I wish I knew whether I can trust you. They’re some things Uncle Mart wouldn’t want to get out.” “As long as you make straight talk, you can trust me to the limit,’ he assured her. “It’s my sworn duty to get the man who killed Hepler, who- ever he is. While I’m wearin’ this badge, I walk a straight line, no mat- ter if I step on folks’ toes. And I don’t side anybody for any reason.” “Let me think about it,’ she sug- gested. “When you bring my supper this evening I'll have my mind made up, one way or the other. Maybe it’s right I should tell you without wait- ing for tomorrow night. In case any- thing bad happened to me, you’d know what to do.” HERIFF LUCAS left the cell, locked it and went on to the office in front. Bess ate the food he had brought, ate slowly, her face almost expressionless. Later, as the sun began sinking, she stood at the window and looked out at the hills streaked with the sunset’s hues, at the dark lines she knew were canyons, Her Uncle Mart could be out there somewhere, a hunted animal, legal quarry for any hunter. Perhaps even now a hunter was trailing him. Per- haps he was stalking the man who thought he was the hunter. She thought of Frank Hepler, the man she had loved. She had hoped to be his wife. That was over now. She never would belong to any other man, ‘she promised herself. He was the only man who had ever offered her genuine love and a wedding ring. She wondered whether she and her Uncle Mart: had guessed the truth about Frank’s murder. Perhaps before the night was over she would know, as would the sheriff, and everyone else. The sun disappeared. The purple dusk came. Over the hills peered a CoOMmiclbhoo <S (CO