Part 8 (1/2)
”Lady, we sure be.”
”But Jig--he wouldn't hurt a mouse--he couldn't!”
”Sally, he's done a murder!”
”No, no, no!”
”Sally, will you stand out of the door?”
”It ain't--it ain't a lynching party, boys? Oh, you fools, you'll hang for it, every one of you!”
Sinclair confided to Buck Mason beside him: ”La.r.s.en is letting her talk down to him. She'll spoil this here party.”
”We're the voice of justice,” said Judge Lodge pompously. ”We ain't got any other names. They wouldn't be nothing to hang.”
”Don't you suppose I know you?” asked the girl, stiffening to her full height. ”D'you think those fool masks mean anything? I can tell you by your little eyes, Denver Jim!”
Denver cringed suddenly behind the man before him.
”I know you by that roan hoss of yours, Oscar La.r.s.en. Judge Lodge, they ain't n.o.body but you that talks about 'justice' and 'voices.' Buck Mason, I could tell you by your build, a mile off. Montana, you'd ought to have masked your neck and your Adam's apple sooner'n your face. And you're Bill Sandersen. They ain't any other man in these parts that stands on one heel and points his off toe like a horse with a sore leg.
I know you all, and, if you touch a hair on Jig's head, I'll have you into court for murder! You hear--murder! I'll have you hung, every man jack!”
She had lowered her voice for the last part of this speech. Now she made a sweeping gesture, closing her hand as if she had clutched their destinies in the palm of her hand and could throw it into their faces.
”You-all climb right back on your hosses and feed 'em the spur.”
They stood amazed, s.h.i.+fting from foot to foot, exchanging miserable glances. She began to laugh; mysterious lights danced and twinkled in her eyes. The laughter chimed away into words grown suddenly gentle, suddenly friendly. Such a voice Riley Sinclair had never heard. It walked into a man's heart, breaking the lock.
”Why, Buck Mason, you of all men to be mixed up in a deal like this.
And you, Oscar La.r.s.en, after you and me had talked like partners so many a time! Denver Jim, we'll have a good laugh about this necktie party later on. Why, boys, you-all know that Jig ain't guilty of no harm!”
”Sally,” said the wretched Denver Jim, ”things seemed to be sort of pointing to a--”
There was a growl from the rear of the party, and Riley Sinclair strode to the front and faced the girl. ”They's a gent charged with murder inside,” he said. ”Stand off, girl. You're in the way!”
Before she answered him, her teeth glinted. If she had been a man, she would have struck him in the face. He saw that, and it pleased him.
”Stranger,” she said deliberately, making sure that every one in the party should hear her words, ”what you need is a stay around Sour Creek long enough for the boys to teach you how to talk to a lady.”
”Honey,” replied Riley Sinclair with provoking calm, ”you sure put up a tidy bluff. Maybe you'd tell a judge that you knowed all these gents behind their masks, but they wouldn't be no way you could _prove_ it!”
A stir behind him was ample a.s.surance that this simple point had escaped the cowpunchers. All the soul of the girl stood up in her eyes and hated Riley Sinclair, and again he was pleased. It was not that he wished to bring the schoolteacher to trouble, but it had angered him to see one girl balk seven grown men.
”Stand aside,” said Riley Sinclair.
”Not an inch!”
”Lady, I'll move you.”