Part 52 (1/2)
”All I got to say, Jig,” he remarked, ”is that the others was the ones that made the big mistake. When I went and arrested you, I was just following in line. But I'm sorry, and I'm mighty glad that you been found to be O.K.”
Wanly she smiled and thanked him fox his good wishes.
”I'd like to see Sinclair,” she said.
Kern's amiability increased.
”The best thing I know about you, Jig, is that you ain't turning Sinclair down, now that he's in trouble. Go right back in the jail. Him and Arizona is chinning. Wait a minute. I guess I got to keep an eye on you to see you don't pa.s.s nothing through the bars. Keep clean back from them bars, Jig, and then you can talk all you want. I'll stay here where I can watch you but can't hear. Is that square?”
”Nothing squarer in the world,” said Jig and went in.
She left the sheriff grinning vacantly into the dark. There was a peculiar something in Jig's smile that softened men.
But when she stepped into the sphere of the lantern light that spread faintly through the cell, she was astonished to see Arizona and Sinclair kneeling opposite each other, shooting dice with abandon and snapping of the fingers. They rose, laughing at the sight of her, and came to the bars.
”But you aren't worried?” asked Jig. ”You aren't upset by all this?”
It was Arizona who answered, a strangely changed Arizona since his entrance into the jail.
”Look here,” he said gaily, ”why should we be worryin'? Ain't we got a good sound roof over our heads, with a set of blankets to sleep in?”
He smiled at tall Sinclair, then changed his voice.
”Things fell through,” he said softly, glancing at the far-off shadowy figure of the sheriff. ”Sorry, but we'll work this out yet.”
”I know,” she answered. She lowered her voice to caution. ”I'm only going to stay a moment to keep away suspicions. Listen! Something is going to happen tonight that will set you both free. Don't ask me what it is. But, among those cottonwoods behind the blacksmith shop, I'm going to have two good horses saddled and ready for you. One will be your roan, Arizona. And I'll have a good horse for you, Riley. And when you're free start for those horses.”
Sinclair laid hold on the bars with his big hands and pressed his face close to the iron, staring at her.
”You ain't coming along with us?” he asked.
”I--no.”
”Are you going to stay here?”
”Perhaps! I don't know--I haven't made up my mind.”
”Has Cartwright--”
She broke away from those entangling questions. ”I must go.”
”But you'll be at the place with the horses?”
”Yes.”
”Then so long till the time comes. And--you're a brick, Jig!”
Once outside the jail, she set to work at once. As for getting the roan, it was the simplest thing in the world. There was no one in the stable behind the hotel, and no one to ask questions. She calmly saddled the roan, mounted him, and rode by a wider detour to the cottonwoods behind the blacksmith shop.
Her own horse was to be for Sinclair. But before she took him, she went into the hotel, and the first man she found on the veranda was Cartwright. He came to her at once, s.h.i.+fting away from the others.