Part 8 (1/2)
”How do you know?”
”Unhappily, my sacred calling has left me quite unfamiliah with the carnal affairs of this most wicked country.”
”Well, what's wrong? The bank wired yesterday morning that they held money to meet this draft. Stone showed me the telegram.”
”Up to noon,” said the preacher, ”there was money in the bank; some forty thousand dollars in the name of Jabez Y. Stone, ready to meet yo'
draft, and pay for the cattle.”
”I know that!”
”At noon yesterday that money was withdrawn from the bank.”
”Impossible!”
”Jabez Y. Stone had given a previous draft to another man for the money.
The other man got the plunder--the--ahic!--dross, I mean. Oh that we poh mortals should so crave after the dross which perisheth!”
”Don't preach!”
”Oh, my young brother, the little word in season----”
”I wish it would choke you. Now who drew that money?”
”A carnal man--yo' fatheh's mortal enemy--Misteh Ryan.”
”Ryan! Ryan!”
”Misteh George Ryan, yessir. To-day yo' father presents a worthless paper at the bank in exchange for his breeding cattle. Oh, how grievous a thing it is that deceitful men should so deceive themselves, preparing for a sultry hereafter. Think of these poh dumb driven cattle, exchanged for a bogus draft upon a miserable, miserable bank--how----”
”Luis!” Jim yelled, and his segundo, old Luis Terrazas, came a-flying.
”Luis, take the men home--I've got to go back to Lordsburgh.”
”Stay!” The preacher lifted his hand, brushed back the hat from his face, and stared into Jim's eyes. ”Chalkeye Davies is yondeh at Lordsburgh thar--you can trust him, eh? Send a letter to Chalkeye; ask him to wire the sheriff at Albuquerque to hold that thar train of cattle pending inquiries.”
”I'm going back myself. You stand aside!”
”Seh, if you don't ride straight for Holy Cross, you ain't goin' to see yo' mother alive--she's sinking rapid.”
”How do you know what's happening at Holy Cross, at Grave City, and at Lordsburgh, and all these places a hundred miles apart?”
”Have I said anything, boy, that you cayn't believe?”
”You lied when you said you were thirsty, when you claimed to have walked, when you made out you couldn't catch your horse, and couldn't ride--you lied, and you're a liar!”
The preacher reached for his hip, and a dozen revolvers covered him instant.
”Seh,” he said, quite gentle, ”my handkerchief is in my hip-pocket; observe me blow my nose at yo' remarks.”