Part 35 (1/2)
”Yes,” insisted Billy Wingo. ”And what's more, I'll lend you a suit of my clothes and my white hat and my red-and-white pinto. Which there ain't another paint pony colored like mine in this county; and just to make it a fair deal, I'll wear your buffalo coat and your fur cap, and I'll ride one of your horses,--that long-legged gray, I guess, will be all right.”
The judge's face wore a curiously mottled pallor that gave it the hue of a dead fish's belly. ”Are you insane?” he gasped.
”Not me,” denied Billy Wingo. ”It's like I said. I'm gambling with you. I guess we understand each other, Judge. Ain't it luck, you and I being about of a size? Dressed up in my clothes with that white hat and all, you'd have to excuse anybody for mistaking you for me.
Ca-a-areful, Judge, careful. Don't do anything we would be sorry for.
And don't take it so to heart; perhaps he'll miss you.”
For a s.p.a.ce he considered the judge, then he said:
”I guess we're ready for Riley, now.”
Despite his professional calm the judge almost bounced out of his chair. ”Riley! Where----”
”In the kitchen with the door open,” explained Billy. ”He didn't go with Shotgun and Reelfoot a-tall--that is, not far. Only round the house to the back door. Reelfoot wasn't completely successful in separating me from my deputies. You didn't catch me whispering in Riley's ear while he was getting ready, did you? I thought maybe you wouldn't. Your back was turned. Moral: Never turn your back when there's a mirror behind you. Riley, you'd better come in now.”
Whereupon there was a noise of bootheels, and Riley entered and smiled cheerfully upon the discomfited judge.
”Howdy, your honor,” said Riley Tyler.
The judge made no acknowledgment of the greeting. He continued to gaze before him with a set and stony face.
”Riley,” said Billy Wingo, without, however, removing his eyes from the judge, ”I guess we'll need another witness. I wonder if you could get hold of Guerilla Melody.”
Riley nodded and went out.
”And that's that,” said Billy Wingo, smiling.
The judge's hands gripped the arms of the chair. ”You know that the man Melody is an enemy of mine,” he said in a shaken voice.
”I know that he is an honest man,” returned Billy Wingo.
”I won't go,” the judge declared feebly.
”You said that before,” said Billy Wingo, in no wise moved. ”You'll go all right. Yes, indeedy. Do you wanna know why? I'll tell you. You see, Judge, I know what I'm up against. I know that the only barrier that stands between me and the graveyard is the lead in this gun. I like life. I enjoy it. Besides, I'm too young to die and too sinful and all that. Therefore it's my business to see I ain't cut off in the flower of my youth, _et cetera_. You're considerably older than me, Judge, considerably. The gray is in your hair like frost on a punkin, and the devil has drawn two mighty mean lines down from your nose to the corners of your mouth, and the crows have messed up your eye-corners too, for that matter, and may the Lord have mercy on your soul, you miserable sinner, because I won't--if you don't do exactly what I tell you to do. It's my life or yours, and it's not gonna be mine.”
”Baby talk,” said the judge, but there was no conviction in his tone.
”You think so? Aw right, let it go at that. Here's the rest of the baby talk: The first false move you start to make between now and the time I'm through with you, you get it.”
”You wouldn't dare!”
”Wouldn't I? Call me and see. No trouble to show goods.”
The judge hesitated. It was obvious that he was of two minds. He chose the safer course--for the present.
”There is a law in this country--” he began.
Billy Wingo leaned forward, his chin jutting out. His eyes were unpleasantly cold. They matched his voice when he spoke.