Part 18 (1/2)

Knowing the judge for a man of honor and discretion. Dave unburdened himself with the utmost freedom regarding his suspicions of Ed Austin.

Ellsworth nodded. ”Yes, Ed has thrown in with the Rebel junta in San Antone, and Tad Lewis is the man they use to run arms and supplies in this neighborhood. That's why he and Ed are so friendly. Urbina is probably your cattle thief, but he has a hold over Ed, and so he rode to Las Palmas when he was pursued, knowing that no jury would convict him over Austin's testimony.”

”Do you think Ed would perjure himself?” Dave asked.

”He has gone clean to the bad lately; there's no telling what he'll do.

I'd hate to see you crowd him, Dave.”

”They call you the best lawyer in this county because you settle so many cases out of court.” The judge smiled at this. ”Well, here's a chance for you to do the county a good turn and keep Ed Austin out of trouble.”

”How?”

”The prosecuting attorney is a new man, and he wants to make a reputation by breaking up the Lewis gang.”

”Well?”

”He intends to cinch Urbina, on Ricardo's and my testimony. You're a friend of Austin's; you'd better tip him to set his watch ahead a few hours and save himself a lot of trouble. The prosecuting attorney don't like Ed any too well. Understand?”

The judge pondered this suggestion for a moment. ”'Young Ed' is a queer fellow. Once in a while he gets his neck bowed.”

”So do I,” Law declared, quietly. ”He treated me like a hobo--sent me to the kitchen for a hand-out. That sticks. If I hadn't tamed down considerably these late years, I'd have--wound him up, right there.”

From beneath his drooping lids Ellsworth regarded the Ranger curiously.

”You HAVE a bad temper, haven't you?”

”Rotten!”

”I know. You were a violent boy. I've often wondered how you were getting along. How do you feel when you're--that way?”

It was the younger man's turn to hesitate. ”Well, I don't feel anything when I'm mad,” he confessed. ”I'm plumb crazy, I guess. But I feel plenty bad afterwards.”

There was a flicker of the judge's eyelids.

Dave went on musingly: ”I dare say it's inherited. They tell me my father was the same. He was--a killer.”

”Yes. He was all of that.”

”Say! WAS he my father?”

Ellsworth started. ”What do you mean?”

Dave lifted an abstracted gaze from the Pullman carpet. ”I hardly know what I mean, Judge. But you've had hunches, haven't you? Didn't you ever KNOW that something you thought was true wasn't true at all? Well, I never felt as if I had Frank Law's blood in me.”

”This is interesting!” Ellsworth stirred and leaned forward. ”Whatever made you doubt it, Dave?”

”Um-m. Nothing definite. That's what's so unsatisfactory. But, for instance, my mother was Mexican---”

”Spanish.”