Part 5 (2/2)
But whether it was over the girl or not, we ain't goin' to see this other feller shot down till we know more about hit. Ye can meet--”
”Of course, any time.”
Banion was drawing on his glove. The woman had lifted Molly, straightened her clothing.
”All blood!” said one. ”That saddle horn! What made her ride that critter?”
The Spanish horse stood facing them now, ears forward, his eyes showing through his forelock not so much in anger as in curiosity. The men hustled the two antagonists apart.
”Listen, Sam,” went on the tall Missourian, still with his grip on Woodhull's wrist. ”We'll see ye both fair. Ye've got to fight now, in course--that's the law, an' I ain't learned it in the fur trade o' the Rockies fer nothin', ner have you people here in the settlements. But I'll tell ye one thing, Sam Woodhull, ef ye make one move afore we-uns tell ye how an' when to make hit, I'll drop ye, sh.o.r.e's my name's Bill Jackson. Ye got to wait, both on ye. We're startin' out, an' we kain't start out like a mob. Take yer time.”
”Any time, any way,” said Banion simply. ”No man can abuse me.”
”How'd you gentlemen prefer fer to fight?” inquired the man who had described himself as Bill Jackson, one of the fur brigaders of the Rocky Mountain Company; a man with a reputation of his own in Plains and mountain adventures of hunting, trading and scouting. ”Hit's yore ch'ice o' weapons, I reckon, Will. I reckon he challenged you-all.”
”I don't care. He'd have no chance on an even break with me, with any sort of weapon, and he knows that.”
Jackson cast free his man and ruminated over a chew of plug.
”Hit's over a gal,” said he at length, judicially. ”Hit ain't usual; but seein' as a gal don't pick atween men because one's a quicker shot than another, but because he's maybe stronger, or something like that, why, how'd knuckle and skull suit you two roosters, best man win and us to see hit fair? Hit's one of ye fer the gal, like enough. But not right now. Wait till we're on the trail and clean o' the law. I heern there's a sheriff round yere some'rs.”
”I'll fight him any way he likes, or any way you say,” said Banion.
”It's not my seeking. I only slapped him because he abused me for doing what he ought to have done. Yes, I rode his horse. If I hadn't that girl would have been killed. It's not his fault she wasn't. I didn't want her to ride that horse.”
”I don't reckon hit's so much a matter about a hoss as. .h.i.t is about a gal,” remarked Bill Jackson sagely. ”Ye'll hatter fight. Well then, seein' as. .h.i.t's about a gal, knuckle an' skull, is that right?”
He cast a glance around this group of other fighting men of a border day. They nodded gravely, but with glittering eyes.
”Well then, gentlemen”--and now he stood free of Woodhull--”ye both give word ye'll make no break till we tell ye? I'll say, two-three days out?”
”Suits me,” said Woodhull savagely. ”I'll break his neck for him.”
”Any time that suits the gentleman to break my neck will please me,”
said Will Banion indifferently. ”Say when, friends. Just now I've got to look after my cows. It seems to me our wagon master might very well look after his wagons.”
”That sounds!” commented Jackson. ”That sounds! Sam, git on about yer business, er ye kain't travel in the Liberty train nohow! An' don't ye make no break, in the dark especial, fer we kin track ye anywhere's.
Ye'll fight fair fer once--an' ye'll fight!”
By now the group ma.s.sed about these scenes had begun to relax, to spread. Women had Molly in hand as her eyes opened. Jed came up at a run with the mule team and the light wagon from the grove, and they got the girl into the seat with him, neither of them fully cognizant of what had gone on in the group of tight-mouthed men who now broke apart and sauntered silently back, each to his own wagon.
CHAPTER VII
THE JUMP-OFF
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