Part 28 (2/2)
”Good-night!” said Corliss. ”Take good care of that yearling.”
”Well, now, John, as if I wouldn't!”
”Molly would come out,” apologized Jim, ”only the kid is--is grazin'.
How's the feed holdin' out on the Concho?” which question following in natural sequence was not, however, put accidentally.
”Fair,” said Corliss. ”We looked for you up that way.”
”I was over on the Reservation. I sent Tom up there to see after things,” and the sheriff gestured toward the distant Concho. ”Sent him up to-night. Let's go over to the office.”
Corliss shook his head. ”Don't want to see him, just now. Besides, I want to say a few things private.”
”All right. There was a buyer from Kansas City dropped in to town to-day. Didn't see him, did you?”
”Cattle?”
”Uhuh.”
”No. We just got in.”
They turned and walked up the street, nodding to an occasional lounger, laughing and talking easily, yet each knew that their banter was a meandering current leading to something deeper which would be sounded before they separated.
Sheriff Banks suddenly stopped and slapped his thigh. ”By Gum! I clean forgot to ask if you had chuck. You see that kid of mine--”
”Sure! But we put the 'Palace' two feeds to the bad,” a.s.serted Shoop.
They drifted to the hotel doorway and paused at the counter where each gravely selected a cigar. Then they clumped upstairs to Corliss's room. Jim Banks straddled a chair and faced his friends.
Shoop, excusing himself with humorous politeness, punched the pillows together and lay back on the bed which creaked and rustled beneath his weight. ”These here corn-husk mattresses is apologizin',” he said, twisting around and leaning on his elbow.
”Well, Jack,” said the smiling sheriff, ”shoot the piece.”
”Or the justice of the peace--don't matter,” murmured Shoop.
Corliss, leaning forward, gazed at the end of his cigar. Then he raised his eyes. ”Jim,” he said quietly, ”I want Sundown.”
”So do I.”
Corliss smiled. ”You've got him, all right. What's your idea?”
”Well, if anybody else besides you asked me, Jack, they'd be wasting time. Sundown is your man. I don't know anything about him except he was a Hobo before he hit the Concho. But I happen to know that he was pretty close to the place where Fadeaway got his, the same day and about the same time. I've listened to all the talk around town and it hasn't all been friendly to you. You can guess that part of it.”
”If you want me--” began Corliss.
”No.” And the sheriff's gesture of negation spread a film of cigar-ash on the floor. ”It's the other man I want.”
”Sundown?” asked Shoop, sitting up suddenly.
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