CHAPTER THIRTEEN
OPEN AND SHUT
"Well," said the district attorney, "you can't hold this man on anysuch biased evidence as this."
"But you see I am holding him," pointed out Billy Wingo.
"They'll get him out on a writ of habeas corpus."
"They? Who's they?"
"His friends. I suppose the man has friends."
"Oh, yes," acquiesced Billy, "the man has friends. Too many friends."
The district attorney looked away. "You'd better let him escape--orsomething," he suggested brazenly. "We--we mustn't be made ridiculous,you know."
"We? We? Don't get me mixed up with you, Rale. I'm particular who Ibracket with, sort of. Another thing, the last time you were in hereyou went out on your head, remember. Well, lemme point out that you'rehere, I'm here, so's the door, and history is just the same thing overagain."
The close-set little eyes wavered. "I tell you, Wingo, the case looksblack for you too."
Billy Wingo rolled and lit a placid cigarette before he spoke. "Black?For me?" Inquiringly.
"I'm afraid so."
"You mean you hope so. Go on."
"There are a great many strange things about the whole affair. Forinstance, why was Judge Driver wearing your clothes when the bodieswere found? If, as you say, you saw the whole thing, why did you notprevent the murder? How do we know that you did not kill both TomWalton and the judge and then lay the blame on this stranger?"
"You don't know," admitted Billy. "That's the worst of it. But youwill know. Yeah, you will know."
"I intend to look into your side of the case very closely, Wingo,"declared the district attorney. "It may be that everything has not yetbeen told."
"There is more in this than meets the eye," nodded Billy."Considerable more."
"If you persist in holding this man for a hearing," said Raleimpressively, "it may--will, I should say--involve you. I'd hate tosee you get into trouble."
"I'll bet you would," Billy concurred warmly. "You'd hate it like youdo your left eye. But I'm gonna gamble with you. I'll hold the mantill the judge decides what to do."
"In that case, I'll send for Judge Clasp at once."
"Why Judge Clasp? Why bother that old gent?"
"Because Driver's dead," the district attorney explained impatiently."We have to have a judge to hold the hearing."
"Oh, I know all about that. I've sent for one."
"Who?"
"Judge Donelson."
"But he's the Federal judge, and he lives way over in Hillsville,"objected Rale. "Judge Clasp is nearer. In a case of this kind whenthe judge of a district is unavailable, the nearest judge takes overthe district. The statutes----"
"The statutes say 'any judge,'" interrupted Billy Wingo. "On thispoint I am quite clear. I looked it up to make sure. 'Any judge'means 'any judge.' Nothing else. And you know that Judge Donelson isa territorial as well as Federal Judge. Technicalities can't pull yourwagon out of this hole, Arthur, old settler."
"I shall send for Judge Clasp at once," bumbled Arthur, old settler.
"If you send right away, he should be here by day after to-morrow.Yep, day after to-morrow at the earliest."
"Judge Donelson can't get here till the day after that," said Raletriumphantly.
"Oh, he can't, can't he?" smiled Billy. "Unless he has an accidenthe'll be here to-morrow. You see, Arthur, I started Riley Tyler off toHillsville ten minutes after I arrested Slike. That's why I'm gamblin'that Judge Donelson will get here first."
The district attorney openly lost his temper. "I don't regard theevidence as given sufficient for indictment. I shall ask the judge notto hold him."
"Don't do anything rash, Arthur. Remember the hearing will be at theWalton ranch to-morrow afternoon."
"The Walton ranch! It'll be held here in Driver's office, that's whereit will be held."
"Not a-tall. I want Judge Donelson to see the layout. Then he'll beable to tell better what's what. The Walton ranch to-morrow afternoon.Don't forget."
"Your Honor, I don't see how this man can be held," protested thedistrict attorney. "I claim that the sheriff's testimony is biased.How do we know that it wasn't the sheriff himself who murdered both menand wounded Slike?"
"You can easily see, Judge," put in the coroner smoothly, "How flimsythe evidence is against the prisoner. It is practically his wordagainst the sheriff's The prisoner has explained everything--how he wascoming to the ranch on business and was arrested by the sheriff theminute he stepped inside the doorway. Why, your Honor, it's theplainest open-and-shut case I ever saw. Absolutely nothing to it."
"The coroner's right," boomed the district attorney. "And I hereby askthat Dan Slike be released from custody and----" he paused dramatically.
"Well--" prompted Judge Donelson, his old eyes inscrutable.
"And I feel it my duty to charge the sheriff, William H. Wingo, withthe murder of Thomas Walton, the murder of Judge Driver, and assaultwith intent to kill upon Daniel Slike."
"Didn't the coroner's jury bring in a verdict of 'at the hands ofpersons unknown'?" inquired Judge Donelson.
"They did," admitted the district attorney, "but it was in directopposition to the evidence. Indeed, the coroner instructed the jurymenotherwise."
"Then he exceeded his duty. But that by the way. The jury brought ina 'persons unknown' verdict. However, I do not agree with the jury."
"I knew you would not," the district attorney cried triumphantly.
"No, I believe the person is known. Sheriff, will you tell us in yourown words, how you happened to be on hand in time to be a witness ofthe murder of Judge Driver?"
Like so many trained seals those present turned their heads to stare atthe sheriff. Some eyes were friendly, some noncommittal, but themajority were unfriendly. This was because the crowd consisted largelyof county office-holders. Billy gave a straightforward and detailedaccount of everything that had led up to the murder of Judge Driver.
As he concluded his story Judge Donelson nodded a slow head. "Why didyou not immediately enter the ranch house after you looked in thewindow and saw the boot soles of the dead man?"
"Judge," said Billy, with a whimsical smile, "suppose now you went outhunting and you wanted to get more than one deer and had only onecartridge, what would you do--shoot the first deer you saw or wait tillyou got two in line?"
"I see," nodded the Judge. "I see. Still, Sheriff, there is the wordof Dan Slike. It would have been better had you had another witness."
"Another witness," said Billy. "If that's all you want I have one.Riley Tyler, stand up."
The younger deputy stood up and was duly sworn. He deposed that thesheriff's match signal to Guerilla Melody to send the judge down to thehouse had been also a signal to him, Riley Tyler, to come down from theflat and take position under the window directly opposite the one atwhich the sheriff was posted. All this had taken place according toplan. Riley Tyler had heard every word uttered by both the judge andDan Slike and had also seen Slike shoot the judge. Furthermore he hadtalked with the Federal deputy marshal in Hillsville and learned thatthe marshal had never even thought of asking Judge Driver to approachthe sheriff concerning the alleged bootlegging activities of JakeKilroe.
Riley Tyler concluded his testimony and sat down, taking occasion as hedid so to wink at the district attorney. The latter glared back withfrank dislike.
"The evidence I have just heard," said Judge Donelson, "is clear.There is no shred, jot or tittle of it that throws suspicion on SheriffWingo. I will hold Daniel Slike for the grand jury. If Judge Driverwere alive, I would hold him as accessory before and after the fact.Do you still think, Mr. Rale, that Mr. Wingo should be held?"
"Why--uh--uh----" stalled the district attorney.
"Tell me," persisted Judge Donelson, "exactly what you think?"
But the district attorney did not dare tell Judge Donelson anythinglike that. Instead he said, with a smil
e he strove to make natural andpleasant:
"Hold Mr. Wingo? Certainly not. I have misjudged him. I am sure hewill not bear malice against me."
"Hold it against Mr. Rale?" said Billy, with the straightest face inthe world. "Certainly not. I have misjudged him. But I am sure hewill not bear malice against me."
Even the judge smiled.
Dan Slike, lying on an improvised bed of blankets in the corner of theroom, raised his head. "You'll never hang me, y'understand," said DanSlike. "And you ain't got a jail in the territory big enough to holdme after I get shut of these scratches. I'll see you later, Sheriff."
Dan Slike added a curse or two and relapsed into silence. Not alikable person, Mr. Slike. No, not at all.
"This," said Rafe Tuckleton, "is a helluva note."
"It's all your fault," the district attorney recriminated bitterly.
"You did most of it," flung back Rafe, always an enthusiastic player atthe great game of passing the buck. "You know damn well----"
"Who thought of it first?" interrupted the district attorney. "Who wasthe bright li'l feller, I'd like to know?"
"Don't you try to ride me," snarled the genial Rafe. "Dontcha do it."
"Aw, shut up; you gimme a pain! Gawd, and I'll bet your parentsthought you was just too cunnin' for anything. It's a shame they letyou live. To think of all the fatal accidents that might have happenedto you, and didn't, almost makes a feller lose his faith in Providence.'Oh, yes,' says you, 'Wingo will walk into the trap with his eyes shut.It'll be just too easy.'"
"Well, the first part worked all right," protested Rafe Tuckleton."Dan downed Walton without any trouble. How could I tell Driver wouldslip up on his part? I'm glad Slike downed him. Served him right forbeing a fool. Reelfoot did his part all right, too."
"How do we know Reelfoot did? How do we know what happened before thefraycas at Walton's? We don't. We don't know anything except that TomDriver is dead, Dan Slike wounded in the calaboose, and Skinny Shindlehas skedaddled."
"Skinny tell any one where he was goin'?"
"He did not. Soon as he heard that infernal Bill Wingo had pulledthrough without a hole in him, Skinny saddled his horse and wentsome'ers else a-whoopin'. And I don't think he expects to come back.Oh, it's a fine mix-up all round, a fine mix-up."
"Sh-sh," cautioned Rafe. "Somebody coming--oh, it's you, Tip. 'Lo."
"Yeah, it's me, Tip," said O'Gorman, closing the door carefully andsitting down on the only vacant chair. "Look here, Rafe, what did Itell you about downing Tom Walton?"
"I ain't downed Tom Walton," denied Rafe sullenly.
"You had it done," insisted O'Gorman.
"How do you know I did?" dodged Rafe.
"By the way it was gormed up."
"I suppose now if you'd planned it----"
"I wouldn't have planned it in the first place. I told you to keepyour paws off, and now look at the damn thing."
"It wasn't my fault," barked back Rafe.
"Can't you say anything different?" the district attorney threw indrearily.
"You don't even seem able to obey orders any more," said Tip O'Gorman.
"I don't have to take orders from you," flared up Rafe.
"No, you don't have to. Nobody has to do anything they don't want to.But we've decided, Rafe, that hereafter you sit on the tail-board. Youdon't pick up the lines again, see."
"Who's we?" demanded Rafe.
"Craft, Larder and myself."
"You can't do anything!" Contemptuously.
"No? For one thing, we can keep you from shipping so much as a singlecow."
"How?"
"Our ranges surround you on three sides, and where we don't fit in, themountains do. You can't drive through the mountains, and we won't letyou drive through us. That's how."
"Huh?"
"Yeah, it's root, hog, or die, feller. You gonna be good?"
"I--I suppose so."
"Good enough. One slip on your part and you know what happens, Rafe.Bear it in mind, and it'll be money in your pocket."
"You talk like a minister."
"I wish I was one, preaching the funeral sermon over your grave. Lord,what a stinking skunk you are, Rafe!"
"Look here----"
"Blah! You are a skunk. So crazy after money you had to go and hurtli'l Hazel Walton. Damn your soul, I told you not to do anything tohurt her! And you bulled right ahead! You lousy packrat, you'vebroken that child's heart! She thought the world and all of her uncle,she did. I tell you, Rafe, you ain't fit to drink with a Digger or eatwith a dog!"
"I ain't gonna fight with you," declared Rafe Tuckleton.
"I was hoping you would," averred Tip. "There'd be one tom-fool lessto worry about if you did."
"No, I can wait," said Rafe with a feline grin.
"Oh, I'll be watching you, you rattle-snake," nodded Tip.
"Go easy, you two!" snapped the district attorney, as a dog in the nextroom began to bark. "There's somebody comin' up the path."
The squabble went dead.
"Good thing the wind's yowlin' its head off to-night," observed TipO'Gorman. "I forgot myself for a shake."
Rafe Tuckleton looked at the floor. There was venom in his heart anddeath in his thoughts.
Tip O'Gorman fingered out the makings.
He was shaking in the tobacco when Billy Wingo opened the door andstrode without ceremony into the office. He was followed by RileyTyler. The latter slammed the door behind him and set his back againstit.
"Three li'l friends together," said Billy, his eyes gleaming at thembeneath the peak of his fur cap. "I saw your light as I was passing,Arthur, and I thought I'd sift in and thank you for all those kindwords of yours yesterday. I appreciated 'em, you bet. You too, Rafe,did about as well as could be expected. Tip is the only one I can'tthank."
He smiled lazily on Tip. The latter grinned back.
"It ain't my fault you can't," returned Tip cryptically.
Billy nodded, although naturally he did not grasp the other's meaning,and said, "Got another li'l matter for you gentlemen. Finding you alltogether thisaway is gonna save me trouble. I'm in luck to-night."
"Aw, spit it out!" Rafe directed rudely.
Billy looked pained. "Our long-faced li'l playmate seems all fussed upover something. Well, boys will be boys, I suppose, and burned fingersnow and then have got to be expected."
He paused and regarded them gravely. Rafe's answering stare wasdarkling, the district attorney's uncomfortable, while Tip's wasimpersonal.
"I hope you boys are feeling generous to-night," resumed Billy.
Rafe Tuckleton stole a glance at O'Gorman. Generous?
"The fact is," went on the calm voice, "I'm takin' up a collection--acollection for Tom Walton's niece, Hazel."
Billy thought that at the mention of the ranchman's name both thedistrict attorney and Tuckleton stiffened their slouching bodies, buthe could not be positive. The lamp on the table gave a poor, weaklight.
"Her uncle's gettin' downed thisaway will be a bad blow for her. Hewas all she had. Y'understand now--the girl won't ever know that thisis any benefit like. She mustn't ever know. It's insurance on Tom'slife, see? Sam Prescott was keepin' the policy for him in his safe.Tom must have forgot to tell her about it. That's what Sam's going totell her. How much will you boys give?"
Tip O'Gorman did not hesitate. "You can put us down for a thousandapiece."
"_What!_" chorused the district attorney and Rafe Tuckleton.
The sheriff cocked an eyebrow at the two men. "You think it's toolittle? Well, I guess maybe you're right. A thousand is enough forTip here, but you two are rich men. Say twice that--two thousand fromeach of you will be about right."
The two rich men were speechless. But only for a moment.
"Two thousand!" gasped Rafe. "Not a nickel."
"Not a thin dime!" contradicted the district attorney.
"Say not so!" said Billy Wingo.
Tip O'Gorman nodded. "'Say not so,' is right."
Billy looked at the speaker approvingly. "I'm glad Tip agrees with me.I'll take the money in gold, greenbacks and silver. No drafts."
The district attorney squealed like a stuck pig. "No nothing, youmean! Whadda you think we are?"
"A couple of rascals," was the prompt reply. "And there's a tax onrascals. _That li'l girl has got to be taken care of_."
Billy's voice was earnest. But a sardonic devil looked out of hiseyes. He yearned with a great yearning for the district attorney andRafe Tuckleton to join battle with him. He knew that he could easilytake care of both. Tip O'Gorman was the unknown quantity. One couldnever be quite sure what Tip was thinking. One thing, Tip was neithera murderer nor a dealer in murder. That had never been Tip's way. Andsomething told Billy that in the present crisis Tip would keep hishands off. The issue lay strictly between Rafe, the district attorneyand Billy Wingo.
The district attorney by a great effort recovered his mental balance."You are threatening," he bumbled lamely.
"Not a-tall," returned Bill. "I only said you and Rafe are a couple ofrascals. What's fairer than that, I'd like to know?"
"It's blackmail--extortion," the district attorney trotted on.
"Blackmail and extortion to subscribe money for the support of a girlwhose uncle has been murdered? No, no, you don't mean it, Arthur, oldsettler. You mean that you and Rafe will be glad to do your parts.That's what you mean."
"No." Thus Rafe Tuckleton.
"Yes--and again yes. Three times in fact. Rafe, how about that lastdeal of yours with the Indian agent? Remember it? The agent,y'understand, gets drunk sometimes, and a drunk will talk. Everthought of that?"
If Rafe had not thought of that, he thought of it now.
"And how about that last bribe you took?" pressed Billy, turningaccusingly on the district attorney.
The immediate shrinkage in the form of the district attorney wasplainly visible to the naked eye. He went a trifle paler too.
"Do I get the two thousand apiece for Hazel Walton, Arthur?" demandedBilly.
"Why-uh--yes, yes, of course. I'd always intended to contribute. Iwas just fooling. Yes."
"And you, Rafe?"
Rafe Tuckleton nodded a reluctant head. "I'll pay."
"That's fine," said Billy heartily. "I'll be around to-morrow for themoney."
Rafe Tuckleton did not attempt to demur at the shortness of time as hehad done with Dan Slike. He recognized the utter futility of arguingwith a man like Billy Wingo.
"By the way," said Billy, staring hard at Rafe Tuckleton, "I wonder ifit was any part of Dan Slike's plan to kill Miss Walton too?"
Rafe's face went wooden. "How should I know?"
Billy nodded. "I was just wonderin'. No harm in that, I suppose.Lucky she wasn't there alla same."
"It was lucky," stated Tip O'Gorman. "Do you know I've been doing ali'l wondering myself. Why wasn't she there?"
"She just happened to be visiting the Prescotts'," replied Billy Wingo,his eyes on Rafe's face.
Rafe did his best to return the stare, but his eyes would drop despitehis best effort.
"You know that letter from Miss Walton Judge Driver threw in thefire--the one you heard me telling Judge Donelson about?" went onBilly. "Yeah, that one. It might have fooled me--I'm only human, youknow, if----"
"You're too modest," Tip interrupted dryly.
"If it hadn't been for one or two li'l things," resumed Billy. "Thehandwriting was a fine imitation--you couldn't beat it. But I knew shehadn't written it." He paused, and began to roll a cigarette.
Rafe Tuckleton passed his tongue across his lips. The districtattorney looked down at his locked hands. Of the three Tip O'Gormanwas the only one to remain his natural self.
"G'on," urged Tip, "give it a name."
"You see," said Billy, "Skinny Shindle told me Miss Walton gave him thenote about 2.30 P.M. Now on that afternoon I happened to be at thePrescott ranch. Miss Walton was there visiting Miss Prescott. Ididn't leave the Prescotts' till nearly three o'clock, and Miss Waltonwas still there and intending to spend the night. That's how I knewshe couldn't have written that note."
"Nine miles from Prescott's to Walton's," said Tip.
"Nearer ten," corrected Billy. "Skinny was sure careless. So wereseveral other men. You've got to make things fit."
He nodded kindly to the company and abruptly departed with hiscompanion.
"I wonder what he meant by 'making things fit,'" mused the districtattorney, following five minutes' silence.
"I dunno," Rafe mumbled in accents of the deepest gloom, "but you canput down a bet he meant something."
"He did," declared Tip O'Gorman, "and I'm telling you two straight,flat and final, you ain't fit to play checkers with a blind man. Itmakes a feller ashamed to do business with you, you're so thumb-handed,tumble-footed foolish. At the time the note was written from Walton'sthe girl was at Prescott's. Oh, great! And he knew it alla time. Andyou two jokes wondered why your scheme fell through! You know now,don't you? Gawd! What a pair you are! Oh, I've always believed thata man makes his own li'l hell. Whatever devilishness he does on thisearth he pays for on this earth. You fellers are already beginning topay."
Thus Tip O'Gorman, the moralist. He departed wrapped in a virtuoussilence. He did not dare let the others know the actual worry thatrode his soul. He knew it was only a matter of time when Billy Wingowould be camping on his trail too. Lord, how he'd been fooled! He hadnever suspected that the sheriff possessed such capabilities. And howhad the sheriff learned of that flour deal between Rafe and the Indianagent. The flour supposed to have been bought through another man.Rafe had not appeared in the affair at all, yet Billy Wingo knew allabout it.
And the bribe taken by the district attorney. There was another oddchance. Besides the two principals, Rafe Tuckleton and himself, Tiphad not supposed that any one knew of the matter. It was verymysterious.
Tip could have kicked himself. He alone was the individual responsiblefor the whole trouble. If only he had not proposed the election ofBilly Wingo-- But he had proposed it, and now look at the result!
"Say, Bill," said the greatly impressed Riley Tyler on the way to theoffice, "what's this about that deal of Rafe's with the Indian agent?You never said anything about it before."
"Good reason," grinned Billy, "it just occurred to me."
"Occurred to you?" puzzled Riley.
"Yeah, I don't actually know of any deal between Rafe and that thief ofan agent; but knowing Rafe and knowing the agent, I guessed likely theyhad been mixed up together in a business way. Seems I guessed right.Same with the district attorney, only easier. If he's taken one bribe,he's taken forty. Wouldn't be Arthur Rale if he hadn't."
Riley Tyler chuckled. "Poker is one fine game," said Riley Tyler.
At the office they found Shotgun Shillman.
"What luck?" asked Billy.
"Plenty," was the reply. "We went to the Cayley cabin first. Nobodylivin' there. Ashes in the fireplace might have been a week or a monthold. But the balsam tips in the bunks were older than that. They werelast summer's cutting--all stiffer than a porcupine's quills."
"As I remember that cabin," reflected Billy, "the balsam grew allaround it."
"They still do. We found a quarter of beef hanging on a stub back ofthe house. 'There,' says Simon, 'there's proof for you.' 'Yes,' Isays, 'let's see the cow it came off of.' 'Whatsa use?' says Simon.
"'Lots,' I says. 'C'mon.' He did reluctant, bellowing alla time howwe'd oughta follow the tracks leading away from the house toward theHillsville trail a mile away."
"Were those tracks made by one man?" inquired Billy.
"Looked so to me--anyway, we went along on the line of tracks leadingto the dead cow. It had been shot all right enough. It oughta beenshot. It had big-jaw."
"'You mean to tell me them fellers cut that quarter off a big-jaw cow?'I says to
Simon. 'Sure,' he says. 'Aw right,' I says. 'Let it go atthat.' I poked around to find the other cow. Simon raising objectionsalla time to me wastin' so much time and trying to get me off thetrail. Oh, he didn't care a whoop about me finding the second cow.Wasn't one enough? Oh, sure, to hear him talk! But I found the cow.It hadn't been shot a-tall. Died of the yallers last fall. And it hadjust about half rotted before freezing weather set in. 'I suppose,' Isays sarcastic, 'both cows were killed about the same time.' 'You'veguessed it,' says Simon, bold as brass. 'Now all you gotta do is chaseright along back to the cabin and take up the trail like I wanted youto do in the first place and trail 'em down.' He acted realdisappointed when I left him standin' there and came away. I'd havearrested him right then only you said not to."
"Good enough," approved Billy. "Plenty of time to arrest him later. Iwant to give him plenty of rope. One of these days I'll get a subpoenafrom Judge Donelson and serve it on him. That'll give him plenty oftime to think things over between now and the trial."
"Simon ain't the kind to take things easy," mused Shotgun Shillman.
"He'll fret his head off. About the time Slike is well enough to standprosecution, Simon Reelfoot will be ready to bust."
But the well-known best-laid plans are more breakable than the equallywell-known best-laid eggs.