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Read Ebook: The Mesa Trail by Bedford Jones H Henry
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Ebook has 1203 lines and 54969 words, and 25 pages
From some mysterious recess of her ample person Mrs. Crump produced an immense old-fashioned revolver, which she began to burnish with seeming absorption. The big automobile slowed up. It halted a few feet behind the flivver, and a hearty hail came forth.
From the car sprang a hale and vigorous man who advanced with hand extended.
"I kind o' thought it was you, Sam Tracy," said Mrs. Crump. "Thought I recognized that there car o' yours. How's the folks?"
"See here! What ye doin' over in this county, Sam? Why don't ye get back to Bernalillo where ye belong?"
The sheriff waved his hand.
"Going to Santy F?. I'm looking up a fellow who came this way from Albuquerque--a hobo and sneak thief name o' Shea. Where ye been keepin' yourself, ma'am? It don't seem like the same old state not to see ye from time to time."
"Sam Tracy," observed Mrs. Crump with a look of severity, "I've knowed you more years than I care to reckon up. And you know me, I guess! Now, Sam, I sure hate to do it--but I got to. Stick up your hands, Sam, and do it damn sudden!"
The muzzle of her revolver poked the astounded sheriff in the stomach. For a moment he gazed into her shrewd blue eyes, then slowly elevated his hands.
"Are you crazy, ma'am?" he demanded.
She removed his holstered weapon, then lowered her own and shook her head.
"Nope. I'm heap sane right here and now. Set down and smoke whilst I explain."
"Your man Shea is settin' in my car yonder," said Mrs. Crump.
Heedless of the glaring sun, she picked up her pipe and disposed her giant frame for converse. From narrowed lids the sheriff eyed the lanky, up-drawn figure of Shea, which he now noticed for the first time. Then he produced the "makings" and proceeded to roll a cigarette.
"Glad you picked him up," said he. "I'll take him back with me."
"No, ye won't," retorted Mrs. Crump, calmly. "You'll not touch him, Sam Tracy."
"He's a thief and a drunkard and a hobo," said the sheriff.
The sheriff grinned. "No need to argue further along them lines, ma'am. You win!"
"I reckon I do, Sam. Besides, you ain't got no authority over in this county. You can run a bluff on ignorant hoboes an' greasers, but not on Mehitabel Crump! Your authority quit quite a ways back. Thady Shea only stole because he was starving, which I'd do the same in his place. I picked him up here and I'm goin' to keep him."
"You always was soft-hearted," reflected Tracy. "Now you got him, what's your programme?"
Mrs. Crump refilled and lighted her corncob with deliberation, then made response:
"The apex law don't obtain here," put in Tracy.
"I know it; but who's goin' to argue with Mackintavers? If it wasn't that, it'd be somethin' worse. Anyhow, he offered to compromise and so on."
The sheriff nodded. "I see how you come to have the flivver," he observed, drily.
"That's enough, Mis' Crump!" broke in the sheriff, icily. "I don't blame ye for feelin' sore, but the likes of us can't fight Mackintavers in the courts. We ain't slick enough! And Dorales is a Mormon-bred greaser, than which the devil ain't never fathered a worse combination. Now, Mis' Crump, you show me the least excuse for doin' it legally, and I'll pump them two men full o' lead any day! I'm only surprised that you didn't do it."
"I did." A smile of grim satisfaction wreathed the lady's firm lips. "First I took Sandy's money, then I lets fly. They was several hired greasers with Dorales, and I reckon I got two-three; ain't right sure. I only got Abel glancingly, and when I threw down on Sandy his arms was both elevated for safety. All I could decently do was to nick his ear so's he'd remember me."
"You didn't kill Dorales?"
"Afraid not." Mrs. Crump sadly shook her head. "I didn't wait to inquire none, but it looked like I'd only blooded his shoulder and he was layin' low to plug me in the back, so I belted him over the head with the butt, and slid for home."
The sheriff, astounded, emitted a long whistle. "Whew-w!" he said, slowly. "Say, whereabouts did all this happen?"
"Down the Mogollons. Over Arizony way."
"Oh, Sandy won't go to law over the shootin'. It'd make him look too ridic'lous."
The sheriff threw back his head and laughed with all the uproarious abandon of a man who laughs seldom but well.
"Best look out for yourself," he cautioned. "That there Dorales will be on your trail till hell freezes over, ma'am! I sure would admire to see you in action on that crowd!"
"You'll see me in action when that there car gets movin' again," she retorted. "She bucks like a range hoss and kicks to beat hell--why, I couldn't hardly keep the saddle!"
The sheriff arose and went to the dust-white flivver. He adjusted the spark, cranked, and for a moment listened to the engine before killing it. Then he threw back the hood, and, under the sombre eyes of Thady Shea, worked in silence. At length he finished his task, started the engine again, and with a nod of satisfaction shut it off.
"Thought mebbe so," he stated, rejoining the lady. "Your spark plugs was fouled. Well, ma'am, what can I be doin' for you?"
"Ye might send me a wire in care of Coravel Tio whenever ye get a line on Dorales or Mackintavers. I'm fixing to meet them again."
"How come?" demanded the sheriff in surprise.
Mrs. Crump gestured with her pipe toward the flivver.
"I got a sack of ore in there that I found in the lava beds or thereabouts. I suspicions it's one o' these new-fangled things nobody give a whoop for in the old days, but that draws down the money now. If it is, then you can lay that Sandy will hear I've found it, and he'll be after me to jump the claim."
"He sure does keep a line on prospectors," reflected the sheriff. "And skins 'em, too, mostly. But he does it legal."
"Yep. If this here stuff is any good, Sam, they's going to be some smoke 'fore he gets his paws on it! Where you goin' from here? Back to Albuquerque?"
"Nope. I got some business up at the capital."
"Will ye tote that ore sack and a letter up to Coravel Tio for me--and do it strictly under your hat?"
"You bet I will, ma'am!"
Mrs. Crump unstrapped the burlap sack. With the sheriff's pencil and paper she settled down to write a letter. The process was obviously painful and laborious, but at length it was finished. The sheriff shook hands, picked up the sack, and turned to his car. Mrs Crump had already restored him his revolver.
"Take good care of yourself, ma'am--and your hobo! Adios."
Mrs. Crump watched the trail of dust disappear in the direction of Santa F?, then she turned to the flivver and looked up at Thady Shea.
"They's a new corncob laying in back somewheres. You can have it, Thady. Get out here and settle down for a spell o' talk. If ye act real good I'll give ye a drink."
"I don't want any," came Shea's muffled voice as he leaned back in search of the pipe.
"That's a lie. You're fair shaking for liquor and a drop will brace ye up."
Shea procured the pipe, filled and lighted, and promptly assumed, as a garment, his usual histrionic pose. The gulp of liquor which Mrs. Crump carefully measured out sent a thin thread of colour into his gaunt, unshaven cheeks.
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