_ CHAPTER V
The county jail was a square, brick structure standing in the midst of a grove of small cottonwood-trees (planted in painful rows), and the sheriff's office and his wife's parlor, situated on opposite sides of the hall, occupied the front part of the first story, while the rear and the basement served as kitchen and dungeon keep. Generally the lockup was empty and the building quite as decorous as any other on the street, although at certain times it resounded with life. On this day it was quiet, and Throop and his wife, who served as matron, were sitting under a tree as the rancher's wagon halted before the gate.
It was about three o'clock in the afternoon and Hanscom's prisoners were dusty, tired, and sullen as they filed up the walk toward the sheriff, who awaited their approach with an inquiring slant to his huge head. Mrs. Throop retreated to the house.
When at close range Hanscom with a weary smile said, "I've brought you some new boarders, Mr. Sheriff."
"So I see," said the officer, as he motioned them to enter the door. "What's it all about?"
"It's a long story," replied the ranger, "and of course I can't go into it here, but I want you to take charge of these people while I see Carmody and find out what he wants done with them. I think he'll find them valuable witnesses. Incidentally I may say they've been shooting a horse and breaking and entering a house."
The sheriff was deeply impressed with this charge. "Well, well!" he said, studying with especial care the downcast face of the girl. "I thought it might be only killing game out of season, stealing timber, or some such thing." He called a deputy. "Here, Tom, take these men into the guard-room, and, Mrs. Throop, you look after this girl while I go over the case with Mr. Hanscom."
"Don't let 'em talk with anybody," warned the ranger.
The sheriff passed the word to the deputy, "That's right, Tom."
In deep relief the ranger followed the sheriff into his private office and dropped into a seat. "Jeerusalem! I'm tired!" he exclaimed. "That was a nervous job!"
"Cut loose," said the sheriff.
Hanscom then related as briefly as he could the story of the capture. At the end he confessed that he had hardly expected to reach town with all of them. "I had no authority to arrest them. I just bluffed them, as well as the rancher who drove the wagon, into thinking I had. I wanted them for Carmody to question, and I hung to the girl because I believe she can absolutely clear Kauffman and his daughter of any connection--"
Throop, who had listened intently, now broke out: "Well, I hope so. That old man and his girl sure are acquiring all kinds of misery. Kitsong got Carmody to issue a warrant for them yesterday, and I wired the authorities at Lone Rock and had them both taken from the train."
The ranger's face stiffened as he stared at the officer. "You did!"
"I did, and they're on their way back on No. 6."
"How could Carmody do that?" Hanscom demanded, hotly. "He told them to go--I heard him."
"He says not. He says he just excused the girl for the time being. He declares now that he expected them both to stay within call, and when he heard they were running away--"
"How did he know they were running away?"
"Search me! Some one on the train must have wired back."
"More likely the Blackbird Ranch 'phoned in. They are all related to Watson. I was afraid of them." He rose. "Well, that proves that Abe and his gang were at the bottom of that raid."
"Maybe so, but I don't see how Carmody can go into that--his job is to find the man or woman who killed Watson."
"Well, there's where I come in. I've got the girl who made those tracks on the floor."
The sheriff was thoughtful. "I guess you'd better call up Carmody--he's the whole works till his verdict is rendered, and he ought to be notified at once."
A moment's talk with the doctor's office disclosed the fact that he was out in the country on a medical trip, and would not return till late. "Reckon we'll have to wait," said the sheriff.
The ranger's face fell. After a pause he asked, "When does that train get in?"
"About six; it's an hour late."
"And they'll be jailed?"
"Sure thing! No other way. Carmody told me to take charge of them and see that they were both on hand to-morrow."
Hanscom's fine eyes flamed with indignation. "It's an outrage. That girl is as innocent of Watson's killing as you are. I won't have her humiliated in this way."
"You seem terribly interested in this young lady," remarked Throop, with a grin.
Hanscom was in no mood to dodge. "I am--and I'm going to save her from coming here if I can." He started for the door. "I'll see Judge Brinkley and get her released. Carmody has no authority to hold her."
"I hope you succeed," said the sheriff, sympathetically; "but at present I'm under orders from the coroner. It's up to him. So you think you've got the girl who made them tracks?"
"I certainly do, and I want you to hold these prisoners till Carmody gets home. Don't let anybody see them, and don't let them talk with one another. They'll all come before that jury to-morrow, and they mustn't have any chance to frame up a lie."
"All right. I see your point. Go ahead. Your prisoners will be here when you come back."
Hanscom went away, raging against the indignity which threatened Helen. At Carmody's office he waited an hour, hoping the coroner might return, and, in despair of any help from him, set out at last for Brinkley's office, resolute to secure the judge's interference.
The first man he met on the street stopped him with a jovial word: "Hello, Hans! Say, you want to watch out for Abe Kitsong. He came b'ilin' in half an hour ago, and is looking for you. Says you helped that Dutchman and his girl (or wife, or whatever she is) to get away, and that you've been arresting Henry, his nephew, without a warrant, and he swears he'll swat you good and plenty, on sight."
Hanscom's voice was savage as he replied: "You tell him that I'm big enough to be seen with the naked eye, and if he wants me right away he'll find me at Judge Brinkley's office."
The other man also grew serious. "All the same, Hans, keep an eye out," he urged. "Abe is sure to make you trouble. He's started in drinking, and when he's drunk he's poisonous as a rattler."
"All right. I'm used to rattlers--I'll hear him before he strikes. He's a noisy brute."
The ranger could understand that Rita's father might very naturally be thrown into a fury of protest by the news of his daughter's arrest, but Kitsong's concern over a nephew whom he had not hitherto regarded as worth the slightest care did not appear especially logical or singularly important.
Brinkley was not in his office and so Hanscom went out to his house, out on the north bend of the river in a large lawn set with young trees.
The judge, seated on his porch in his shirt-sleeves, exhibited the placid ease of a man whose office work is done and his grass freshly sprinkled.
"Good evening, Hanscom," he pleasantly called. "Come up and have a seat and a smoke with the gardener."
"I have but a moment," the ranger replied, and plunged again into the story, which served in this instance as a preface to his plea for intervention. "You must help _me_, Judge. Miss McLaren must not go to jail. To arrest her in this way a second time is a crime. She's a lady, Judge, and as innocent of that shooting as a child."
"You surprise me," said Brinkley. "According to all reports she is very, very far from being a lady."
Hanscom threw out his hands in protest. "They're all wrong, Judge. I tell you she _is_ a lady, and young and handsome."
"Handsome and young!" The judge's eyes took on a musing expression. "Well, well! that accounts for much. But what was she doing up there in the company of that old Dutchman?"
"I don't know why she came West, but I'm glad she did. I'm glad to have known her. That old Dutchman, as you call him, is her stepfather and a fine chap."
"But Carmody has arrested her. What caused him to do that?"
"I don't know. I can't understand it. It may be that Kitsong has put the screws on him some way."
The judge reflected. "As the only strange woman in the valley, the girl naturally falls under suspicion of having made those footprints."
"I know it, Judge, but you have only to see her--to hear her voice--to realize how impossible it is for her to kill even a coyote. All I ask, now, is that you save her from going to jail."
"I don't see how I can interfere," Brinkley answered, with gentle decision. "As coroner, Carmody has the case entirely in his hands till after the verdict. But don't take her imprisonment too hard," he added, with desire to comfort him. "Throop has a good deal of discretion and I'll 'phone him to make her stay as little like incarceration as possible. You see, while nominally she's only a witness for the state, actually she's on trial for murder, and till you can get your other woman before the jury she's a suspect. If you are right, the jury will at once bring in a verdict against other parties, known or unknown, and she will be free--except that she may have to remain to testify in her own case against the raiders. Don't worry, my dear fellow. It will come out all right."
Hanscom was now in the grasp of conflicting emotions. In spite of Brinkley's refusal to interfere, he could not deny a definite feeling of pleasure in the fact that Helen was returning and that he was about to see her again. "Anyhow, I have another opportunity to serve her," he thought, as he turned down the street toward the station. "Perhaps after the verdict she will not feel so eager to leave the country." _