Bud Lane, returning to camp, saw the returned Sheriff supporting the dying murderer of Terrill, and listening to what was undoubtedly his confession. He stole away before he was observed.
"It's all up with me," he thought. "Buck has told him. Slim hates me along o' Polly. I'll get away from here' to-night."
He met Polly by the mess-wagon.
At once she saw that something had happened. Bud was deathly pale. He trembled when she spoke to him.
"Why, what on earth is the matter?" she asked.
"Nothing. I—" answered Bud, glancing about him, as if seeking some way to escape.
"You're looking mighty pale—are you sick?" persisted the girl.
"Slim Hoover—he's back—" Bud could scarcely speak. His throat was parched. Beads of perspiration stood on his forehead.
"What!" cried Polly joyfully. "Is Jack with him?"
"Listen here," exclaimed the young wooer. "Slim's heard about our goin' to get married, and he's sworn to shoot me at sight—" It was a lame, halting explanation, but the best Bud could invent on the spur of the moment. He wanted to get away to have time to think.
"I don't believe it!" replied Polly indignantly. "Why, Slim—"
In his excitement Bud would not let her continue her defense of the Sheriff.
"It's so. He's plum locoed. The sun mus' have tetched his brains out in the desert," he explained, with rapid invention. "I don't want no run-in with a crazy man. I might have to shoot, an' Slim's been a good fr'en' of mine. So I'm going to keep out of his way for a while. I'll ride over to the railroad."
Polly could not comprehend this strange behavior of Bud. Thinking to make him tell her his trouble by taunting him with cowardice, she asked:
"Say, look here, are you scared of Slim Hoover? Just let me handle him."
"No, no," expostulated Bud. "Can't you understand? We've been such good friends and—and—I can't pull a gun on him—"
Polly was speechless with surprise.
"Here he comes now," shouted Bud. "I'll hide in the wagon here—"
"Don't hide!" counseled Polly. "Why?"
Bud gave her no answer, for he had already disappeared under the cover of the mess-wagon.
"I don't like that a little bit. Slim never acted locoed before. I'll have to be mighty careful, I s'pose, for I think a heap of both Slim and Bud."
Slim came up to the wagon with his face wreathed in smiles. "If it ain't Miss Polly—" he yelled.
Polly, having heard that crazy people had to be humored, ran to meet him, and threw her arms about his neck.
"You dear, sweet, old red-headed thing!" she cried; "when did you get back? Where have you been? Where's Jack? Have you seen Echo?" One question was piled upon the other by the enthusiastic girl—Slim had tried to stop her talking that he might answer her, but he might as well have tried to check a sand-storm. Out of breath and puffing, he finally gasped:
"Whoa! whoa! Yes'm. I've heard of them Kansas cyclones, but I ain't never got hit with one afore."
Polly started all over again. "And Jack, did you find him?—tell me all about it."
"See yeah," answered Slim, "I ain't goin' to say nuthin' to nobody till I see Mrs. Payson."
"Oh, pshaw!" pouted Polly; "not even me?"
"Not even—what I've got to say she must heah first. I'm kinder stiff—if you don't mind, I'll set down a spell."
Slim's face was drawn and worn. Although he had lost none of his weight, he showed the effects of the siege of hard riding and fighting through which he had passed.
The mental strain under which he had labored had also worn him down. Polly was more than solicitous for his comfort. Not only did she like the Sheriff, but she was now fencing with him to protect her sweetheart from his wrath. She had concluded that Bud's charge that the Sheriff was locoed and jealous was a cover to conceal some genuine apprehension.
"You look tuckered out," she said.
"Well, I 'low as maybe I am. Been in the saddle for two weeks. Kin I have a cup of coffee?"
Polly began to mother him. This appeal for bodily comforts aroused all her womanly instincts. She made him sit down and poured the coffee for him saying: "You sure can. With or without?"
"I'll play it straight," grinned Slim.
"I reckon you'll have to, anyway. Here you are."
Slim took the cup with a "thankee."
He drank long and deeply. Then he paused, made a wry face, and danced his feet up and down, as a child does in anger or excitement.
"What's the matter?" asked the girl, with a laugh.
"If this yeah's coffee give me tea, an' if it's tea give me coffee." The Sheriff put down his cup with a shrug of the shoulders.
"It's the best we've got," replied Polly. "Sage-brush got it."
"Oh, that's it. I thought it tasted like sage-brush. How's Bud?" he suddenly demanded.
Polly glanced nervously at the speaker.
"All right, I s'pose." She tried to be noncommittal.
Her nervousness almost betrayed her.
"Ain't you seen him lately?" Slim insisted.
Polly peeped into the wagon before she answered the question. "Yes—I see him every once in a while."
In an effort to change the subject of conversation, and get him away from all thoughts of Bud, she asked: "Say, Slim, what's a boudoir?"
"A what whar?" stuttered Slim.
"A boudoir," Polly repeated.
Slim was puzzled, and looked it. Then a new thought lighted up his face.
"You don't mean a Budweiser, do you?"
Polly, deeply serious, replied: "No—that ain't it—boudoir."
Slim ransacked his memory for the word. "Boudoir," he continued reflectively. "One of them 'fo' de wah' things we ust to have down in Kentucky?"
An explanation was demanded of him, and he proceeded to invent one. "Well, first you get a—get a—" Polly had fooled him so many times that he became suspicious in the midst of his creation, and asked:
"Look a here—you're sure you don't know what boudoir is?"
"Why, of course not," answered Polly simply.
Slim was relieved by her reply.
"All right," he resumed, crossing his legs, as if the position would help him better to think. "A boudoir is a see-gar."
"A see-gar?" echoed Polly, distinctly disappointed. Bud's offer to duplicate the boudoir was now reduced to the proportions of "two fer a nickel."
"Yep," assured the Sheriff. "They are named after a Roosian—one of them diplomat fellers."
"What's a diplomat?" Polly was finding Slim a mine of information, but all of the sort that needed plenty of expansion.
Slim chuckled, and with a twinkle in his eye drawled: "A diplomat is a man that steals your hat and coat, and then explains it so well that you give him your watch and chain. Sabe?"
Polly did not understand. She felt that Slim was laughing at her, but she could not see any fun in his remark. To end the discussion, however, she said: "I sabe."
Polly sauntered away from the wagon. As she passed Slim, he tried to put his arm about her waist. She skilfully evaded him. The Sheriff joined her in the shade of cottonwood. "You know I've been thinking a lot of you lately, Miss Polly?"
"Only lately?" she asked mischievously.
"Well, yes—that is—"
This conversation was becoming too personal for Bud, who in an effort to hear all Slim had to say moved incautiously in the wagon. Slim heard him.
"Who's in that wagon?" he cried, moving toward it. "Show Low asleep?"
"No. Buddy," said Polly, thinking she might as well confess the deception first as last, and using the childish nickname of her lover in order to soften Slim's anger against him.
"Nobody," repeated Slim, not fully convinced that he was mistaken, but stopping in deference to Polly's apparent denial.
"Who do you s'pose," asked Polly pertly, taking courage when she found that Slim did not continue his investigation. "You ain't after any Buddy, are you?"
"No, but I'll just take a look in here, 'cause I got somethin' particular to say to you, Miss Polly, an' I don't want no listeners." And he moved forward again.
At this juncture Polly began to ply her arts as a coquette. Looking shyly at Slim, she murmured, "Are you sure you are not after ANYbody?" The emphasis on the last word was so plain that a shrewder love-maker than Slim would have been deceived.
"Eh? What's that?"
Polly turned her back to him with assumed bashfulness. Slim's courage arose at the sight. "Well, I reckon this is a pat hand for me, and that's the way I'm a-goin' to play it, if I've got the nerve."
Slim smoothed down his tangled hair, and brushed off some of the dust which whitened his shoulders. "Look yeah, Miss Polly—"
Then his courage failed him, and he stopped. Polly glanced at him, to help him over the hard places. Slim was greatly embarrassed. "My heart is right up in any throat. Well, I might as well spit it out," he thought aloud.
Again Slim started toward the girl to tell her of his love, and again his courage failed him, although Polly was doing her best to help him.
"Look yeah, Miss Polly, I've been after somebody for a long time now—"
"Horse-thief?" asked Polly coquettishly.
"No, heart-thief," blurted Slim.
"Stealing hearts ain't no harm."
"Well, just the same, I'm goin' to issue a writ of replevin, an' try for to git mine back," laughed Slim.
He was about to slip his arm about her waist when she turned and faced him. The action so disconcerted him that he jumped backward, as if the girl was about to attack him.
"Where is it?" asked Polly.
Slim, deeply in earnest, replied: "You know it's hid. You know just as well as I kin tell you."
Polly became remorseful. She realized how much Slim was suffering, and she was sorry that her answer to him would be a disappointment.
"Please don't say any more, Slim,"—as she stepped away from him. Slim followed her up, and, speaking over her shoulder, said: "I can't help it. You've got my feelin's stampeded now, an' they sure has to run. I've had an itchin' in my heart for you ever since I first knowed you. You come from Kentucky—well, I was kinder borned up that way myself—in Boone County, an' that sorter makes—well, if it did, what I want to know is—"
Slim hesitated, and nervously hauled at his chaps.
"Will you be my—"
Frightened at his boldness, he clapped his hand over his mouth.
"Can I be your—" he began again.
Angry at himself, he said under his breath: "I'll never get this damn' thing out of my system." In his earnestness he doubled up his fist and shook it behind the girl's back. Suddenly she turned, and found his clenched hand directly under her nose. She started back in dismay.
"Excuse me," humbly apologized Slim. "I didn't mean for to do that, ma'am—deedy, I didn't—I was only—that's—well, I reckon I'm a little bit—"
Slim looked directly at the girl for the first time. She was trying to restrain her hearty laughter. Slim's face broadened in a grin. "You're a mighty fine piece of work, you are, an' I've got an 'awful yearnin' to butt into your family."
Polly was greatly moved by Slim's sincerity.
"Don't, please don't!" she pleaded. "Why, I've known all along that you love me, but—"
"But what?" he asked, when she hesitated.
"I've always liked you real well, and I've been glad that you liked me. I don't want to lose your friendship, though—and, oh, please forgive me, please do." Polly was very repentant, showing it by the tones of her voice and in her eyes.
Slim was puzzled at first. Then it came to him that the girl had refused to marry him. "Oh! I 'low you-all ain't a-goin' to say you love me, then."
"I don't believe I am." Polly smiled through her tears.
Slim paused, as if steadying himself to meet the full force of the blow.
"Mebbe it's along of my red hair?"
"It is red, isn't it?" Polly smiled kindly.
Slim ran his fingers through his locks, and looked at his fingers, as if expecting the color would come off on his hands. "Tain't blue," he said.
Another thought came to him. "Freckles," he asked laconically.
Polly only shook her head.
"There's only one cure for freckles—sandpaper," grinned Slim.
"But it isn't freckles," replied the girl.
Slim looked at his hands and feet. "Maybe it's fat?" he hazarded. "Oh, I know I'm too fat! It beats all how I do keep fat."
Slim looked into his hat and sighed. "Well, I suppose we don't get married this year, do we?"
"No, Slim," said Polly gently.
"Nor any other year to come?" Slim was still hopeful.
"That's the way it looks now."
Slim put on his hat and tried to walk jauntily to the fire, whistling a bit of a tune. The effort was a sad failure. "Here's where I get off. I'm in sure bad luck. Somebody must have put a copper on me when I was born. I 'low I gotter be movin'."
"You won't hate me, will you, Slim?"
The Sheriff took the girl's hands in his and kissed them. "Hate you?" he almost shouted. "Why, I couldn't learn to do that; no, siree! Not in a thousand years."
Polly slapped Slim on the back. "I'm glad of that," she cried. "Brace up. You'll get a good wife some day. There's lots of good fish in the sea."
Slim glanced at her ruefully. "I don't feel much like goin' fishin' jest now. Would you mind tellin' me if I lose out on this deal along of somebody else a-holdin' all the cards?" Slim waited for Polly's answer.
"Why, don't you know?"
"No," he said simply.
"But he told me—"
"Who is it?" he insisted.
"No—if you don't know his name, I won't tell you," decided Polly.
"Mebbe it's jest as well, too," assented Slim. "I don't think I'd feel any too friendly toward him."
Slim moved toward the wagon. The action was purely involuntary, but it frightened Polly so that she cried aloud.
Slim grasped at once the reason for her fear. "Is the feller in that wagon?" he shouted.
"You wouldn't do him any harm, would you?" cried Polly.
"Is he in that wagon?" Slim repeated angrily.
Polly caught hold of his arm.
"What's he hiding for?" he demanded.
Slim pulled his gun and covered the opening. "Come out, you coward," he shouted. Polly caught Slim by the right wrist, so he could not fire.
Bud leaped from the wagon, drawing his gun as he did so. "You sha'n't call me a coward," he shouted to Slim.
Polly ran behind Bud, and, reaching her arms about his waist, held down his hands, depressing the muzzle of his revolver. Slim danced up and down in the excitement with his revolver in his hand. Polly kept calling on both of the men not to shoot.
"Let him alone," shouted Slim excitedly. "Let him alone, Miss Polly. He's only four-flushin', and I ain't gun shy."
"Now, look a yeah, sonny," he cried to Bud, "if that squirt-gun of yours goes off an' hits me, an' I find it out—well, I reckon I'll have to spank you."
Bud tried to break away from Polly, begging her to "Let go."
The girl laid her hands on his shoulder, gazing pleadingly into his flushed face. "Don't, don't," she cried; "it's all right. Slim knows all about it. He knows I love you, and he wouldn't hurt any one that I love, would you, Slim?"
Polly smiled at the Sheriff, completely disarming him.
Shoving his gun back into the holster, Slim grinned, and said: "I reckon I wouldn't."
"We've been engaged forever so long now, waitin' for Bud to get rich, and now—and now it's come."
Her face radiated her happiness. Bud showed his alarm, motioning her to be silent, but Polly rattled on: "Bud's been saving and saving, 'till he's got over a thousand dollars and—" Slim could not contain his indignation at the deception practised by the boy.
"You derned thief," he shouted. Then he plainly showing his annoyance at his lack of repression.
Bud's hand dropped to his gun. "You—" he began, but Polly stopped him with a gesture, looking from one to the other of the men, dazed and frightened.
"A thief. Bud a thief? What does it mean? Tell me," she gasped. Turning to Bud, she demanded: "Bud, you heard what he said?"
Dropping his head, fearing to look at either of them, he muttered sullenly: "He lied."
Slim checked his first betrayal of his anger and kept himself well in hand.
"Oh, Slim," pleaded Polly, "say you didn't mean it."
Simply and sadly Slim answered: "I didn't. I reckon as how I'm some jealous, an'—an'—I lied."
His voice dropped, and he turned aside, stepping away from the young couple.
Polly was still in doubt. Slim's actions were so strange. It was not like this big-hearted, brave Sheriff to accuse a man of stealing without being sure of his charges. Then Slim's accusing himself of lying was entirely at variance with his character. "I'm sorry," she said. "Please forgive me. It was all my fault. I didn't know that you—"
Slim held up his hand to silence her.
"Wouldn't you mind leavin' us together a bit," he requested. In answer to Polly's frightened glance, he continued: "There hain't goin' to be no trouble, only me an' him's got a little business to talk over. Ain't we, Bud? Eh?"
Slim led Polly toward the corral, glancing at Bud over his shoulder with a reassuring smile. "Just you step out yonder a bit and wait," he said to Polly.
"Now, you won't—"
"Can't you trust me any more?" he asked sincerely.
Grasping him by the hand, she looked him fairly and fearlessly in the eye, saying: "I do trust you. I trust you both."
As the girl strode out of ear-shot, Slim, absent-mindedly, kept shaking the hand she had held. Awakening suddenly to the fact that his hand was empty, he looked at it curiously, and sighed. Turning quickly, he slapped his hat on his head, hitched up his chaps, and stepped up to Bud, who stood with a sneer on his lips.
"So you're the man that Polly loves," he said. "She's a good girl, and she loves a thief."
Bud turned on him fiercely, drawing his gun. "Take care!" he warned.
"You won't shoot. If you meant to shoot, you'd 'a' done it long ago, when you pulled your gun," exclaimed Slim coolly.
"I might do it now." Bud held his gun against Slim's breast.
Slim threw up his hands to show he was not afraid of the boy. "Go ahead. Squeeze your hardware. I reckon I'm big enough to kill," he said.
Then he took Bud's hand and gently slid the revolver back into the holster. The action broke down Bud's bravado. All barriers fell before the simple action.
"It's all up with me," he said brokenly.
Slim sympathized with the boy in his trouble.
"Buck, he told me. Buck, he 'lowed you had your share of that money," he explained.
The boy drew the money from his pocket and handed it to Slim, remarking: "Here it is—all of it, I never touched it—I was goin'—" Bud was about to lie again, but he realized the futility of more falsehoods. "Take it," he added.
Slim counted the money and slipped it in his pocket.
"Bud," he said to that young man. "Me an' you have been pretty good friends, we have. I learned you how to ride—to throw a rope, an' Bud—Bud—what did you take it for? I know you didn't murder Terrill for it, but what did you keep the money for?" He asked the question with anger and annoyance.
Slim had seated himself by the fire. He spoke to the boy as he would to a comrade.
"Can't you see?" the boy asked. "Polly. I wanted to make a home for her—and now she'll know me for what I am, a thief—a thief."
Bud buried his face in his hands, the tears trickling through his fingers, although he fought strongly against showing his weakness.
Slim rose and stepped to his side, laying his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Mebbe she won't have to know. Buck, he's dead, and only you and I know."
Bud looked at the speaker in amazement. A lovable smile crept over Slim's face. "I'm goin'," he said, "to slip you a new deck, an' give you a fresh deal. That was part my money that was stole. I never came back at the county fer it. Buck, he's paid half. I'll let 'em all think it was the whole. I'll put in a thousan' I have at home, that I was savin' to buy in with the Triangle B, in case I don't git elected nex' time. So, Bud, I'm going to lend a thousan' o' this to you, just to give you a chance at that little home."
"You're the whitest man I ever knew!" cried Bud.
"I reckon I ain't colored, 'cept a little red mite on top," laughed Slim. He disliked any show of feeling by the boy over the offer he had made.
"But I can't take your money," Bud protested.
"Yes, you can," assured Slim. "You pay it back when you get on your feet again. I'm going to take your word."
Slim's generosity overwhelmed the boy. "Take my word!" he cried.
Slim laid his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Yes," he declared, "You've made your first bad break, but you've had your first lesson. An' you ain't going to forget it," he added emphatically.
"And Polly?" he faltered.
"There ain't nobody going to tell her." Speaking sternly to Bud, he added: "You make her a good husband."
Bud seized the Sheriff's hand, wringing it warmly. "I will, Slim; I will," he promised.
The wait had been too long for Polly. She returned before Slim called her, saying: "I'm tired of waiting on you-all. Haven't you finished up that business yet?"
"Yes, ma'am, it's finished," replied Slim.
"Did Bud tell you about it?" inquired Polly.
"He told me. Seems like you two are going to get married."
"Uh-huh," laughed Polly happily. "And, oh, say, will you stand up for Bud?"
"I reckon Bud can stand up for himself now, with you to help him," answered Slim emphatically.
"We'll run over and tell the boys you're back," shouted Bud.
Slim took the hands of the young people in his own big ones. "I'm right glad you two are going to hitch up," he said. "I am dead sure you'll make a even runnin' team."
Polly glanced shyly at Slim. "Bud won't mind if you kiss me," she hinted. Slim grinned sheepishly. In his embarrassment he rubbed one foot on his other leg. "Well—I ain't—never—that is—" he stammered, "Bud, if you-all don't mind," he boldly asserted, after his bashfulness had waned, "I reckon I will play one little bet on the red."
The Sheriff never did anything in a small way. The kiss he gave her full on the lips was a resounding one.
Bud took Polly by the hand, and silently led her to the house. Slim sat down on a keg behind the fire. Taking some loose tobacco and a film of rice-paper from his pocket, he deftly rolled a cigarette, and lighted it with a brand from the blaze. With a sigh he removed his hat. He was the picture of dejection. For several moments he sat in deep thought. Then, with a deep in-drawing of his breath, and a shrug of the shoulders, he cried: "Hell! nobody loves a fat man."
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