"Well, he's saved thisyer town the cost of a rope," Loder put in.
Which was the best that anyone could find to say of the late owner of the Red Ace.
* * *
Lawless was itself again when, two weeks later, Green emerged from the Red Ace and went in search of his deputy. He found him in the office, sitting with his feet on the ramshackle desk, moodily smoking.
"Howdy, marshal," the new-comer greeted.
Pete looked up. "Yo're a-goin' then?" he asked, and regret was plain in his voice. "How'd they take it?"
"One an' all they wept copious," Green grinned. "But I guess that was just to spare my feelin's. Yu see, they know yu wouldn't accept unless I pull my freight, an' they're pinin' for yu."
"Yo're seven sorts of a liar, includin' the damn kind," the little man smiled. "Dunno as I wanta be marshal anyways. I'm goin' to miss yu a whole lot, Jim." And then, with the cowboy's natural aversion to showing emotion, he added, "I'll have no one to talk to."
"Too bad we couldn't persuade Black Feather to stay put," the other suggested slyly. For the Indian, astride his Spanish horse and gripping his cherished carbine, had departed a few days earlier, refusing all offers save cartridges and a small supply of food. After solemnly shaking hands with his "white brothers" he had delivered a long harangue in his own tongue, and then, with a dignified gesture of farewell, had ridden into the wilderness. His address had left Pete gasping.
"Now whoever would 'a' guessed he had all that conversation concealed in him?" was his comment. "Would yu say he was blessin' or cussin' us?"
"I gather he was askin' the Great Spirit to make our trails pleasant, to confound our foes, an' give us plenty cattle, bosses, an' wives," was the marshal's free translation.
"I hope the Great Spirit don't hear that last bit. I don't want no wives--none whatever," Pete had said.
A recollection of this remark reminded Green of something else. "The bride an' bridegroom is due back from Tucson," he said. "Yu'll have Andy to chatter with, an' there's allus Durley."
Pete grunted. "Andy's slid back into his early childhood agin: can on'y speak one word--Tonia," he complained. "Oh, I know she's wonderful--he told me so hisself, 'bout a million times. Durley's as bad, though he can say two words--Red Ace. Holy cats! yu'd think he'd took over the White House at Washin'ton. No, I'll have to win me a parrot, if yu must go, an' won't let me trail along."
"I have it to do," Green said gravely. "An' it's a one-man job, ol'-timer."
So the day came when Andy and Tonia stood on the veranda of the Double S ranch-house to take farewell of the man to whom they owed their happiness. Reuben Sarel, Strade, and Pete were there, and all were loth that he should leave. But he had met every protest with a slow shake of the head, and now, as from the saddle of the big black, he looked at these good friends, there was a suspicion of sadness behind the smiling eyes.
"I don't see why you have to go," Tonia told him for perhaps the twentieth time that morning.
"I got a rovin' disposition," he evaded. "Allus did wanta find out what was the other side o' the hill."
The girl gave a gesture of despair. "But you will come to see us again?" she pleaded.
At once she was reminded of that first time she had met him, sprawling outside the Red Ace. Little creases came in the corners of his eyes, and the firm lips softened under the disarming grin which made a boy of him again, as he replied:
"I'll shore be back--for the christenin'."
THE END
Other Sudden Westerns by Oliver Strange
SUDDEN--OUTLAWED
SUDDEN
SUDDEN PLAYS A HAND
SUDDEN--GOLDSEEKER
SUDDEN MAKES WAR
SUDDEN RIDES AGAIN
SUDDEN TAKES THE TRAIL
THE RANGE ROBBERS
THE LAW O' THE LARIAT
*
By Frederick H. Christian
SUDDEN STRIKES BACK
SUDDEN--TROUBLESHOOTER
SUDDEN AT BAY
SUDDEN--APACHE FIGHTER
SUDDEN--DEAD OR ALIVE!