“You dirty rat! Or else you dirty liar! I don’t believe—”
Baker said sharply, “Haul him back, Bill! No, hustle him out! Go on, out with him!”
From the standpoint of the majesty of the law it was a deplorable sight, one sheriff giving another sheriff the bum’s rush; or, rather, starting to, for Chambers jerked away from Tuttle’s grasp and stood panting with indignation. He growled, “You can’t expect—”
“On out, Chambers. I mean it.”
“But did you hear—?”
“I say beat it! Didn’t I tell you to keep your trap shut? On out!”
Bill Tuttle made a move. Chambers backed up a step with an inarticulate growl, wheeled, and tramped to the door, which he pulled to with a shattering bang as he disappeared. Tuttle went back to his chair and sat down. Squint Hurley said in an uncommunicative mumble, “By all hell, some day I’ll take my rifle and put a peephole in his belly.” Then he glanced as in startled surprise from Tuttle to Baker and said in apologetic explanation, “Excuse me, I was talking to myself.”
“All right, Hurley. You were telling Jackson about a piece of paper with writing on it which you found under Charlie Brand’s body. Why had you kept it for two years without mentioning it to anyone?”
“Because I saw it wouldn’t do any good. Was I going to show it to Ken Chambers and let him take it away from me when he had me in jail and keeping me there was all he wanted?”
“Didn’t he search you?”
“I had it put away.”
“Where? Under a rock somewhere? Why?”
“I said I had it put away.” Hurley’s squint buried his eyes. “Listen. Don’t waste time trying to jump me. I’m telling you exactly how it was because for one thing I’m glad of a chance to and for another thing I’ve got to have a friend somewhere. I’ve got to get away from all these crowds that keep bumping into you and all these damn buildings and this damn grass they keep watering all the time. I’m going to die if I don’t get back where I belong. I know you won’t let me go till this thing’s finished because you said so, and anyhow maybe you know someone that might stake me, or maybe you might. I had that piece of paper in my boot lining. I didn’t show it to Ken Chambers or that lawyer that was working with him because they would only of tore it up. After I was let loose I thought I might show it to Jackson who was Charlie’s partner, but he wouldn’t even talk to me. I thought I might even show it to Lem Sammis, but he had me kicked out. Ken Chambers was back of all that. So I just kept it, until finally it got to the place where I would have to sell my tools, and then I decided to try Jackson again, and that’s what I did Tuesday morning.”
“Did you show the paper to Jackson?”
“That’s what I went there for. I showed it to him and gave it to him. I told him all about it and about Ken Chambers having that old grudge and how I felt about Charlie, and I said for instance where in the holes of hell have I cached the thirty-two thousand dollars? Am I saving it till they bury me and I go there? So I gave him the paper and he believed me and he staked me. Three hundred dollars. I was going down on the Cheeford range again, and then like a goddamn jackass I let Slim Fraser—”
“It was the money Jackson gave you that you lost at The Haven?”
“Yes it was.”
“Was anybody there when he gave it to you?”
“There was that girl, Charlie Brand’s girl, in the other room. The door was shut, but he called her in and gave her a receipt I signed.”
Bill Tuttle put in, “Could she have heard your talk with Jackson?”
“I don’t think so, not through the door, and her running that printing machine that I could hear.”
“Printing—?”
“Typewriter,” said Baker. “Now, Hurley, that piece of paper. Was it a single sheet of paper?”
The old prospector made no reply.
“Well, was it?”
Still no reply.
“What the hell’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing really the matter.” Hurley looked at Tuttle and back at the county attorney. “You see, I’m not so young maybe, but I’m as strong as I ever was and I’m an old hand and my eyes is good. You didn’t exactly reply to what I said about you might know someone who would stake me or maybe you might do it yourself.”
“I’m not in the grubstaking business. What has that got to do with that paper?”
Hurley only squinted at him.
Baker glowered at the squint. “Are you trying to extort a promise that I’ll see that you get staked?”
“I wouldn’t try any extorting, no, sir. But a man naturally considers this and that. It came in my head that Jackson was killed pretty soon after I gave him that paper, and maybe there was a hitch-up, and maybe the news about the paper would help you about who killed Jackson, and maybe you’d be glad enough to get it so that you’d be willing to risk a little — not that there’s any risk to speak of, because I know that Cheeford range and I know a certain tumble back—”
“Can it!” Baker leaned forward for emphasis. “Listen to me. You removed evidence from the scene of a crime and concealed it. How would you like to be turned over to your friend Chambers and let him work on that? As for your getting staked, that’s your problem. The county will see that you don’t starve as long as you’re held in Cody. I won’t lock you up, at least not now. Provided. I want to know about that paper.”
“I won’t live much longer if I’m locked up again. I couldn’t breathe.”
“Then don’t get locked up. Was it a single sheet of paper?”
“It was a piece about as big as my hand, folded up so it was maybe three inches square.”
“What color was it?”
“White.”
“Was the writing on it in ink or pencil?”
“It was black ink.”
“What did the writing say?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you mean to say you kept it two years and never read it?”
“Well, naturally I looked at it, but I never read it because I can’t read.”
Baker stared. “Hurley, you’re lying.”
“No, I ain’t. Would I lie to you when you’d lock me up if I did? I can read reading but I can’t read writing.”
Baker turned to the sheriff. “What about it, Bill? Do you believe it?”
“Search me.”
“Go downstairs and use your phone. Get Clara Brand and ask about Hurley’s visit to Jackson’s office Tuesday morning. All about it. Whether she could hear what they said and about the three hundred dollars, was it entered on the books as a grubstake, and does she know if Hurley can read and write, and did she see any paper that Hurley gave Jackson — wait a minute! I don’t like all that on the phone. Just ask her— Let’s see, Mrs. Cowles is due at nine. Ask her if she can come here for a talk at ten o’clock. On your way out ask one of the boys to get hold of Quinby Pellett and have him here at eight — and hey! Ask another one, Ray if he’s out there, to get me a couple of hamburgers and a pot of coffee.”