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Authors: The Rangeland Avenger
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turned back to hear the last
of Sally Bent's voice, whipping his eyes past Gaspar to avoid meeting
again that clinging stare.
"Sally Bent," he said, "do you know the prisoner?"
"You know I know him. John Gaspar boards with us."
"Ah, then you know him!"
"That's a silly question. What I want to say is—"
"Wait till you're asked, Sally Bent."
She stamped her foot. Quietly Sinclair compared the girl and the
accused man.
"Here's the point," he said slowly. "You knew Quade, and you knew John
Gaspar."
"Yes."
"You know Quade's dead?"
"I've just heard it."
"You didn't like him much?"
"I used to like him."
"Until Gaspar blew in?"
"You've got no right to ask those questions."
"I sure have. All right, I gather you were pretty sweet on Quade till
Gaspar come along."
"I never said so!"
"Girl," pronounced Riley solemnly, "ain't it a fact that you went
around to a lot of parties and suchlike things with Quade?"
She was silent.
"It's the straight thing you're giving her," broke in Larsen. "After
Gaspar come, she didn't have no time for none of us!"
"Ah!" said his honor significantly, scowling on Sally Bent. "After you
cut out Quade, he got ugly, didn't he?"
"He sure did!" said Sally. "He said things that no gentleman would of
said to a lady."
"Such as what?"
"Such as that I was a flirt. And he said, I swear to it, that he'd get
Gaspar!" She stopped, panting with excitement. "He wanted to murder
John Gaspar!"
Riley Sinclair lifted his heavy brows. "That's a pretty serious thing
to say, Sally Bent."
"But, it's the truth! And I've even heard him threaten Gaspar!"
"But you tried to make them friends? You tried to smooth Quade down?"
"I wouldn't waste my time on a bully! I just told John to get a gun and
be ready to defend himself."
"And he done it?"
"He done it. But he never fired the gun."
"What was the last time Quade seen you?"
"The day before yesterday. He come up here and told me that he knew me
and John Gaspar was going to get married, and that he wouldn't stand
still and see the thing go through."
"But what he said was right, wasn't it? Gaspar had asked you to marry
him?"
She dropped her head. "No."
"What? You mean to say that Gaspar hadn't told you he loved you?"
"Never! But now that John's in this trouble, I don't care if the whole
world knows it! I love John Gaspar!"
What a voice! What a lighted face, as she turned to the prisoner. But,
instead of a flush of happiness, John Gaspar rose and shrank away from
the outstretched hands of the girl. And he was pale—pale with sorrow,
and even with pity, it seemed to Sinclair.
"No, no," said the soft voice of Gaspar. "Not that, Sally. Not that!"
Decidedly it would not do to let this scene progress. "Take away the
witness, Montana."
Montana drew her arm into his, and she went away as one stunned,
staring at John Gaspar as if she could not yet understand the extent of
the calamity which had befallen her. She had been worse than scorned.
She had been rejected with pity!
As she disappeared into the door of her house, Sinclair looked at the
bowed head of John Gaspar.
"Denver!" he called suddenly.
"Yes, your honor."
"The prisoner's hands are tied. Wipe the sweat off'n his face, will
you?"
"Sure!"
With a large and brilliant bandanna Montana obeyed. Then he paused in
the midst of his operation.
"Your honor."
"Well?"
"It ain't sweat. It's tears!"
"Tears!" Riley Sinclair started up, then slumped back on his stump with
a groan. "Tears!" he echoed, with a voice that was a groan. "John
Gaspar, what kind of a man are you?"
He turned back to the court with a frown.
"Mr. Jury," he said, "look at this prisoner we got. Look him over
considerable. I say, did you ever see a man like that? A man that ain't
able to love a girl like Sally Bent when she just about throws herself
at his head? Is he worth keeping alive? Look at him, and then listen to
me. I see the whole of it, Mr. Jury."
Buck Mason leaned forward with interest, glowering upon John Gaspar.
"This skunk
of Sally Bent's voice, whipping his eyes past Gaspar to avoid meeting
again that clinging stare.
"Sally Bent," he said, "do you know the prisoner?"
"You know I know him. John Gaspar boards with us."
"Ah, then you know him!"
"That's a silly question. What I want to say is—"
"Wait till you're asked, Sally Bent."
She stamped her foot. Quietly Sinclair compared the girl and the
accused man.
"Here's the point," he said slowly. "You knew Quade, and you knew John
Gaspar."
"Yes."
"You know Quade's dead?"
"I've just heard it."
"You didn't like him much?"
"I used to like him."
"Until Gaspar blew in?"
"You've got no right to ask those questions."
"I sure have. All right, I gather you were pretty sweet on Quade till
Gaspar come along."
"I never said so!"
"Girl," pronounced Riley solemnly, "ain't it a fact that you went
around to a lot of parties and suchlike things with Quade?"
She was silent.
"It's the straight thing you're giving her," broke in Larsen. "After
Gaspar come, she didn't have no time for none of us!"
"Ah!" said his honor significantly, scowling on Sally Bent. "After you
cut out Quade, he got ugly, didn't he?"
"He sure did!" said Sally. "He said things that no gentleman would of
said to a lady."
"Such as what?"
"Such as that I was a flirt. And he said, I swear to it, that he'd get
Gaspar!" She stopped, panting with excitement. "He wanted to murder
John Gaspar!"
Riley Sinclair lifted his heavy brows. "That's a pretty serious thing
to say, Sally Bent."
"But, it's the truth! And I've even heard him threaten Gaspar!"
"But you tried to make them friends? You tried to smooth Quade down?"
"I wouldn't waste my time on a bully! I just told John to get a gun and
be ready to defend himself."
"And he done it?"
"He done it. But he never fired the gun."
"What was the last time Quade seen you?"
"The day before yesterday. He come up here and told me that he knew me
and John Gaspar was going to get married, and that he wouldn't stand
still and see the thing go through."
"But what he said was right, wasn't it? Gaspar had asked you to marry
him?"
She dropped her head. "No."
"What? You mean to say that Gaspar hadn't told you he loved you?"
"Never! But now that John's in this trouble, I don't care if the whole
world knows it! I love John Gaspar!"
What a voice! What a lighted face, as she turned to the prisoner. But,
instead of a flush of happiness, John Gaspar rose and shrank away from
the outstretched hands of the girl. And he was pale—pale with sorrow,
and even with pity, it seemed to Sinclair.
"No, no," said the soft voice of Gaspar. "Not that, Sally. Not that!"
Decidedly it would not do to let this scene progress. "Take away the
witness, Montana."
Montana drew her arm into his, and she went away as one stunned,
staring at John Gaspar as if she could not yet understand the extent of
the calamity which had befallen her. She had been worse than scorned.
She had been rejected with pity!
As she disappeared into the door of her house, Sinclair looked at the
bowed head of John Gaspar.
"Denver!" he called suddenly.
"Yes, your honor."
"The prisoner's hands are tied. Wipe the sweat off'n his face, will
you?"
"Sure!"
With a large and brilliant bandanna Montana obeyed. Then he paused in
the midst of his operation.
"Your honor."
"Well?"
"It ain't sweat. It's tears!"
"Tears!" Riley Sinclair started up, then slumped back on his stump with
a groan. "Tears!" he echoed, with a voice that was a groan. "John
Gaspar, what kind of a man are you?"
He turned back to the court with a frown.
"Mr. Jury," he said, "look at this prisoner we got. Look him over
considerable. I say, did you ever see a man like that? A man that ain't
able to love a girl like Sally Bent when she just about throws herself
at his head? Is he worth keeping alive? Look at him, and then listen to
me. I see the whole of it, Mr. Jury."
Buck Mason leaned forward with interest, glowering upon John Gaspar.
"This skunk
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