Starlight Riders Boxed-Set 50 Western Classics in One Edition. Ernest Haycox
take him down rump first," suggested Henry.
"No—no! He'll break his back."
"All right. Head first she is."
"That ain't so good either. He's apt to bust his neck."
This defeated Henry; he grew sarcastic. "Hell's afire, how many ways yuh think a horse can come downstairs? Listen, I'll get a pint of oats and hold it here. That'll move him."
"No—no! You want this horse to faint right here?"
"Aw," exploded Henry, "give him a push and see what happens!" The courtroom gathered that Henry was walking away, for the sheriffs plaintive remonstrance rose to heaven.
"Now, Henry, don't leave me like this. I'm holdin' him up, and I ain't able to let go!"
Wilgus rose from his seat. "You fellows are makin' a lot of monkey business out of this deal. That's my horse, and I mean to have him."
"You won't consider settlin' it?" queried Niland.
"I ain't a-goin' to pay a penny for what's already mine," stated Wilgus. "I'll allow he ain't pretty and couldn't drag a feather, but it's the principle of the thing. If I got to sue to get him, that's what I'm a-goin' to do."
"The province of the court is to see justice done," said the judge, eyeing Wilgus. "Arbitration having failed, we shall now see whose pound of flesh is whose. This is your legal right. Do you intend to bring action?"
Wilgus muttered to Langdell, and the lawyer spoke for him. "We do."
Ortez limped into the courtroom.
"I leaned him against Grover's stable and left him," was the sheriff's weary reply.
"How did you get him down the steps?"
"He fell down. And I hope I never lay eyes on him again."
The judge frowned. "It won't do, Sheriff. The court now orders you to take charge of the horse, pending determination of ownership. Take him to Grover's stable. See that he lacks for absolutely nothing in the way of food, attention, whatever medical services as may be deemed necessary. In short, watch over him with charity and compassion. Plaintiff Wilgus will post the necessary bond. Next case."
Niland came up to Denver with Tuggs ambling forlornly behind. "That means I ain't goin' to get use of my horse?" he wanted to know. "But I got to have a horse."
"Never mind," soothed Niland. "Strictly speaking, Tuggs, you never had a horse. You had an aged companion. Things will come out all right."
But Tuggs was miserably downcast. "What'm I goin' to do for a horse? Here's my rig in the middle of the street."
They had left the courtroom and were standing on the steps. Niland looked sympathetically at his client and lifted his eyes to Denver. Denver suddenly beckoned to a passing citizen. "Grover, step here a minute, will you?"
Grover, the owner of Sundown's stable, walked over. Denver explained the situation. "Everybody's got a horse but Tuggs, and you've got this for the time bein'. Just you haul out a good twelve-hundred-pound gelding and back it into Tuggs's rig. I'll have one of my men bring in another for you."
"Done," said Grover and walked away. Tuggs sputtered ineffectually.
"It's yours," cut in Denver, "and say no more about it."
The crowd eddied around them, and Tuggs was carried away. Fleabite Wilgus came out, muttering to himself. Steve Steers walked toward the hotel with a harried glance. Al Niland was chuckling. "Oh, this is going to be some case, Dave. It will go down in history. I ain't even started yet."
"What the devil are you driving at, Al?"
Al pointed at the departing Wilgus. "As an attorney I aim to get a square deal for Tuggs. As a human being I aim to give that miserable man the biggest kick in the pants he ever never got and should have had."
Cal Steele walked out with Langdell and beckoned the two. "Come along with us, will you? I want some witnesses to a deal."
The four proceeded past the Palace to the street's end, circled the last building, and climbed to Langdell's office. Langdell pulled down the shades against a beating sun, and reached for the inevitable bottle and glasses.
"I am of the belief," he told Niland, "this is going to be a drawn-out case."
"It is big with possibilities," Niland gravely assured him, "and fraught with consequences that may echo down the corridors of time."
"It is my suspicion you're going to leave no stone unturned," proceeded Langdell.
"If I find any stone unturned," Niland assured him, "I'll fire the stone turner."
"Justice must be done," stated Langdell, lifting his glass.
"We shall do justice and others," cheerfully acquiesced Niland, and they drank. Langdell settled in his chair, very slightly smiling.
"As attorney for my client, a most worthy man," he drawled dryly, "I shall check you at every turn, match you witness for witness, dollar for dollar."
"By George, that's fine!" exclaimed Niland. "You know damned well I don't like you, and you don't like me. But, reserving that state of mind for the present, I'll say you're sometimes halfways human."
Langdell flushed. "I suppose we must all have our fun before we die, Niland. As for disliking you, I seldom let anybody become so large in my mind as to spend time wasting emotion on him."
"Hah!" grunted Niland, sarcasm creeping into his words. "Now you're mounting the ivory pedestal again. You ought to let your humor out for air more often."
Denver sat back and studied these men through half-lidded eyes. Niland never minced his words and never failed to sting Fear Langdell with those short jabs of reckless, cynical truth. Langdell stared back at his opponent, mouth pressed grimly together, stiffly resentful. These were two absolutely opposite kinds of men. Denver understood the openhanded Niland very well; understood and sympathized with his friend's impulsive kindliness and sharp brain. But he had never yet penetrated that well- guarded mask Colonel Fear Langdell threw in front of his mind. There was, he felt, always some remote thought, some deep feeling moving secretively in Langdell's body.
"Well," broke in Cal Steele, "you fellows are out of court, so why fight? All I wanted you two for was to witness an agreement Langdell and I have drawn up. I'm selling him three hundred and fifty head of stock."
"Sign here," said Langdell, shoving the conveyance over the table and indicating the appropriate place. Niland dashed off his name hurriedly. Dave followed suit.
"Why don't you market your own beef?" he asked Steele.
"Langdell ships five times as much as I do," replied Steele, lazily accepting Langdell's check. "So I find it easier to take a profit this way than to do my own shipping. As a matter of fact, I'm going to go over to a feeder business one of these days. Buy, feed, and sell to a shipper like the Colonel here. Good business."
"Good for you, good for me," agreed Langdell. "Any time you want to dicker again let me know."
"I'll be around in maybe two months," said Cal Steele and got up. Leaving Langdell in his office, the three went back to the street. At Grogan's Steele tipped his head suggestively. "Let's damp down the dust, boys."
"Leave me out of it," drawled Denver. "I've got further business. And by the way of a parting benediction I will gently suggest this is no time to drink."
"Go with God," murmured Cal Steele indolently. "Any time's time to drink. Make up your mind about this girl proposition, Dave. I'm second best man, either way, understand. Come on, Al. You haven't got religion yet."
Niland followed Steele into the saloon, and they took their familiar corner at the bar, broaching a bottle. Niland studied his friend critically. "You," he announced, "are a fool. Why stand aside in favor of Dave? You know he hasn't got his mind set on Lola."
"How do I know it? How do you know it?" Steele's face settled to unusual soberness.