The Ridin' Kid from Powder River Part 59

"How fast kin you go?"

"Depends on the road. My car is guaranteed to do seventy-five on the level."

"Some stepper! You could git to Sanborn and back in a couple of hours."

"Not quite. I figure it about a four-hour trip. I'd be glad to have you along. Friend of mine tells me there's a thoroughbred saddle-horse there that is going to be sold at auction. I've been advertising for a horse for my daughter. You might look him over and tell me what you think of him."

"I reckon I know him already," said Pete.

"How's that?"

"'Cause they's no thoroughbred stock around Sanborn. If it's the one I'm thinkin' about, it was left there by a friend of mine."

"Oh--I see! I remember, now. Sanborn is where you--er--took the train for El Paso?"

"We left our hosses there--same as the paper said."

"H-mm! Well, I suppose the horse is to be sold for charges. Sheriff's sale, I understand."

"Oh, you're safe in buyin' _him_ all right. And he sure is a good one."

"Well, I'll speak to the chief. I imagine he'll let you go with me."

Pete shook his head. "Nope. He wouldn't even if he had the say. But the sheriff of Sanborn County has kind of invited me to go over there for a spell. I guess he figured on leavin' here in a couple of days."

"He can't take you till I certify that you're able to stand the journey," said Andover brusquely.

"Well, he's comin' to-morrow. I'm dead sick of stayin' here. Can't you tell him I kin travel?"

"We'll see how you feel to-morrow. h.e.l.lo! Here's Miss Gray. What, six o'clock! I had no idea . . . Yes, a little temperature, Miss Gray. Too much excitement. A little surface inflammation--nothing serious. A good night's rest and he'll be a new man. Good-night."

Pete was glad to see Doris. Her mere presence was restful. He sighed heavily, glanced up at her and smiled. "A little soup, Miss Gray.

It's awful excitin'. Slight surface inflammation on them boiled beets.

Nothin' serious--they ain't scorched. A good night's rest and the cook'll be a new man tomorrow. Doc Andover is sure all right--but I always feel like he was wearin' kid gloves and was afraid of gittin'

'em dirty, every time he comes in."

Doris was not altogether pleased by Pete's levity and her face showed it. She did not smile, but rearranged the things on the tray in a preoccupied manner, and asked him if there was anything else he wanted.

"Lemme see?" Pete frowned prodigiously. "Got salt and pepper and b.u.t.ter and sugar; but I reckon you forgot somethin' that I'm wantin' a whole lot."

"What is it?"

"You're forgittin' to smile."

"I read that letter from Mr. Bailey."

"I'm mighty glad you did, Miss Gray. I wanted you to know what was in that letter. You'd sure like Ma Bailey, and Jim and Andy. Andy was my pardner--when--afore I had that trouble with Steve Gary. No use tryin'

to step round it now. I reckon you know all about it."

"And you will be going back to them--to your friends on the ranch?"

"Well--I aim to. I got to go over to Sanborn first."

"Sanborn? Do you mean--?"

"Jest what you're thinkin', Miss Gray. I seen a spell back how you was wonderin' that I could josh about my grub, and Doc Andover. Well, I got in bad, and I ain't blamin' n.o.body--and I ain't blamin' myself--and that's why I ain't hangin' my head about anything I done. And I ain't kickin' because I got started on the wrong foot. _I'm_ figurin' how I kin git started on the other foot--and keep a-goin'."

"But why should you tell me about these things? I can't help you. And it seems terrible to think about them. If I were a man--like Dr.

Andover--"

"I reckon you're right," said Pete. "I got no business loadin' you up with all my troubles. I'm goin' to quit it. Only you been kind o'

like a pardner--and it sure was lonesome, layin' here and thinkin'

about everything, and not sayin' a word to n.o.body. But I jest want you to know that I didn't kill Sam Brent--but I sure would 'a' got him--if somebody hadn't been a flash quicker than me, that night. Brent was after the money we was packin', and he meant business."

"You mean that--some one killed him in self-defense?"

"That's the idee. It was him or us."

"Then why don't you tell the police that?"

"I sure aim to. But what they want to know is who the fella was that got Brent."

"But the papers say that the other man escaped."

"Which is right."

"And you won't tell who he is?"

"Nope."

"But why not--if it means your own freedom?"

"Mebby because they wouldn't believe me anyhow."

"I don't think that is your real reason. Oh, I forgot to return your letter. I'll bring it next time."

"I'll be goin' Thursday. Doc Andover he's goin' over to Sanborn and he ast me to go along with him."

"You mean--to stay?"

"For a spell, anyhow. But I'm comin' back."

Doris glanced at her wrist watch and realized that it was long past the hour for the evening meal. "I'm going out to my sister's to-morrow, for the day. I may not see you before you leave,"

Pete sat up. "Shucks! Well, I ain't sayin' thanks for what you done for me, Miss Gray. 'Thanks' sounds plumb starvin' poor and rattlin', side of what I want to tell you. I'd be a'most willin' to git shot ag'in--"

"Don't say that!" exclaimed Doris.

"I would be shakin' hands with you," said Pete. "But this here is just 'Adios,' for I'm sure comin' back."