The Lonely Men by Louis L’Amour

shot Billy Higgins there was just him and me. Nobody was close enough to hear

what was said.”

Well, we talked a while, and he asked a sight of questions, but after that

neither of us had much hope. That feud was ten years out of my mind when I met

those men in Yuma, and the name Higgins meant nothing at all to me.

So here I was in jail, and Laura Sackett, who’d been the cause of the deaths of

at least three good men, was walking free.

After the captain left I sat on my cot and stared at the blank wall, trying to

see my way clear, but nothing came to me, so finally, tired as I still was, I

rolled over on the cot and went to sleep.

When I opened my eyes again it was nigh on to sundown and the jailer was at the

door. “Lady to see you,” he said.

“All right.” I got up, staggering with sleep and trying to get my bearings. This

would be Dorset, I figured. Only it wasn’t. It was the last person in the world

I expected — Laura Sackett.

She turned to the jailer. “May I talk with my brother-in-law alone?”

When the jailer had gone, she turned those big blue eyes on me.

“I never expected you to get back,” she told me coolly, “but I am glad you did.

Now I can see you hang, with my own eyes.”

“Now that isn’t what you’d call neighborly,” I said, determined not to let her

get any more satisfaction than I could help.

“I only wish Orrin could be here to see you hang,” she said, staring at me. “And

Tyrel … I hated him the most.”

“Maybe that’s because you couldn’t fool him,” I said. “But ma’am, do you really

want to see me hang that much? I never did you any harm. Never even saw you

until I came up the trail from Yuma.”

“I want to see you hang, and I will. I only wish I could see Orrin’s face when

he gets the news.”

“Maybe you will see him,” I said. “Orrin’s a right good lawyer. If he can be

free of his duties that long, I’ll maybe get him to defend me in court.”

She did not like that. Orrin was a mighty impressive figure of a man, and he

could talk. He had the Welsh gift for talking, and she knew how persuasive he

could be.

“He’ll never get here. If you send for him I’ll get Arch Hadden to kill him.”

“Arch? So that’s why he was in Mexico, a-hunting me? I wondered how he knew we’d

be there, when we were so all-fired careful that nobody knew.”

“Yes, I sent them after you. And I’ll send Arch after Orrin, if he comes here.”

“So Arch is in town, is he?” That was something to consider, and of a sudden

those prison walls began to seem as if they were crowding in on me. Arch Hadden

would know I was in jail, and he would come for me. I glanced at that high-up

window, and was suddenly glad it was so small and so high up.

“Send for Orrin. I would like that. I will have him killed.” As she spoke it

seemed to me there was something in those blue eyes that looked mighty like

insanity.

“You mistake Orrin. He won’t kill easy, and Arch Hadden never saw the day he

could draw with Orrin.”

I was talking to the wind. She didn’t hear me and would have paid it no mind if

she had, for I knew she had no such idea as them drawing against each other. She

meant a rifle from a hilltop at some stage stop, or something of that kind.

After she had gone I studied about it a mite, and then called the jailer.

“You get word to Cap’n Lewiston, will you? I got to see him.”

“Sure.” The jailer eyed me thoughtfully. “Did you really shoot that Higgins

feller?”

“If you were lying out in the glare of the sun, and you were gut-shot and dying

and the Apaches were shooting flaming slivers of pitch into your hide, wouldn’t

you ask to be shot?”

“That the way it was? I heerd he was an enemy of yourn.”

So I explained about the old Higgjns-Sackett feud. And I said again, “But I

haven’t given thought to that fight in ten years, Besides, when a man’s hunkered

down on a ridge alone, and the Apaches are around him, do you think he’d waste a

shot to kill a man the Indians were sure to get?”

“No, sir, I surely don’t,” he said.

He went away then, and I was alone until the door opened and Dorset came in. She

was carrying a plate all covered over. “The lady over at the Shoo-Fly sent

this,” she said. She lifted her chin defensively. “I didn’t have any money or

I’d have brought something for you.”

“You’ve done enough. How about you and your sister? Have you got a place to

stay?”

“With the Creeds. They’ll be coming to thank you. Dan Creed said he’d bust you

out of here if you wanted.”

“I’ll stay. Maybe I’m a fool, but no Sackett aside from Nolan ever rode in

flight from the law.”

We talked for a spell, and then she left. The jailer returned, but he’d not seen

hide nor hair of Captain Lewiston. Lieutenant Davis had been walking out with

Laura Sackett, so he had avoided them.

Alone again, I did some right serious thinking. Tampico Rocca and Spanish Murphy

were dead. Battles probably was, but even had they been alive there was nothing

any of them could tell that would speak for me, because when I shot Higgins I

was alone. I’d been a fool to mention it to Laura, but it lay heavy on my mind,

and at the time I figured her for family.

What really stood against me was that I’d shot a man who carried the name of a

family against which my family had feuded. The man had been wounded several

times before, but there was only my say-so that the Indians had done it. The

pitch-pine slivers was Apache work, nobody denied that. But the way the talk was

going made it seem as if I’d taken advantage of Apache trouble to kill an old

enemy, and a thing like that is hard to down.

Billy Higgins had a sight of friends around Tucson, and nobody there knew me

except by name. A good part of the talk going around was carried on by

Lieutenant Davis, who believed whatever Laura told him.

Two days passed slowly, and I just sat on my cot, and played checkers with the

jailer. One thing had changed. That jailer never went off and left me alone any

more, and he kept the door to the street locked.

The sheriff was out of town, and wasn’t due back for a week, and I began to get

the feeling that the quicker they tried me the better. If they didn’t hurry,

some of those boys outside might be figuring on a necktie party. I began to wish

for the high-up country away out yonder, where nobody goes but eagles and

mountain sheep. By the wall outside the cell I could see my own outfit — my

saddle, bridle, and saddlebags, my rifle and pistol belt. I wanted a horse

between my knees, and a Winchester.

Dan Creed came to see me. The jailer knew him and admitted him without

hesitation. “You’d better let me get you a gun,” Creed said when the jailer had

gone back to the office. “They’re surely figuring on stringing you up. I’ve

talked until I’m blue in the face, but they pay me no mind. They say, ‘Sure, he

brought your youngsters out of Mexico. You’d speak for him no matter what kind

of a coyote he is.’ ”

“What else are they saying?”

“Well, they say they’ve only your word for it that the Apaches were still there

when you shot Higgins. They say when the Injuns pulled out you just figured to

be rid of another Higgins.”

Lewiston, who seemed to have been my friend, was gone. Even if I could get word

to Orrin and Tyrel, they were too far away to do much good. It began to look to

me as if my number was really up.

In matters such as lynching there’s always toughs who are ready for it, and

there are always people who don’t want to be involved. There are men who would

stop such things, but it takes a strong man who will make the attempt. I’d never

expected to be on the end of the rope myself, although anybody who packs a gun

runs that risk.

Again night came, and outside I could hear the mutter of voices, and angry talk.

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