'I'll collect the rest from them coyotes,' I says.
'Don't do it!' he shuddered. 'They'd kill me after you left!'
'I wanta do the right thing,' I says. 'I'll work out the rest of it.'
He looked at me right sharp then, and says: 'Come into the bar.'
But I seen three of 'em was coming to, so I hauled 'em up and told 'em sternly to tote their friends out to the hoss trough and bring 'em to. They done so, kinda wabbling on their feet. They acted like they was still addled in the brains, and McVey said it looked to him like Middleton was out for the day, but I told him it was quite common for a man to be like that which has jest had a fifteen-pound bowling ball split in two over his head.
Then I went into the bar with McVey and he poured out the drinks.
'Air you in earnest about workin' out that debt?' says he.
'Sure,' I said. 'I always pays my debts, by fair means or foul.'
'Ain't you Breckinridge Elkins?' says he, and when I says I was, he says: 'I thought I rekernized you when them fools was badgerin' you. Look out for 'em. That ain't all of 'em. The whole gang rode into town a hour or so ago and run the sheriff and his deperty out, but Buck didn't stay long. He seen his gal, and then he pulled out for the hills again with four men. They's a couple more besides them you fit hangin' around somewheres. I dunno where.'
'Outlaws?' I said, and he said: 'Shore. But the local law-force ain't strong enough to deal with 'em, and anyway, most of the folks in town is in cahoots with 'em, and warns 'em if officers from outside come after 'em. They hang out in the hills ordinary, but they come into Red Cougar regular. But never mind them. I was jest puttin' you on yore guard.
'This is what I want you to do. A month ago I was comin' back to Red Cougar with a tidy fortune in gold dust I'd panned back up in the hills, when I was held up and robbed. It warn't one of Ridgeway's men; it was Three- Fingers Clements, a old lone wolf and the wust killer in these parts. He lives by hisself up in the hills and nobody knows where.
'But I jest recent learnt by accident. He sent a message by a sheepherder and the sheepherder got drunk in my saloon and talked. I learnt he's still got my gold, and aims to sneak out with it as soon as he's j'ined by a gang of desperadoes from Tomahawk. It was them the sheepherder was takin' the message to. I cain't git no help from the sheriff; these outlaws has got him plumb buffaloed. I want you to ride up in the hills and git my gold. Of course, if yo're scairt of him--'
'Who said I was scairt of him or anybody else?' I demanded irritably. 'Tell me how to git to his hide-out and I'm on my way.'
McVey's eyes kinda gleamed, and he says: 'Good boy! Foller the trail that leads outa town to the northwest till you come to Diablo Canyon. Foller it till you come to the fifth branch gulch openin' into it on the right. Turn off the trail then and foller the gulch till you come to a big white oak nigh the left-hand wall. Climb up outa the gulch there and head due west up the slope. Purty soon you'll see a crag like a chimney stickin' out above a clump of spruces. At the foot of that crag they's a cave, and Clements is livin' there. And he's a tough old--'
'It's as good as did,' I assured him, and had another drink, and went out and clumb aboard Cap'n Kidd and headed out of town.
BUT AS I RODE PAST THE last cabin on the left, I suddenly remembered about Sue Pritchard, and I 'lowed Three Fingers could wait long enough for me to pay my respecks on her. Likely she was expecting me and getting nervous and impatient because I was so long coming. So I reined up to the stoop and hailed, and somebody looked at me through a winder. They also appeared to be a rifle muzzle trained on me, too, but who could blame folks for being cautious with them Ridgeway coyotes in town.
'Oh, it's you!' said a female voice, and then the door opened and Sue Pritchard said: 'Light and come in! Did you kill any of them rascals?'
'I'm too soft-hearted for my own good,' I says apologetically. 'I jest merely only sent 'em down the road on foot. But I ain't got time to come in now. I'm on my way up in the mountains to see Three Fingers Clements. I aimed to stop on my way back, if it's agreeable with you.'
'Three Fingers Clements?' says she in a pecooliar voice. 'Do you know where he is?'
'McVey told me,' I said. 'He's got a poke of dust he stole from McVey. I'm goin' after it.'
She said something under her breath which I must have misunderstood because I was sure Miss Pritchard wouldn't use the word it sounded like.
'Come in jest a minute,' she begged. 'You got plenty of time. Come in and have a snort of corn juice. My folks is all visitin' and it gets mighty lonesome to a gal. Please come in!'
Well, I never could resist a purty gal, so I tied Cap'n Kidd to a stump that looked solid, and went in, and she brung out her old man's jug. It was tolerable licker. She said she never drunk none, personal.
We set and talked, and there wasn't a doubt we cottoned to each other right spang off. There is some that says that Breckinridge Elkins hain't got a lick of sense when it comes to wimmin-folks--among these bein' my cousin, Bearfield Buckner--but I vow and declare that same is my only weakness, if any, and that likewise it is manly weakness.
This Sue Pritchard was plumb sensible I seen. She wasn't one of these flighty kind that a feller would have to court with a banjo or geetar. We talked around about bear-traps and what was the best length barrel on shotguns and similar subjects of like nature. I likewise told her one or two of my mild experiences and her eyes boogered big as saucers. We finally got around to my latest encounter.
'Tell me some more about Three Fingers,' she coaxed. 'I didn't know anybody knowed his hide-out.' So I told her what all McVey said, and she was a heap interested, and had me repeat the instructions how to get there two or three times. Then she ast me if I'd met any badmen in town, and I told her I'd met six and they was now recovering on pallets in the back of the general store. She looked startled at this, and purty soon she ast me to excuse her because she heard one of the neighbor women calling her. I didn't hear nobody, but I said all right, and she went out of the back door, and I heard her whistle three times. I sot there and had another snort or so and reflected that the gal was ondoubtedly taken with me.
She was gone quite a spell, and finally I got up and looked out the back winder and seen her standing down by the corral talking to a couple of fellers. As I looked one of 'em got on a bobtailed roan and headed north at a high run, and t'other'n come on back to the cabin with Sue.
'This here's my cousin Jack Montgomery,' says she. 'He wants to go with you. He's jest a boy, and likes excitement.'
He was about the hardest-looking boy I ever seen, and he seemed remarkable mature for his years, but I said: 'All right. But we got to git goin'.'
'Be careful, Breckinridge,' she advised. 'You, too, Jack.'
'I won't hurt Three Fingers no more'n I got to,' I promised her, and we went on our way yonderly, headed for the hideout.
WE GOT TO DIABLO CANYON in about a hour, and went up it about three miles till we come to the gulch mouth McVey had described. All to onst Jack Montgomery pulled up and p'inted down at a pool we was passing in a holler of the rock, and hollered: 'Look there! Gold dust scattered at the aidge of the water!'
'I don't see none,' I says.
'Light,' he urged, getting off his cayuse. 'I see it! It's thick as butter along the aidge!'
Well, I got down and bent over the pool but I couldn't see nothing and all to onst something hit me in the back of the head and knocked my hat off. I turnt around and seen Jack Montgomery holding the bent barrel of a Winchester carbine in his hands. The stock was busted off and pieces was laying on the ground. He looked awful surprized about something; his eyes was wild and his hair stood up.
'Air you sick?' I ast. 'What you want to hit me for?'
'You ain't human!' he gasped, dropping the bent barrel and jerking out his pistol. I grabbed him and taken it away from him.
'What's the matter with you?' I demanded. 'Air you locoed?'
For answer he run off down the canyon shrieking like a lost soul. I decided he must have went crazy like sheepherders does sometimes, so I pursued him and catched him. He fit and hollered like a painter.
'Stop that!' I told him sternly. 'I'm yore friend. It's my duty to yore cousin to see that you don't come to no harm.'
'Cousin, hell!' says he with frightful profanity. 'She ain't no more my cousin than you be.'
