he knew what he was talking about.”
“What was the story?” someone asked impatiently.
“Hold your horses, will you?” Alex said, loving the attention, wanting to draw it out as long as possible. “I'm tellin' you about the traveler so you'll know the story's straight and I'm not making it up. This traveler's horse'd thrown a shoe, and he'd stopped at Butler's to get it fixed up—that's where my pa works.”
“We know your pa works for Mac Butler,” Todd Wintworth said. “But what has it got to do with Blaine?”
Jeff felt his scalp tingle at the mention of his father's name. He was afraid that they were going to look around and see him standing there—but they didn't.
“This is the way it happened,” Alex said confidentially, dropping his voice so that Jeff could barely hear him. “This traveler claimed he'd been in this town, a place called Limerock, up in the New Mexican country. When the name of Nate Blaine turned up in the talk, my pa said this stranger turned green around the gills and said he wouldn't stay overnight in a town where Nathan Blaine lived.”
“Why not?” Todd Wintworth put in again.
“Because Blaine killed a man in Limerock!” Alex said, pausing a moment for dramatic effect. “The traveler swore it was the gospel truth; he was there. Shot this man dead, Nate Blaine did, in a poker game. The stranger said they were still looking for him over New Mexico way.”
For one long moment Jeff stood still as stone.
“I've heard that story before,” one of the boys said.
“But not from a man that was actually there!” another one said.
“That's what I'm telling you!” Alex said importantly. “This is the truth; you've got to believe it.” Then he drew himself up, scowling. “Unless somebody wants to call me a liar.”
Alex was a good deal bigger than the others. “Wait a minute, Alex. Nobody said you was a liar.”
“Well, they better not!”
Jeff spoke. “And what if they do?”
All heads snapped in Jeff's direction. They saw him then for the first time, and some of them looked worried.
Jeff hardly recognized the voice that came from his throat. He stood so stiff and straight that his back began to ache. A cold fury raged within him.
He said, “I call you a liar, Alex. I call you a double damn liar.”
Alex Jorgenson looked startled.
“Do you admit you're a liar?” Jeff demanded.
Alex sneered. He was heavier and older, but he wasn't sure that he liked what he saw in Jeff's eyes.
“Admit it!” Jeff said hoarsely.
“Are you crazy?” Alex tried to laugh.
“You admit it, or you'll be sorry.”
Alex tried to blow himself up. He glanced at the others, drew in a deep breath and swaggered forward. “Just what do you think you're going to do about it? You want to fight, that's fine with me!”
“Gentlemen don't fight with their fists.”
The words surprised Jeff almost as much as they did Alex and the others. Then he remembered that he had heard his father say it several times in describing men like Longley and Hardin.
The shadow of worry vanished from Alex Jorgenson's eyes. He laughed. “You're yellow, Jeff Blaine! You're afraid to fight.”
“You admit you're a liar,” Jeff repeated grimly.
“And what if I don't?”
“I'll kill you.”
Alex did not hear the danger in the words. He laughed once more. “You're yellow!” he said again, and then he lunged at Jeff, hitting him solidly in the face with his big right fist.
Jeff reeled back under the impact, stumbled and fell to the ground. Anger was hot within him. He lost sight of Alex's advantage in age and weight. He was ready to shove himself up and fly into the grinning red face that leered down at him. Then, in his mind, he heard his father saying: “Gentlemen don't fight with their fists.” He stayed down.
Alex Jorgenson was pleased and surprised with his easy victory. He looked at the others, grinning.
“What did I tell you? He's yellow!”
Todd Wintworth was the only one among them to see the danger. He stepped forward, shoving at Alex. “Get away from here, fast! Before somebody gets hurt!”
Alex pushed him away. He strutted now, savoring the situation. “Nobody's going to get hurt,” he bragged. “Jeff Blaine's too yellow to get up and take his beating.”
Jeff spoke hoarsely from the ground. “We'll see who's yellow, Alex! I'll meet you at the cottonwood grove on Crowder's Creek when school gets out. And you'd better bring a gun!”
Jeff would not soon forget the look on Alex Jorgenson's face as the blood drained from it.
