The Coming of the Law. Charles Alden Seltzer

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The Coming of the Law - Charles Alden Seltzer

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when the judge had questioned him regarding his patient and had pointed significantly to one of Dry Bottom’s saloons. The doctor had told the judge there was no hope, and the latter had telegraphed East. The appearance of young Hollis had been the result. The judge’s heart had warmed toward the young man.

      “What are your intentions regarding the newspaper–the Kicker?” he questioned.

      Hollis looked up quickly, his face grave. “Perhaps if there had been no Kicker here my decision might have been different,” he said. “But so long as it is here it is in business to stay!”

      “I expect that decision won’t please Dunlavey a whole lot,” the judge returned.

      “Perhaps not,” drawled Hollis; “still, we can’t aim to please everybody. I expect I might be able to get hold of that printer–Potter I believe you called him?”

      “Potter won’t be hard to find,” assured the judge; “a search of the saloons would uncover him, I imagine.” He smiled. “When you get ready to get the Kicker out just let me know; I promise to have Potter on hand.”

      To the ears of the two men came a rattle of wheels and a voice. The judge leaned back in his chair and looked out through the window. His face wreathed into a broad smile as he resumed his former position and looked at Hollis. “Your range boss is here,” he said.

      They heard a step on the board walk, and a man stood in the doorway looking at them.

      The newcomer gave an instant impression of capability. He stood on the threshold, entirely composed, saturnine, serene eyed, absolutely sure of himself. He was arrayed in high heeled boots, minus spurs; the bottoms of a pair of dust-covered overalls were tucked into the boot legs; a woolen shirt, open at the throat, covered a pair of admirable shoulders; a scarlet handkerchief was knotted around his neck; and a wide brimmed hat, carelessly dented in the crown, was shoved rakishly back from his forehead. Sagging from his slim waist was a well filled cartridge belt and at the right hip a heavy revolver.

      “Howdy, judge!” he said with a smile, in response to Judge Graney’s cordial greeting.

      “Just come in?” questioned the judge.

      “Been in town an hour,” returned Norton.

      He flashed a searching glance at Hollis, which that young man met steadily. The thought crossed Hollis’s mind that the buckboard that he had seen in front of a store soon after leaving the station must have been Norton’s. But now Norton was speaking again and Hollis listened.

      “Dropped into the Fashion to see my friend Red Eggers,” resumed Norton, smiling broadly. “Same old crowd–Dunlavey, Yuma Ed, Ten Spot, Greasy–most of the bunch which has been makin’ things interestin’ for us hereabouts.”

      At the mention of “Yuma Ed” Hollis looked up. That was the name of the second man he had struck in the affair near the Fashion Saloon. He wondered if Norton knew. He did not remember to have seen the latter among the men who had surrounded him in the space between the two buildings. But the judge was now introducing him to Norton and he stood up, holding the latter’s hand and meeting his inspecting gaze fairly. He found that the range boss was fully as tall as he; indeed, Hollis discovered that he was compelled to look up slightly in order to meet the latter’s level gaze. Norton smiled peculiarly; there was a friendly expression in his eyes, but mingled with it was a reserved, appraising, speculative gleam, which drew a smile to Hollis’s lips.

      “So you’re Jim Hollis’s boy?” said Norton. “My new boss?” He grinned, evidently willing to go more than half way in forming a friendship with his “new boss”. “I don’t reckon that you’re much stuck on this here country–much as you’ve seen of it?”

      “I’ve been used to keeping busy,” laughed Hollis, “and my impression is that it seems rather dull out here.”

      Norton’s eyelashes flickered. He deliberately closed one eye at the judge, carefully averting his face so that Hollis could not see.

      “So you’re lookin’ for action?” he said to Hollis in a grave voice. “Mebbe it ain’t none of my business,” he added, his eyes gleaming, “but I’m askin’ you if you’re thinkin’ to stay in this country–keepin’ your dad’s ranch an’ his newspaper?”

      Hollis nodded. Norton’s eyes gleamed with a savage delight. “Bully!” he declared. “If you stay here you’ll get plenty of action. I was afraid you wouldn’t stay.” He turned to Judge Graney, a grin of satisfaction on his face. “I’m tellin’ you somethin’ that will tickle you a heap,” he said. “I told you that I had stopped in Red Egger’s saloon. I did. Dunlavey’s bunch was feelin’ mighty sore over somethin’. I stayed there a while, tryin’ to find out what it was all about, but there wasn’t none of them sayin’ anything to me. But pretty soon I got Red over into a corner an’ he told me. Accordin’ to him Dunlavey had corraled that Hazelton girl outside an’ was tellin’ her somethin’ pretty strong when a tenderfoot, which hadn’t any regard for Dunlavey’s delicate feelin’s, up an’ lambasted him in the jaw!”

      “Struck him?” queried the judge, grinning delightedly.

      “Knocked him cold,” affirmed Norton, his eyes dancing. “Pasted him so hard that he thought it was night an’ went to sleep. Then Yuma busted in an’ thought to work his guns. He got his’n, too. That there tenderfoot didn’t have no respect for guns. Red says he never thought any man could hit so hard. It must have been sumptuous!” He laughed delightedly. “I’d like to shake hands with that tenderfoot–he’s my friend!”

      Hollis pulled out a cigar case, selected a cigar, lighted it, and smoked in silence.

      So her name was Hazelton. Admiration over the manner in which she had held the men at bay before Dunlavey got to his feet still lingered; she had impressed him deeply. But a deeper satisfaction overshadowed his thoughts of the girl, for he had slugged Dunlavey, his father’s enemy. His satisfaction grew to amusement. Did Dunlavey know who had slugged him? He must have suspected, for Hollis recalled the man’s significant expression when, after he had risen from the ground he said: “I’ve got an idea that you an’ me will meet again.”

      Hollis’s thoughts flitted rapidly from Dunlavey to the girl. Now that he had decided to stay he had determined to search her out. He remembered that Dunlavey had spoken slightingly of her brother and he assured himself that he would not be entirely satisfied until he had uncovered the mystery. He might have questioned Norton or the judge, for both men evidently knew the girl, but he was reluctant to betray his interest in her to either man.

      He heard Norton make an exclamation of surprise, and looking up he saw him holding his right hand out, the palm upward, examining it. There was a splotch of blood on the palm and another on the under side of the thumb.

      “Shucks!” Norton was saying. “Now where in thunder did I get that?” He looked again at the hand and then suddenly dove forward to Hollis’s side, seized his right hand, peered at the knuckles and held the hand triumphantly aloft.

      “I reckon this is where I got it!” he grinned.

      Hollis looked ruefully down at his knuckles. The skin was gashed–evidently where it had come in contact with a bone in either Dunlavey’s or Yuma’s jaw. He had intended to keep the story of adventure to himself. But he saw that Norton had stepped back and was gazing soberly at the suitcases, which Hollis had deposited near the door. Norton suddenly let out a chirp

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