Riders West (Musaicum Vintage Western). Ernest Haycox

Ruel Gasteen will absolutely obey orders. St. Cloud knows that."

      "How," went on Bellew idly, "would you like to be a dead sheriff?"

      "Thought we'd get to the nigger in the woodpile pretty soon. Let's have it."

      "I'm going to catch thunder for monkeying in your business," said Dan whimsically. "But anyhow, Hugo Lamont was on the train tonight."

      "So?" Jubilee straightened. "I ran him out of here once by the slack of his britches."

      "I knew that. Why do you suppose he wanted to come back?"

      "Vote St. Cloud's ticket of course."

      "No," answered Bellew. "No. If it was that, he'd wait until the last day. Only reason he'd venture into this town again would be to take a shot at you. He's got a score to settle."

      "I can run him out again," was Jubilee's laconic observation.

      Bellew smiled. "As I said, I'm going to get the devil for interfering. But I was afraid if he got here he'd broach you before I could put my warning in. So I stopped the train and set him off. If he's comin', it will be afoot. You're warned."

      "I wish you'd quit goin' to trouble for me, Dan."

      "I'm not sure there wasn't somebody else of interest on that train," added Bellew, very thoughtful. "Saw a couple of saddles in an empty section. You watch your step."

      "Why should everybody have the sudden desire to make a target out of me?"

      "St. Cloud isn't any too certain he'll win the election. If you got unfortunately killed in line of duty it would simplify matters for him. He's determined to put his whole ticket of scoundrels into office."

      "He's a cool enough cucumber to figure all the angles."

      "Never underestimate him," said Dan. "He has a first-rate mind. And when you harness a good head to crooked schemes, you've got a situation full of dynamite."

      Silence came again, prolonged and studious. Jubilee ran a hand through his sorrel hair and appeared puzzled. "This is a rougher, tougher country than it used to be, Dan. More trouble, more suspicion, more thievin'."

      "I've watched the grief gatherin' up for the last couple years," agreed Bellew. "The trouble is right over yonder in Smoky Draw, my lad. Neel St. Cloud never used to be anything but a talking man. Then he got himself an idea. He's been working on it ever since."

      "What idea?"

      "I don't know," was Bellew's slow answer. "I can't figure out a sensible story."

      "If it was a decent candidate runnin' against me," grumbled Jubilee, "I wouldn't mind losing. This job is nothing but sorrow—and gettin' worse. One of these days I may have to do something I don't want to do. Learned yesterday that Pete Garcia finally made up his mind to throw in openly with the crooks. He's moved to Smoky Draw. He's ridin' with St. Cloud's outfit."

      Bellew reared, showed a disappointed disgust. "That's something I halfways expected but hoped wouldn't happen."

      "He's plain no good. Don't see how one family can produce two such different kids. Helen's straight as a string. Pete's foolishness hurts her, Dan."

      "Of course it does. I've got to talk to that boy."

      "For more reasons than one," added Jubilee quietly, "it hurts her."

      Dan stared at his partner. "Well?"

      But Jubilee got up, shaking his head. "I'll say no more. Shoot a game of pool?"

      "No, I've got to see Townsite yet." Bellew also rose, openly disturbed. "All Helen ever got out of that shiftless family of hers was a dirty deal. Now here is her brother gone haywire. I'm going to find Pete and make his ears ring."

      "Do you no good. You've kept him on the safe side long as you ever will." Jubilee made a circle about the room, scowling at the floor. Presently he stopped in front of Dan. "You could go farther and do worse, Dan."

      "Cut that out. Helen's just a kid."

      "Nineteen. You're only twenty-six."

      "What are you trying to do?" challenged Bellew. "Marry me off? Be sensible."

      Jubilee grinned slowly, but his eyes remained sober.

      "Wanted to get a declaration. If you're not in the race, then the field's open to me."

      "With my best love," drawled Bellew.

      "Don't want yours. I'd want hers. That's no good, either. Hers is on another man."

      Bellew was instantly interested. "Who is he?"

      "Not sure," said Jubilee evasively and changed the subject. "While we're speakin' of being careful, you do same. If St. Cloud really takes to a hardware campaign, you'll be number one on his list. Don't forget that. You and him have been on the opposite ends of the teeter-board for a good many years."

      Bellew, not paying much attention, went out, deeply engrossed with the affairs of Helen and Pete Garcia, somberly and acutely displeased. He could not remember when they had not brought their troubles to him. He couldn't recall when he hadn't fought for the both of them. With Pete it was only a question of keeping him out of too serious trouble, for the boy was a slack and shiftless Garcia. But Helen, and the thought brought a quick upswing of pleasure, was always full of pride, always indomitably at work. To see her was to see a flash of something bright across an otherwise gray scene.

      "She's been a good soldier, with never any reward," grumbled Bellew. "She was made for something better than a slavey to a plain, no-'count family. I'm going to run Pete out of the country: If he wants to go to hell, he can do it beyond her sight."

      His feet struck the edge of the walk, and he woke from his preoccupation to find he had unconsciously turned back to the Golden Bull. Recollecting he wanted to see Townsite, he started forward. A moment later he came to a full halt in the shadows, strangely puzzled. Something happened on the edge of his vision—happened swiftly and surreptitiously. That odd movement was enough to throw him instantly against his alert and wary self. Placing his shoulders against the saloon walls, he turned his eyes to the lower and blacker half of the town.

      He saw, first, a man standing quite alone on the walk about fifty yards away. The fellow was drawn up against a porch post in an attitude of rigid attention and his face was aimed on the sheriff's office diagonally across the street. This went on for perhaps half a minute; then the man lifted an arm in apparent signal. At once a second figure came from an alley near the sheriff's office and stepped along the boards, keeping well against the building walls. All this, Bellew thought with a narrower interest, was deliberate and premeditated; the man passed Jubilee's door, looked swiftly in, not breaking his stride. A little later he arrived directly opposite Bellew, whom he apparently didn't see.

      Bellew flashed a glance back toward the first man, to discover instantly that one had faded out of the scene; and then this predatory maneuvering became clear to him. The second fellow halted near Townsite's, turned on his heels, and began to retrace his route. Bellew reached the dusty street in three long paces, coldly afraid he had come into action too late. His challenge broke across the quiet:

      "Wait a minute."

      It was, he realized, a bad place to be and a poor move to make. He stood aligned between the two—and the game was deadly serious. He recognized that before the echo of his order had quite died. The cruising man pulled to a sharp halt, evidently startled out of his set design. Taut and fine-drawn, Bellew saw the impact of that surprise congeal the man to a postured stillness—a warning stillness that hit Bellew with a chilling effect. Thinking about the fellow somewhere behind him, and thinking of Jubilee off guard in the brightly illumined office, Bellew spoke again:

      "Don't lose your head. Cut loose from your rope. Come over here."

      There was a dimming of that lamp glow flooding from Townsite's door. Somebody stepped out—this much was on the remote area of Bellew's vision. A chair scraped a floor near by. The opposing man let out a long, gusty sigh and said, "You're in the way, Bellew." His whole body was released from the