“That's how it was, Steve. In as long as it takes to empty a Winchester,
we were every one of us guilty of a murder we'd each have given a laig
to have stopped. We were all in it, all tied together, because we had
broke the law to go raiding in the first place. Technically, the man
that emptied that rifle wasn't any more guilty than us poor wretches
that stood frozen there while he did it. Put it that we might shave the
gallows, even then the penitentiary would bury us. There was only one
thing to do. We agreed to stand together, and keep mum.”
“Is that why you're telling me, Alec?” Fraser smiled.
“We ain't telling you, not legally,” the cow-puncher answered coolly.
“If you was ever to say we had, Dick and me would deny it. But we ain't
worrying any about you telling it. You're a clam, and we know it. No,
we're telling you, son, because we want you to know about how it was.
The boys didn't ride out to do murder. They rode out simply to drive the
sheep off their range.”
The Texan nodded. “That's about how I figured it. I'm glad you told
me, boys. I reckon I don't need to tell you I'm padlocked in regard to
this.”
Arlie came to the door and looked in. “It's time you boys were going.
Doc said a half hour.”
“All right, Arlie,” responded Dick. “So-long, Steve. Be good, you old
pie eater.”
After they had gone, the Texan lay silent for a long time. He
understood perfectly their motive in telling him the story. They had not
compromised themselves legally, since a denial would have given them
two to one in the matter of witnesses. But they wished him to see that,
morally, every man but one who rode on that raid was guiltless of the
Squaw Creek murders.
Arlie came in presently, and sat down near the window with some
embroidery.
“Did the boys tire you?” she asked, noting his unusual silence.
“No. I was thinking about what they told me. They were giving me the
inside facts of the Squaw Creek raid.”
She looked up in surprise. “They were?” A little smile began to dimple
the corners of her mouth. “That's funny, because they had just got
through forgiving me for what I told you.”
“What they told me was how the shooting occurred.”
“I don't know anything about that. When I told you their names I was
only telling what I had heard people whisper. That's all I knew.”
“You've been troubled because your friends were in this, haven't you?
You hated to think it of them, didn't you?” he asked.
“Yes. It has troubled me a lot.”
“Don't let it trouble you any more. One man was responsible for all the
bloodshed. He went mad and saw red for half a minute. Before the rest
could stop him, the slaughter was done. The other boys aren't guilty of
that, any more than you or I.”
“Oh, I'm glad--I'm glad,” she cried softly. Then, looking up quickly to
him: “Who was the man?” she asked.
“I don't know. It is better that neither of us should know that.”
“I'm glad the boys told you. It shows they trust you.”
“They figure me out a white man,” he answered carelessly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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