Cassidy, Hopalong (Fictitious character) -- Fiction; Western stories
When he reached the building he stopped and looked toward the toolshed
where Murphy, just back from a run of inspection up the line, and
Costigan, had turned the corner of the shed and stopped to renew their
argument, which must have been warm and personal, judging from their
motions. Finally Costigan, looking for all the world like a scarecrow,
hitched up what remained of his trousers, squared his shoulders, and
limped determinedly toward his little cottage, glancing neither to the
right nor to the left. Murphy, hands on hips, gazed after him, nodded
his head sharply, and was about to enter the shed when he caught sight
of the motionless two-gun man. Snapping his fingers in sudden decision,
he started toward his capable friend, his frame of mind plainly shown by
the way his stride easily took two ties at once.
"God loves th’ Irish, or ’twould be diggin’ graves we’d now be doin’,"
he said. "An’ me away! But they’ll be mindin’ their P’s an’ Q’s after
this. I was goin’ to skin Costigan, but how could I after I learned
what he did? It ain’t th’ first time he’s tied my hands by th’ quality
av his fightin’. But ’twas well ye took cards, an’ ’twas well ye played
’em, Tex."
"I have due respect for Costigan, but if he leaves th’ railroad property
he’ll lose it quick," replied the marshal. "I turned that mob into a
mop, but there’s no tellin’ what might happen one of these nights. Tim,
I wish his family was out of town. It’s no place for wimmin an’
children these days, not with ten marshals. I can’t be everywhere at
once, an’ I’m watchin’ one house now more than I ought to."
"They’re leavin’ on tomorry’s train east," said Murphy, breathing a sigh
of relief. "I’ve Mike’s word for it, an’ if he can’t get ’em to go
without him, then he’s goin’ with ’em, superintendent or no
superintendent! I’m sorry that it’s my fault that ye had th’ trouble,
Tex; I should ’a’ stayed close to them d--d fools."
"There’s no harm done, Tim, as it turned out. It was comin’ to a
show-down, gettin’ nearer an’ nearer every day. Now that it’s over th’
town will be quiet for a day or two. I know of marshals who were paid
from eight hundred to a thousand dollars a month--I’m admittin’ that
I’ve earned my hundred in just about five minutes today. For about
fifteen seconds th’ job was worth a hundred dollars a second--it was a
close call."
"But look at th’ honor av it," chuckled Murphy. "It’s marshal av Windsor
ye are, Tex--an’ ye have yer Tower, as well!"
Tex laughed, glanced over the straggling town from Costigan’s cottage to
another at the other end of the street. "I’m not complainin’. I’m only
contrastin’ and showin’ that Williams didn’t pull any wool over my eyes
when he offered me my princely salary. I agreed to it, and I’m paid
enough, under th’ circumstances."
"Aye," said Murphy, following his friend’s glance, a sudden smile
banishing his anxious frown. "Money ain’t everythin’. Perhaps yo’re
not paid much now, Tex--but later, who can tell?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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