The Sheriff of Badger: A Tale of the Southwest BorderlandPattullo, George
General
The Sheriff of Badger: A Tale of the Southwest Borderland
Pattullo, George
Sheriffs -- Fiction; Western stories
This does not pretend to be an exact reproduction of the sheriff's
speech, because he had an honest man's loathing and contempt for this
kind of male. But it is the gist of his words. The procurer made the
first hundred yards in fifteen seconds flat, so the sheriff speeded his
count, lest he get out of range. The satisfaction was accorded him of
dusting Jackson's heels as he ran, and Lafe repaired to the Cowboys'
Rest in a better frame of mind.
"She ain't here," the landlord told him. "She's done gone."
The sheriff found her at the Fashion. "You reckon you're a married
woman, I take it, ma'am?'" he inquired cheerily.
"I married him in El Paso. Yes, I had to. He'd paid my fare. Yes, I do."
"Well, you ain't," said Lafe. "He's got one wife already that I know of,
that fine gen'l'man, and probably bunches more, besides."
She thought this over for a minute. There was no surprise; neither was
there any of the joy he had anticipated; and no sign of reaction or
tears.
CHAPTER XIII
AND HETTY COMES TO BADGER TO LIVE
"Where is she?" she asked.
"Who? This wife? Oh, over beyond. Not so very far from here. You won't
never see her," was the careless reply.
Again she appeared to ponder what he said. A slight shiver was quickly
repressed. At last: "So that's what he is? You reckon--"
"Where's your outfit, ma'am?" the sheriff interrupted.
"My trunk? It's here. I've taken a room."
They were in the parlor of the Fashion, one flight above the street. It
was sumptuously furnished, the proprietor taking pride in his
establishment--a red plush sofa, a table, three chairs, and a
cottage-organ. On the wall was a chromo lithograph of a girl clinging to
a wave-swept pillar of stone. This was entitled "Rock of Ages."
Thereupon she told him her story. Of course Lafe did not believe half of
what she said, although he gave ear gravely to her direct manner of
replying to his questions. The girl's self-possession and cool disregard
of the extremity to which she was reduced, suggested only one
explanation to his mind--ripe experience. He had never encountered these
traits among ladies of domestic virtues.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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