Evening Star Newspaper, April 26, 1940, Page 28

-TRAI'S END e WiLLiam MesLeop RANE As Anne Eliot steps from the stage eoach on Blanco's broad Main street there is a pistol shot. Jim Bllcott's hat s whisked from his red head, but the editor of the Powder Horn - {inel recovers 1t before running Jightly to a doorway. Buck Sneve, a Hat Tider, levels his gun again but he drops dead an instant before the door closes behind _Silcott. This gun play had followed _Sneve's “appearance in the Trail's End with his foreman. Jud Prentiss. and other Hat T riders, Jud gragging with him Jesse Lamprey. Jud had accused Jesse of double-crossing Russell Mosely, his employer. in con- nection with 'the Armijo land-grant fued. Jesse's younger brother Phil had entered and refused to leave without ut to hit of juded boy. Jim ing trouble and turn- ed to ply his quirt on Jesse till he drop- ped writhing to the floor. The Hat T Eliot is the niece of , _editor of the Sentinel and it was after he was shot from smbush for opposing Mosely in the land-grant feud. that Silcott took over the i Ma Russell. Anne's board- el “that ‘she” Inherited the gers, her uncle, at he Rogers was dead but when Rufe tells her that he was murdered. e says it isn't safe for Silcott to remain. Jim tells her he can't let Mosely drive him away. CHAPTER 1IV. They had been standing. Silcott thought Anne might be tired after the long journey and the shock of what she had seen. “Won’t you sit down?” he said, and indicated a chair. “You might as well get used to the place if you are going to be the editor.” She took the chair, for the first time conscious that she was weary. To rest her head, she drew out the long pins and put her hat on the desk. Jim thought he had never seen such hair. It was crisp and curly, a tawny gold shot with cop- per. Anne picked up a letter on the desk. “Why, this is for me,” she said. “No, it's just a report on the Sen- tinel,” the writer of it said quickly, and stretched out his hand for it. *“Now you are here I can tell you just as well.” The girl did not give him the letter. It seemed to her that he was a little too anxious. “Since it's Just a business letter I might as well keep it,” she said. “I'd rather have it ,” Jim told her. “But it has my name and address on it,” she protested. “It belongs to | me?” He differed, firmly. “It doesn’t belong to you until it has been mailed and reaches you.” ""Well, it has reached me.” Anne Returns the Letter. Anne realized she was being ab- surd. But she wanted to read the letter. Her eyes had fallen on a document beside it, partly covered by her hat, on which was written, “Last Will of James Silcott.” He had drawn it up tonight, she be- lieved, in the same hour he had written her this letter. Yet she knew she had no right to read it; it was probably meant for her only in case he fell a victim of the venge- ance of Mosley's ruffians. Anne gave the letter to him. “I'm sorry I was stuffy about it,” she said. “Of course, it isn't mine.” Silcott put the letter in his pocket. He was surprised at the sudden softening in her manner, but more at what he thought he saw in her eyes, the mist of unshed tears. “I'd better stay with you a few days till you get the hang of run- ning the paper,” he said. “I pay a tramp printer ten dollars a week to set type. He’s a good man—quick and doesn’'t make many mistakes.” “I've never worked on a paper,” Anne admitted. “I can’t run one unless you'll start me right. I sup~ pose you think it’s unladylike of.nie to want to earn my living—that I ought to fold my hands and wait for a man.” She flung out the last as a chal- lenge. Neither of the men took it up. The idea of an attractive ‘woman, not more than a year or two out of her teens, editing a news- paper was revolutionary. If she was forced to work, why not be a school teacher like other girls? She could do that without losing caste. Forecasts Many Offers. Rufe Jelks chuckled. “You won't have to wait for a man long out here, Miss Eliot,” he promised. “This is Thursday. You'll not get more than one or two proposals this week, but right soon you can count that day lost whose descending sun views from some man no earnest offer won.” “That sounds too poetical to be true, Mr. Jelks.” Anne said tilting & smile at him. “You wouldn’t fool & poor lone spinster, would you?” “Lady, it's going to be a stam- pede,” Rufe prophesied. “But you can depend on me to keep the herd away from you as much as I can.” “It will be 8o nice of you,” the girl murmured. “And now if you'll take me back to the boarding house, please.” Silcott led the way through the {front room, but before they reached the door he stopped. They heard & troop of men coming down the street outside. Somebody banged on the door ! WORLD she said. | and shouted, “Come on outa there, Silcott, or well burn the damn shack over yore head.” “Who is it?” Jim asked. what do you want?” From those outside came a yell of anger. “We want you, and we’re gonna have you.” Heavy bodies crashed against the door. A panel gave way. Fires Warning Shot. The editor fired a warning shot into the air. “I haven't a gun with me, Red,” his friend said. “Have you got an- other in the office?” “No. Get Miss Eliot out of the back window. I'll hold these fellows back long enough for you to slip out.” “I'm not going,” Anne said. “And came to those within the building. “Stand aside, boys. I'll pump some lead through this door before we bust it open.” Silcott rushed Anne back of a hand press and swung her around so that his body was between her and the door. Bullets crashed through the wood, sending splinters flying. As if in answer, a revolver cracked back of the building. There was a sound of breaking glass. “Too late to get away now,” Jelks sald in a low voice. “Yes,” Silcott agreed. “We must let them know there's a lady here, so they’ll let you both out.” Anne saild “No” out of a throat dry from fear. “Not unless they let you go, t0o.” Asks Saftety For Anne. The editor ignored that. He called to the Mosely foreman. “There’s a lady in here, Jud. Will you let her out before you start anything more?” Jud roared a contemptuous ulti- matum. “Come outa there and quit Plying, fellow. You're bucked out. ‘We've got you.” “But it’s true,” the girl cried. “I am here. Anne Eliot, the niece of Carl Rogers.” Somebody outside exclaimed. “Cripes, there is a woman there!” Rufe had an inspiration. “And four men beside Red, all set for the show to start as soon as Miss Eliot is out of range.” “Yeah!” a Hat T man jeered. “You can’t run a sandy on us. You're there alone, except for yore woman.” “You'll change your mind when we pump lead into you. Rufe Jelks talking, to Pete Yeager in parti- cular. T got yore voice, Pete, now you get mine.” “By jiminy, it is Rufe,” Yeager said excitedly. “Who else is there?” Prentiss snarled. Jelks answered, in a thin squeal falsetto, “I'm here—Bar m:rqstre:{ and so is Curt Allison—and Bob Wise.” There was a murmur of voices. A Bass Voice Retorts. “We don't believe Bob Wise is there,” Prentiss shouted after the huddle. “I'm here all right, Jud,” a low bass retorted. “Don't fool yoreself about that. We're not lookin’ for trouble, but if you are crazy for war you can sure have it.” Jim helped build up the illusion. “Don’t be a fool, Jud. Did you think I was so dumb as to be alone after what happened this evening? If you want me, come and get me. We'll drop three or four of you be- fore you're ever set to start.” There was another long whispered FAMOUS -HOOVERS The heavy voice of Jud Prentiss | THE EVENING STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, argument. Again Prentiss was the spokesman. “All right,” he growled. “It’s off for tonight, if you want to hide be- hind a woman’s skirts like a avhip- ped dog, Silcott. As for you birds from Tincup Creek, we're not gonna forget your part in this. You'll be good and sorry before we're through with you.” /4 ] Anne realized she was being absurd. She gave the letter to him. “I'm sorry I was stuffy about it,” “Of course, it isn’t mine.” “We proposed to send the lady out, and that didn't seem to suit you, Jud,” the editor mentioned scorn- fully. “What do you want?” “Come out here and I'll settle yore hash alone, man to man,” the foreman roared. “Right damn now.” “What do you mean alone, Jud? You have your bunch with you, the same as you had a couple of hours ago. Like to play your shots safe, don’t you, Jud?” ‘The Hat T contingment went back up the street, trailed into the Jumbo and ranged themselves in front of the bar. If Prentiss drank enough he might persuade himself and his men that he had not lost face. The first man his eyes fell upon was Bar Overstreet, who was sit- ting in a poker game with his coat off and a pile of chips in front of him. Prentiss strode to the table and flung out a curse at the Tincup Creek rancher. “You blasted fool!” he roared. “Not 10 minutes ago I told you I'd settle with you when we met— and here you are.” Overstreet was a glant of a man, with not an ounce of fat on his 220 pounds. He looked up at the Hat T fore- man, a puzzled alarm in his faded blue-gray eyes. “What's eatin’ you, Jud?” he squeaked, in a tiny voice that always surprised as it came from such a bulk. “I aint seen you for a week.” “What's the use of lying?” Pren- tiss snapped. “When you know I talked with you down at the ‘Sen- tinal’ office less than a quarter of an hour ago—not more than five minutes since. By thunder, you must have run all the way to get here 80 quick.” The Tincup Creek man stared. “Why Jud, I been sitting here play- ing draw for an hour and s half Never left my seat. Ask the boys.” “That’s right, Jud,” & player cor- roborated. Another said, “He sure has. Hotter than mustard, too. Look at his chips.” Prentiss Anger Rises. Prentiss glared at them and wheeled abruptly. He had been bluffed out by Silcott, and his anger boiled. He was a vain man, and it stung his self-assurance to sing small. The worst of it was that his riders knew, and they would laugh about it among themselves. Soon the story would spread all over town and to every little ranch in the district. “It was that Rufe Jelks,” said Yeager. “The joke is sure on us. He's the best mimic I ever heard. You know how he sits around camp-fires taking off. the boys so blamed na- tural you'd think it was them if you didn't see Rufe sitting there.” “If he thinks he can play mon- keyshines with me—" Prentiss stopped, from the sheer inadequacy of language to express his turgid emotions. The fat, bald cowpuncher slid a look of carefully concealed exul- Chevy Chase Paint & Hdwe. Co., 5608 Connecticut Ave. WO. 1045 Bethesda Paint & Hdwe. Co., 7004 Wisconsin Ave. Wis. 4161 Local Paint & Hdwe. 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