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Updated: May 7, 2025
He didn't see exactly where to begin, either. "Lookit, Judge," he said at last, "can't you sort of delay the proceedin's for a while?" "I'll do what I can," assented Dolan, "but I can't keep it up forever. I'm sworn to obey the law and see that it is obeyed. And if Luke Tweezy's paper can't be proved a forgery certain and soon, they's only one thing for me to do and one thing for the Dales to do.
"I'm not worrying not a worry," she said, cheerfully, both hands busy with Luke Tweezy's papers. "I'd like to know how they picked up the trail after our riding up that creek for six miles." "I dunno," said he, his head under an upflung saddle-fender. "I shore thought we'd lost 'em." She stopped tying the sack and looked at him. "How silly we are!" she cried.
Layers of dust almost completely concealed the original colour of the caked and matted hide of Luke Tweezy's well-conditioned horse. It was evident that Luke Tweezy had come from afar. In common with most range riders Racey Dawson possessed an automatic eye to detail.
Without the least compunction Racey tucked this letter into the breast pocket of his flannel shirt. Then he set about searching Tweezy's clothing with thoroughness. But other than the odds and odds usually to be found in a man's pockets there was nothing to interest the searcher. Racey carefully turned back the sweatband of the hat, placed the headpiece on top of the wagon-seat, and departed.
But, as we wheeled, a flicker of white showed inside the crown of Tweezy's hat where it lay on the floor. Racey swung back, stooped down, and turned out the leather sweatband of Tweezy's hat, at the edge of which had been revealed the bit of white. The latter proved to be one corner of a folded letter.
"Say, Rod, I'd take it as a favour if you and Tile and Bill would sort of freeze round the bunkhouse till after I'm through with Lanpher." "Shore," said Rod. "Tweezy's in the office, too, I guess." Racey nodded, and started his horse toward the office.
He scratched a match on the chair seat, held it to the end of the cigarette, and stared across the pulsing flame straight into the eyes of the Marysville lawyer. Tweezy's gaze wavered and fell away. Racey inhaled strongly, then got to his feet and lazed across to the bar where Jake Rule, with Kansas Casey at his elbow, was perfunctorily questioning McFluke.
"Can I take him now, Judge?" inquired Chuck Morgan, referring to the dead man. "Any time," nodded Dolan. Racey Dawson, whose eyes that day were missing nothing, saw that Jack Harpe was looking steadily at Luke Tweezy. Luke's nod was barely perceptible. "Where were you thinking of taking him, Chuck?" was Tweezy's query. "Moccasin Spring," Chuck replied, laconically.
Judge Dolan elevated his feet upon his desk and tilted back his chair before replying. "Racey," he said, teetering gently, "I gotta do what the law says in this thing." "Then yo're gonna sic the sheriff on, huh?" "I ain't doin' no sicin', not me. Luke Tweezy's the boy you mean." "But the law makes you back up Luke." "In this case it does."
"You heard what she said," Racey drawled, softly. "Git." And Tweezy got. "Do you think the sheriff will put us out?" asked Mrs. Dale, twisting a corner of her apron between her hands. "He'll take all the time to it he can," Racey evaded the direct reply. "But whatever happens don't think of taking any offer like that of Tweezy's. It's a trick, thassall.
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