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"Maybe I ain't jest bright enuff to foller " "You ain't," agreed Bill shortly. He winked at Minky, who was listening interestedly. Then he turned abruptly and pointed at the array of patent medicines adorning one of the shelves. "Say," he cried, "'bout them physics." Minky turned and gazed affectionately at the shelf. It was the pride of his store. He always kept it well dusted and dressed.
With a big effort, which was not lost upon his shrewd audience, he choked down his rising emotion. "Oh, I I'd like to pay him a 'party call," he blurted out. Minky was about to speak, but Wild Bill kept him silent with a sharp glance. An audible snigger came from beyond the window. "Guess you know jest wher' you'll locate him?" inquired the gambler.
"There ain't many sorts o' trouble sets a man chasin' like that," said a voice in the background. Minky glanced round. "What are they, Van?" he inquired, and turned back again to his scrutiny of the on-coming horseman. "Sickness, an' guns," replied the man addressed as Van, with another foolish laugh. "If it's Sid he ain't got anybody out on his ranch to be sick, 'cep' his two 'punchers.
They were all three hard-lookin' citizens, an' might ha' been anything from bum cowpunchers to " "Sharps," put in Bill, between noisy sips at his coffee. "Yes." Minky watched a number of flies settle on a greasy patch on the bare table. "Y'see," he went on, after a thoughtful pause, "I don't like strangers who don't seem ready tongued none of us do, since the stage-robbin' set in."
And his head dropped upon Jamie's little shoulder while he hugged Vada more closely to his side as though he feared to lose her too. It was a blazing afternoon of the "stewing" type. The flies in the store kept up a sickening hum, and tortured suffering humanity in the form of the solitary Minky with their persistent efforts to alight on his perspiring face and bare arms.
Mark came and stood before her, looking down at her. "Minky, I don't like going away and leaving Mamma with you.... When I went before you promised you'd be kind to her." "What do I do?" There was a groove down the middle of the blade for the blood to run in. "Do? You do nothing. Nothing. You don't talk to her. You don't want to talk to her. You behave as if she wasn't there."
Mark's eyes kept up their puzzled stare. "What's been happening?" he said. "What's the matter? Everywhere I go there's a mystery. There was a mystery at Ilford. About Dan. And about poor Charlotte. I come down here and there's a mystery about some people called Sutcliffe. And a mystery about Mary." He laughed again. "Minky seems to be in disgrace, as if she'd done something.... It's awfully queer.
Had not the belief become general that the Spawn City trail was being carefully watched, and even patrolled, by this common enemy? Everybody knew that these things were so. The whole of this stage business was simply flying in the face of Providence. And amidst all the comment and talk Minky served the requirements of his customers, wrapped in sphinx-like reserve. His geniality never failed him.
Then in a moment they saw him spring into the cart. Taking the reins from the choreman, he settled himself into the driving-seat, while the deposed charioteer clambered stiffly to the ground. Minky was at the wheel nearest to his friend. The horses, under the master-hand, had suddenly become restive. Bill bent over, and the storekeeper craned up towards him.
"It isn't enough." "Minky why are you such a brute to little Mamma?" "Because I can't help it ... It's all very well for you " Mark turned in the path and looked at her; his tight, firm face tighter and firmer. She thought: "He doesn't know. He's like Mamma. He won't see what he doesn't want to see. It would be kinder not to tell him. But I can't be kind. He's joined with Mamma against me.
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