IMAGINATION'S PLACE
FICTION
DON'T MAKE SENSE
By; Gerald A. Polley
All rights reserved.
Part 1
As the marshal got his horse off the cattle car the
attendant began saddling it for him. He noticed a commotion down
the street. As soon as his horse was saddled and his weapons in
place he headed down to see what was going on. As he approached a
group of men he called out.
"Sheriff Pardee, somethin' amiss?"
The pot bellied man turned around. "Glory be to the
angels in Heaven!" he cried, "Marshal Walker! Am I glad to see
you! Yes, somethin's amiss! Frank Highland killed the bank
president, took $10,000 and headed out of town. The president's
son, here was visiting his girl and saw him ride passed as he was
riding in. He still had the money bag hung on his saddle."
The marshal looked at the sheriff with questioning
eyes. The sheriff stepped closer. "Yeah, I know!" he
whispered. Don't make no sense. But I got two other
witnesses says they saw Frank. That big red horse of his was
unmistakable. Only other one folks have seen around here is
yours."
The marshal nodded, "Still," he remarked "odd, very
odd! Frank's a petty thief, steal anything that ain't tied down,
but he's no killer, and if he was and a witness saw him on the road,
that witness would never make it to town. I bet with these cattle
herds in town you ain't got nobody to go lookin'."
"That's a fact!" the sheriff answered. "I was
hopin' where it was army money you might go. He's supposed to be
at his brother's ranch. That's two day's ride up in the hills."
"Got an empty cell?" the marshal asked.
"I'd like to get a few hour's sleep and start off at dawn."
"And have my wife tan my hide?" the sheriff
answered, "I don't think so! There's a bed at the house, and she'll
wanna check that leg of yours."
"It's been pretty good lately," the marshal remarked, "but I wouldn't mind some of that ointment."
They headed for the sheriff's house. The
marshal bedded down. About dawn he got up, dressed, and
headed out to the barn to get his horse. There was trail food
packed on the table and a note that the army had offered a $200
reward.
The marshal found the helper the sheriff had hired to do
things around the house had saddled his horse and placed his
weapons. The marshal offered him a quarter but the man shook his
head. "You've done too much for folks," he muttered. "Folks
should do more for you!"
The marshal smiled and rode out. The weather
was good. He slept with a fire and rode again early in the
morning, reaching the Howards' ranch a couple of hours before
dusk.
"Hey Henry!" he called, "Marshall Walker! Need to talk to you! Comin' in!"
"You's welcome!" came a heavy voice.
"Always!" came a light one with a slight giggle.
When he got up to the porch the man and his wife were on it. "Whatcha need, Marshall?" the man asked.
"Frank," the marshal answered, "some people say he
killed the bank president at the rail head and stole $10,000. Him
and his horse were recognized."
"'Taint so!" the wife snapped. "Frank's horse
is in the barn, crippled. We're afraid we're gonna lose it.
Frank brought it in two days ago. Had to walk it most of the
way. There's no way he rode that horse in town and back! If
you don't believe me you go look, William!"
"Not that I don't believe you," William remarked,
"but I do have to check and I might be able to help. I'm good at
these things."
He dismounted. The woman looked away as he
did. He led his horse to the barn. Inside the big red mare
was in a stall in obvious discomfort lifting its left rear leg.
"Easy, girl!" the marshal cooed. "Easy, beautiful! Let me
have a look. Ew!" he remarked, "There's somethin'
definitely amiss here. This is bad swollen! Get me my
saddle bags, Mrs.."
The woman did so. The marshal opened up
a compartment and took out a selection of knives. One was long
and thin. He poured some disinfectant on it and knelt down by the
horse. "Easy, lady!" he comforted, "Easy! This is gonna
hurt a bit but it'll help. Easy!"
He picked a spot, inserted the knife, and worked it
a bit, then gently drew it out. A river of pus came with it, and,
something else. The marshal took ahold of it and pulled it out.
"Glory be to God!" the wife muttered, "A thorn! A damned
thorn!"
"Isn't it somethin'" the marshal remarked,
"somethin' like this could kill an animal as big as a horse? Now, let
that drain. Twice a day put compresses on it with plenty of
salt. In three days or so the swelling should be gone. If
not, we were too late. But I don't think we were. The pus
was white, it wasn't green and it didn't smell that bad. I think we
were in time." He held his hand out to the husband and without
question he helped him to his feet. "This definitely confirms my
suspicions," the marshal remarked, "your brother had nothin' to do with
this killing. This horse didn't make a run from town and got back
here this quick! Any idea where he is?"
"Yeah!" the husband answered, "Half a day's journey
north. Somethin's been killin' our cattle. Don't seem to be for
food, just seems to be killing. Frank's trying to track it down."
The marshal nodded. "Well, I'll bed down in
your barn tonight and head off at first light. I want to get
Frank and take him back with me. But I'll give him a letter
tellin' that it couldn't have been him that did it in case somethin'
happens to me. But I'd like to get this settled."
"Appreciate that, marshal!" the man answered.
"But where Frank ain't here you can use his bed. It's clean, ain't got
no bugs!"
The marshal smiled. They had supper, read from
The Bible and the marshal went to sleep. His host was up in the
morning and helped him ready his horse, then he rode off into the
hills. About noon time he came across a hobbled horse, let his
own go to graze without a hobble, he pitied anyone who tried to take
it, and headed off into the brush, then he saw tracks on top of the
man's tracks he was following and he picked up his pace.
Page 1