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Page 48
Since things were bad enough as they were, and he had no desire to make
them worse and saw no opportunity to better them, Jim Galloway, his
hand nursing a bleeding shoulder, stumbled awkwardly through the
opening.
"Is that all of 'em, Roddy?" called Cutter. Norton didn't answer. The
deputy called again. Then, while the crowd surged about door and
window. Cutter came in, a revolver in his right hand, a torch of a
burning fagot in his left, held high.
Vidal Nu�ez was dead; not from a blow upon the head, but from a chance
bullet through the heart after he had fallen. Kid Rickard, his sullen
eyes wide with their pain, lay half under a poker table. Lying across
the body of Nu�ez, as though still guarding his prisoner, was the quiet
form of Rod Norton, his face bloodlessly white save for the smear of
blood which had run from the wound hidden by the close-cropped, black
hair.
CHAPTER XII
WAVERING IN THE BALANCE
Ignacio Chavez, waiting to ask no questions, had raced away through the
darkness to beat out a wild alarm upon his bells. Later he would learn
how many were dead and would set the Captain mourning. But already had
San Juan poured out her handful of citizens upon the street.
"Keep those men where they are," called Tom Cutter to Struve. "Every
damned one of them; there'll be an answer wanted for to-night's work.
Get a doctor, somebody; Patten or Miss Page."
Candles were brought; presently a lamp was found and set on the bar.
The curious began to desert Struve and his prisoners outside, and to
crowd about Cutter and the two forms lying still in the corner. Kid
Rickard, cursing now and then, had dragged himself a little away and
grew quiet, half propped up against the wall. Struve, as the fire of
fagots and grass began to burn low, commanded Galloway to lead the way
back into the barroom and herded five other men after him, the shotgun
promising a mutilated body to any man of them who sought to run for it.
"Nu�ez is dead," reported the deputy sheriff, getting up from his
knees. "Norton is alive and that's about all. A shot along the side
of the head."
He turned slowly toward Galloway who, with steady hands and his face
set in hard, inscrutable lines, was pouring himself a generous glass of
whiskey.
"Looks like you'd got him, Jim," he said harshly, his eyes glittering.
"And it looks like I'd got you. Where I want you, by God!"
Galloway drank his whiskey and made no reply. He was thinking,
thinking fast. His eyes were never still now, but roved from Rod
Norton's white face to the faces of Tom Cutter, Struve, and the other
men gathering in the room.
Borne upon one of the Casa Blanca's doors Norton was carried to
Struve's hotel, the nearest place where an attempt could be made to
care for him. Word came in that Virginia Page had been summoned upon
one of her rare calls and was in Las Estrellas. Patten, however, would
be on hand in a moment. It was suggested that Kid Rickard also be
carried to the hotel. But he himself asked to be left where he was
until Patten came, and Cutter raised no objection. It was clear that
the Kid was too badly hurt to think of making an escape, were such his
desire.
Galloway and Antone alone were put under arrest, the others merely
advised to be on hand if they were wanted later. Galloway coolly
demanded the charge against him.
"Resisting an officer is as good as any right now," snapped Cutter.
As quiet claimed the town again Caleb Patten became the most important
figure in San Juan. At such moments he seemed to swell visibly. He
drove the curious from the room while he examined the unconscious
sheriff and, when he had finished, merely shook his head, looked grave,
and refused to commit himself. He ordered Norton undressed and put to
bed, went down the street to see Kid Rickard, probed the wound in the
upper chest, ordered him to bed, and returned to Norton at the hotel.
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