One jump ahead
“Ef it helps the party any I’ll up an’ resign,” offered the sheriff
meekly. “I have made up my mind. Yuh kin put up a new man fer sheriff
come election, an’ mebbe win with him--seein’ yuh probably kain’t win
with me when this news gits out.”
Commissioner Clark nodded.
“Yuh’re takin’ the matter sensible, sheriff,” he agreed. “I think yuhr
suggestion is the only suggestion possible.”
The sheriff reached a trembling hand for a pad of paper. He would write
out his resignation as a candidate for reelection now. It could be
announced at once and----
There was an interruption, however. Shorty and Manuel Perez and Fred
Speers appeared in the open doorway suddenly. They entered quickly. The
commissioners stared, but it was the sheriff who spoke up, thickly, in a
strange tone.
“Shorty, I’m busy jus’ now--ef it ain’t important I wish yuh’d wait
outside. Hullo, Perez, yuh git fired offen yuhr new job already? Good
mawnin’, Speers. Now ef yuh all will----”
“This matter won’t wait,” said Shorty, taking in the situation at a
glance. “Whatever yuh was aimin’ to write down on that pad had better
wait, boss. Looky here----”
Shorty yanked a bundle from his shirt front. A bundle wrapped in
newspapers. He quickly broke the string that held it. He spread the
bundle out on the sheriff’s desk. Money! Greenbacks! Dozens of them.
Hundreds of them. A young fortune in currency!
“Thar, boss,” said Shorty softly, “thar’s what was in that box that was
dug up out o’ the ground under the end o’ the Third Street bridge the
other night. It’s money. About six thousand dollars in cold cash--as I
counted it hastily. The box itself has been discarded somewhars, but it
doesn’t matter much. Perez here kin tell us all about the box. In fact,
he’s already told me--confessed--that that dough is his loot from many a
rustlin’ deal afore he went to the pen. Yuh remember he had no money
when we arrested him? He pretended to be broke. Waal, he was canny
enough to have buried his roll under the bridge jus’ afore we pinched
him. An’ while he was in stir he planned how to git it.”
Shorty grinned at the startled commissioners.
“Perez planned waal, but I was jus’ one jump ahead o’ him all the time,
it seems,” Shorty went on. “He said he got in town the other mawnin’
from the pen, havin’ left thar at noon. I thought it strange he should
come direct to us to git him a job when he could o’ gone to his old
Mexican friends. He was still playin’ that poverty gag. I checked up on
the pen, though, an’ found he had left thar twelve hours earlier than he
said--so that he could o’ been here when the box was dug up.
“Perez an’ Speers here dug up the box. I had suspected that Perez was in
on it as soon as I heard the report, because the trail o’ the men had
been obliterated by the draggin’ o’ the box, as we thought. An’ why?
Because Perez knew his peg-leg marks would give him away. That’s why
they came an’ went by wadin’ the creek. But it wasn’t a box they dragged
after them. Perez simply scraped his shovel along as he made fer the
creek, bein’ careful to follow the same path down as he had took comin’
up.
“Perez got to our office early for two reasons. Fust, to impress on us
that he wanted a job, that he was broke, an’ that he meant to go
straight. Also, he wanted to be here when we opened so he could hear if
Grandpa McMeel, who had stumbled onto things, reported to us. When
Grandpa came in with his story, Perez moved to the winder, signalin’
Speers, who was waiting’. Speers came in an’ reported what he had seen,
bein’ careful to give us bum descriptions. Ol’ eagle-eyed McMeel
couldn’t describe the men it was so dark, but Speers could--an’ that’s
why I suspected Speers.
“When yuh found the wallet, boss. I was sure it had been planted to
throw us off the track on a hopeless angle. I learned at the _Clarion_
office that Speers had been in, right after the case had become public,
to give his story to the editor. He was alone in the office for a time.
The old files are thar. I looked up the issue eight years back that
carried the item that was in the wallet. Sure enough, that clippin’ had
been clipped, an’ jus’ recent, because thar was new fingerprints on the
dusty file. See? So I went out to the ranch whar yuh had got Perez his
job an’ cross-examined him. He had the dough on him. He confessed
everything, includin’ the fact that Speers had been in the rustlin’ game
with him afore he went to the pen. Speers, however, didn’t know whar the
swag was hid until Perez got back, told him, an’ together they arranged
the job o’ recoverin’ their dough--easy enough ef ol’ Grandpa McMeel
hadn’t butted in!”
The faces of the county commissioners relaxed.
“This,” said Commissioner Clark, “jus’ about clinches the election this
spring, sheriff. Yuh done fine work. Yuh got our heartiest
congratulations! The story o’ how yuh solved the most bafflin’ case in
years in Monte Vista, will sure make good readin’. Folks all through the
valley will lift their hats to yuh, sheriff--an’ vote us all back inter
office, sure as shootin’!”
The sheriff pushed away the pad that he had been about to write on when
Shorty brought in Perez and Speers.
“Yes,” he agreed, grinning, “I guess the election’s won right now. Ef
reelected gents, I has but one pledge to make now, an’ that is--I will
reappoint Shorty McKay as my deputy for another term because--waal,
gents, I like Shorty a heap!”
“Amen to that!” said Commissioner Clark fervently.
[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the July 20, 1929 issue
of _Western Story Magazine_.]