Tinhorn's Daughter by L. Ron Hubbard Read Free Book Online Page B

it.”
    Bat looked appealingly at Smith. “Tell her who you are, like you just told me.”
    Smith looked at Betsy for a moment, wondering about the advisability of furthering the effect of this shock.
    Finally he said, very gently, “Miss Trotwood, I am a United States deputy marshal. I came here at the request of Wells Fargo to arrest Sunset Maloney. But I had to use my own judgment. I have been watching Trotwood ever since I arrived. He did nothing flagrantly lawless and in a wild country such as this, it is impossible to police all crimes, even if they were in my jurisdiction, which they are not. I have checked on Trotwood. He is known as Double-Deck or as Boston Slim. He started years ago as a card sharp, went to gambling for higher stakes, was known as a bad man with a gun. He murdered a woman at Abilene last spring and came out here to force this railroad deal and get away from the local authorities.
    â€œWhen I arrived I heard about Sunset from Mr. Connor and I decided to clear up some other business and let Sunset clear up Trotwood if he could. I had no orders to do anything about it but I have to use my judgment.”
    â€œSee?” crowed Bat. “Look. When Sunset laid eyes on you, out of respect for Trotwood bein’ your father, he quit cold, knowin’ he was stealin’ your money, not Trotwood’s. When he was healin’ up, he used to worry about it all the time. And then he decided to nail Trotwood and save you. But the only way he could do it was by killin’ Trotwood. See? If he’d thought less of you, he’d maybe have kidnapped you again or somethin’. See?”
    They both stared expectantly at Betsy.
    She looked very small in that big chair, very much alone.
    Smith spoke again. “You are Trotwood’s heir and though the deeds are in his name, they’re now all yours. After what he has done to this country, the least you can do is carry on. Sunset tried and succeeded in a measure. But you hold the winning hand, miss. You better drive a bargain with the Great Western Railroad. I’ll help you. A half a million for this land would be about right. And then you could take out what you put into it and hand out the money that’s really coming to the original owners. They all ought to share in that profit and there’s families that have other reasons to get a bigger chunk. We’ll carry it out. All you have to do is sign the papers.”
    Wearily, she nodded, staring into the graying ashes of the fireplace.
    S unset was washing on the bank of the stream near the trapper’s cabin, only partly warmed by the dying sunlight of the afternoon, listening to the brook running at his feet.
    For ten days he had waited with waning hope, but now he knew that he had waited in vain. The taste of his late victory over Trotwood was a stale, even bitter thing. The price he had paid for that victory had been too great.
    Ten-Sleep Thompson had been revenged, but revenge is at best an unsavory thing.
    In the morning he would throw his saddle on his mount and tie his scant belongings there. Oregon was over the Divide and perhaps in Oregon he could forget.
    She had never been meant for him. Who was he to aspire to such heights? He could never hope to interest her. He was rough, lacking the polish of the men to whom she had been accustomed in the East.
    His reverie was interrupted by Bat’s shout on the rim. Bat dismounted and led his horse down through the pines on the slope, dropping the reins and crossing the narrow bridge.
    Sunset tried to cover up his bleak thoughts with a grin but the attempt was worse than his soberness.
    â€œI knew I’d find you here,” said Bat.
    They shook hands and Sunset led the way into the cabin. He slid a pail of water into the ashes and began to kindle a fire about it to make Bat some welcoming tea. His tongue burned with questions but he knew that he could not bear the answers about Betsy.
    Bat dropped his