Warlock

Ga

Ga

“Great God!” the judge said.

“MacDonald said how Blaisedell went and interfered with Joh

“It is a lie!” the judge said, wearily. “Well, what happened? I see you have your badge back. Did you decide to shoot him down?”

“Worked out so I don’t have to,” Keller said, gri

The judge handed it to him. “We are a bunch of vile si

“Yep,” the sheriff said. “Now, you just sit down, Judge. There is not a thing in the world you can do. Joh

“He can’t do that to those poor damned—”

“He can,” the sheriff said. “What was you going to do to stop it, son?”

Peter Bacon stuck his head in the door. “Joh

“I’m here,” the sheriff said. “And how’s things going out there?”

Peter’s brown face wrinkled up as though he were going to cry. “Sheriff, they are rounding up those poor fellows from the Medusa like—”

“Going well, huh?” the sheriff said. “Well, drop in some later and see us again, Bacon. Pass me that bottle, Judge.”

Peter stared at the sheriff, and turned and looked Ga

Ga

“Don’t even look, boy,” the sheriff said heavily. “You might turn into a pillar of salt or something.”

“Salt’s not what I’m worth. Or you.”

“I know it, boy. I never said otherwise. But you can’t interfere with the cavalry, and the military governor. During maneuvers,” he added. “That’s what they are calling it; maneuvers.”

“And you are supposed to maneuver down to San Pablo?” the judge asked.

“Supposed to. I guess I won’t rush things, though.”

“You might do well to rush. From what we hear they are all down raiding the Hacienda Puerto range right now.”

“Rush,” the sheriff said, nodding. Then Keller looked at Ga

“I have thought,” the judge said bitterly, “that things were so bad they couldn’t get any worse. But they have got worse today like I wouldn’t believe if I didn’t hear it going on. And maybe there is no bottom to it.”

“Bottom to everything,” the sheriff said, holding up the bottle and shaking it. Through the door Ga

“Hold steady now,” the sheriff said.

“Yes, learn your lessons as they come your way,” the judge said. “And when you have learned them all they can stick red-hot pokers in your wife and babies and you will only laugh to see it. Because you will know by then that people don’t matter a damn. Men are like corn growing. The sun burns them up and the rain washes them out and the winter freezes them, and the cavalry tramps them down, but somehow they keep growing. And none of it matters a damn so long as the whisky holds out.”

“This here’s gone,” the sheriff said. “Go cut some of that corn and stir up some more mash, Judge. Say, did you people get any rain down this way?”

A rumble of bootheels came along the boardwalk. Old man Heck came in the door, his chin whiskers bristling with outrage, and Frenchy Martin and four others, of whom Ga

“Deputy, these men are to be locked up until the wagons get here.”

“Lickspittles, all of you!” the doctor said.

“Now, Doc, that don’t do no good,” Daley said.

“MacDonald is afraid to look me in the face so he sends his lickspittles!”

Daley thrust himself between the doctor and Newman, as Newman cursed and raised a hand. “You!” the sergeant said, to Newman. “You mistreat the prisoners and I’ll drink your blood, Mister!”

“That’s the sheriff!” one of the miners said, and Ga

“I hope you soldiers are proud of your uniforms today!” the judge said, raising his voice above the shuffling of boots.

“You should be in here with me, George Holloway!” the doctor called, standing with the miners in the cell. “This is a thing every man who likes to think himself of a liberal persuasion should know for himself. We belong—”

“I will stay out and drink myself to death instead,” the judge said, with his head bent down.

“Lock them up, Joh

Newman kicked the door shut.

“I’ll not!” Ga

The sergeant turned to look at him; he had a sour, weatherbeaten face and thick graying sideburns. Newman glared at him. “Lock them up, Deputy!”

“By whose orders?”

“General Peach’s order, you fool!” Newman cried. “Will you lock these sons of bitches up before I—”

“Not in my jail!” He thrust between the sergeant and Newman, snatched the key ring from its peg, and retreated to stand against the wall where the names were scratched. He put his hand on the butt of his Colt. The sheriff stared at him; the judge averted his face.

The sergeant sighed and said, “Mick!” One of the troopers raised his carbine and started forward. Someone burst in the door behind him.