Free The Big Sky by A. B. Guthrie Jr.

to get your rifle back?"
    "Yes "
    Eggleston barked, "Objection!"
    "Quit coachin' him," ordered Judge Test.
    "That's the way it was," Boone said.
    "Can you identify the rifle?"
    "Ben Mills made it, at Harrodsburg."
    Squire Beecher got up. "Your honors," he said, while a frown wrinkled his face, "we believe a motion for dismissal is in order. As to the identification of the gun, the court simply has a contradiction, without supporting evidence on either side. Neither does the charge of assault and battery stand up. There again the court has a contradiction, and the testimony of the sheriff on the one side does nothing to enforce the accusation. The sheriff simply saw the men fighting. Any conclusion he has drawn or implied is pure assumption, without weight before the law. The only thing of actual proof is that a fight took place."
    Eggleston had arisen, protesting. "We want to cross-examine the witness."
    Judge Test waved them both back. "Go on, then," he said to the prosecutor, but Squire Beecher said, "Wait, your honor. We're not through." His eyes came back to Boone. "Have you any other way of identifying the rifle? Are there any other marks on it, or scratches that would identify it?"
    "It's got nary scratch on it."
    Squire Beecher rested his chin on his fist. His eyes studied the table in front of him. "Maybe," he said after a pause, "you can establish your claim to the rifle through the horn or pouch." His head came up. "How many bullets in the pouch?"
    "There was eleven, and I shot a rabbit. Ten, there would be."
    Beecher motioned, and the sheriff brought over the pouch.
    Eggleston came and stood over Beecher as Beecher emptied the pouch on the table. "One, two, three ..."
    Eggleston broke in, "There's eight. Just eight."
    Beecher's hand fumbled in the pouch and came out empty. "Of course," he said to Boone, "anyone who stole
it could have fired it a couple of times, couldn't he?"
    Eggleston looked down at Beecher, grinning, and said,
    "I ought to object. You're coaching him again." He went back over to his seat, still grinning.
    Beecher said, "That's all."
    Judge Test's red face turned on Eggleston. "Go on." Eggleston leaned forward toward Boone, like a snake with
a stand on a bird. "How long have you owned this rifle?"
    "A spell."
    "How long?"
    Boone heard the pen scratching as the man at the little table wrote in the big book. It scratched and stopped, and he saw the pen raised, waiting. From the back of the room the man still smiled at him, like someone who was on his side.
    "I asked how long. Good Lord, boy, if the rifle is yours you must know how long you've owned it."
    "I couldn't rightly say as to that."
    "Oh, you couldn't rightly say. Where did you get the rifle, anyway? Is it really yours?"
    The pen was scratching again, and stopping again. Boone felt his hands knotted between his knees. His tongue came out and wet his lips.
    Eggleston yelled, "Is it?" and pounded on the table with his fist.
    "Your honors," Squire Beecher complained, "we object that the questioning amounts to abuse."
    "He won't answer."
    The judge's red eyes rested on Boone. "Boy, a defendant can't be made to incriminate himself -but I'll have to warn ye, if you don't answer, the jury's most likely to hold it against you."
    Boone said, "My pap gave it to me."
    The prosecutor's hand fiddled with his chin. After a silence he said, "How old are you, boy?"
    "Comin' eighteen."
    "You're seventeen then." Eggleston's light eyes studied him. "You're a runaway, aren't you?"
    Boone heard Beecher cry "Objection!" and Judge Test answer, "He's cross-examinin'."
    "Where you from?"
    Boone brought his hands from between his knees and took hold of the bottom of his chair. "St. Louis."
    "What are you doing here?"
    "Goin' back."
    "From where?"
    "Around."
    "Just around, eh?"
    "Reckon so."
    The prosecutor looked at the judges, his eyebrows up, making wrinkles in his forehead. "He ought to be held for investigation. Probably a bound boy."
    Squire Beecher came