Free The Girl of the Golden West by Giacomo Puccini, David Belasco Page A

Sidney Duck, the
Sheriff of Manzaneta County waited patiently until the returning
puppets of his will had had time to compose themselves. It took
them merely the briefest of periods, but it served to increase
visibly the long ash at the end of Rance's cigar. At length he shot
a hawk-like glance at Sonora and proposed a little game of
poker.
    "This time, gentlemen—" he said, with a significant pause and
accent—"just for social recreation. What do you say?"
    "I'm your Injun!" acquiesced Sonora, rubbing his hands together
gleefully at the prospect of winning from the Sheriff, whom he
liked none too well.
    "That's me, too!" concurred Trinidad.
    "Chips, then, Nick!" called out the Sheriff, quietly taking a
seat at the table; while Sonora, bubbling over with spirits,
hitched up his trousers in sailor fashion and executed an impromptu
hornpipe, bellowing in his deep, base voice:
"I shipped aboard of a liner, boys—"
    "Renzo, boys, renzo," finished Trinidad, falling in place at the
table.
    At this point the outside door was unexpectedly pushed open,
inward, and the Deputy-Sheriff came into their midst.
    "Ashby just rode in with his posse," he announced huskily to his
superior.
    The Sheriff flashed a look of annoyance and inquired of the
gaunt, hollow-cheeked, muscular Deputy whose beaver overcoat was
thrown open so that his gun and powder-flask showed plainly in his
belt:
    "Why, what's he doing here?"
    "He's after Ramerrez," answered the Deputy, eyeing him
intently.
    Rance received this information in silence and went on with his
shuffling of the cards; presently, unconcernedly, he remarked:
    "Ramerrez—Oh, that's the polite road agent who has been visiting
the other camps?"
    "Yes; he's just turned into your county," declared the Deputy,
meaningly.
    "What?" Sonora looked dumbfounded.
    The Deputy nodded and proceeded to the bar. And while he drained
the contents of his glass, the Minstrel played on his banjo, much
to the amusement of the men, who showed their appreciation by
laughing heartily, the last bars of, "Pop Goes the Weasel."
    "Hello, Sheriff!" greeted Ashby, coming in just as the merriment
over the Minstrel's little joke had died away. Ashby's voice—quick,
sharp and decisive was that of a man accustomed to ordering men,
but his manner was suave, if a trifle gruff. Moreover, he was a man
of whom it could be said, paradoxical as it may seem, that he was
never known to be drunk nor ever known to be sober. It was plain
from his appearance that he had been some time on the road.
    Rance rose and politely extended his hand. And, although the
greeting between the two men was none too cordial, yet in their
look, as they eyed each other, was the respect which men have for
others engaged more or less in the same business and in whom they
recognise certain qualities which they have in common. In point of
age Ashby was, perhaps, the senior. As far as reputation was
concerned, both men were accounted nervy and square. Rance
introduced him to Sonora and the others, saying:
    "Boys, Mr. Ashby of Wells Fargo."
    The latter had a pleasant word or two for the men; then, turning
to the Deputy, he said:
    "And how are you these days?"
    "Fit. And yourself?"
    "Same here." Turning now to the barkeeper, Ashby, with easy
familiarity, added: "Say, Nick, give us a drink."
    "Sure!" came promptly from the little barkeeper.
    "Everybody'll have the same?" inquired Ashby, turning once more
to the men.
    "The same!" returned the men in chorus.
    Thereupon, Nick briskly slapped down a bottle and four glasses
before the Sheriff, and leaving him to do the honours, disappeared
into the dance-hall.
    "'Well, I trust the Girl who runs The Polka is well?" inquired
Ashby, pushing his glass near the bottle.
    "Fine as silk," vouched Sonora, adding in the next breath: "But,
say, Mr. Ashby, how long you been chasm' up this road agent?"
    "Oh, he only took to the road a few months ago," was Ashby's
answer. "Wells Fargo have had me and a posse busy ever since. He's
a