Free Death Waits at Sundown by L. Ron Hubbard

collecting concrete evidence.
    And because Sam Price was Sam Price, even the prejudiced jury could not bring in a conviction and
Spick Murphy, meek and mild, was again released upon the world.

Chapter
Five
    B IG BILL BAILEY, resplendent in a
sombrero which would have looked small on the Sphinx and generally dressed up
to please the feminine eye, was waiting outside the courthouse when the jailer
loosed Spick Murphy.
    Sam Price, still
garbed in the black and the dignity of the court, and Susan were there,
waiting. The loafers from the San Carlos General Store were standing around and
recollecting a time when nothing like this would have been permitted to happen.
    Big Bill thought the
moment propitious to sign an armistice with Susan. He had, of course, delivered
blunt testimony in the court against Spick Murphy’s character, but that had
been purely in the line of business and a war to Big Bill was over when it was
lost or won.
    He approached and
raised his hat courteously, “Mister Price, sir, I wish to congratulate you on
your case. I’ve heard a lot about how you worked, sir, but it wasn’t anything
to the seeing. Even if you did hornswoggle that yellow Gila monster’s freedom,
I—”
    â€œI might object to the
word,” said Sam with a grin, “but I won’t. Thanks, Bailey.”
    â€œSusan,” said Big
Bill, turning, hat still in the air above his head as a sort of umbrella, “may
I invite you to go for a ride this afternoon?”
    Susan looked at him
coldly.
    â€œBut . . . but I
haven’t done anything,” said Big Bill. “I had to give that testimony,
didn’t I?”
    â€œYou almost lost
Father the case and Murphy his life,” said Susan distantly. “I shall thank you,
sir, to stay away from the Pinta.”
    â€œShore, Susan, you
wouldn’t let a filthy lobo like Murphy come between us, would you? He
ain’t worth it, ma’am. Let’s forget about it. The fight’s fought and you won.
That ought to close the whole deal and call for new cards all around.”
    His plea might have
taken effect. He had planned his wording an hour before he had delivered his
speech. But all that labor was lost because, at that moment, Spick Murphy was
ejected from the courthouse by disgusted Sheriff Doyle, who thereafter dusted
his hands and wiped them on his pants.
    Spick Murphy looked
very pale after his month in the hoosegow . Further, he looked saintly and
repentant. He swept off his hat and bowed so low that the brim touched earth.
    â€œMiss Price,” he said
with feeling, “how can I ever repay you for your kindness. And Mr. Price,
whatever charges you care to make for your services I shall labor for years if
necessary to repay.”
    â€œHell,” said Sam
Price. “You don’t owe me anything, sonny.”
    â€œBut,” faltered Spick,
“I heard your fees were enormous. Fifty thousand . . . a hundred thousand . .
.”
    â€œRight. But as I won’t
take less and you could never pay it, write it off to experience. Susan, I
think we had better be leaving.”
    But she lingered,
looking at repentant Spick Murphy. “What are you going to do now?”
    â€œI don’t know,” said
Spick. “No one here would ever give me honest employment and I have no other
home. Perhaps if I wandered to far countries . . .”
    â€œYou’ll do nothing of
the kind,” said Susan. “You can show your appreciation to my father by helping
him at the ranch. He needs another hand.”
    â€œI what?” said Sam
Price.
    â€œYou know you do!”
said Susan.
    â€œI guess I do,”
surrendered Sam.
    â€œI should like nothing
better,” said Spick. “I shall get some of my belongings together and report for
my orders this evening.”
    â€œThat will be fine,”
said Susan.
    Sam was dragging her
away before anything else happened. Spick stood on the steps and smiled after
them.