Free Marauders' Moon by Luke; Short Page A

you do with him? Keep him locked up for a year?”
    â€œIt’s been done,” Britt said stubbornly.
    â€œBut that’s cruel, Britt!”
    â€œWould you rather have your dad find out?”
    Martha did not know what to do. She looked at Webb appealingly, and Webb said calmly, “Tell him.”
    Britt’s look was puzzled. Martha sighed. “All right, Britt. Haven’t you heard, or don’t you remember, that this is the prisoner McWilliams brought into Wagon Mound—a prisoner of Wintering County? He’s wanted for train robbery in your county, and they’ll arrest him as soon as you take him back.”
    â€œSo much the better,” Britt said, smiling a little. “It’ll save us keeping him locked up.”
    â€œBut you can’t do that, Britt!”
    Britt scowled. “What is this? Are you tryin’ to defend a man who’s pulled off two robberies?”
    â€œI don’t believe it!” Martha said. “I don’t”—She hesitated, blushing a little, and then blurted out: “Anyway, I would hate myself if I sent a man to jail.”
    â€œIf he’s guilty?”
    â€œI’m not,” Webb put in. “I happened to be riding the train, and when your law couldn’t find the robbers, they claimed it was an inside job. There was a tinhorn gambler I knew ridin’ that same train, and to work off an old grudge, I reckon he gave the law my name.”
    â€œSee?” Martha said.
    Britt looked more puzzled than ever. “Are you takin’ the word of a saddle tramp against county officers, Marty?”
    Martha said flatly, “I don’t believe it, Britt. Anyone could see he wouldn’t hold up a train—or a bank, for that matter.”
    â€œYour dad thought so.”
    â€œI still don’t care. Anyway, dad didn’t have him locked up.”
    Britt smiled meagerly. “No. He brought him out so he could do this dirty work for him.”
    Martha winced, but she was not through fighting. “You know that’s not true, Britt. But even if it was, it wouldn’t change matters. I’m not going to send this man to jail for something he never did, just because he was obeying dad’s orders.”
    Britt said patiently, “All right, suppose you think of somewhere we can put him where he won’t talk to your dad.”
    â€œBut he’s said he wouldn’t!”
    Bannister laughed shortly. “Be sensible, girl. What are we to him? Why wouldn’t he trade what he knows if it meant freedom.” He looked coldly at Webb. “I’ve listened to enough of this. I’m thinkin’ of you, Marty, when I say he has to be put somewhere where he won’t talk.”
    â€œYou could always shoot me,” Webb drawled. Immediately, he was sorry he said it, but he was fed up with being discussed and disposed of like a muley steer. And the look Martha gave him seemed to suggest that he was using a poor coin with which to pay her back for siding in with him.
    â€œWell?” Britt said to her.
    â€œI don’t know. If you’re going to, you’re going to, Britt.” Then she said, “Could you take him with you—and still not turn him over to the law?”
    â€œDad’s the law in Wintering County,” Bannister said. “And he doesn’t interfere much with me. Yes, I could take him home, and he wouldn’t be turned over to the sheriff.”
    â€œIs that your promise, Britt?”
    â€œIt’s my word.”
    Martha turned to Webb. “I’m sorry. If—if we knew more about you—or if what we do know didn’t look so bad—we could take your word.”
    â€œThat’s right,” Webb said dryly. “I got a bad record—accordin’ to all the big augers around here who believed somebody else, who believed a crooked tinhorn.”
    Britt cut in coldly, “Where’s your horse?”
    Webb told him.