Free Savage Range by Luke; Short

little handsomer than any man he’d ever seen. He said he’d have to have a savage hatred for injustice. He’d have to be a fighter. He’d have to know how to use a gun. He wouldn’t care about money, Uncle Jack said, and he’d have to have treatment at Harvey Buckner’s hands that would make him fighting mad.”
    She paused, and Jim regarded her attentively. “Uncle Jack wasn’t sure at first, when he saw you join up with Max Bonsell. But when he heard your story to those men in the sheriff’s office tonight, he was sure.” She paused again. “You’re the man, Jim Wade.”
    Jim rose quickly, and Mary Buckner did, too, walking over to face him. “It’s not fair to ask it!” she said passionately. “There’s nothing fair or right about it! It’s—it’s the cheapest sort of politics I’m playing, Jim Wade! I’m taking advantage of your anger at Max Bonsell, at the injustice of killing thirteen men in cold blood, even if they deserved killing. I’m even making myself out a helpless girl to work on your pity. Uncle Jack has even placed you in his debt by breaking jail for you. But there it is, Jim Wade, in all its shabby truth. We need you. Will you help us?”
    Jim didn’t answer for a moment. He was watching this girl’s face, tense and lovely and eager. And then that slow smile broke his face.
    â€œI reckon,” he said mildly.
    But Mary persisted. “Remember, I haven’t mentioned any reward.”
    â€œDid I ask for one?”
    â€œNo. But I couldn’t give you one. For when I take over the Ulibarri grant, I will be poor. The only thanks I can give you will come from the bottom of my heart, my gratitude.”
    â€œI think,” Jim Wade murmured, “that I’d rather have that than money.”
    â€œBless you, Jim Wade,” Mary whispered, and her eyes were soft with gratitude.
    She turned away from him and walked into the bedroom. Jim, embarrassed and puzzled, packed his pipe now and lighted it.
    Soon Mary came out and she said cheerfully, “It’s daylight already, and I’m hungry. Are you?”
    They cooked a breakfast in Jack Cope’s tiny kitchen. His quarters were three small rooms above the rear end of his saloon, a kitchen, a bedroom, and a living-room. The furniture was sparse, masculine, and the rooms were as spruce and clean as the cabins of a crack China tea clipper.
    Halfway through breakfast, they heard someone ascending the stairs. Jim listened tensely until he made out the thump of Jack Cope’s crutch.
    When Cope came in, Mary ran to him and threw her arms around his big shoulders and hugged him. “Uncle Jack, he’ll help us! He promised!” she cried.
    Cope’s tough and muscled face didn’t change. “I knew he would,” he said shortly. “I’ve waited too long to make a mistake.”
    At breakfast, he told them what had happened. Sheriff Haynes was insane with fury. He had roused every able-bodied man in town. Cope suggested to him that they search the town, since there was no evidence that Jim Wade had ridden out.
    â€œYou suggested it, you say?” Mary said, laughing. “Aren’t you afraid he’ll do it?”
    â€œHe is doin’ it.”
    â€œBut—what about this place?”
    â€œI’m safe enough,” Cope growled. “You see it was my suggestion. It was also my suggestion that he go out and get Jim Wade before a wild-eyed posse could be organized. It was also my suggestion that the preliminary hearin’ be held in the dark office and that Haynes deputize five of us to hold the jail.”
    â€œBut how can you do it?” Mary asked.
    Cope looked over at her, and his tough old face relaxed a little. He put a big hand on hers and said, “Mary, nobody knows it, but I run this town. I’ve spent fifteen years makin’ my name respected, so when this time came