Free War on the Cimarron by Luke; Short Page B

unobtrusively out of his chair and crossed the street. On the far boardwalk he paused long enough to watch the stage from Caldwell roll into town. Without a pause in the fast trot of his three teams the driver tossed a mailbag toward the hotel porch and shouted greetings to the men he knew were there but could not see.
    Red turned on his heel and started downstreet again, and suddenly, from between two store buildings, a voice said, “Red Shibe?”
    It was a woman’s voice, and Red paused, and before he could answer the voice went on. “Don’t look this way. Can you hear me?”
    Red nodded and turned his back to her and looked over the street.
    â€œGet your horse and ride around to the alley back here. I’ll meet you.”
    Red nodded again and moved off downstreet. He was more puzzled than suspicious. He couldn’t begin to guess who it was and, after a moment’s thought, discounted the possibility that it might be someone sent by Corb. Scott Corb didn’t know a woman with that nice a voice.
    He got his horse, rode down out of the block, turned and put his horse into the dark alley. There was a rider waiting for him behind the store, and without saying anything they rode the length of the alley and out of the business district.
    Finally Red, who could not see the girl, said, “I’d like to know a little more, miss.”
    â€œI was out at your place yesterday,” the girl said. “I’m Luvie Barnes.”
    This was the girl who had angered Frank so, Red remembered. He kept silent until they were out of the town itself. A quarter mile beyond it they came to a large two-story log house set back from the road, and behind it was a cluster of sheds and barns and corrals. They tied their horses at a tree in front of the house, and Luvie led the way up the porch steps and into the hall.
    Luvie called, “All right, Dad,” and led the way through a door that opened off the hall into the parlor.
    Barnes, in his shirt sleeves, came out of a big chair, and Luvie said in a not-too-enthusiastic voice, “Here he is, Dad.”
    Barnes shook hands with Red, and his broad heavy face was troubled. “You’re Red Shibe, Frank’s rider, aren’t you?”
    â€œThat’s right,” Red said.
    Barnes said, “Sit down,” and Red did, and Luvie came over to sit on the arm of her father’s chair.
    â€œTell me about Frank,” Barnes said, hunching forward in his seat.
    â€œNothin’ to tell,” Red said, puzzled. “He was framed for whisky peddlin’. He’s been arrested and he’s in jail under bond until the trial, in the fall.”
    â€œHas Frank got any money?” Barnes asked.
    â€œMoney? You mean bail money? Not that I know of.”
    â€œI have.”
    Luvie came to her feet, alarm in her face. “Dad! Are you going on Frank Christian’s bail?”
    â€œThat’s it,” Barnes said. “He’s too good a man to stay locked up in jail.”
    â€œDad, you’re crazy!” Luvie said hotly. “I’d never have brought Shibe here if I’d known you were going to do that!”
    â€œWhy shouldn’t I?”
    â€œBecause Corb will find out, and it’ll make trouble for you!”
    Barnes looked at Red. “You can keep your mouth shut, can’t you?”
    Red nodded, and Luvie said, “Why, besides, Frank won’t take it! Not after what he said to me today! Haven’t you any pride, Dad? Can’t you remember what he said about you?”
    â€œHe was right,” Barnes said grimly. “I’m a coward and I’ll admit it. I’m too old and too fat to strap on a gun and comb Corb over. But that’s no sign I don’t like to see somebody do it that can.”
    Luvie stamped her foot. “Don’t you talk that way! You’re risking everything we have to help Frank Christian! It’s not worth it, Dad! He’s not worth