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Show ' USELESS "llSfe k COWBOY AlkK f "ALAN Le MAY w.n.u. stav.cE yi4f f no more. But I got to get some ' money to send back to George. He'll need it, until he can work." "He might never, you know." "Well, then, he'll need the money "e worse." u know," Cherry said, not g at him, "the country around vould be a wonderful place to i little cattle stand. It's thin, ere's plenty of it. The Cot-nly Cot-nly want the valley bottom, isn't the country's fault that Crick wastes all his time run-ild run-ild horses." I often thought of that." a few years," Cherry said v, "a couple of people could bout anything, if they weren't of work." e." was silent, and waited for e would say. i the lean-to at the other side house came George Fury's oil: "Cherry, if yew missed th ut, hit him agin!" k," Melody said. He sat look-he look-he broken lamp, and the rib-bis rib-bis hand, and turning turkey HMBfly seemed to notice the ribbon rib-bon more than the lamp. "You can have that, if you want it," she said. "You don't need to steal things from me. Couldn't you ask?" Wordless, Melody wadded up the ribbon and crammed it into his pocket. Then, becoming aware of what he was doing, he hastily pulled it out again, snapped it straight, and dropped it on the bed. "I swear," he said honestly, "I don't know how come I done that." He stood up. "I'll send you another an-other lamp," he said, "out of my first pay." "You're really on your way," she said, as if she didn't believe it. "Whut?" She subsided, looking more discouraged dis-couraged than he had ever seen her. "Let it go. ... I suppose you'll let George know where he can find you?" "We ain't speakin'." "But you said " "I'll support him while he needs it. I'll do jest that one thing more. But beyond that we're done. George wants it that way, Cherry. I reckon so do I." She looked at him a long time then, disconcertingly, while he stood turning his hat round and round in his hands. He didn't know exactly how to get out of there, now that he had no more to say. "I think," Cherry said surprisingly, surprising-ly, "you're the hardest man I've ever known." "Who? Me?" "You're hard like a rock drill, or a bronc. You're so hard you don't even know you're hard." "Oh, well, shucks, now " "How on earth did you manage to break with George?" Melody shifted uncomfortably, deeply embarrassed. He would have said he didn't know, except that George would be staying on there. "Well," Melody said, "he he I guess I got to tell you something. Cherry . . . George remembers, now. He remembers who who picked that carbine up, and shot it, when when I was fighting Monte." Cherry winced as if a quirt had sung in her face, but steadied instantly. in-stantly. She considered for a long moment, with her eyes averted. "I did," she said at last. "Yup, sure," Melody said. "We know that, now." Cherry talked swiftly, in a panic. "Can't he seecan't anybody see I had to try to I couldn't help " "Cherry," he said slowly, "you ain't got any better friend than George." But you just said you quarreled because " He met her almost frantically glassy stare with steady eyes. "George is a sentimental old guy. He don't see things very clear, any more." Every trace of expression in Cherry's Cher-ry's face was crossed off. "It's it's you who hates me for that?" "Nobody hates you. Cherry." She dropped her chin, and turned her face away from him. "I want you to know something," Melody said. "If a feller gets a , bullet pasted at him, it's liable to be his own damn fault. Even if it comes from the last place he would rightfully expect it to come from." She only looked at him. "Don't feel like that," Melody said. "It ain't fair or right for a man to expect too much of people. If a feller gets to thinking there's some one person he can trust, that's a chance he's taking. And if later she feels called on to take a shot at him, he cain't blame nobody but his-self his-self if he's surprised." This was so far from anything Cherry had looked forward to, or planned, that at first she could not speak. Her eyelids winked fast as she stared hard at the hairbrush. He turned away; and she didn't stop him as he wandered to the door. But he hesitated, feeling unhappy, and incomplete. "George is furlny," he said. "Facts hurt George. He cain't bring hisself to stand for 'em. There ain't a man in the world wouldn't give the last drop of his blood for a gal that done for him whut you tried to do for Monte. But maybe you'd better let George think whut he wants. He's daid set that you was shootin' at Monte." He paused. Then, as she stared at him, he said, diffidently, "some way it makes him mad to have me realize that you was only trying to kill me." Cherry dropped the hairbrush, but It landed on its bristles, without sound; and Melody did not see it, because he was getting out of there now, at his own slow pace. "Someday," he said to himself, "you'll be an old man, past use for nothin'. And suppose then word comes in, some way, so's we know then that George was right. Suppose Sup-pose we find out, some way, she really real-ly shot at Monte. Then you'll set there plucking cactus spines. You'll set there a long time . . ." He stood halfway up, hitching his chap belt, but sat down again. "She would of give me some sign," he suggested to himself uncertainly. "She would of said something. She would of told me." He reached down for has soogans. But he never picked them up. He stopped in his tracks, shocked out of motion by the impression that Harry Har-ry Henshaw, ignorer of whistles, had turned and whistled at him. Then, as he stared at the dozing pony, Cherry spoke behind him. "No wonder he doesn't come," she said. He jumped, and spun around. "Whut? Oh. It's you." "Yes," Cherry said. "That whistle whis-tle can't be any good. You don't even answer to it yourself." "Who? Me?" Melody was utterly utter-ly befuddled, now. "Cherry, I swear, it seems like he otter come. I thunk a fur piece, figuring up that whistle. That there is the most come-hither whistle a man can think up, I do believe." "Is it?" Cherry looked him square in the eye, and whistled at him. The doggonedest thing of all happened hap-pened then. Harry Henshaw came up and stood nearby, looking self-conscious. self-conscious. THE END STORY THUS FAR: Melody J'.ies and George Fury bad ridden Into Payneville. Melody was mistaken for the outlaw, Monte Jarrad. Monte's girl. Cherry, In trying to save Monte and later M " ' " n.r. Ti-imlr-r of y' G of 1 sell orl git I Bill prr-j seel Buj whl knowed what you was iro to, there, once. ..." Melody was interested. "When was this?" j "When you walkeijl out and fit it out with h'ti-and not him down!" "Who? Me?" "How you ever' done it that part they's no ansvrer to," George said. "It'll mystify me in my grave." "Only I never," Melody said somberly. som-berly. "Never what?" "I never shot him, George." "I see," George said, with bitter irony. "You never killed him. He fainted, and struck his head. The bullet you put through him never had nothing to do with it!" Melody looked at George very queerly. "I kind of thought to ask you a .question, George. But this answers it, I guess. Maybe I already al-ready knew the answer. Only, I did kind of hope You sure you didn't shoot him, George? Because you crawled to the door, you know. You crawled to the door, and you " "Crawled to the door," George mimicked him angrily. "I don't crawl for nobody, you hear? I stood up and walked like a human bean! Only I tripped. It knocked the wind out of me, or somethin', and I dropped her. Don't you even know when you shoot a feller?" "I I don't feel good," Melody said. "Of course, I really knowed; but I guess I still kind of hoped " "What the hell's the matter with yw?" Melody looked at him with pity. "The shot come from behind me. I even heard the lead. I reckon the next silliness, I'm supposed to think she went off when you dropped her, and hit dead center by accident. Fine carbine, you had, with its own eyes and everything. I never hear sech " He stopped. "Now whut's the matter?" A new queer light had come into George's face. "Avery!" he said. "Whut?" "It comes back to me now. As I fell down, somebody taken and grabbed the carbine up. Avery must of " He checked abruptly, and looked even stranger. "Avery was knocked out," he said weakly, watching Melody. They looked at each other quite a while. Melody's face had reached a low of depression such as George had never seen in it before. It made him look older; almost, George thought, as if he had sense. "Don't look like that," George said at last. "You otter be glad. You otter be proud of her. If it was me. I'd take it for the best good news I ever see come to you yet. The only good news," he corrected. "I throw in," Melody said. "What?" "You cain't blame her. She knowed him long before she ever knowed me." It took a long time for that to soak in upon George, so that he realized what Melody meant. Even f Vall his long miles with Melody, I.Tind it hard to believe this final thing. "1 otter git up and whup yew." George's voice was low, but it shook. "I give yew up. Git out of my sight! I don't want to ever see yew no more. Melody, I mean it." "All right. George." Melody got together such of his few things as were still rattling around the ranch house. Hp could not find at all some of the things he thought he remembered having had, such as one-half pair of spurs, and his horsehair tie rope. He finally found his other saddle blanket, though, rolled up under George Fury's head. "Please, George, kin I have that?" When George smoked and ignored him he lifted George's head by the hair, and took the blanket blan-ket anyway, while George refused to notice. Cherry w-as brushing her hair, just as he had seen her do the night she had found him asleep in her bed. She glanced over her shoulder at him, and snid, "Hi." And there was a considerable silence while Melody stood awkwardly in the door and nothing happened. "I don't see why you need him. right away." she said at last. "I got to get a job. Most likely I got to travel some to get it don't seem like I'm popular around here |