The Sheriff And His Partner | Page 2

the
robber's real name) seemed to get an afterthought, which he at once
proceeded to carry into effect. Drawing a knife he cut the traces, and
took out of the shafts the Judge's famous trotting mare, Lizzie D.,
which he mounted with the remark:
"'Sheriff Johnson, I reckon, would come after the money anyway, but
the hoss'll fetch him--sure pop.'
"These words have just been given to us by Judge Shannon himself,
who tells us also that the outrage took place on the North Section Line,
bounding Bray's farm.

"After this speech the highway robber Williams rode towards the
township of Osawotamie, while Judge Shannon, after drawing the
buckboard to the edge of the track, was compelled to proceed
homewards on foot.
"The outrage, as we have said, took place late last evening, and Judge
Shannon, we understand, did not trouble to inform the County
authorities of the circumstance till to-day at noon, after leaving our
office. What the motive of the crime may have been we do not worry
ourselves to inquire; a crime, an outrage upon justice and order, has
been committed; that is all we care to know. If anything fresh happens
in this connection we propose to issue a second edition of this paper.
Our fellow-citizens may rely upon our energy and watchfulness to keep
them posted.
"Just before going to press we learn that Sheriff Johnson was out of
town attending to business when Judge Shannon called; but Sub-Sheriff
Jarvis informs us that he expects the Sheriff back shortly. It is
necessary to add, by way of explanation, that Mr. Jarvis cannot leave
the jail unguarded, even for a few hours."
As may be imagined this item of news awakened my keenest interest. It
fitted in with some things that I knew already, and I was curious to
learn more. I felt that this was the first act in a drama. Vaguely I
remembered some one telling in disconnected phrases why the Sheriff
had left Missouri, and come to Kansas:
"'Twas after a quor'll with a pardner of his, named Williams, who
kicked out."
Bit by bit the story, to which I had not given much attention when I
heard it, so casually, carelessly was it told, recurred to my memory.
"They say as how Williams cut up rough with Johnson, and drawed a
knife on him, which Johnson gripped with his left while he pulled
trigger.--Williams, I heerd, was in the wrong; I hain't perhaps got the
right end of it; anyhow, you might hev noticed the Sheriff hes lost the
little finger off his left hand.--Johnson, they say, got right up and lit out

from Pleasant Hill. Perhaps the folk in Mizzoori kinder liked Williams
the best of the two; I don't know. Anyway, Sheriff Johnson's a square
man; his record here proves it. An' real grit, you bet your life."
The narrative had made but a slight impression on me at the time; I
didn't know the persons concerned, and had no reason to interest myself
in their fortunes. In those early days, moreover, I was often homesick,
and gave myself up readily to dreaming of English scenes and faces.
Now the words and drawling intonation came back to me distinctly,
and with them the question: Was the robber of Judge Shannon the same
Williams who had once been the Sheriff's partner? My first impulse
was to hurry into the street and try to find out; but it was the chief part
of my duty to stay in the office till six o'clock; besides, the Sheriff was
"out of town," and perhaps would not be back that day. The hours
dragged to an end at last; my supper was soon finished, and, as night
drew down, I hastened along the wooden side-walk of Washington
Street towards the Carvell House. This hotel was much too large for the
needs of the little town; it contained some fifty bedrooms, of which
perhaps half-a-dozen were permanently occupied by "high-toned"
citizens, and a billiard-room of gigantic size, in which stood nine tables,
as well as the famous bar. The space between the bar, which ran across
one end of the room, and the billiard-tables, was the favourite nightly
resort of the prominent politicians and gamblers. There, if anywhere,
my questions would be answered.
On entering the billiard-room I was struck by the number of men who
had come together. Usually only some twenty or thirty were present,
half of whom sat smoking and chewing about the bar, while the rest
watched a game of billiards or took a "life" in pool. This evening,
however, the billiard-tables were covered with their slate-coloured
"wraps," while at least a hundred and fifty men were gathered about the
open space of glaring light near the bar. I hurried up the room, but