Democratic Sentinel, Volume 9, Number 4, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 February 1885 — NO MURDERER. [ARTICLE]

NO MURDERER.

BY LILY M. CURRY.

( “You will have trouble yet with that ellow, ” said Tom, hortatively. I I shook the ashes from my cigar—a Yrst-class article which one might have iaijoyed under almost any circumtances. Then I answered, slowly: ; “I’ve no doubt of it.” I Of course I agreed with Tom; he I'iad been in that region before and | mew the ways of the inhabitants. But Tom had ceased smoking, and I ras looking grave. II “You will have trouble, ”he repeated. 11 hate to leave you here, Jack. ” || “Bah!” I laughed. “Haven't I a pair ||>f six-shooters in my trunk there?” II “Get them out of your trunk,” he ■iuggested. “Keep them handy.” H- “And I am a pretty good shot, don’t |rou think?” || “In a shooting-gallery, up home. It ■b different when somebody gets the ■drop on vou. ” f We were silent for a time; Tom apIbeared contemplative. I imagined his ■best thoughts were “up home,” just at Khat moment, where a certain fair pace awaited his return. In any event, pie was not in love with Texas. 1 1 We had come South a few weeks pre■nous as promoters’©! a new railroad. ■We were temporarily located in a small pown*half-way between the Brazos and phe Colorado, and not far from the I ja.pli a; Here wo had iitted up as our Baffice and bachelor apartments a couple §>f pleasant rooms in the second story ipf a new brick building a short distance from the railroad station, and as ■yet no tragedy had resulted, if But Tom (surname Phillips, mine ■Lester), my closest friend, my comrade ftn business and pleasure, was actually nil at ease. He was going to Austin the Hollowing morning to remain several Bays, leaving me at home to manage all Ijfcffiairs and guard carefully the documents of the corporation. |[ So far, well and good. But I, on my ■pari, had been unfortunate enough ■that very afternoon to incur the dis■pleasure of a certain fiery-tempered native, who was said to shoot with as ■few compunctions as he would feel to ■eat his dinner—or something of the wort. This native, “Major” Dawson by name, had been anxious for some time ko furnish us, at—as ho claimed—the ■owest figure, with such supplies—■mules for one thing—as we should ■shortly need for actual work in openling up our new road. We had conIcluded to buy of him; the trade had ■all but been completed, when, by ■purest chance, I had discovered ■that he was going to swindle us unImercifully. Without pausing to conBeult Tom, who happened to be absent, p had sent down to Dawson’s store, a ■few squares distant, asking him to come kp at once. And when he had appeared I had confronted him with my knowledge of his intentions. Of course ke denied it up and down, but I had ■the proofs, and was not to be deceived. I “It is no matter,” I had said; “you kaay count the trade off. We don’t ■propose to be cheated. ” ■ He had sprung to his feet, making a ■quick motion, as if to draw- some ■weapon. Then suddenly he had seemed ■to reconsider. With an oath and a ■threat that we should not get out of it WO easily, he had left tho place. I It was now evening, and Tom having ■returned, I had been telling him the fccircumstances. I ( “Suppose,” he said, presently, “supIpose you go to Austin. I’ve heard a I good deal about Dawson. They say I‘he’s quick on tlie trigger,’ you know. I And he couldn’t very well kill you if lyou wern’t here.” I “Not any,” I replied. “What kind of la fellow .do you think me, any way ? ■ Make fusses and leave you to settle Ithem! No, you’ll start in the morning las you intended. And I’ll keep 011 the llookout for the ‘Major.’ ” I Tom cautioned me, however, at some [length, concerning the “Major’s” accomplishments as a gunner. | I was not especially nervous the folflowing day, but went about my ousi- [ ness as usual, until the afternoon, when | Dawson sent a friend of his over, to inquire if I still proposed to “sneak out •of that trade.” Without a moment’s | hesitation I sent back word that we [ proposed to deal only with people who kwere “square.” Half an hour later. I met the “Ma|"jor” on the main street of the town. IHe stopped me and reopened the subrject. Presently he grew excited in a [ high degree, and declared that no man I should call him a cheat and a liar and

/Still live. “You’ll eat your words or die!” lie •cried finally, rolling out a big oath to /Strengthen the threat. I • was seized with a desire to laugh, ; it seemed so absurd. But I knew that would only aggravate matters. “I’ve no time to argue," I said, *Tou might as well let the matter drop. I don’t propose to quarrel with you; I’m not killing people just now; Jhn no murderer." I went home then. Somehow I felt strangely lonesome When evening had eome, and I went off •lone to the hotel where Tom and I ( (took our meals. As I sat eating my supper, a dis- , patch was brought from Tom asking

presence in Austin being highly important. Before leaving the hotel, I made some inquiries, and found, as I had thought, there was an accommodation due at 10 o’clock, or a few minutes later. I determined to take this, not wait until 11 the following morning. As I left the office, I met the fiery “Major” just entering. He glared at me like a wild beast. I could hardly understand any one’s working np such a state of deadly hatred on such short notice. Nevertheless, it was quite apparent how be felt. I went home and put together some papers to take with me, placing all others of importance carefully in my trunk. To tell the truth, I was beginning to feel relieved at getting away from the town for a day or two. As Tom had intimated, my shooting had always been done at wooden targets, and I had a hprrid, indescribable sensation at the thought of bloodshed. I really hoped jny adversary would grow cool in my absence, and see the frnly of his ways. He was in a measure formidable. He was tall and sinewy, quick of sight and motion. In anger his face assumed an expression of malevolence far easier to remember than describe. He was, however, a man of certain respectability, possessed of some little property and influence. I had heard so much of the ways of that country, that I even imagined he might administer a good dose of cold lead to a stranger like myself, deliver himself up to some friendly Justice of the Peace, and be instantly acquitted, on grounds of self-defense. I lowered the curtains of my windows, and, lighting the lamp, arranged a few articles to take on my journey. I felt a little nervous and a good deal angry. I remembered that some of the people over at the hotel had looked at me with curious interest. Liko as not they were considering it possible they should next meet with me at a Coroner’s inquest—subject, myself. Of course they had’ heard of tho affair. This might all be imagination on my part, but the chances were strong in the other direction. The more I thought of it, the angrier I grew. A profane fool of a braggart to impose on me with unhealthy mules and supplies more or less damaged; and because I objected, to tell me I should eat my words or die. “Confound him!” I said, viciously, “1 wouldn’t mind discovering who’s the best man of the two, hand to hand, in good civilized fashion. I almost think I could thrush the nonsense out of him. But to drag in those miserable pistols and spill blood—it’s too much, that’s all!” The block in which we had our rooms was a new one, and as yet but partly occupied. Only one of tjie stores beneath was rented. In this was a kind of apothecary shop, where all sorts of other articles were kept. The stairway up from the street lauded one in a narrow hall, on one side of which were our apartments; on the other side, corresponding rooms still vacant. The hall ran back to a rear stairway. On either side of the hall was a small closet for fuel and water. At night the hall was lighted dimly by a lamp in a bracket screwed to the wall.

It was nearing 1.0 o’clock, and I was ready to start to tlie station, wlien I heard, or fancied I heard, a creaking sound in the hall, I listened; hut all was still. I went to the door and looked ont. No one was in sight. I closed the door and went back, provoked at my own trepidation. Yet somehow I hesitated as to leaving the place. I turned down the light aud went to look out of the window. The street was still enough. The light from tho store windows below was warm and cheery. I put my head further out and looked up and down the road. No one was in sight; no human—but hitched to a post a few yards distant I saw a saddle horse which I had surely seen before. It was Dawson’s! I could have sworn to the horse; it was a peculiar-looking animal—white, with abundant mane and tail. By the aid of the starlight and my own keen eyes I grew positive. And where was Dawson? Skulking somewhere near, and eager to do me harm. I had a-strange,-uncanny suspicion it was so—a suspicion which rapidly increased to certain knowledge. “You shall eat your words or die!” I could hear him threatening me again, and the thought was a chilly sort of comfort, I confess.

What he wanted the horse in waiting for, I could hardly comprehend, unless it was to escape, when once he had “settled” me. I drew in my head and closed the window. I listened again; for again had come that creaking sound of stealthy footsteps. I went and got one of my pistols, saw that it was all right, and, holding it firmly, opened the door into the hall, this time quite suddenly. No one in sight! I noticed, however, that the door of one of the little closets was slightly ajar. It was the closet on the opposite side of the hall. Owing to the direction in which the door opened, any one hiding in the closet could not see me through the aperture, so that I was safe enough. I closed my door softly, and proceeded, revolver in hand, to the closet on my own side, but the door was shut fast, and I concluded not to turn my •back to the possible locality of the enemy. I paused to consider'. Here was a comfortable prospect. I should have to postpone my departure from town until the following morning.

I heard the accommodation thunder ponderously into the town. I backed slowly up to my own door, reached one hand behind for the knob, when suddenly I felt a grand disgust at my own cowardice, a reokless desire to investigate that opposite closet. I sprang forward with three long strides, snatched the door open, and fell against —Dawson! I was quick! enough to knock his ■weapon out of his hand. Then wo grappled. In the struggle that followed wo rolled out and over and over oa the floor of the hall.

viciously desperate. We choked and pounded one andtber for an indefinite space. Strangely enough, we made but little noise. I gained upon him, and presently was holding him down, with a firm grip at his throat. I knew it would not do to let him go; it did not occur to me to call for assistance. I only £ept on thumping him soundly, regardless of consequences. “You coward!” I said, or thought. “Prowling around after dark! Yon hadn’t the courage to meet me by daylight, fair and square. I’ve a mind to thrash the life out of you!” I lost a little of my grip on him then, and he struggled to his feet, unsubdued and more furious than ever, lie began to back me along the hall toward the stairs, intending, I could see, to fling me into the street. Bnt two could play at that, I was quite sure. I let him feel me weakening in his grasp, until we were just at the head of the staircase. Then I wheeled suddenly, and he himself went over with all the force he had meant to thrust upon me. Over he went, but, alas! he clutched at and dragged me. with him. It was a terrible!all. I was stunned fora moment; then I felt a horrible pain in my arm. I picked myself up as best I could, and after a brief Burvey of my enemy—my fallen enemy—silent and motionless I entered the store, aroused the sleeping proprietor, and told my story! And Dawson? O, no, he was not killed. It takes a deal to kill some people. But he was laid up for weeks. And long before he was able to leave his house again, Tom and I had decided that headquarters should be further down toward tho Gulf. However, I sent tho “Major” his revolver, with my compiments, and the hope that he would be more careful in future.