Biddy and the Silver Man (3)

    It had started before dawn with Cecil Bates standing alone in the street, watching Biddy ride off. When she had gone beyond his sight, his confusion and consternation fused into a clear-cut thought. He'd be triply damned if that heel Dan Parker hadn't been playing on the sympathy of the town all this time.
    Ever since Biddy had been brought back from the hospital in Phoenix. Could you beat it? Putting a brace on a kid's leg and making her wear it around town so people around town would be sorry for him. But why? What end did it serve?
    Then Cecil knew. Not the townspeople. Of course not. Sam Taber was the target of Dan's rotten plan. Who'd ever think a man would be so scared of his job he'd make his own daughter act a cripple in order to keep it?
    Well, he wouldn't get away with it any longer. Cecil fairly vibrated with the importance he felt within himself at having come upon this secret. He'd show this town. So they thought he was just a slob who sat in front of the jailhouse all day, did they? Just a bouncer to take drunks out of the tavern and sober them up behind bars. He'd show them they had to get up pretty early to get the wool over Cecil Bates' eyes and keep it there.
    Nick Sanford was just coming down to open his lunch counter in case any late drinkers wanted an early cup of coffee. Cecil hurried in that direction. Nick unlocked the door and said, "Hi, Ceec. Up early ain't you?"
    "Early enough to find out what's been going on around here."
    "Something happen?"
    "Your damn tootin' something's been happening. Met the little Parker girl riding out on her burro."
    "So early? Where was she going?"
    "Not important. The important thing was she didn't have her leg brace on."
    "Come on in while I make coffee."
    Bates followed Nick inside and said, "Didn't you hear me? I said she didn't have her leg brace on."
    "Why not?"
    "Because she didn't need it. She's never needed it. Her leg's as good as yours or mine."
    "You must be joking."
    "Did I ever joke, Nick?" Cecil asked tonelessly.
    Nick had to concede that one. In all the time he'd owned the lunch room, he'd never seen Cecil Bates smile or say a light word. "What did Biddy have to say about it?"
    "Oh, she had some gobberish about a man up in the hills making her leg well. Something Dan probably told her to say if she ever got caught."
    "That doesn't seem logical. About Dan I mean. I can see why—"
    Cecil laid out his ideas on the subject and Nick shook his head. "Can't hardly go along with you on that. Don't figure it makes sense somehow."
    "Gimme a cup of that coffee, will you?"
    "Okay. So you think it's just been a masquerade all the time?"
    "What other answer is there? A spindly, pipe-stem little leg doesn't grow normal overnight."
    "But we saw Biddy's deformed leg. All of us."
    "I got that figured out too."
    "Then tell me."
    "Illusion," Cecil said wisely. "A kind of optical illusion. We see a girl limping with a big brace on her leg. We really don't look any further than that. We take it for granted the leg's bad. That's human nature, Nick."
    Sanford didn't seem entirely convinced but he didn't argue the point. "Well, now that you know, what are you going to do about it?"
    "Do about it? I'm going down there and expose that rat. After pulling a slimy trick like that he should be held up for everybody to take a look at."
    "I don't know. I'd go a little easy if I were you."
    Cecil's native caution perked up at the warning but he found a virtue with which to defend his position. "I'd just be doing my duty—the duty of any citizen. And I'm not going down there to accuse him. I'm just going to ask him about it. I'll keep a completely open mind and listen to what he has to say, the damned rat."
    Two men entered the lunchroom after coffee and when they'd heard Cecil's story they didn't think much of the "man in the hills" yarn either. In fact, they didn't think at all. As one whispered to the other, "I don't know what the hell this is all about but Ceec is on his horse and there might be some excitement so let's stick around."
    The other one yawned. "This stinking town could certainly use some."
    Another hour went by before the town really started gathering. Then, with what amounted to a holiday spirit, heightened by the aura of mystery involved, the crowd followed Cecil Bates up the street to Dan Parker's bungalow. And the closer they came, the greater was Cecil Bates' sense of self-importance. Without analyzing, he knew he was happier than he'd been in many years. This was the way a sheriff should act—how the job should be. Walking up the street to investigate rascality with the town coming respectfully along behind. They were depending on him and he wouldn't let them down....
    Dan Parker was finishing his breakfast. He scowled into his coffee and said, "What did she have to pull a trick like this for? If she doesn't get back I'll have to go look for her. I'll be late to work."
    "Why should you have to do that?" Jane asked. "She knows the country. There's nothing to hurt her. She has Buck with her."
    "Jane, sometimes I don't understand you. Your own kid wandering around in the desert and it doesn't bother you."
    "I don't think it bothers you either. You're more worried about being inconvenienced—being late to work."
    "Now listen here—!"
    "Oh, Dan! Let's not fight. It makes me a little sick to fight now. Don't you realize that last night something wonderful happened? Something we don't understand but wonderful all the same. Biddy was healed—and here we are the next morning growling at each other like a cat and a dog." Jane ignored the fact that Dan was doing all the growling and added, "Besides, I'm sure she's all right. I—I feel it somehow."
    "You feel it! You've gotten almighty sensitive—"
    "Dan—please—" Jane stopped suddenly, caught by the sound of pounding feet—the rumble of the crowd. "Someone's coming."
    They went out on the front porch and saw the townspeople swarming into the front yard. Cecil Bates was in the forefront with fat little Tom Schultz, the mayor of Sage Bend beside him.
    Jane's hands were gripped tight together and her heart was a dead weight in her breast. "What's happened? What's the matter? Have you found Biddy?"
    "No, we ain't, Mrs. Parker," Bates said, then turned his words on Dan. "This morning I saw her riding that burro out of town. And I saw something else. She wasn't crippled at all. Never has been. Now we want to know what kind of a shenanigan you're pulling, Dan Parker! Let's have it straight."
    Jane said, "It's true—it's true that Biddy's leg has been healed but it was done yesterday by—"
    "I know. She gave me that story about a man up in the ridges—something Dan told her to say, prob'ly. But now we want the truth!"
    "But you know as much as we do. We've told the truth—as much as we know!"
    "Now we ain't as big fools as you think, Mrs. Parker—"
    "I tell you we've—"
    Dan Parker pushed forward. His eyes were slitted and ugly. "Don't tell him anything, Jane. Not another damned word." Dan pushed close to Bates and the latter fell back a step from his eyes. "I want to ask you just one question—are you calling my wife a liar?"
    Bates hesitated and turned to Schultz for help. He had not expected quite this show of belligerence. Schultz refused to become involved however. He said, "Now wait a minute, Ceec. I don't know anything about this. Besides it isn't my job. Mayor here's nothing but an honorary office anyhow." Having stated his case, he backed away also as Dan Parker moved forward and pressed Cecil Bates back against the crowd.
    Bates said, "Now look here, Dan, I'm duly constituted law around here!"
    "You're a damn snooping busybody and nothing more!"
    "I got a right to investigate and find out if the law's been violated. You know there's laws against abusing a child—"
    Dan Parker's fist cracked against Bates' half-open mouth. A tooth snapped and Bates kited backward. But he did not go down because there were three men behind him who had come for the excitement. They threw him back into the fray, one of them yelling delightedly, "You going to let him do that, to you Ceec? You're the sheriff. Nobody ought to poke the sheriff around."
    Dan swung again, but Cecil Bates dodged and scurried to the side, opening up a space that gave him time to draw his gun. His eyes were cleared of fear now and there was a little sneer on his battered mouth. "All right, Dan! You want to get gunned down? I can do it. Assaulting an officer. And I got witnesses!"
    Bates' trigger finger tightened. There would be joy for him in the bullet he aimed. But at that moment someone in the crowd yelled, "You're on his property, Ceec. You got a warrant?"
    The statement was thoughtless and by sheer chance but it probably saved Dan Parker's life. It made Bates realize his case might not be considered legally clear in a courtroom.
    But he could not bring himself to a complete loss of face. He said, "You're going to jail, Dan. I mean it. One more move and I'll kill you."
    This satisfied the volatile elements of the crowd. "Sure! Throw 'im in the can, Ceec! Show 'im who's boss!" By golly! Sage Bend hadn't seen such excitement in twenty years and maybe there'd be more! The two cow pokes who had met Bates in the lunchroom congratulated each other with happy grins. What if they had gone out early and missed all this?
    Jane was clinging to Dan's tense arm. "Darling, go with him. Do as he says. It's better than being killed." But his fist remained closed. He was on the verge of pulling away from her when she whispered, "We've got Biddy to think of!"
    The fist relaxed and the arm dropped. Dan said, "Okay, Sheriff. Let's go."
    As Bates followed Dan down the street toward the jail, his gun held importantly level, there were comments from the crowd. "Pretty cocky for a guy with his neck out.... Acts as innocent as all get-out, don't he?"
    The remarks stiffened Cecil's courage. He'd done the right thing all right. The crowd was behind him. They respected him. It wasn't bad being sheriff after all.
    His ego rose pleasantly, but only to be knocked flat three minutes later in front of the jail. As the disordered crowd moved up the street, a group of riders—perhaps half a dozen—rounded a building and came into the street at the far end. They moved forward and were waiting in front of the jail when Cecil Bates arrived with his prisoner. Bates lowered his gun and the crowd fell into silence as old Sam Taber sat on a big black in front of his riders and surveyed the scene.
    Sam Taber had that about him which signified authority even where no authority was vested. He was the kind of man people stopped and looked at. Slim, cold-faced, and gray-eyed, he had at once the manner of an aristocrat and the wary attitude of one who had met suffering and danger along the way and was on the alert for more.
    After a full minute of silence, he asked coldly, "What is this?"
    Bates said, "I'm arresting this man."
    "Why?"
    "For resisting me—an officer."
    "Why did he resist you?"
    "I went to his house to ask him some questions and—"
    "And what?"
    "He slugged me."
    "What questions did you want to ask him?"
    "About Biddy—his little girl."
    "What did she do—rob the bank?"
    Laughter bubbled in the crowd and Cecil Bates had a sudden helpless feeling. "No, Sam. You see I was up real early this morning and—"
    More laughter and someone remarked, "Glory be! He was up at dawn looking for law-breakers."
    "—I met Biddy Parker riding out on her burro."
    Sam Taber waved an impatient hand. "I got the story—what there was of it. One of my men brought it to me this morning. That's why I'm here."
    "Then you'll back me up."
    Sam Taber rifled a contemptuous look at Bates. "Put that popgun away. You've got no more case than a jackrabbit. I'll ask the questions around here."
    The crowd was silent and Cecil Bates stood alone and the humiliation was gall. He holstered his gun muttering, "You got no right to do this Sam. You got no right to make me look foolish."
    Taber probably did not hear the words. His eyes leveled over the crowd. "Seems to me the little girl's story bears looking into. But you fools have yourselves a picnic while this unknown man may be pointing all hell at you from out in the ridges."
    Bates snatched at the statement. "Say, Sam—you might have something there. That's what I was trying to get at in the first place—"
    Taber cut in. "Come on back to your place, Dan. I want to talk to you."
    The crowd melted away as Sam Taber and his silent riders moved toward it. Sam Taber held the black in and rode beside Dan and Jane Parker as the cavalcade moved up the street. Sam said, "I understand Biddy rode off this morning."
    Dan Parker said, "That's right. We were waiting for her to come home so we could—" Dan shrugged. "Then that crazy crowd showed up."
    Jane's hand tightened on Dan's arm. "She's home! There's Buck in the corral. She's home, Dan!" And Jane was running on ahead....
    "I won't tell you," Biddy said, firmly. She had now analyzed the little fear she'd felt upon awakening that morning. Now she knew the reason for it. With the inherent wisdom of childhood, she knew that the grownups would not understand Joe—would not realize how wonderful he was—better than Gene Autry, Roy Rogers, Hopalong Cassidy, and—yes even than Davey Crockett all put together. They wouldn't understand that at all, and the way grownups were, something bad would happen and Joe would be hurt. "I won't tell you, where the cave is or anything more about it."
    Dan's eyes mirrored annoyance and frustration. "Now listen here, Biddy—I don't want any more of this nonsense—"
    Jane put an arm around Biddy's shoulders and drew her close. "I think she's right," Jane said quietly.
    Dan flared in surprise. "Well of all the—"
    Jane's eyes swept both her husband and old Sam Taber who was sitting quietly on the teetery straight-backed chair, his gray eyes never moving from Biddy. "I'm sick and ashamed at the way things have gone," Jane said. "Last night I saw my daughter come home and walk across this room without need of the brace that had become the horror of my dreams. I saw her made whole and beautiful by some miracle beyond my knowledge and I wanted only to get down on my knees and thank God. I knew only happiness all the long night and then I awoke to—" Jane swept her hand hopelessly, "—to this. A snarling mob. A near murder. A town suddenly filled with hate and a love of lawlessness. Biddy saw none of this and yet she knows that this healer of hers—real or imaginary—would not be thanked for what he did but probably murdered. She knows this and I love her for it." Jane drew Biddy close. "Don't tell them, dear. Don't ever tell them a thing."
    Dan Parker stood open-mouthed at his wife's long declaration. Sam Taber got to his feet and his eyes held only admiration. He said, "I understand, Jane. And I agree with you it would be like turning a sheep to a pack of wolves."
    "Thank you."
    Sam stood looking thoughtfully at his hat as he turned it slowly in his fingers. "Just one thing," he said suddenly. "Would you mind if I examined Biddy's leg?"
    Jane was surprised at the sudden turn of his mind but she said, "No, of course not, Sam."
    Sam Taber dropped to his knees as Jane slipped off Biddy's little slacks revealing a pair of tight white panties and two perfect legs. Sam raised the left leg gently, like a holy relic and ran gentle fingers down the straight, smooth surface. "The main damage was done above the knee, wasn't it?" Sam asked.
    "Yes, the muscles were pinched and destroyed. There was only the bone left—and enough ligament to—"
    "Davey's is that way too," Sam said. "But his goes even higher—into the hip." Sam matched the legs gently together and muttered, "I'm trying to believe. I'm trying so damned hard—"
    "You shouldn't have to believe, Sam," Jane said.
    He looked up at her dully. "No?"
    "No, because Davey is your boy."
    "Yes—that's true."
    "And when one comes to the end of belief there is faith to carry one further."
    Sam got slowly to his feet and now seemed suddenly weary. He spoke softly as though to himself. "I should not need faith. After all, I've put my finger in the wound—" He looked at Biddy with his characteristic suddenness. "Biddy-baby—perhaps your friend in the ridges—maybe he would—"
    Sam stopped, floundering—suddenly out of his depth. All his life he had been a proud man; never in his life had he asked anyone for a favor and even though it was for Davey, he did not know the process of asking.
    Perhaps he would have got the words out even then, but before Jane could help him, another fear blocked the way—Dan Parker's fear. In his mind he saw Davey whole and unbroken, riding the saddle Dan Parker now rode. And while he hated his selfishness—recognized it for the evil and the criminal weakness it was—he still instinctively blocked the way—spoke the words that stopped Sam Taber's plea: "I think you'd better lie down a while, young lady. Get some rest. You were out too early this morning."
    It was an inconsequential barrier, but enough to straighten Sam Taber—bring his natural coldness to the surface—end his plea. He turned toward the door. "You might as well take the rest of the day off, Dan. Won't be much work done today anyhow. See you tomorrow morning."
    Then he was gone; into the black's saddle and leading his quiet riders out of town.
    They watched him from the door and Jane said, "That was cruel Dan. And you did it on purpose. I know you did. A boy's life restored against that miserable job of yours."
    Dan Parker knew inwardly the shame of his weakness but he hid it behind surliness. "Well, somebody's got to look out for Biddy. You'd be perfectly willing to let things go to hell and then moan because there was no food in the house. Somebody's got to be practical." Dan snatched his hat and without another word headed for the tavern....
    Art Haney had never had it so good. He chuckled and took another swig from the bottle Cecil Bates offered and thought by God it was about time this town gave a poor blind man a break.
    Cecil Bates leaned forward and took the bottle back. He didn't want this old souse to get plastered and thus become useless. He said, "So you met this guy out in the desert, eh, Haney?"
    "Sure did. At least it was a stranger because I know every voice in these parts. You see when a man's blind like I am, his sense of hearing gets almighty sharp and you take notice—"
    "Yeah, I know. Now he walked along with you and took you to the cave he's got out there?"
    "Nope—he didn't take me—well, not very far. I'm no slouch in getting around even if I am blind and nobody ever helps me. I go out in them ridges sometimes just to sort of hear the quiet sounds. You see a blind man—"
    "I know—I know. So you were out there and—"
    "And he said hello. We got to talking—"
    "What about?"
    "Oh, just this and that. It was getting almighty hot and I asked him if he could give a poor blind man a little something to drink."
    "That was when he took you to the cave."
    "Uh-huh. It was only about fifty feet from where I was. He took me inside and gave me a swig of the damndest stuff you ever drank. Had a kick to it, but not like any whiskey you ever drank."
    Cecil pushed the bottle into his hand. "Try another belt of this."
    Art was highly agreeable. He wiped the neck with a filthy hand and said, "Thank you, Ceec. You're mighty good to a poor helpless blind man."