The Sheriff's Son (Musaicum Western Mysteries). William MacLeod Raine

He had only to give his mind play to see himself helpless in the hands of the Rutherfords.

      But he was essentially stanch and generous. Fate had played him a scurvy trick in making him a trembler, but he knew it was not in him to turn his back on Dingwell. No matter how much he might rebel and squirm he would have to come to time in the end.

      After a wretched afternoon he hunted up Ryan at his hotel.

      "When do you want me to start?" he asked sharply.

      The little cowpuncher was sitting in the lobby reading a newspaper. He took one look at the harassed youth and jumped up.

      "Say, you're all right. Put her there."

      Royal's cold hand met the rough one of Ryan. The shrewd eyes of the Irishman judged the other.

      "I knew youse couldn't be a quitter and John Beaudry's son," he continued. "Why, come to that, the sooner you start the quicker."

      "I'll have to change my name."

      "Sure you will. And you'd better peddle something—insurance, or lightning rods, or 'The Royal Gall'ry of Po'try 'n Art' or—"

      "'Life of the James and Younger Brothers.' That ought to sell well with the Rutherfords," suggested Roy satirically, trying to rise to the occasion.

      "Jess Tighe and Dan Meldrum don't need any pointers from the James Boys."

      "Tighe and Meldrum— Who are they?"

      "Meldrum is a coyote your father trapped and sent to the pen. He's a bad actor for fair. And Tighe—well, if you put a hole in his head you'd blow out the brains of the Rutherford gang. For hiven's sake don't let Jess know who you are. All of sivinteen years he's been a cripple on crutches, and 't was your father that laid him up the day of his death. He's a rivingeful divil is Jess."

      Beaudry made no comment. It seemed to him that his heart was of chilled lead.