"When that sheriff come along here looking for him, I told
him p'inted that Baldy said he wouldn't be arrested. A more
truthful man I never knowed, and if the damn fool had taken my
word he'd be living yet!"
"But you-all know what trouble killing that sheriff made fo'
Baldy!" said Yancy. "He told me often he regretted it mo' than
anything he'd ever done. He said it was most aggravatin' having
to always lug a gun wherever he went. And what with being
suspicious of strangers when he wa'n't suspicious by nature, he
reckoned in time it would just naturally wear him out."
"He stood it until he was risin' eighty," said Crenshaw.
"His, father lived to be ninety, John, and as spry an old
gentleman as a body'd wish to see. I don't uphold no man for
committing murder, but I do consider the sheriff should have
waited on Baldy to get mo' reasonable, like he'd done in time if
they'd just let him alone--but no, sir, he reckoned the law
wa'n't no respecter of persons. He was a fine-appearin' man,
that sheriff, and just elected to office. I remember we had to
leave off the tail-gate to my cart to accommodate him. Yes, sir,
they pretty near pestered Baldy into his grave--and seein' that
pore old fellow pottering around year after year always toting a
gun was the patheticest sight I most ever seen, and I made up my
mind then if it ever seemed necessary for me to kill a man, I'd
leave the county or maybe the state," concluded the squire.
"Don't you reckon it would be some better to leave the state afo'
you.
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