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the sentiment of the mob； she sought not for words but emotions。 Bill's life
was at stake。 What could she say to make them Bill's friends？ After her
uplifted hand had brought tense silence； she stood at a loss； her eyes big
with the appeal her tongue refused to utter。
The mob was awed by that light in her eyes； by the crimson in her
cheeks； by her beauty； freshness and grace。 They would not proceed to
violence while she stood there facing them。 Her power she recognized； but
she understood it was that of physical presence。 When she was gone； her
influence would depart。 They knew Brick and Bill had sheltered her from
her tenderest years； they admired her fidelity。 Whatever she might say to
try to move their hearts would come from a sense of gratitude and would
be received in tolerant silence。 The more guilty the highwayman； the more
commendable her loyalty。 But it would not change their purpose； as if
waiting for a storm to pass； they stood stolid and close…mouthed； slightly
bent forward； unresisting； but unmoved。
〃I'm a western girl；〃 Lahoma said at last； 〃and ever since Brick
Willock gave me a home when I had none； I've lived right over yonder at
the foot of the mountains。 I was there when the cattlemen came； before the
Indians had given up this country； and I was here when the first settlers
moved in； and when the soldiers drove them out。 I was living in the cove
with Brick Willock when people came up from Texas and planted miles
and miles of wheat； and I used to play with the rusty plows and machinery
they left scattered aboutafter the three years' drought had starved them
back to their homes。 Then Old Man Walker came to Red River； sent his
cowboys to drive us out of the cove； and your sheriff led the bunch。 And it
was Brick and myself that stood them off with our guns； our backs to the
wall and our powder dry； and we never saw Mizzoo in our cove again。 So
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you see； I ought to be able to talk to western men in a way they can
appreciate； and if there's anybody here that's not a western manhe
couldn't understand our style； anyhowhe'd better go where he's needed；
for out West you need only western menlike Brick Willock； for
instance。〃
At reference to the well…known incident of Mizzoo's attempt to drive
Willock from the cove； there was a sudden wave of laughter； none the less
hearty because Mizzoo's face had flushed and his mouth had opened
sheepishly。 But at the recurrence of Willock's name； the crowd grew
serious。 They felt the justice of her claim that out West only western men
were needed； they excused her for thinking Brick a model type； but let any
one else hold him up before them as a model！。。。
Lahoma's manner changed； it grew deeper and more forceful：
〃Men； I want to talk to you about this casewill you be the jury？
Consider what kind of man swore out that warrant against Brickthe
leader of a band of highwaymen！ And who's his chief witness？ You don't
know Mr。 Gledware。 I do。 You've heard he's a rich and influential citizen
in the East。 That's true。 But I'm going to tell you something to show what
he ISand what Brick Willock is； just one thing； that's all I'll say about the
character of either。 As to Red Kimball； you don't have to be told。 I'm not
going to talk about the general features of the caseas to whether Brick
was ever a highwayman or not； as to whether he killed Red's brother to
save me and my stepfather； or did it in cold blood； as to whether he held
up the stage or not。 These things you've discussed； you've formed opinions
about them。 I want to tell you something you haven't heard。 Will you
listen？〃
At first no one spoke。 Then from the crowd came a measured impartial
voice： 〃We got lots of time。〃
She was not discouraged by the intimation in the tone that all her
speaking was in vain。 Several in the crowd looked reproachfully at him
who had responded； feeling that Lahoma deserved more consideration； but
in the main； the men nodded grim approval。 They had plenty of timebut
at the end of it； Bill would either tell all he knew； or。。。。
Lahoma plunged into the midst of her narrative：
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〃One evening Brick came on a deserted mover's wagon； he'd traveled
all day with nothing to eat or drink； and he got into the wagon to escape
the blistering sun。 In there； he found a dead woman； stretched on her pallet。
He had a great curiosity to see her face； so he began lifting the cloth that
covered her。 He saw a pearl and onyx pin at her throat。 It looked like one
his mother used to wear。 So he dropped the cloth and never looked at her
face。 She had died the evening before； and he knew she wouldn't have
wanted any one to see her THEN。 And he dug a grave in the sand； though
she was nothing to him； and buried hernever seeing her faceand
covered the spot with a great pyramid of stones； and prayed for her little
girlI was her little girlthe Indians had carried me away。 You'll say that
was a little thing； that anybody would have buried the poor helpless body。
Maybe so。 But about not looking at her facewell； I don't know； it WAS a
little thing； of course； but somehow it just seems to show that Brick
Willock wasn't littlehad something great in his soul； you know。 Seems to
show that he couldn't have been a common murderer。 It's something you'll
have to feel for yourselves； nobody could explain it so you'd see； if you
don't understand already。〃
The men stared at her； somewhat bewildered； saying nothing。 In some
breasts； a sense of something delicate； not to be defined； was stirred。
〃One day；〃 Lahoma resumed； 〃Brick saw a white man with some
Indians standing near that grave。 He couldn't imagine what they meant to
do； so he hid； thinking them after him。 Years afterward Red Feather
explained why they came that evening to the pile of stones。 The white man
was Mr。 Gledware。 After Red Kimball's gang captured the wagon…train；
Mr。 Gledware escaped； married Red Feather's daughter and lived with the
Indians； he'd married immediately； to save his life； and the tribe suspected
he meant to leave Indian Territory at the first chance。 Mr。 Gledware； great
coward； was terrified night and day lest the suspicions of