Zeke and Ned by Larry McMurtry

essence, which was why Zeke had been a fool to waste a day before he made his report. If white law got hold of him, he’d be lucky to escape the noose.
    â€œI’m not such a fool as to want to feed this man for two weeks,” the Judge said, looking up from his affidavit. “If the marshals show up, it will probably be tomorrow. If we’ve got him in jail and the trial date’s set, they’ll have to leave without him. Then you can let him out, and he can take his chances.”
    Zeke was relieved by that news, and he saw the Judge’s point about the marshals. If they ran into him on the Mountain, or caught him at home, they’d probably just kill him, unless he killed them first. But he still did not savour the notion of being in the Tahlequah jail for any length of time. He had been in it once or twice for minor scrapes, and knew it to be a drafty place with hard bunks. He missed Becca, Liza, and the triplets, and wanted to get home to them as soon as possible. Becca would be worried, and the triplets would be more than a handful, with only Liza to help.
    Charley and Zeke went out. Ned started to follow them, but when he took a step toward the door, the Judge looked up and frowned. Ned stopped—he had great respect for the law that emanated from Judge Sixkiller.
    â€œAre you in a hurry, Mr. Christie?” the Judge asked.
    â€œNo, I’m just here with Zeke,” Ned replied. Being in the presence of Judge Sixkiller made him feel solemn, for some reason.
    â€œI see you’re fully armed,” the Judge observed.
    â€œYes sir,” Ned said.
    â€œIt’s better to live in peace with your neighbours and not be shooting at them,” the Judge said.
    â€œI ain’t shooting at ’em,” Ned said.
    â€œA man who carries three guns is likely to end up shooting at somebody, sooner or later,” the Judge observed. “A peaceable man ought to be content with fewer guns.”
    â€œI was afraid there’d be trouble with the Becks or the Squirrels,” Ned informed him.
    The Judge ignored this reasoning. He looked out the window, and saw that Sheriff Bobtail and Zeke Proctor had yet to make it to the jail. They were standing in the street talking, which was incorrect procedure, and a distraction from the matter at hand.
    â€œYou married my granddaughter. Why’d you do it?” the Judge demanded to know, in the tone he might use with a felon.
    Ned was so taken aback by the question that for a moment he lost his bearings. Judge Sixkiller was looking stern. Ned was at a loss for what to say, his mind having suddenly gone blank. Why
had
he married Jewel? Ned felt like he would rather be in jail with Zeke than to face Judge Sixkiller and his questions about his new wife.
    He paused a moment, and took a deep breath.
    â€œJewel was of a marrying age,” Ned said carefully. “She seemed a fine girl. I believe she’ll make a good wife.”
    â€œOf course she’ll make a good wife,” the Judge said with a hint of indignation in his voice. “Do you think you have it in you to make a good husband, Mr. Christie? That’s a better question.”
    Ned had every intention of being a good husband to Jewel. He had been a good husband so far, and he saw no reason why he could not continue to be one. But how was he to convince Judge Sixkiller of that? Just looking at the stern old man with the curly white eyebrows made him feel tongue-tied.
    â€œI aim to be good to Jewel,” Ned said, finally. “I believe I can be good to her.”
    â€œI hope you
are
good to her,” the Judge said. “I will not have Jewelmistreated. She wouldn’t have married you unless she meant to be a good wife to you, and I imagine she expects you to stay alive and help her raise your children.”
    â€œWhy, I aim to stay alive,” Ned said. “I aim to grow old with Jewel.”
    â€œThen stop piling on the pistols,” the