CHAPTER TEN
THE DISCOVERY
Senor Buck Johnson loped quickly back toward the home ranch, his heartglad at this fortunate solution of his annoyance. The home ranch layin plain sight not ten miles away. As Senor Johnson idly watched itshimmering in the heat, a tiny figure detached itself from the mass andlaunched itself in his direction.
"Wonder what's eating HIM!" marvelled Senor Johnson, "--and who is it?"
The figure drew steadily nearer. In half an hour it had approachednear enough to be recognised.
"Why, it's Jed!" cried the Senor, and spurred his horse. "What do youmean, riding out with that foot?" he demanded sternly, when withinhailing distance.
"Foot, hell!" gasped Parker, whirling his horse alongside. "Yourwife's run away with Brent Palmer."
For fully ten seconds not the faintest indication proved that thehusband had heard, except that he lifted his bridle-hand, and thewell-trained pony stopped.
"What did you say?" he asked finally.
"Your wife's run away with Brent Palmer," repeated Jed, almost withimpatience.
Again the long pause.
"How do you know?" asked Senor Johnson, then.
"Know, hell! It's been going on for a month. Sang saw them drive off.They took the buckboard. He heard 'em planning it. He was too scairtto tell till they'd gone. I just found it out. They've been gone twohours. Must be going to make the Limited." Parker fidgeted, impatientto be off. "You're wasting time," he snapped at the motionless figure.
Suddenly Johnson's face flamed. He reached from his saddle to clutchJed's shoulder, nearly pulling the foreman from his pony.
"You lie!" he cried. "You're lying to me! It ain't SO!"
Parker made no effort to extricate himself from the painful grasp. Hiscool eyes met the blazing eyes of his chief.
"I wisht I did lie, Buck," he said sadly. "I wisht it wasn't so. Butit is."
Johnson's head snapped back to the front with a groan. The ponysnorted as the steel bit his flanks, leaped forward, and with headoutstretched, nostrils wide, the wicked white of the bronco flickeringin the corner of his eye, struck the bee line for the home ranch. Jedfollowed as fast as he was able.
On his arrival he found his chief raging about the house like a wildbeast. Sang trembled from a quick and stormy interrogatory in thekitchen. Chairs had been upset and let lie. Estrella's belongings hadbeen tumbled over. Senor Johnson there found only too sure proof, inthe various lacks, of a premeditated and permanent flight. Still hehoped; and as long as he hoped, he doubted, and the demons of doubttore him to a frenzy. Jed stood near the door, his arms folded, hisweight shifted to his sound foot, waiting and wondering what the nextmove was to be.
Finally, Senor Johnson, struck with a new idea, ran to his desk torummage in a pigeon-hole. But he found no need to do so, for lying onthe desk was what he sought--the check book from which Estrella was todraw on Goodrich for the money she might need. He fairly snatched itopen. Two of the checks had been torn out, stub and all. And then hiseye caught a crumpled bit of blue paper under the edge of the desk.
He smoothed it out. The check was made out to bearer and signedEstrella Johnson. It called for fifteen thousand dollars. Across themiddle was a great ink blot, reason for its rejection.
At once Senor Johnson became singularly and dangerously cool.
"I reckon you're right, Jed," he cried in his natural voice. "She'sgone with him. She's got all her traps with her, and she's drawn onGoodrich for fifteen thousand. And SHE never thought of going justthis time of month when the miners are in with their dust, and Goodrichwould be sure to have that much. That's friend Palmer. Been going ona month, you say?"
"I couldn't say anything, Buck," said Parker anxiously. "A man's neversure enough about them things till afterwards."
"I know," agreed Buck Johnson; "give me a light for my cigarette."
He puffed for a moment, then rose, stretching his legs. In a moment hereturned from the other room, the old shiny Colt's forty-five strappedloosely on his hip. Jed looked him in the face with some anxiety. Theforeman was not deceived by the man's easy manner; in fact, he knew itto be symptomatic of one of the dangerous phases of Senor Johnson'scharacter.
"What's up, Buck?" he inquired.
"Just going out for a pasear with the little horse, Jed."
"I suppose I better come along?"
"Not with your lame foot, Jed."
The tone of voice was conclusive. Jed cleared his throat.
"She left this for you," said he, proffering an envelope. "Them kindalways writes."
"Sure," agreed Senor Johnson, stuffing the letter carelessly into hisside pocket. He half drew the Colt's from its holster and slipped itback again. "Makes you feel plumb like a man to have one of thesethings rubbin' against you again," he observed irrelevantly. Then hewent out, leaving the foreman leaning, chair tilted, against the wall.