CHAPTER V
"AIN'T SHE THE GAMEST LITTLE THOROUGHBRED?"
Kate galloped into the ranch plaza around which the buildings were set,slipped from her pony, and ran at once to the telephone. Bob was on a sideporch mending a bridle.
"Have you heard anything from dad?" she cried through the open door.
"Nope," he answered, hammering down a rivet.
Kate called up the hotel where Maloney was staying at Saguache, but couldnot get him. She tried the Del Mar, where her father and his friendsalways put up when in town. She asked in turn for Mackenzie, for Yesler,for Alec Flandrau.
While she waited for an answer, the girl moved nervously about the room.She could not sit down or settle herself at anything. For some instincttold her that Fendrick's taunt was not a lie cut out of whole cloth.
The bell rang. Instantly she was at the telephone. Mackenzie was at theother end of the line.
"Oh, Uncle Mac." She had called him uncle ever since she could remember."What is it they are saying about dad? Tell me it isn't true," shebegged.
"A pack of lees, lassie." His Scotch idiom and accent had succumbed tothirty years on the plains, but when he became excited it rose triumphantthrough the acquired speech of the Southwest.
"Then is he there--in Saguache, I mean."
"No-o. He's not in town."
"Where is he?"
"Hoots! He'll just have gone somewhere on business."
He did not bluff well. Through the hearty assurance she pierced to thenote of trouble in his voice.
"You're hiding something from me, Uncle Mac. I won't have it. You tell methe truth--the whole truth."
In three sentences he sketched it for her, and when he had finished heknew by the sound of her voice that she was greatly frightened.
"Something has happened to him. I'm coming to town."
"If you feel you'd rather. Take the stage in to-morrow."
"No. I'm coming to-night. I'll bring Bob. Save us two rooms at thehotel."
"Better wait till to-morrow. Forty miles is a long ride, lass."
"No, I can't wait. Have Curly Flandrau come to the Del Mar if he's intown--and Dick Maloney, too. That's all. Good-by."
She turned to her cousin, who was standing big-eyed at her elbow.
"What is it, Kate? Has anything happened to Uncle Luck?"
She swallowed a lump in her throat. "Dad's gone, Bob. Nobody knows where.They say--the liars--that he robbed the W. & S. Express Company."
Suddenly her face went down into her forearm on the table and sobs beganto rack her body. The boy, staggered at this preposterous charge, couldonly lay his hand on her shoulder and beg her not to cry.
"It'll be all right, Kate. Wait till Uncle Luck comes back. He'll make 'emsick for talking about him."
"But suppose he--suppose he----" She dared not complete what was in hermind, that perhaps he had been ambushed by some of his enemies andkilled.
"You bet they'll drop into a hole and pull it in after them when UncleLuck shows up," the boy bragged with supreme confidence.
His cousin nodded, choking down her sobs. "Of course. It--it'll come outall right--as soon as he finds out what they're saying. Saddle two horsesright away, Bob."
"Sure. We'll soon find where he is, I bet you."
The setting sun found their journey less than half done. The brilliantrainbow afterglow of sunset faded to colder tints, and then disappeared.The purple saw-toothed range softened to a violet hue. With the coming ofthe moon the hard, dry desert lost detail, took on a loveliness of toneand outline that made it an idealized painting of itself. Myriads of starswere out, so that the heavens seemed sown with them as an Arizona hillsideis in spring with yellow poppies.
Kate was tortured with anxiety, but the surpassing beauty that encompassedthem was somehow a comfort to her. Deep within her something denied thather father could be gone out of a world so good. And if he were alive,Curly Flandrau would find him--Curly and Dick between them. Luck Cullisonhad plenty of good friends who would not stand by and see him wronged.
Any theory of his disappearance that accepted his guilt did not occur toher mind for an instant. The two had been very close to each other. Luckhad been in the habit of saying smilingly that she was his majordomo, hisright bower. Some share of his lawless temperament she inherited, enoughto feel sure that this particular kind of wrongdoing was impossible forhim. He was reckless, sometimes passionate, but she did not need toreassure herself that he was scrupulously honest.
This brought her back to the only other tenable hypothesis--foul play. Andfrom this she shrank with a quaking heart. For surely if his enemieswished to harm him they would destroy him, and this was a conclusionagainst which she fought desperately.
The plaza clock boomed ten strokes as they rode into Saguache. Mackenziewas waiting for them on the steps of the hotel.
"Have they--has anything been----?"
The owner of the Fiddleback shook his grizzled head. "Not yet. Didn't youmeet Curly?"
"No."
"He rode out to come in with you, but if he didn't meet you by ten he wasto come back. You took the north road, I reckon?"
"Yes."
His warm heart was wrung for the young woman whose fine eyes stared withdumb agony from a face that looked very white in the shining moonlight. Heput an arm around her shoulders, and drew her into the hotel with cheerfultalk.
"Come along, Bob. We're going to tuck away a good supper first off. Whileyou're eating, I'll tell you all there is to be told."
Kate opened her lips to say that she was not hungry and could not possiblyeat a bite, but she thought better of it. Bob had tasted nothing sincenoon, and of course he must be fed.
The lad fell to with an appetite grief had not dulled. His cousin could atfirst only pick at what was set before her. It seemed heartless to besitting down in comfort to so good a supper while her father was in sheknew not how great distress. Grief swelled in her throat, and forced backthe food she was trying to eat.
Mackenzie broke off his story to remonstrate. "This won't do at all, Kate.If you're going to help find Luck, you've got to keep yourself fit. Now,you try this chicken, honey."
"I--just can't, Uncle Mac."
"But you need it."
"I know," the girl confessed, and as she said it broke down again intosoft weeping.
Mac let her have her cry out, petting her awkwardly. Presently she driedher eyes, set at her supper in a businesslike way, heard the story to anend quietly, and volunteered one heartbroken comment.
"As if father _could_ do such a thing."
The cattleman agreed eagerly. There were times when he was full of doubton that point, but he was not going to let her know it.
Curly came into the room, and the girl rose to meet him. He took herlittle hand in his tanned, muscular one, and somehow from his grip shegathered strength. He would do all that could be done to find her father,just as he had done so much to save her brother.
"I'm so glad you've come," she said simply.
"I'm glad you're glad," he smiled cheerfully.
He knew she had been crying, that she was suffering cruelly, but heoffered her courage rather than maudlin sympathy. Hope seemed to flowthrough her veins at the meeting of the eyes. Whatever a man could do forher would be done by Curly.
They talked the situation over together.
"As it looks to me, we've got to find out two things--first, what hasbecome of your father, and, second, who did steal that money."
"Now you're talking," Mackenzie agreed. "I always did say you had a goodhead, Curly."
"I don't see it yet, but there's some link between the two things. I meanbetween the robbery and his disappearance."
"How do you mean?" Kate asked.
"We'll say the robbers were his enemies--some of the Soapy Stone outfitmaybe. They have got him out of the way to satisfy their grudge and tomake people think he did it. Unfortunately there is evidence that makes itlook as if he might have done it--what they call corrobor
atingtestimony."
Billie Mackenzie scratched his gray poll. "Hold on, Curly. This notion ofa link between the hold-up and Luck's leaving is what the other side istying to. Don't we want to think different from them?"
"We do. They think he is guilty. We know he isn't."
"What does Sheriff Bolt think?"
Curly waved the sheriff aside. "It don't matter what he thinks, Miss Kate.He _says_ he thinks Luck was mixed up in the hold-up. Maybe that's what hethinks, but we don't want to forget that Cass Fendrick made him sheriffand your father fought him to a fare-you-well."
"Then we can't expect any help from him."
"Not much. He ain't a bad fellow, Bolt ain't. He'll be square, but hisnotions are liable to be warped."
"I'd like to talk with him," the young woman announced.
"All right," Mackenzie assented. "To-morrow mo'ning----"
"No, to-night, Uncle Mac."
The cattleman looked at her in surprise. Her voice rang with decision. Herslight figure seemed compact of energy and resolution. Was this the girlwho had been in helpless tears not ten minutes before?
"I'll see if he's at his office. Maybe he'll come up," Curly said.
"No. I'll go down to the courthouse if he's there."
Flandrau got Bolt on the telephone at his room. After a little grumblinghe consented to meet Miss Cullison at his office.
"Bob, you must go to bed. You're tired out," his cousin told him.
"I ain't, either," he denied indignantly. "Tired nothing. I'm going withyou."
Curly caught Kate's glance, and she left the boy to him.
"Look here, Bob. We're at the beginning of a big job. Some of us have tokeep fresh all the time. We'll work in relays. To-night you sleep so as tobe ready to-morrow."
This way of putting it satisfied the boy. He reluctantly consented to goto bed, and was sound asleep almost as soon as his head struck thepillow.
At the office of the sheriff, Kate cut to essentials as soon asintroductions were over.
"Do you think my father robbed the W. & S. Express Company, Mr. Bolt?" sheasked.
Her plainness embarrassed the officer.
"Let's took at the facts, Miss Cullison," he began amiably. "Then you tellme what you would think in my place. Your father needed money mighty bad.There's no doubt at all about that. Here's an envelope on which he hadwritten a list of his debts. You'll notice they run to just a little morethan twenty thousand. I found this in his bedroom the day hedisappeared."
She took the paper, glanced at it mechanically, and looked at the sheriffagain. "Well? Everybody wants money. Do they all steal it?"
"Turn that envelope over, Miss Cullison. Notice how he has written therehalf a dozen times in a row, '$20,000,' and just below it twice, 'W. & S.Ex. Co.' Finally, the one word, 'To-night.'"
She read it all, read it with a heart heavy as lead, and knew that therehe had left in his own strong, bold handwriting convincing evidenceagainst himself. Still, she did not doubt him in the least, but therecould be no question now that he knew of the intended shipment, thatabsent-mindedly he had jotted down this data while he was thinking aboutit in connection with his own debts.
The sheriff went on tightening the chain of evidence in a voice that forall its kindness seemed to her remorseless as fate. "It turns out that Mr.Jordan of the Cattleman's National Bank mentioned this shipment to yourfather that morning. Mr. Cullison was trying to raise money from him, buthe couldn't let him have it. Every bank in the city refused him a loan.Yet next morning he paid off two thousand dollars he owed from a pokergame."
"He must have borrowed the money from some one," she said weakly.
"That money he paid in twenty-dollar bills. The stolen express package wasin twenties. You know yourself that this is a gold country. Bills ain't soplentiful."
The girl's hand went to her heart. Faith in her father was a rock not tobe washed away by any amount of evidence. What made her wince was theamount of circumstantial testimony falling into place so inexorablyagainst him.
"Is that all?" she asked despairingly.
"I wish it were, Miss Cullison. But it's not. A man came round the cornerand shot at the robber as he was escaping. His hat fell off. Here it is."
As Kate took the hat something seemed to tighten around her heart. Itbelonged to her father. His personality was stamped all over it. She evenrecognized a coffee stain on the under side of the brim. There was no needof the initials L. C. to tell her whose it had been. A wave of despairswept over her. Again she was on the verge of breaking down, butcontrolled herself as with a tight curb.
Bolt's voice went on. "Next day your father disappeared, Miss Cullison. Hewas here in town all morning. His friends knew that suspicion wasfastening on him. The inference is that he daren't wait to have the truthcome out. Mind, I don't say he's guilty. But it looks that way. Now,that's my case. If you were sheriff in my place, what would you do?"
Her answer flashed back instantly. "If I knew Luck Cullison, I would besure there was a mistake somewhere, and I would look for foul play. Iwould believe anything except that he was guilty--anything in the world.You know he has enemies."
The sheriff liked her spirited defense no less because he could not agreewith her. "Yes, I know that. The trouble is that these incriminating factsdon't come in the main from his enemies."
"You say the robber had on his hat, and that somebody shot at him. Whoeverit was must know the man wasn't father."
Gently Bolt took this last prop from her hope. "He is almost sure the manwas your father."
A spark of steel came into her dark eyes. "Who is the man?"
"His name is Fendrick."
"Cass Fendrick?" She whipped the word at him, leaning forward in her chairrigidly with her hands clenched on the arms of it. One could have guessedthat the sound of the name had unleashed a dormant ferocity in her.
"Yes. I know he and your father aren't friends. They have had sometrouble. For that reason he was very reluctant to give your father'sname."
The girl flamed. "Reluctant! Don't you believe it? He hates Father likepoison." A flash of inspiration came to her. She rose, slim and tall andpurposeful. "Cass Fendrick is the man you want, and he is the man I want.He robbed the express company, and he has killed my father or abductedhim. I know now. Arrest him to-night."
"I have to have evidence," Bolt said quietly.
"I can give you a motive. Listen. Father expected to prove up yesterday onhis Del Oro claim. If he had done so Cass Fendrick's sheep would have beencut off from the water. Father had to be got out of the way not later thanWednesday, or that man would have been put out of business. He was verybitter about it. He had made threats."
"It would take more than threats to get rid of the best fighting man inArizona, right in the middle of the day, in the heart of the town, withouta soul knowing about it." The officer added with a smile: "I'd hate toundertake the contract, give me all the help I wanted."
"He was trapped somehow, of course," Curly cut in. For he was sure that inno other way could Luck Cullison have been overcome.
"If you'll only tell me how, Flandrau," Bolt returned.
"I don't know how, but we'll find out."
"I hope so."
Kate felt his doubt, and it was like a spark to powder.
"Fendrick is your friend. You were elected by his influence. Perhaps youwant to prove that Father did this."
"The people elected me, Miss Cullison," answered Bolt, with gravereproach. "I haven't any friends or any enemies when it comes to doingwhat I've sworn to do."
"Then you ought to know Father couldn't have done this. There is such athing as character. Luck Cullison simply _couldn't_ be a thief."
Mackenzie's faith had been strengthened by the insistent loyalty of thegirl. "That's right, Nick. Let me tell you something else. Fendrick knewLuck was going to prove up on Thursday. He heard him tell us at theRound-Up Club Tuesday morning."
The sheriff summed up. "You've proved Cass had interests that would beh
elped if Mr. Cullison were removed. But you haven't shaken the evidenceagainst Luck."
"We've proved Cass Fendrick had to get Father out of the way on the veryday he disappeared. One day later would have been too late. We've shownhis enmity. Any evidence that rests on his word is no good. The truthisn't in the man."
"Maybe not, but he didn't make this evidence."
Kate had another inspirational flash. "He did--some of it. Somehow he gothold of father's hat, and he manufactured a story about shooting it fromthe robber's head. But to make his story stick he must admit he was on theground at the time of the hold-up. So he must have known the robbery wasgoing to take place. It's as plain as old Run-A-Mile's wart that he knewof it because he planned it himself."
Bolt's shrewd eyes narrowed to a smile. "You prove to me that Cass hadyour father's hat _before the hold-up_, and I'll take some stock in thestory."
"And in the meantime," suggested Curly.
"I'll keep right on looking for Luck Cullison, but I'll keep an eye onCass Fendrick, too."
Kate took up the challenge confidently. "I'll prove he had the hat--atleast I'll try to pretty hard. It's the truth, and it must come outsomehow."
After he had left her at the hotel, Curly walked the streets with a sharpexcitement tingling his blood. He had lived his life among men, and heknew little about women and their ways. But his imagination seized avidlyupon this slim, dark girl with the fine eyes that could be both tender andferocious, with the look of combined delicacy and strength in every lineof her.
"Ain't she the gamest little thoroughbred ever?" he chuckled to himself."Stands the acid every crack. Think of her standing pat so game--just likeshe did for me that night out at the ranch. She's the best argument Luckhas got."