CHAPTER XVIII
CUTTING TRAIL
Kate Cullison had disappeared, had gone out riding one morning and atnightfall had not returned. As the hours passed, anxiety at the Circle Cbecame greater.
"Mebbe she got lost," Bob suggested.
Her father scouted this as absurd. "Lost nothing. You couldn't lose herwithin forty miles of the ranch. She knows this country like a cow doesthe range. And say she was lost--all she would have to do would be to givethat pinto his head and he'd hit a bee line for home. No, nor she ain'thad an accident either, unless it included the pony too."
"You don't reckon a cougar----," began Sweeney, and stopped.
Luck looked at his bandy-legged old rider with eyes in which little colddevils sparkled. "A human cougar, I'll bet. This time I'll take his hideoff inch by inch while he's still living."
"You thinking of Fendrick?" asked Sam.
"You've said it."
Sweeney considered, rasping his stubbly chin. "I don't reckon Cass woulddo Miss Kate a meanness. He's a white man, say the worst of him. But itmight be Blackwell. When last seen he was heading into the hills. If hemet her----"
A spasm of pain shot across Luck's face. "My God! That would be awful."
"By Gum, there he is now, Luck." Sweeney's finger pointed to an advancingrider.
Cullison swung as on a pivot in time to see someone drop into the dip inthe road, just beyond the corral. "Who--Blackwell?"
"No. Cass."
Fendrick reappeared presently and turned in at the lane. Cullison,standing on the porch at the head of the steps looked like a man who waspassing through the inferno. But he looked too a personified day ofjudgment untempered by mercy. His eyes bored like steel gimlets into thoseof his enemy.
The sheepman spoke, looking straight at his foe. "I've just heard thenews. I was down at Yesler's ranch when you 'phoned asking if they hadseen anything of Miss Cullison. I came up to ask you one question. Whenwas she seen last?"
"About ten o'clock this morning. Why?"
"I saw her about noon. She was on Mesa Verde, headed for Blue Canyonlooked like."
"Close enough to speak to her?" Sam asked.
"Yes. We passed the time of day."
"And then?" Luck cut back into the conversation with a voice like a file.
"She went on toward the gulch and I kept on to the ranch. The last I sawof her she was going straight on."
"And you haven't seen her since?"
The manner of the questioner startled Fendrick. "God, man, you don't thinkI'm in this, do you?"
"If you are you'd better blow your brains out before I learn it. And ifyou're trying to lead me on a false scent----" Luck stopped. Words failedhim, but his iron jaw clamped like a vice.
Fendrick spoke quietly. "I'm willing. In the meantime we'd better travelover toward Mesa Verde, so as to be ready to start at daybreak."
Cullison's gaze had never left him. It observed, weighed, appraised. "Goodenough. We'll start."
He left Sweeney to answer the telephone while he was away. All of hisother riders were already out combing the hills under supervision ofCurly. Luck had waited with Sam only to get some definite informationbefore starting. Now he had his lead. Fendrick was either telling thetruth or he was lying with some sinister purpose in view. The cattlemanmeant to know which.
Morning breaks early in Arizona. By the time they had come to the spotwhere the sheepman said he had met Kate gray streaks were alreadylightening the sky. The party moved forward slowly toward the canyon,spreading out so as to cover as much ground as possible. Before theyreached its mouth the darkness had lifted enough to show the track of ahorse in the sand.
They pushed up the gulch as rapidly as they could. The ashes of a campfire halted them a few minutes later. Scattered about lay the feathers anddismembered bones of some birds.
Cass stooped and picked up some of the feathers. "Quails, I reckon. MissCullison had three tied to her saddle horn when I met her."
"Why did she come up here to cook them?" Sam asked.
Luck was already off his horse, quartering over the ground to read what itmight tell him.
"She wasn't alone. There was a man with her. See these tracks."
It was Fendrick who made the next discovery. He had followed a draw for ashort distance and climbed to a little mesa above. Presently he called toCullison.
Father and son hurried toward him. The sheep-owner was standing at theedge of a prospect hole pointing down with his finger.
"Someone has been in that pit recently, and he's been there severaldays."
"Then how did he get out?" Sam asked.
Fendrick knelt on the edge of the pit and showed him where a rope had beendragged so heavily that it had cut deeply into the clay.
"Someone pulled him out."
"What's it mean anyhow? Kate wasn't in that hole, was she?"
Cass shook his head. "This is my guess. Someone was coming along here inthe dark and fell in. Suppose Miss Cullison heard him calling as she cameup the gulch. What would she do?"
"Come up and help the fellow out."
"Sure she would. And if he was hungry--as he likely was--she would cookher quail for him."
"And then? Why didn't she come home?"
Luck turned a gray agonized face on him. "Boy, don't you see? The man wasBlackwell."
"And if you'll put yourself in Blackwell's place you'll see that hecouldn't let her go home to tell where she had seen him," Fendrickexplained.
"Then where is she? What did he do with her?"
There came a moment's heavy silence. The pale face of the boy turned fromthe sheepman to his father. "You don't think that--that----"
"No, I don't," Cass answered. "But let's look this thing squarely in theface. There were three things he could do with her. First, he might leaveher in the pit. He didn't do that because he hadn't the nerve. She mightbe found soon and set the hunters on his track. Or she might die in thathole and he be captured later with her pinto. I know him. He always playsa waiting game when he can. Takes no chances if he can help it."
"You think he took her with him then," Luck said.
"Yes. There's a third possibility. He may have shot her when he got a goodchance, but I don't think so. He would keep her for a hostage as long ashe could."
"That's the way I figure it," agreed Cullison. "He daren't hurt her, forhe would know Arizona would hunt him down like a wolf if he did."
"Then where's he taking her?" Sam asked.
"Somewhere into the hills. He knows every pocket of them. His idea will beto slip down and cut across the line into Sonora. He's a rotten bad lot,but he won't do her any harm unless he's pushed to the wall. The fear ofLuck Cullison is in his heart."
"That's about it," nodded Luck. "He's somewhere in these hills unless he'sbroken through. Bolt 'phoned me that one of his posse came on the ashes ofa camp fire still warm. They're closing in on him. He's got to get food orstarve, unless he can break through."
"There's a chance he'll make for one of my sheep camps to lay in a supply.Wouldn't it be a good idea to keep a man stationed at each one of them?"
"You're talking sense," Cullison approved. "Sam, ride back and get intouch with Curly. Tell him to do that. And rouse the whole country overthe wire. We'll run him down and feed him to the coyotes."