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Fendrick, riding on Mesa Verde, met Bob Cullison, and before he knew what had happened found a gun thrown on him. "Don't you move," the boy warned. "What does this tommyrot mean?" the sheepman demanded angrily. "It means that you are coming back with me to the ranch. That's what it means." "What for?" "Never you mind what for." "Oh, go to Mexico," Cass flung back impatiently.
I reckon it won't be a pleasant meeting for Mr. Blackwell." "I'll be headed for Mexico. I tell you because you ain't liable to go around spreading the news. There's a horse saddled in the dip back of the hill crest. Get it?" "Fine," Cullison came back. "And you'll ride right into some of Bucky O'Connor's rangers. He's got the border patroled. You'd never make it." "Don't worry. I'd slip through.
He had given as a reason that it would divert suspicion, but what he really wanted was to throw the blame of the hold-up on these friends after Sam was found dead on the scene. Young Cullison had stopped drinking, but he could not keep his nerves from jumping.
Cullison was not the man to acknowledge himself beaten so long as there was a stone unturned. In the matter of the Del Oro homestead claim he moved at once. All of the county commissioners were personal friends of his, and he went to them with a plan for a new road to run across the Del Oro at the point where the cañon walls opened to a valley.
By the way, has it ever occurred to you gentlemen that one can't be convicted on the testimony of a single accomplice?" He asked it casually, his chair tipped back, smoke wreaths drifting lazily ceilingward. "We've got a little circumstantial evidence to add, Cass." Bucky suggested pleasantly. "Not enough not nearly enough." "That will be for a jury to decide," Cullison chipped in.
And he will too. You'll see. He's wily as an Indian. For that matter there is Apache blood in him, folks say." "What about young Cullison? Can't he make a fight for himself?" "Oh, you know how boys are. Sam is completely under this man's influence." Her voice broke a little. "And I can't help him. I'm only a girl. He won't listen to me.
This would have given Cullison time to reach the scene of action. Mow they would be too late. Maloney, lying snugly in the bear grass beside the track, would not be informed as to the arrangement. Unless Curly could stop it, the hold-up would go through according to the program of Soapy and not of his enemies. The decision of Flamdrau was instantaneous.
Luck Cullison is a dangerous man when he is roused." The sheepman looked at the ranger with opaque stony eyes. "If Luck Cullison is looking for me he is liable to find me, and he won't have to go into the hills to hunt me either." Bucky understood perfectly.
He would keep her for a hostage as long as he could." "That's the way I figure it," agreed Cullison. "He daren't hurt her, for he 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 be to slip down and cut across the line into Sonora.
The ranger had a shrewd instinct that the hour had come to batter down this fellow's dogged resistance. Therefore he sent for Cullison, the man whom the convict most feared. The very look of the cattleman, with that grim, hard, capable aspect, shook Blackwell's nerve. "So you've got him, Bucky."
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