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Flandrau walked out to the grandstand at the fair grounds and sat down by himself there to think out what connection, if any, these singular warnings might have with the vanishing of Cullison or the robbery of the W. & S. He wasted three precious hours without any result. Dusk was falling before he returned.
Fendrick brought me," she explained when articulate expression was possible. "He brought you, did he?" Luck looked across her shoulder at his enemy, and his eyes grew hard as jade. "Of my own free will," she added. "I promised you a better argument than those I'd given you. Miss Cullison is that argument," Fendrick said. The cattleman's set face had a look more deadly than words.
Her plainness embarrassed the officer. "Let's took at the facts, Miss Cullison," he began amiably. "Then you tell me 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 had written a list of his debts. You'll notice they run to just a little more than twenty thousand.
A person would think nobody lived on Dead Cow but outlaws and such, to hear some of you valley people tell it." "There's nothing mysterious about me and my questions. I'm just a lunkheaded cowpuncher out of a job. What did you think I was?" "What do you want with Sam Cullison? Are you friendly to him? Or aren't you?" "Ladies first. Are you friendly to him? Or aren't you?"
Cullison swung as on a pivot in time to see someone drop into the dip in the 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 was passing through the inferno. But he looked too a personified day of judgment untempered by mercy.
Cass had run into the Jack of Hearts in time to save the life of his enemy. The two men recognized each other and entered into a compact to abduct Cullison, for his share in which the older man was paid one thousand dollars.
He touched the wound in his side. "Different with your boys, sir." "So the boys are a little excited, are they?" "They were last night anyhow," Curly answered, with a glimmer of a smile. Cullison looked quickly at Maloney and then at his daughter. "I'll listen to what you've been hiding from me," he told them. "Oh, the boys had notions.
The Scotchman was vaguely uneasy without a definite reason for his anxiety. Only last night Cullison had told him not a single bank in town would advance him a dollar. Now he had money in plenty. Where had he got it? "No hurry at all, Luck. Pay when you're good and ready." "That's now." "Because I'll only put it in the Cattlemen's National. It's yours if you need it."
I hadn't ought to have gone in with Cass Fendrick. He wanted me to kill you, but I wouldn't." With that unwinking gaze the ranchman beat down his lies, while fear dripped in perspiration from the pallid face of the prisoner. Bucky had let Cullison take the center of the stage. He had observed a growing distress mount and ride the victim.
Curly glanced quickly at Kate Cullison, who nodded. This then was the sweetheart of poor Mac. Her eyes filled with tears as she took the young man's hand. To his surprise Curly found his throat choking up. He could not say a word, but she understood the unspoken sympathy. They sat together in the back of the box. "I'd like to come and talk to you about Mac. Can I come this evening, say?"
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