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"Doan know how many cowboys. They're always comin' and goin'. I ain't acquainted with half of them." "Much movement of stock these days?" "Stock's always movin'," he replied, with a queer look. "Rustlers?" But he did not follow up that look with the affirmative Duane expected. "Lively place, I hear Fairdale is?" "Ain't so lively as Sanderson, but it's bigger." "Yes, I heard it was.
Thereafter they conversed in too low a tone for Duane to hear, and presently Laramie's visitor left. Duane went inside, and, making himself agreeable, began to ask casual questions about Fairdale. Laramie was not communicative. Duane went to his room in a thoughtful frame of mind. Had Laramie's visitor meant he hoped some one had come to kill Longstreth?
Better strike straight for El Paso, snook around there and hear things. Then go to Valentine. That's near the river and within fifty miles or so of the edge of the Rim Rock. Somewhere up there Cheseldine holds fort. Somewhere to the north is the town Fairdale. But he doesn't hide all the time in the rocks. Only after some daring raid or hold-up.
"You see, Ray, this fellow, like all rangers, seeks notoriety. He made that play with Snecker just for a chance to rant against your father. He tried to inflame all Fairdale against him. That about the lawsuits was the worst! Damn him! He'll make us enemies." "What do you care for the insinuations of such a man?" said Ray Longstreth, her voice now deep and rich with feeling.
It was a low, flat-roofed structure made of red adobe bricks, and covered what appeared to be fully an acre of ground. All was green about it, except where the fenced corrals and numerous barns or sheds showed gray and red. Duane soon reached the shady outskirts of Fairdale, and entered the town with mingled feelings of curiosity, eagerness, and expectation.
There are a lot of men around Fairdale who're afraid of their shadows afraid to be out after dark afraid to open their mouths. But you're not one. So I say if you claim these rustlers will last you're pretending lack of nerve just to help the popular idea along. For they CAN'T last. What you need out here is some new blood. Savvy what I mean?"
From that point on to Fairdale there were only a few ranches, each one controlling great acreage. Early in the afternoon from a ridge-top Duane sighted Fairdale, a green patch in the mass of gray. For the barrens of Texas it was indeed a fair sight. But he was more concerned with its remoteness from civilization than its beauty.
"I call on you to witness the arrest of a criminal prevented by Longstreth, Mayor of Fairdale. It will be recorded in the report to the Adjutant-General at Austin. Longstreth, you'll never prevent another arrest." Longstreth sat white with working jaw. "Longstreth, you've shown your hand," said Duane, in a voice that carried far and held those who heard.
Duane stayed in there for a while, and knew that strangers were too common in Fairdale to be conspicuous. Then he returned to the inn where he had engaged a room. Duane sat down on the steps of the dingy little restaurant. Two men were conversing inside, and they had not noticed Duane. "Laramie, what's the stranger's name?" asked one. "He didn't say," replied the other.
Colonel Webb told, among other things, that he had come out to the Big Bend to look over the affairs of a deceased brother who had been a rancher and a sheriff of one of the towns, Fairdale by name. "Found no affairs, no ranch, not even his grave," said Colonel Webb. "And I tell you, sir, if hell's any tougher than this Fairdale I don't want to expiate my sins there."
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