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Updated: June 21, 2025
In Arizona the open range is valuable only so long as the water holes also are common property or a private supply available. The Circle C cattle and those of Fendrick came down from the range to the Del Oro to water at a point where the cañon walls opened to a spreading valley. This bit of meadow Luck homesteaded and fenced on the north side, thus cutting the cattle of his enemy from the river.
Miss Cullison 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 it might 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 a short distance and climbed to a little mesa above.
"Sure it was signed to-day? Couldn't it have been ante-dated?" "You know better than I do. When was it signed?" Fendrick laughed. He was watching the noted officer of rangers with narrowed wary eyes. "On advice of counsel I decline to answer." "Sorry, Cass. That leaves me only one thing to do. You're under arrest." "For what?" demanded the sheepman sharply.
Your witness is Mrs. Wylie." "Maybe, then, you can guess the criminal, too." "Maybe I could, but I'm not going to try." "Then we'll drop that subject. I'll ask you a question. Can you tell me where I can find a paroled convict named Blackwell?" Fendrick shook his head. "Don't know the gentleman. A friend of yours?" "One of yours. Better come through, Cass.
She did not need to ask herself any longer what Cass Fendrick looked like. He was holding out to her the bloodstained kerchief that had been tied to the lamb's leg. "I didn't care to have it returned," she told him with cold civility. "Now, if you'd only left a note to say so, it would have saved me a quite considerable climb," he suggested.
Fendrick, now in the best of humors, planted lazily his offhand barbs. Kate was seated on the porch sewing. She rose in surprise when her cousin and the sheepman appeared. They came with jingling spurs across the plaza toward her. Bob was red as a turkeycock, but Fendrick wore his most devil-may-care insouciance. "Where's Uncle Luck, sis? I've brought this fellow back with me.
It told Fendrick he would gladly have killed him where he stood. For Luck knew he was cornered and must yield. Neither Dominguez nor Blackwell would consent to let her leave otherwise. "He brought me here to have a talk with you, Dad. You must sign any paper he wants you to sign." "And did he promise to take you back home after our talk?"
This was a turn of affairs for which Luck was manifestly unprepared: "Well, I've come to have a little settlement with him." Fendrick, tense as a coiled spring, watched him warily. "Can't be any too soon to suit me." Clear cut as a pair of scissors through paper, Bucky snapped out his warning. "Nothing stirring, gentlemen. I'll shoot the first man that makes a move."
"Didn't know you were in this, Yesler," Fendrick drawled insolently. "Oh, well, I butted in," the other laughed easily. He pushed a stack of chips toward the center of the table. "The pot's open." Fendrick, refused a quarrel, glared at the impassive face of Cullison, and passed to the rear room for a drink.
Thomas, a sociable garrulous soul, leaned forward eagerly. "No, we don't. But we've a notion Fendrick knows." Bucky gave the government appointee his most blandishing smile. "Of course we know you won't talk about this, Mr. Thomas. Can we depend on your deputies?" "I'll speak to them." "We're much obliged to you. This clears up a point that was in doubt to us.
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