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Updated: May 17, 2025
The men rode in single file, and conversation was limited to disjointed fragments jerked out now and again. After an hour's rough going they reached the foothills, where they could ride two abreast. As they drew nearer to the ranch country, now one and now another turned off with a shout of farewell. Healy accepted Purdy's invitation, and dismounted with him at the Fiddleback.
The sheer pluck of the adventure had alone made it possible. For such an unflawed nerve Blackwell knew his jerky rage was no match. The paroled convict recovered his breath and slunk out of the hotel. Billie Mackenzie, owner of the Fiddleback ranch, laughed even while he disapproved. "Some day, Luck, you'll get yours when you are throwing chances at a coyote like this.
The plaza clock boomed ten strokes as they rode into Saguache. Mackenzie was waiting for them on the steps of the hotel. "Have they has anything been ?" The owner of the Fiddleback shook his grizzled head. "Not yet. Didn't you meet Curly?" "No." "He rode out to come in with you, but if he didn't meet you by ten he was to come back. You took the north road, I reckon?" "Yes."
Billie Mackenzie, grizzled owner of the Fiddleback ranch, was with him, and it was in the preliminary pause before drinking that Alec made his official announcement. "No, Mac, I ain't worrying about that any. Curly is going to get a square deal. We're all agreed on that. If there's any shooting from cover there'll be a lynching pronto. That goes."
Then his fancy turned to America, and, provided with money and a good horse, he started off for Cork, where he was to embark for the New World. He loafed along the pleasant Irish ways, missed his ship, and presently turned up cheerfully amongst his relatives, minus all his money, and riding a sorry nag called Fiddleback, for which he had traded his own on the way.
There was an exodus from Seven Mile the second day after the fire. Keller went up Bear Creek, Phyllis accepted the invitation of Bess to stay with her at the Fiddleback, and her brother returned to the round-up. The riders were now combing the Lost Creek watershed. Phil knew the camp would be either at Peaceful Valley or higher up, near the headwaters of the creek.
"Came down to see about getting some cows for the old man from the Fiddleback outfit," Davis explained. "Didn't expect to bump into friends 'way down here. You riding for the Bar Double M?" There was a momentary silence. Curly's vigilant eyes met those of his old side partner. What did Slats know? Had he been in the stable while the remuda was still in the corral?
Billie drew him into a corner, and learned that Luck had just settled with him. "Anyone see him give it to you, Alec?" "No. He took me upstairs to the library and paid me." "In bills?" "Yes in twenties." "For God's sake, don't tell anybody that." In a dozen jerky sentences the owner of the Fiddleback told Flandrau of the suspicions of the sheriff. Together they went in search of Luck.
The latter came to time sulkily. "I didn't say they couldn't." Mackenzie drifted from this unfriendly atmosphere to the courthouse. He found Sheriff Bolt in his office. It was that official's busy day, but he found time not only to see the owner of the Fiddleback, but to press upon him cordially an invitation to sit down and smoke.
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