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Updated: June 28, 2025
Flandrau, Senior, told the story of what had occurred in the hotel lobby. "And you say he swore to get even?" "That's what he said. And he looked like he meant it too." "What is it? What have you found out?" Kate implored. The young man told about the letters and Mrs. Wylie. "We've got to get a move on us," he concluded.
Their eyes did not meet, but each felt the thrill of joy waves surging through their veins. The preliminaries in the rough riding contest took place that afternoon. Of the four who won the right to compete in the finals, two were Curly Flandrau and Dick Maloney. They went together to the Cullison box to get the applause due them. Kate Cullison had two guests with her.
Flandrau rose and walked round the table to her. "Much obliged, Miss Laura. I'll shake hands on that with you. You've guessed it. Course, me being so 'notorious' I hate to admit it, but I ain't bad any more than he is." She gave him a quick shy look. He had made a center shot she was not expecting. But, womanlike, she did not admit it. "You mean this 'Bad Bill'?" "You know who I mean all right.
Toward the group of buildings clustered around this two of his captors started with Flandrau. A third was already galloping toward the ranch house to telephone for a doctor. As they rode along a fenced lane which led to the house a girl came flying down the steps. She swung herself to the saddle just vacated by the messenger and pulled the horse round for a start.
They set out to hang me. Later they changed their minds." "How come you here? Did you escape?" "Nope. Friends dug up bail." Cranston did not ask what friends. He thought he knew. Alec Flandrau, an uncle of Curly, owned a half interest in the Map of Texas ranch. No doubt he had come to the aid of the young scapegoat. "I'll bet the old man was sore at having to ante," was Big Bill's comment.
"He's got you bluffed to a fare-you-well. You're tame enough to eat out of his hand. Didn't Luck Cullison go into the hills and bring him down all alone?" Flandrau demanded. "Luck's another wonder. There ain't another man in Arizona could have done it. Leastways no other but Bucky O'Connor."
His friend ran toward him, forgetting the revolver that lay in its holster under the live oak. Every moment he expected to see Mac jump up, but the figure stretched beside the cholla never moved. Flandrau felt the muscles round his heart tighten. He had seen sudden death before, but never had it come so near home. A bullet sent up a spurt of dust in front of him, another just on the left.
I'm not begging him to take me back, not on your life." Curly dropped the matter. To urge him further would only make the boy more set in his decision. But as the days passed he kept one thing in his mind, not to miss any chance to win his friendship. They rode together a good deal, and Flandrau found that Sam liked to hear him talk about the Circle C and its affairs.
Both her father and Sam had sided with her, for she had made them both see what an advantage it would be with a jury for Flandrau to have his bride sitting beside him in the courtroom. Faintly there came to her a wind-swept sound. She pulled up and waited, but no repetition of it reached her ears. But before her pony had moved a dozen steps she stopped him again.
Meanwhile he played his part of a wild young cowpuncher ready for any mischief, but beneath his obtuse good humor Flandrau covered a vigilant wariness. Soapy held all the good cards now, but if he stayed in the game some of them would come to him. Then he would show Mr. Stone whether he would have everything his own way.
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