As far as the stolen gray horse was concerned, Cultus was decidedly at a
loss to know where to find the thief. It was evident that somebody had
tried to throw the guilt on the Circle M, in case the owner of the horse
ever discovered it.
After leaving the Circle M, the road wound along the side of a hill,
turned sharply to the left and went over the top of the mesa. On an air
line, the top of the mesa at that point would not be over two hundred
yards from the ranch-house. It was rather a stiff climb, and at the top
Cultus drew rein for a breathing spell.
Here the yellow dust was rather deep in the road, which was masked from
the ranch-house by a clump of mesquite. As Cultus sat there he noticed a
number of horse tracks in the dust. It appeared as though two horses had
milled around there considerable, and among the horse tracks was the
boot print of a man.
Cultus studied them rather impersonally for a while, but finally swung
out of his saddle and examined them more closely. The man had dismounted
and taken three steps towards the mesquite clump. At the edge of the
road Cultus discovered another track. Finally he walked over to the
mesquite to a point where he could look through at the ranch-house below
the mesa, and here he found the butts of a number of cigarettes,
evidently only recently smoked. The ground was also scored from
bootheels, where two men had sat.
It was clear as print that some one had been watching the Circle M
ranch-house, and, judging from the number of cigarette butts, they had
been there quite a while. He went back along the road and found where
they had ridden back toward Medicine Tree.
Whether they were spying on him or on some one else at the Circle M was
a question, but Cultus had the feeling that they were watching him. He
rode slowly back to the forks, where he lost the tracks. They either
went toward the Bar Anchor or headed across country, he was not able to
determine which, as the road to the Bar Anchor was too hard to show a
track, and he did not feel that it was worth his time to follow it to
softer ground. He rode back to Medicine Tree and stabled his horse.
It was about thirty minutes after Cultus left the Circle M, when Mac
Rawls rode in from the Triangle X. Rawls was a lean, bony-faced cowboy,
with a shifty eye and a mop of roan-coloured hair, which hung low over
his eyes. In any country he would be labelled a dangerous person, from
his appearance alone.
Blaze had never seen Rawls, but he was sure Rawls was from the Triangle
X. Blaze went out to him when Rawls drew up in front of the ranch-house.
“Marsh wants yuh to come to the Triangle X to-night,” said Rawls. “Said
it was important.”
“Wants me to come, eh?”
“Yo’re Blaze Nolan, ain’tcha?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’ve told yuh what to do. And Marsh says we ain’t to come
together; sabe?”
“I guess so. You tell him I’ll be there.”
Rawls nodded, turned his horse and rode away, while Blaze went down to
the stable. Jules found him saddling his horse, but did not ask where he
was going.
“Which one of Marsh’s gang was that, Jules?” asked Blaze.
“Rawls. Pretty damn’ bad hombre, Blaze.”
“Marsh seems to specialise in that kind. I’ll probably be late in
gettin’ back, Jules.”
“Sure.”
In the meantime Jane and Harry Kelton came to Medicine Tree, and Cultus
met Jane in a store. She nodded and smiled at him, and he stopped to
talk with her.
“Did you find your horse?” she asked.
“Well, I ain’t exactly found him yet, but I’ve still got hopes. How’s
yore father?”
“Not very well. Dad is having a lot of trouble with rheumatism, and he
don’t get around very well. He worries an awful lot.”
“About the sheep?”
“Oh, I suppose; and other things.”
“Uh-huh. I was out at the Circle M to-day, Miss Kelton.”
Her eyes clouded quickly and she turned back to the counter.
“I had a long talk with Blaze Nolan,” he continued, “and I’m of the
opinion that he’s been handed a tough deal in Painted Valley.”
Jane turned quickly.
“Did Blaze Nolan ask you to say this to me?”
“No, _ma’am_! Blaze Nolan ain’t that kind. He don’t ask odds of anybody;
it was merely my opinion.”
“Then I guess your opinion is all wrong, Mr. Collins; and we won’t
discuss it any further.”
A clerk came to take her order and she ignored Cultus, who went outside.
He sat down on a bench and rolled a cigarette. The two horses from the
JK ranch were tied in front of the store, but Cultus surmised that Harry
was across the street at the War Dance Saloon.
The streets of Medicine Tree were not lighted, except what little
illumination they received from lighted windows. A few minutes later
Jane came out. She did not see Cultus, as she halted at the edge of the
sidewalk, as though waiting for Harry to join her.
Finally she stepped out to her horse and tied her few packages to the
saddle. Cultus saw a rider pass the lights of a window farther down the
street, and as this rider came within the illumination from the War
Dance Saloon Cultus saw that it was Blaze Nolan. Jane had seen him too.
Blaze rode on past them, into the lights of the hotel, where he turned
sharply to the right, taking the road which led to the Triangle X. There
could be no mistake about his destination, as that road did not lead to
any other place.
For several moments after his disappearance Jane still stood there
beside her horse. Then she quickly untied the animal, swung into the
saddle and followed Blaze Nolan. Cultus got quickly to his feet. He had
never been to the Triangle X, but he had seen the men who worked there,
and he did not think it a safe place for any lady at night. After a
moment of indecision he hurried across the street and down to the livery
stable, where he quickly saddled his horse and took the road to the
Triangle X.
It was less than two miles from Medicine Tree to the Triangle X ranch.
Blaze did not hurry. He had no idea that any one was following him, nor
did he have any fear of trouble with Marsh or his men. He knew that
Kendall Marsh was cold-blooded in all his dealings, but he did not fear
Marsh. But Blaze didn’t know what to do; so he decided to let things go
according to fate.
Butch Van Deen met him at the doorway of the ranch-house. It was their
first meeting since Blaze had refused to shake hands with Alden Marsh.
“Lookin’ for yuh,” said Butch shortly, and stepped aside to let Blaze
walk in.
Kendall Marsh was seated on an old couch, smoking a cigar, while near
the fireplace sat Della, the dance-hall girl from the War Dance Saloon.
Blaze looked sharply at both of them as Marsh motioned him to a chair
midway between them. Butch stopped near the door, while Mac Rawls
squatted on his heels beside the door which led to the dining-room.
“Well, I’m glad to see you again, Nolan,” said Kendall Marsh.
“I wonder how much truth is in that statement?” smiled Blaze.
“We won’t argue about that. I had to come out here to find where you
were. I guess the sheriff didn’t think it was worth while to answer my
telegram.”
“It wasn’t his fault, Marsh; I offered to notify yuh. But I didn’t.”
“You left my house rather suddenly that night, Nolan.”
“Yeah, I shore did. Why not? I thought mebbe you was dead, and I’d have
stood a lot of chance with the police.”
“That’s how I guessed it,” smiled Marsh. “No, I don’t blame you, not for
that. But you know who fired that shot, and you’re going to tell me who
it was.”
Blaze shut his jaw tightly.
“Oh, yes, you are,” said Marsh slowly. “You’ll tell me who shot me, or
I’ll send you back to the penitentiary.”
“_You’ll_ send me back?”
“I’ll swear that you shot me, Nolan.”
“Oh, I see. Well, I’ve always heard that you was crooked, Marsh; but I
never knew you’d stoop to bein’ a cheap liar. You know damn’ well I
didn’t shoot you.”
“Well, I know damn’ well you know who shot me.”
Blaze shook his head slowly.
“No, yo’re bluffin’, Marsh; you don’t know. I got out of there as quick
as I could, and I didn’t stop to try and find out who did shoot yuh. In
fact, I wasn’t a lot interested in the shootin’.”
“Glad I got shot, eh?”
“Not glad, Marsh; just indifferent.”
Marsh smiled grimly. He was not used to dealing with a man who spoke
honestly. “You knew it was some one from Painted Valley,” he stated.
“No, I didn’t know that either. I felt that you had made enemies in
other places. I don’t _know_ who shot yuh, Marsh; and if I did, I
wouldn’t tell yuh.”
“Still backing up Painted Valley, eh? And after the deal they’ve handed
you! Blaze Nolan, you’re a fool.”
“Yeah, I suppose I am.”
“Harry Kelton or his sister shot me.”
Blaze started slightly, and Marsh laughed.
“I’m no fool,” said Marsh easily. “I have ways of finding out things.
And you’ll find that out pretty damn’ quick, if you try to double-cross
me. Either Harry Kelton or his sister heard what we discussed that night
at my home, and you know it, because you was the one who told them you
were out of the penitentiary and had a meeting with me. Nolan, you had
them hide in my house and listen to my plans.”
Blaze laughed at Kendall Marsh, and Marsh’s eyes blazed with anger.
“Don’t deny it,” warned Marsh. “You delayed meeting me until you were
sure they had plenty of time to reach Los Angeles. Harry and Jane Kelton
left here mysteriously a week or more before you came to my place, and
they got back here a few days afterwards. Under that balcony the police
found three sets of tracks--two men’s and a woman’s, and one set was
yours, Nolan. Oh, there’s plenty of evidence.”
“Why didn’t yuh have ’em arrested?” smiled Blaze.
“Lack of legal evidence at the time.”
“Don’t bluff, Marsh. You built that all up after yuh came here.”
Blaze turned and looked at Della.
“So yo’re one of Marsh’s spies, are yuh? That’s how yuh happened to be
at the meetin’ at the JK. I wondered what you was doin’ there.”
“Yes, and you stopped her from gettin’ important information for me,”
rasped Kendall Marsh angrily.
“Kinda low down ain’t it, hirin’ women to do yore dirty work? I suppose
you was the one who paid her to get out of town ahead of my trial, and
you’ve probably paid her a salary ever since.”
Kendall Marsh got to his feet, his fists clenched. Blaze saw Butch Van
Deen shift his feet a little and his right hand dropped near his
holstered revolver. The woman merely laughed harshly.
“I’m giving you one chance, Nolan,” said Marsh coldly. “You’ll tell us
where to find that Lost Trail, and you’ll tell us right now, or you’ll
never leave this room alive. I’m tired of you. I saved you from a
stretch in the penitentiary, and I gave you a chance to make some easy
money, but you’ve double-crossed me in every way. Now, you’ll talk; and,
damn you, you’ll talk fast.”
Blaze knew that Marsh meant every word. One more killing would not
bother him. But Blaze was not afraid. From where he sat he could see
Butch Van Deen and Mac Rawls. He did not think that either of them could
draw quicker than he. Marsh might have a gun, of course.
“So yuh aim to put me out of the way, eh?” drawled Blare. “If I don’t
tell yuh where that Lost Trail is, you’ll kill me; and if I do tell yuh,
I’ll never get out alive. I can see yore game, Marsh. Three to one, and
not countin’ the lady. All right; you say the word. Yuh may get me, but
some of yuh go along with Blaze Nolan!”
Marsh laughed hollowly.
“You are not considering the two loads of buckshot just behind you.”
Blaze did not turn quickly. But it came to him in a flash that they
would not kill him until they were sure he would not tell them where to
find the Lost Trail. Then he turned his head. Just behind him was an
open window, and over the sill protruded the two barrels of a shotgun,
pointed square at him.