Cultus and Jane found an anxious group at the JK ranch. Bad News had
brought Tommy Simpson, Ole Oleson, Sam Hawker, Archie Lee, Hank Norsh
and Ed Brown to assist him in the search, and they were all sitting
around the living-room, trying to figure out where to begin the search,
when Cultus and Jane came in.
Cultus had asked Jane not to mention finding the horse, and they had
tied Amigo behind the stable.
Bad News fairly exploded with relief when they came in. Jane went to her
father, and he took her in his arms thankfully, while the crowd hurled
questions at Cultus. But he didn’t need to tell it, because Jane was
breathlessly explaining everything while the cowboys stood around,
open-mouthed.
“Do you mean to tell me that you found the Lost Trail?” asked her
father.
“I reckon it is,” grinned Cultus. “But I’ll bet it’ll never be any good
to anybody now. That dynamite must have ruined a lot of it, and that
trail won’t stand much ruinin’.”
“Look at my elbows,” said Jane. “My toes are all worn off, too.”
Bad News came around beside Cultus, his eyes serious.
“What do yuh know about that note Blaze Nolan sent yuh?”
“Do _you_ think he sent me that note, Bad News?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.”
“Do you know of any reason why Blaze Nolan would try to kill me and Miss
Kelton? And Blaze Nolan ain’t twins. Yuh must remember that two men were
shootin’ at us.”
“That’s right. We’ll investigate Padre Canyon to-morrow.”
“That’ll be fine. I expect they’ll wait for yuh to show up.”
“Who do yuh reckon set off the dynamite?” asked Hank North. “We heard
that blast plumb down in Medicine Tree.”
“I heard it here,” said Jim Kelton. “It was like thunder.”
“I should think they might have heard it in Europe,” laughed Jane,
hugging her father again, before she went to her room to doctor her
feet.
“Mr. Collins will stay here to-night, dad,” she said. “He needs some
patching, too.”
“He sure does and will,” said her father.
The men accepted the food that the cook had been preparing, laughed over
their coffee which had been prepared to cheer them on their search of
Padre Canyon, and headed for town in far better spirits than they had
when they came to the ranch.
“What is yore verdict, Collins?” asked Jim Kelton, when they sat alone
in the living-room.
“Somebody has decided to put me out of the way,” smiled Cultus. “They
almost made good to-day. They knew I liked Blaze Nolan, so they used him
as the bait for their trap. We got out mighty lucky. In fact, we’re
luckier than you can imagine. The stage was all set for a killin’, but
somethin’ went wrong.”
“Why put you out of the way, Collins?”
“The man I came here after is a horse-thief and a murderer. I’m not sure
who he is, yet. But he knows I’m after him. Kelton, the man who
dynamited that trail, to-night, rode my stolen gray horse. He rode
without a saddle, and the horse bucked him off when I whistled a certain
signal. Yore daughter and me rode the horse from Padre Canyon to here,
and he’s tied out behind yore stable right now.”
“Well, that’s a remarkable thing! Where did the man go?”
“Off in the brush.”
“Do you suppose he was one of the men who tried to kill you?”
“_Quien sabe?_”
“Well, that’s sure queer. Collins, where do you suppose Blaze Nolan has
gone? He is undoubtedly in the employ of Kendall Marsh, and I’m
wondering if he didn’t go over the range on that Lost Trail. He could
hide somewhere around Marshville indefinitely.”
“I don’t think Blaze Nolan has ever left this valley.”
“That’s a queer statement, Collins. Why should he stay here?”
“He might not be able to get away.”
“You mean he’s afraid to show himself?”
“I can’t tell yuh just what I do mean. No, I’m not in cahoots with Blaze
Nolan. I just figure he’s got the worst end of a deal, and I’d like to
see him come out of it--clean.”
“How could he come out of it clean?”
Cultus eased back on the comfortable couch, squinting one eye as he
looked at the ceiling.
“Suppose,” he said slowly, “that Blaze Nolan never killed yore son?”
The old man’s anger blazed up quickly.
“That’s foolish, Collins.”
“Sounds foolish to you,” corrected Cultus.
“Sounds foolish to anybody who was here at that time. If you had been
here and heard that trial and heard all that was said, and----”
“The queer part was the disappearance of that girl,” interrupted Cultus.
“Did you ever stop to consider that it was queer she wasn’t here to
testify? Was there anybody to prove conclusively that yore son and Blaze
Nolan fought over her?”
“Alden Marsh testified to it.”
“A drunken kid.”
“The jury and the judge accepted his testimony.”
“Did Blaze Nolan ever strike you as a man who would be engaged to a
decent girl and then fight a gun battle with another man over a
dance-hall girl?”
“Damn it--no! But facts are facts.”
“The testimony of a drunken kid is not always true facts, Kelton.”
“Oh, pshaw! Wasn’t Nolan found leaning over my son, a smoking gun in his
hand? Don’t try to tell me that he was innocent. He had no defence.”
“I’ve heard all about that. After he was arrested, did you or any of his
old friends go down to the jail and tell him yuh wanted to see him
exonerate himself? Yuh did not. You glared at him through the trial, and
said you’d like to hang him. Every damn one of yuh turned him down,
pronounced him a murderer, even before his trial. You swore he was the
worst wretch unhung. Kelton, you ruined his faith, and he didn’t want to
fight back. That woman was gone, and she was the only person on earth
who could prove that she was nothin’ to Blaze Nolan; that he didn’t even
know her name.”
The old man shifted his gaze from Cultus and stared at the rug, his eyes
half-closed. Somehow he had never looked at things in that light. He
realised now that all of them had taken Alden Marsh’s word for
everything. It couldn’t be undone now.
“It might interest yuh to know that the dance-hall girl is in the pay of
Kendall Marsh, as a spy,” continued Cultus.
“Blaze Nolan is also in the pay of Kendall Marsh.”
“I happen to know that that ain’t true. Didn’t yore daughter tell you
what happened that night at the Triangle X?”
“She told me what she heard. It was little enough. I don’t believe Marsh
intended killin’ Blaze Nolan.”
“Prob’ly not. He just meant to have a man shoot him in the back with
both barrels of a shotgun at ten feet. The trouble with some of you
folks is the fact that when yuh make up yore minds, yuh stick to it. You
made up yore minds that Blaze Nolan was guilty. I hope I don’t hurt yore
feelin’s, but I’m goin’ to try and bust up yore perfectly good ideas.
Now, I’ll go out and stable my horse.”
He walked stiffly from the room, and the old man’s eyes followed him
curiously. Somehow, even with all his prejudices, he hoped Cultus might
be able to accomplish it, but the possibility seemed so very remote that
he felt sorry for Cultus.
Cultus’s feet were so sore that he could hardly hobble across the patio.
He went out through the rear arch and made his way around behind the
stable, where he stopped and leaned against the corner. Then he came
back, went through the stable and came out. The tall, gray horse was
gone again.