The holdup and robbery of the Austin family caused considerable comment
in Keno City. The sheriff and deputy found the place where the stage
had been taken off the road and down a dry wash. There were plenty of
tracks in the sand; but it was deep sand which gave no idea of shape or
size. The men had evidently kept their horses near there and rode away
immediately.
Spook Allen had foolishly reached for his gun and received a bullet
through his right shoulder, which did not break any bones, but
incapacitated him for further driving for a while.
The descriptions of the two men were vague, as usual. “Look for two
men with masks on,” said Smoky, “and if they’ve got two diamond rings
between ’em--they’re the men we want. What this office needs is more
detective ability and less cross-country ridin’.”
Frank Austin and Cal Sands came to Keno City, searching for Hal, but
Hal was not there. No one had seen him since they saw him leave for
Silver Bar with Jigger Slade. Slade had told Smoky that he had been
fired by Sands and was leaving the country. Austin asked Sands if
this was true, and Sands said it was.
“Slade didn’t want to take orders,” he told Austin. “Of course, I didn’t
know you hired him. Neither of yuh ever told me anythin’ about it.”
“That’s true,” replied Austin. “But Slade didn’t want anybody to know
who he was. I hired him to come here and try to discover where my
stock was going. I didn’t know he was going to get a job on the ranch.
In fact, I’ve only heard from him twice, and he mailed his letters in
Silver Bar. I wrote him twice at Silver Bar, sending the letters to
general delivery, and it may be that he either came over there to mail
a letter to me or perhaps he knew I was coming in last night.”
“He didn’t trust anybody very much, did he?” smiled Sands.
“No, I guess he didn’t,” sighed Austin. “I must find out about--if there
was anybody dependent on him. Under the circumstances, I feel duty bound
to see that his death does not work a hardship on anybody.”
“You can’t blame Hal so much,” replied Sands. “The sheriff saw it, and
he said it was a case of self-defence.”
“I understand that, but at the same time--well, I’ll do what I can.
I hope it doesn’t become known, because if his mother ever finds it
out----”
“That’s right,” agreed Sands. “She wouldn’t understand.”
Sands tried to dissuade Austin from going down to Indian Wells, but the
big man insisted that he must find Hal and have a talk with him. It was
a long, hot ride, and they arrived in Indian Wells at noon.
“We might as well eat at the Casa del Diaz,” suggested Sands. “If Hal is
down here we’ll find him there. Anyway, it’ll give you a chance to see
that Mexican girl. Their fried chicken and red wine is mighty good, and
that old patio is the one cool place in Indian Wells.”
“All right, Cal.”
They tied their horses on the main street and walked back to the old
adobe.
“I haven’t been in Indian Wells for years,” said Austin, “but it hasn’t
changed a bit. Used to be a mighty tough place in the old days.”
“Yeah, and it’s still a tough place,” stated Sands. “More Mexican
revolutions cooked up here than there is in Mexico. A killin’ don’t mean
much down here. A knife between the ribs--and the buzzards pickin’ yore
bones down along a dry-wash.”
Sands opened the front door and they stepped into the old _cantina_.
There was only the Mexican cook, carrying some boxes into the
kitchen. She spoke to them in Spanish, as Sands led the way out into
the cool patio. The three Mexican musicians were lounging in their
chairs, smoking cigarettes, but they reached for their instruments,
at sight of the two patrons.
Sands threw his sombrero aside and sat down at a table. Austin drew
back a chair, started to sit down, but straightened up slowly. Just
outside a doorway, which opened into the patio, stood Rosita Diaz,
looking at him with her wide, dark eyes. Austin was gripping the back
of that chair, his knuckles turning white under the strain. Sands was
paying no attention, being more intent on one of the guitar players,
who had broken a string.
For several moments Rosita stared at Frank Austin, and then with a
slow turn of her head, she walked back through the doorway. Austin did
not move, but his hand slowly relaxed on the chair, as the door closed
behind her. He blinked his eyes, as though recovering from his trance,
turned and sank wearily into his chair.
“Kind of a nice old place,” said Sands, but Austin did not reply, and
the three-piece orchestra broke into the well-known strains of “La
Paloma.”
Sands turned and looked at Austin. “What’s the matter?” he asked
quickly. Austin shook his head, his lips shut tightly.
“Too much heat,” grunted Sands. “I told yuh it was too damn hot to ride
down here to-day. He-e-ey!” he yelled, hammering on the table.
“Don’t,” said Austin shakily. “I’m all right, Cal.”
“Well, I’d like to have some water or some wine. You need a bracer,
Frank.”
Juana came in answer to Sands’s call, and smiled at the foreman. Austin
looked at her rather curiously.
“This is Mr. Austin, Juana,” said Sands. “Will you bring us some water,
and tell the cook to fry us some chicken. Yuh might bring us a bottle of
wine at the same time.”
Juana nodded and went to the kitchen. Austin turned to Sands. “Is that
the girl, Cal?”
“Yeah, that’s Juana Diaz. Pretty, ain’t she?”
Austin reserved his audible opinion, and Sands thought he was not
interested.
“Does her mother run this place?” he asked.
“Sure. Rosita has run it for years. She’s a queer one, Frank. Proud as
the devil, though. She sure thinks a lot of Juana. I’ve known Rosita for
three years, and she still calls me Señor Sands. Nobody ever gets well
acquainted with Rosita--that is, white folks. That damn Lobo Mendez is
her brother-in-law.”
Juana came back with a pitcher of water, bottle of wine, and glasses.
Austin watched her slim brown fingers, as she uncorked the bottle and
poured out the wine. She looked up at him with a smile. “You are Hal’s
papa?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Austin quickly. “Do you know where he is now?”
“_Quién sabe?_” softly. “He was ’ere w’ile ago, but I think he go back
to Keno City.”
“Was he down here all night?” asked Sands.
Juana shrugged her shoulders. “How would I know? He came ’ere this
morning.”
“Probably didn’t go to bed all night,” said Sands. “You need somethin’ a
lot stronger than that wine, Frank. How about a little _tequila_?”
Austin shook his head. “This is all right.”
Juana placed the bottle on the table and walked back toward the
_cantina_.
Sands watched her disappear and turned to Austin.
“I suppose a white man ought to stick with his own colour, but I’ve
wondered what kind of a wife a Mex girl would make for a white man.
Most of ’em get fatter than the devil after they’re about twenty-five.
But look at Rosita. She’s between forty and fifty, I’d bet; and look
at her.”
Austin was more interested in his wine, it seemed.
“Mighty few white girls as pretty as Juana,” continued Sands. Austin
looked up at him.
“Why don’t you marry her, Cal?”
Sands laughed shortly. “One big reason is--she probably wouldn’t marry
me.”
“Cal, you marry her and I’ll make you my partner in the Star A.”
Sands looked curiously at Austin, trying to fathom his reason for such
a generous offer. “Sounds damn good,” he said softly. “Might work out.
I wonder how much she thinks of Hal?”
“That doesn’t make any difference. Let me talk to Hal. He’s through
being wild, Cal--wild on my money.”
“I think that killin’ last night will tame him plenty,” said Sands.
They went back to the main street, where they saw Hal and Lobo Mendez
come from a _cantina_ together. They talked for a few moments, and
Lobo went on. Hal was about to enter the _cantina_ again, when he saw
his father and Sands.
“Hello, dad,” he grinned, ignoring Sands entirely. They shook hands,
eyeing each other seriously.
“We’ve had quite a time finding you,” said his father evenly. “Is this
any way to welcome your mother, father and sister?”
“No one told me you were coming. Slade came to Keno City and asked me if
I didn’t want to ride over to Silver Bar. He said there was some one
coming in on the night train; some one he wanted to see. He told me that
Sands had fired him, and that he wasn’t coming back to the ranch. Sands,
did you tell him that dad was coming in?”
“I did not,” denied Sands. “Omaha knew it, and Omaha might have told
him. I know I didn’t.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter,” stated Austin. “I want to talk with you
alone, Hal.”
“I’ll meet you at the horses,” said Sands, and entered the _cantina_.
“I’m taking you back to San Francisco,” said Austin.
“Changing your views, eh?” smiled Hal.
“After the reports I’ve had on you--yes.”
“Reports from Cal Sands,” said Hal angrily. “I was supposed to be tied
to his belt, but the string busted. Isn’t that the whole trouble?”
“You’ve been drinking and raising hell in general.”
“I’ve been drinking--yes. I don’t know exactly what Sands wrote you, but
I suppose he told you I was running around with a Mexican girl.”
“Wasn’t that true?”
“I took her to a dance in Keno City, and was the envy of every man
there--especially Sands. He’s a big, black four-flusher--and I told
him so. If I was running the Star A, I’d boot him off the ranch so
damn quick----”
“That’s enough, Hal. You get your horse and ride back to the ranch with
us.”
“Yes, I’ll do that; I want to see mother and Betty. But I’ll not stay
there as long as Sands is foreman. No, dad, it can’t be done. I’m not
big enough to whip him with my hands, but old man Colt evened
things----”
“Drop that talk, Hal! I should think one killing would----”
“Sands told you that, did he?” interrupted Hal. “I thought he would.”
“It isn’t any secret, is it?”
“From the way they railroaded me out of Silver Bar, I thought it was.
Well, all right. Cal Sands wrote you a lot of lies, and that’s why you
came. Now that you’re here, I know why; so this morning I asked Juana
to marry me to-day.”
“You’re not!” snapped Austin.
“I know it. But that doesn’t alter the fact that I wanted to marry her.”
“I’m glad I came when I did,” grunted Austin, mopping off his brow with
a handkerchief. “You’re going back to the ranch with us, and from there
you go to San Francisco.”
“Suppose I decide to stay here?”
“I guess you won’t do that.”
“But just suppose I did?”
“Don’t talk like a fool, Hal.”
“I’m of age, you know.”
“Granted,” came coldly from the older man. “You just try staying here.
I’ll cut off your income right now, and from this time on, you’re not
of my family. Forty a month as a cow-puncher wouldn’t appeal much, eh?
I doubt if you could get that much. No, I guess you’ll go back to San
Francisco and behave yourself.”
“I’ll go back to the ranch with you,” said Hal stubbornly, “but I’ll
make no promises for the future.”
Austin’s jaw set tightly, as they started back up the street. Then: “You
might like to know that Slade was a detective, hired by me.”
“Was he? Who else knew it?”
“Not a soul.”
Hal laughed shortly, but made no further comments. They met Sands at
the horses, and rode out the North road towards Keno City. Austin could
see that his son disliked Sands as greatly as he had indicated; so he
rode between them and talked to Sands. They were discussing some of the
former work at the ranch, and Slade’s name was mentioned. Sands glanced
at Hal, and the youngster flared up instantly.
“It’s too bad dad came when he did. You would have had a chance to write
a swell report on that shooting, Sands--judging from the other reports
you’ve turned in against me.”
“Stop it, Hal,” warned his father.
“They needed a victim,” said Hal bitterly, “so they picked on me,
because I was too drunk to know what was going on. Slade and I never
quarrelled; and as far as shooting him in self-defence is
concerned--rot. Slade wasn’t drunk and I can----”
“Wait a minute,” cautioned Sands. “This has gone far enough, Hal. I’m
sorry this had to come up again, Frank; but I suppose I’ve got to
tell the truth. If it wasn’t that Hal is your boy he’d be in jail
right now. Nolan made it out a case of self-defence, but he told me
later that Slade never even had a chance to draw his gun. Nolan had
to square it with the bartender in that saloon, because the bartender
knew what really happened.”
“Cal, is that true?” asked Austin.
“It’s a dirty lie!” snapped Hal.
“It’s the truth,” swore Sands. “Slade was shot in the back.”
“In the back? My God!” Austin’s face went white, as he swerved his horse
in closer to Hal. “Hal, you didn’t shoot him in the back!”
“Do you believe that?” asked Hal.
“What can I believe? The sheriff----”
Hal drew up his horse and turned the animal around.
“Some day I’m going to kill you, Sands,” said Hal Austin. “Watch out
for me, when we meet again.” To his father he said only, “You can
explain all this to mother and Betty. You believe it is the truth,
and maybe they’ll believe it, too. _Adios._”
He spurred his horse and went galloping back down the road toward Indian
Wells, leaving his father staring after him.