“What do ye expect me to say?” Old Rory McPherson squinted at Jack
Lohman who was sitting on his horse in front of the RMP ranch-house,
in Rainbow Valley. It was two days after the death of Tucson Charley.
The old man held a soiled piece of paper in his hand, and the breeze
shook his mop of red hair almost over his serious eyes.
“I didn’t expect yuh to say anything, Rory,” replied the sheriff easily.
“If you’ve got any opinion, I’d like to have it.”
Old Rory looked down at the paper and shook his head.
“I ha’ nothin’ to say, Lohman. No doubt ye tell an honest tale, and the
letter speaks for itself. Ye say ye know nothin’ about who sent it to
ye, lad?”
“Not a thing, Rory. It came in a plain envelope, as you can see.”
“Aye, I can see that.”
“Is that Della Marsh’s writin’, Rory?”
Old Rory squinted at the writing again: “_I love ye, Tex, in spite of
ever-rythin’._” “Aye, that is her writin’, lad. Her name is there.”
“Well, it’s sure got me fightin’ my head,” admitted the sheriff. “It
don’t tell where Tex is, but it says that he’s been hurt and needs
money. Mebbe Miss Marsh knows where he is.”
“Aye,” nodded old Rory sadly, “she may know. Ye’ll ask her?”
“I will not. If I can catch him myself, I’ll do it, Rory; but I’ll sneak
up on no ---- man behind a woman. Tex Rowland is probably in Rainbow
Valley or out in the Antelope; which covers a lot of good hidin’ places.
It looks to me like somebody had found this note and sent it to me. It’s
a cinch that Miss Marsh didn’t send it. Maybe Tex lost it himself, Rory.
There’s a lot of ways for it to have been lost; but it’s a cinch that
somebody sent it to me.”
“Ye have the evidence of that,” smiled old Rory. “I wish I knew where
Tex is. It’s har-rd luck to be sick and in need.”
“Sure is,” agreed Lohman, putting the letter back in his pocket. “I’ll
be driftin’ along, Rory.”
“Ye’ll stay for a meal with us, won’t ye?”
“No, I’d better be goin’, I think.”
“Ye know best,” nodded Rory. “But the ranch is always open to ye, lad;
and we’d like to have ye stay. Ye are not a Mott man.”
Lohman laughed and shook his head:
“Not that anybody knows about, Rory. No, I don’t think that Mr. Mott
deals in county politics; he shoots higher than that.”
“He may overshoot.”
“It has been done, Rory. But Big Jim is pretty solid, I reckon. You sure
jolted his pride the other day, and if I was you I’d sure keep one eye
open. Big Jim won’t forget it very soon.”
“I hope he don’t, lad,” said Rory seriously. “There has long been bad
blood between us. He wants Rainbow Valley, ye know. Well--” the old man
sighed deeply--“he’ll not get it as long as there’s a McPherson here.”
“It’s worth havin’,” agreed the sheriff warmly. “There’s not a better
range in the world than this valley. But what is this I hear about your
niece goin’ to work for Big Jim?”
The old man’s eyes hardened as he nodded slowly. But there was more
sorrow than anger in his face as he brushed the hair out of his eyes,
and looked up at the sheriff.
“Aye, it’s true, lad. She’s gone over to the enemy. But she had nothin’
again’ the man, except that--well, after all, why should she share my
hate? I’m gettin’ old, so I am; and I want my own with me. She’s all
I’ve got, lad; and I haven’t her--now.”
The old man’s voice broke wistfully. The sheriff reached out his hand to
the old man.
“Well, so-long, Rory. Mebbe it ain’t as bad as it looks. Do yuh want to
send her any message?”
The old man shook his head slowly, thoughtfully, and started to walk
away; but turned and smiled:
“Aye. Ye might tell her that Rosie O’Grady has five sons and two
daughters.”
“Rosie O’Grady?”
“The cat. It’s her cat, lad. And she might like to know.”
The sheriff grinned and rode away from the RMP. He liked the dour old
Scot and would have stayed for dinner, but he was anxious to find out
what he could about the note. He was not hunting for Tex Rowland. Of
course, he was rather curious to know where Tex was hiding; but he
was more curious to find out who had sent him the note that Tex had
written to Della Marsh.
It was near the forks of the road, one of which led to the XO-Bar-5,
that he met, or rather ran into, Slim Whelan and Bill Smith. They were
riding toward town, but waited for him to join them.
“I always feel safer when I’m ridin’ with the sheriff,” grinned Slim.
“You do need protection,” laughed the sheriff, as he rode up to them.
Slim introduced him to Bill Smith, and the three of them rode to
Antelope together. The sheriff did not mention the note to them,
because he knew that Slim had been instrumental in sending Tex to the
penitentiary.
“You heard about Tucson Charley gettin’ killed, didn’t yuh?” asked Slim.
The sheriff nodded. “Yeah, it kinda surprised me, Slim.”
“Why did it surprise yuh?”
“I didn’t think a horse could kick hard enough to bust his head.”
“Well, this one did,” assured Slim.
“Where’s Crane?” asked the sheriff.
“He’s in town. Made a deal with Paint Pablo for some cows, and I reckon
he’s fixin’ up the deal at the bank.”
They rode into town and left their horses at the hitch-rack.
* * * * *
That same morning Big Jim came to the bank and told Della that he had
brought in a good saddle-horse for her to use. He lingered quite a while
at her desk.
“I’m spending too much time around here,” he laughed. “Since you came
to work here I’ve neglected my ranch, don’t you know it? Well, I have,
Della. Before you came, I didn’t show up around here once a week; now
I’m here all the time.”
Della passed it off with a laugh. She did not want Big Jim to make
love to her, and she was almost sure that that was why he had given
her a good position in the bank. Still he had never been offensive in
any way.
He went over to the cashier’s desk and engaged him in conversation for
several minutes, before motioning Della to come over to them.
“Get me twenty-five hundred dollars in fairly big bills,” he told her.
She went into the vault and came back with the required amount, which
Big Jim counted carefully. He asked the cashier for a long envelope,
which he secured for Big Jim. Putting the bills into the envelope, Big
Jim handed it to Della.
“Martin Crane will be in this morning and you are to give this
twenty-five hundred to him. He will probably have Pablo with him. It
is money to be paid on a cattle deal.”
Della nodded and carried the envelope back to her desk. Big Jim left a
few minutes later, and in about an hour Martin Crane came in. He was
alone.
“Mott leave somethin’ here for me?” he asked.
Della handed him the envelope, which he stuffed into his pocket.
“Don’t you want to count it?” she asked.
He jerked it out of his pocket, glanced at the mass of bills inside and
shoved it back.
“’T’s all right,” he grunted. “I’ve got to rope that danged Pablo before
he changes his mind ag’in.”
He fairly ran out of the bank and headed up the street. Della smiled and
went back to her work. In about fifteen minutes Crane came back into the
bank.
“Where’s Big Jim?” he demanded.
“He went out about an hour before you came in this morning,” replied
Della. “He didn’t say where he was going.”
“By ----, he’s some business man!” snorted Crane angrily. “Here I
almost had to hog-tie that danged Pablo to get him to town to sell me
them white-faced cows. I told Jim Mott what I wanted, dang his soul!
Now the deal is all off.”
“I’m sure we know nothing about it, Mr. Crane,” smiled Della. “He gave
me that money to give to you.”
“Well, you can have it back, young lady!”
Crane flipped the long envelope back to her. She opened it and counted
the money, looking up at him in astonishment.
“Why, there’s only fifteen hundred dollars here!” she exclaimed.
“Y’ danged right that’s all there is! I told Big Jim that I had to have
twenty-five hundred.”
“But--but--” faltered Della.
The cashier crossed over to her and counted the money. It totalled
exactly fifteen hundred.
“That’s queer,” muttered the cashier.
“What’s queer?” demanded Crane.