“HE IS MY FRIEND!”
Call it intuition, a sixth sense, or what you will, a feeling of
loss which she could not explain gripped Molly Kent. That Crosbie
Traynor was dead was tragic; that he had been killed was even more
of a shock, but it did not account for the grief which choked her.
Johnny told himself he had never been more witless. Why had he been
so abrupt? For the first time in his life he saw tears in Molly
Kent’s eyes, and questions which he would have to answer. But even
though he knew that she would have the facts from him, he still
sought to withhold them. This, of course, because he saw no way of
telling the complete truth without putting the girl’s father under
suspicion.
In twenty minutes Johnny managed to become so involved that a child
would have known that he was telling less than half of what he knew.
It definitely added to Molly’s misery. Also, it awakened in her a
sense of shrewdness which left Johnny helpless.
“Just what did all this have to do with your leaving the
Diamond-Bar?” she asked flatly.
Johnny stumbled over his answer. “Why—er—nothin’,” he drawled.
Molly nodded her head sagaciously. She was not fooled.
“I knew it,” she said decisively. “You’ve been telling me only half
the truth. You were too painfully careful not to mention father’s
name. Your quarrel had something to do with Mr. Traynor’s death.”
Johnny hung his head, afraid to meet her eyes, or else he would have
seen the girl’s face pale.
“Tell me, Johnny,” she said with a queer little quaver in her voice,
“is father in trouble?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Well, go on,” she prompted.
The boy sighed heavily, continuing to look away.
“I didn’t want to say nothin’ ’bout our run-in,” said he. “Now
you’re thinkin’ all sorts of things, and I got to tell you. Old
Aaron’s a fool, and he tried to shut me up. Couldn’t do it, though.
Then the boss came in and sided with him. That riled me, seein’ as
how the man couldn’t have killed hisself. I made some talk about
findin’ out who did the killin’, and I was told pretty plain that I
could either punch cattle or quit, that the Diamond-Bar wasn’t
payin’ wages to have me goin’ around snoopin’ into what didn’t
concern me none.”
“I can just hear father saying that,” Molly declared. “You’ve got to
forgive him, Johnny. He’s so old; and he worries so lately. He
helped to elect Mr. Gallup. Naturally he couldn’t go back on him.
Honestly, you had me worried. I just couldn’t imagine what had
happened. Don’t look so glum. I’ll see that father asks you to come
back.”
Johnny raised his head at that.
“No,” he said positively. “I wouldn’t do that. A girl couldn’t
understand it, I guess; but I’ll never ride for Diamond-Bar again.”
“Because of a few hot words?” Molly stopped abruptly, her eyes
holding Johnny’s. “Or else—” A shiver cascaded down the boy’s spine
as he waited for her to finish, “or else you think that he cut you
short because he had something to do with Mr. Traynor’s death. Is
that what you think?”
Johnny’s face worked convulsively as he strove for an honest answer.
“I don’t know what I think,” he said at last. “Whenever I lie to you
it’s because I want to save you from somethin’ I know’d hurt you.
I’d steal for you, Molly Kent; I’d lie and do ’most anythin’, but
when you ask me a straight question like that, I’ve got to shoot
square. I tell you I don’t know what I think!”
“Oh, Johnny, Johnny! You can’t mean that! You don’t think that my
father could have killed that man? Why, he’s been the salt of the
earth to me. No one has ever had to complain of him. You know what
the last two winters have been, and the price of steers ’way down.
It’s been two years of loss for him, and he’s too old to take it
with a grin. He has been short with Hobe, but Hobe overlooks it. He
understands. But you, Johnny—you suspect him—and of this. Aw-w-w!” A
sob broke from her lips. “And I had such faith in you, Johnny,” she
muttered distractedly. “Do you want to break my heart?”
“Oh, please, Molly, don’t—don’t let it matter,” pleaded Johnny, the
misery in his soul causing his voice to quaver. “What difference
does it make what I think?”
“I’ll be as honest as you,” Molly answered with a straightening of
her lips. “It means my happiness. Do you think I could let you go
away carrying that thought? You are no fool, Johnny Dice. Something
more definite than anything you’ve told me planted that ugly thought
in your mind. I want to know what it was. Don’t say you can’t tell
me. Whatever you say won’t shake my faith in my father. Jackson
Kent’s name is respected from one side of this State to the other.
It’s not to defend him that I implore you to speak. I want you set
right. This letter proves nothing. Mr. Traynor may have had many
enemies. That he wanted to see me to satisfy an old man’s whim was
undoubtedly just the merest coincidence. That in itself could not
put my father under suspicion. Could it?”
“I ain’t said that,” the unhappy Johnny replied. “It’s just my
foolishness.”
Glancing at Molly, he saw that she was re-reading the letter.
“Tell me,” she demanded, “why did he ask me to keep away from the
shipping pens? I’d have no reason for going there.”
“I thought about that, too. It’s beyond me. All I know is that he
was coming back here today. Dan Secor told me that. He’d fixed a gun
for Traynor. Said he’d be back on the sixth.”
“The sixth—the sixth of October!”
The letter fluttered to the floor from the girl’s fingers as, white
of face, she sprang to her feet.
“Johnny!” she cried. “Oh, dear God! Don’t you see it—don’t you
understand? The Diamond-Bar has begun shipping from Winnemucca on
the sixth of October for three years. That is why he didn’t want me
to go to the pens. He thought father would be there.”
In a flash Johnny caught Traynor’s idea. If, as the boy had every
reason to suspect, old Kent was the man Traynor had come to square
accounts with, then he had the answer to the man’s every movement
for a week before his death. That is, of course, excepting those two
mysterious days on the Reservation. This coming back to Winnemucca
was for three purposes: to see the girl, to settle with Kent, and,
obviously, to replenish his funds, inasmuch as the letters from
Flagstaff were from a Flagstaff bank.
Traynor had told Vinnie, the Basque, that he would not stay the
night in Standing Rock. His one idea was to get back to Winnemucca
by the sixth. Going on this thought, Johnny saw that the man’s
presence in Standing Rock had been but incidental to his return
here. But he had been seen. Kent must have kept out of his way, and
after, or during supper, had slipped up to Traynor’s room and shot
him.
Wasn’t there sense in every line of this reasoning? Didn’t all of
the dozen and one little incidents since the crime confirm the
facts?
Johnny wondered if he would find out anything in Elk Valley among
the Indians, to make him change his mind. The evidence he held was
circumstantial. Sometimes it lies. No matter. There was nothing left
for him to do but to go through with this hunt, make the trip to Elk
Valley and keep his own counsel. In no other way could he serve
Molly better.
He had bungled things or else he would have avoided this scene with
her. Her excitement and nervousness were due to him.
He detested himself for having alarmed her. Instead of the pleasant
half hour he had looked forward to, he had frightened and hurt her.
The thing to do now was to still any rising suspicion she might have
and get her started for home. So he made small of Molly’s
deductions.
“Traynor may have been a friend of your father’s,” he said to her.
“Or again just another coincidence. As you rightly said, things like
that don’t prove a thing. Wasn’t nothin’ else planted a doubt in my
mind, and I see how downright senseless it was now.”
“Are you being honest with me, Johnny?”
“Of course. Why don’t you take the night train to Argenta? Matt will
see that you git home. Won’t be no trouble sendin’ your horse out to
the ranch.”
“I guess that would be the best thing to do. But you, Johnny, what
are you going to do?”
“Goin’ over to the Injun country tomorrow.”
“Elk Valley? What strange business is taking you there?”
“Crosbie Traynor. I aim to find out who killed him. He was on the
Reservation two days just before he came into the Rock. I reckon
I’ll find out who had it in for him over there. I owe it to you to
clear up this thing.”
“I wish I could go with you, but of course I can’t. Will you go in
by the way of the ranch? It’s not much farther than by way of the
North Fork.”
It was on Johnny’s tongue to say: “Of course, if you want me to,”
but hadn’t old Jackson Kent warned him off? Rebellion began to surge
in Johnny’s soul. Kent confronted him at every turn. And this would
continue to happen. It began to dawn upon the boy that things indeed
were at a pretty pass. It was squarely up to him to decide those
little questions of conduct by which he would either win or lose
Molly Kent. She was the stake.
Johnny knew that the old man would use any end to turn the girl
against him. So, naturally, he asked himself what he had to gain by
walking wide of the old cattleman. To defy her father might turn the
girl against him. Johnny wondered. Surely Molly would like him less
if he turned tail and ran. Yes, that was the correct answer,
provided he considered himself as only an undesirable suitor. But
just how much did that enter into the break between them?
To be frank, didn’t Jackson Kent see in him his accuser, the man
whom he feared? Therefore, Traynor’s death had to be explained
before he could hope for fair play from Kent. And Johnny was too
pessimistic to believe that when solution of the murder had been
achieved it would prove anything other than the old man’s guilt.
Knowledge of that sort would not heal the breach. They would go to
their death bitter enemies.
Knowing Molly for the girl she was Johnny realized that she would
never go back on her father. The boy’s teeth sank into his lips. He
saw now just how hopeless his dreams were. There was a barrier
between Molly and him which could never be removed.
His head snapped back at the thought. Well, if it was written that
he had to lose her, he at least would go down fighting. To hell with
Jackson Kent! He was her father, but he was also a man. They were
two men facing each other, fighting for her love. Kent was old, but
his money and his power made it a fair fight. Let it ride!
Molly little guessed the thoughts racing through Johnny’s mind or
understood the tenseness of his voice as he answered her.
“Why,” he said slowly, “I’ll stop at the Diamond-Bar if you want me
to.”
“No, you won’t!” came a startling interruption; “the last word I
said to you was ‘git!’ Keep off the Diamond-Bar! I might ’a’ known
I’d find you here fillin’ my girl’s head with your schemes and
nonsense. I told you before to git, and I tell it to you now! Go!”
Kent’s wrinkled face was crimson as he thundered on, and Molly’s
knees shook at his sudden appearance. Johnny’s eyes narrowed angrily
at the old man. How long he had been there in the doorway the boy
did not know. He must have crept up the stairs.
Beseechingly, Molly held out her arms to her father.
“Please, _father_,” she entreated, “don’t make a scene! Are you mad?
You didn’t have to steal upon us in this fashion. Whatever
difference of opinion there is between you two, it doesn’t call for
this sort of conduct.”
“So even you turn against me, eh? He’s poisoned your mind against
me!”
“Stop! You don’t know what you are saying.”
“I do! He’s a treacherous leopard, the——”
Molly’s cheeks were the color of chalk. With clenched fists held to
her breasts she threw back her head and hurled her defiance at the
old man.
“No!” she cried, her head thrown back. “No one, father, not even
you, can speak like that to me. Johnny Dice is my friend! I’d trust
him with my life!”