The news of the robbery at McLean’s office was brought back to the ranch
by Skeeter Smith, and Jim Bailey heard it next morning at breakfast. He
realized that if there had been anything incriminating in that safe, it
was too late to do anything about it now. And, strangely enough, Jim
Bailey didn’t care. He had lost all desire to help McLean. Naturally, he
wanted Mary to get some of the Lazy H, but that was something beyond his
control. As far as his share of the deal was concerned, he never did
feel that he would ever receive it. He didn’t trust McLean at all, and
the longer it went, the less his trust.
Ed McLean came out to the Lazy H that afternoon. He said he was out to
get a breath of fresh air, but he soon got Jim alone.
“I heard about your robbery,” said Jim. “Did they get anything?”
“They took every paper out of my safe,” replied McLean, “but little
good it will do them--I saw to that. Day after tomorrow that will is
to be probated. I’ve talked with the judge. All you have to do is
appear in court with me and answer questions. If anybody in Pinnacle
City thinks that they can stop me from getting control of this ranch,
they’re badly mistaken.”
“I can,” declared Jim Bailey soberly.
“You?” gasped the lawyer. “Don’t be a fool, Bailey.”
Jim Bailey laughed shortly. “I’m through with it, McLean--and you better
be, too.”
“Yellow, eh?” sneered the lawyer.
Jim shrugged. “I’ll take it on one consideration, McLean.”
“What’s that?”
“That as soon as I get the ownership of the Lazy H, I turn it over to
Mary Deal.”
“Well, what a fool you’ve turned out to be! Do you think for a minute
that I’d--so you’re stuck on the girl, eh? Well, if--”
“Turn it over to her,” said Jim doggedly, “and we’ll both pull out. You
say I am yellow. I suppose that means, I’m afraid. I am. I believe that
robbery last night was done because four men do not believe that will
was on the square. My acceptance by the court won’t change their minds.
You know as well as I do that the will was not on the square, McLean.
Clint Haverty did not cut Mary Deal out of her share--and you know it.”
McLean’s eyes slitted, as he looked at Jim Haverty. If looks could kill,
Jim Bailey would have died in his tracks.
“What else do you know that’s funny?” asked the lawyer tensely.
“I know that when you go into court to probate that will, Jim Bailey
won’t be there. When I came here, I fell for your crooked deal, because
I didn’t know these folks. It looked like a chance for easy money. But
I don’t want that easy money now.”
Ed McLean stared grimly into space. His plans were shattered if this
foolish kid persisted in not doing his part.
“You’re letting a pretty face keep you from a fortune,” he said.
“We will leave the woman out of it, McLean. I’m walking out. Even if the
Haverty brothers get the Lazy H--I can’t help it.”
“So that is your final word, eh, Bailey?”
“That is final, McLean.”
“All right, you’re the loser,” said the lawyer and started over to get
into the buggy. “I’ll see you in court,” he said, and drove away.
“He’ll see me in court?” queried Jim to himself. “What has he got under
his hat, I wonder?”
He walked up to the house and met Archibald Haas.
“How about some pistol practice, Jim?”
Jim smiled. “Are you willing to take chances?”
“Shore--if yuh want to try it. A feller never knows when he’ll need a
gun. It’s good to be able to shoot.”
“Yes, I believe you are right, Archibald; I’ll get the gun. One never
does know when a gun might be useful.”
* * * * *
Archibald led the way far down a dry-wash, where even the worst shot
in Arizona would not endanger lives. After an hour of instructions,
Archibald threw the undamaged tin can into the brush. “Ten feet, or
a hundred, yuh miss ’em all plenty far,” he said.
“That last shot would have killed a man,” said Jim.
“Yeah, I know--but I ducked. You ain’t cut out for no gunman, Jim. You
shut yore eyes, grit yore teeth, and git stiff enough to skate on. Then
the gun jumps out of yore hand and I spend my val’able time, diggin’ the
sand out of it. Didja ever try a shotgun?”
“Would I do better with one?”
“Well, yuh couldn’t do any worse.”
Jim flopped disgustedly on the porch, and tossed the gun aside.
Tellurium came out, wiping his hands on his apron, grinning a little.
“Mucho boom--no hit, eh?” he remarked.
“That’s right. I simply cannot shoot a six-shooter, Tellurium.”
“Well, it’s a good thing to find out. Mary went to town a while ago.
She wondered if you’d like to go along, but you was too busy throwin’
lead and I wouldn’t go and get yuh--too dangerous.”
“I’d have been honored to go with her,” said Jim. “Sorry. When will she
be back?”
“I dunno. She said she might go down and visit with Mrs. Voigt for a
while; mebbe stay for supper--she didn’t know. Was McLean around,
checkin’ up to find out who robbed him last night?”
“No, I don’t believe he was,” laughed Jim. “He said they did not get
anything of value from his safe.”
“I jist wondered,” said Tellurium, and went into the house.
Jim sat there and thought it over. He knew that Tellurium and Archibald
had gone to town last night. Could those two old timers have been one of
the two pairs of masked men? It would be like them to do a thing like
that, trying to help Mary Deal. But who were the other two, he wondered?
Mary Deal did not come home for supper, but no one was concerned.
Tellurium sat up until midnight, waiting for her, but she did not come.
Jim heard Tellurium moving about the main room and came out to see what
was wrong. The old alarm clock on Jim’s dresser showed the time to be
almost half-past twelve. Tellurium was standing at a window, peering
out into the night.
“What is wrong?” asked Jim. The cook turned away from the window and
looked at Jim.
“Mary ain’t home yet,” he said, a worried note in his voice. “She
wouldn’t stay this late--alone--not unless she said she’d stay there
all night.”
“What could happen to her?” asked Jim anxiously.
Tellurium shrugged. “_Quien sabe?_ Put on yore pants, kid, we’re headin’
for town--me and you.”
Tellurium hitched up the buckboard team, and they headed for Pinnacle
City. Tellurium knew where the Voigt family lived; so he hammered on
the door until Mrs. Voigt came. Mary had eaten supper with them, and
had left about seven o’clock. She had said that she was going home.
It was too late to seek more information; so they drove back to the
ranch, hoping that Mary might be home, but she was not; so Tellurium
went to the bunk-house and awakened the boys. They all gathered in
the main room, where they talked it over.
“She rode Irish,” said Tellurium. “He’d come home.”
The boys nodded.
“No one would harm Mary,” Tex Parker said.
“Maybe she fell off the horse, or was thrown,” suggested Jim.
“Mary is a good rider,” said Dell Howard, “and Irish never bucked in his
life. Mary broke him thataway.”
“All right,” said Tex, “we’ve got to do somethin’. Tellurium, you and
Jim stay here--the rest of us go to town. We’ll search along the road,
and check on everybody in town. Somebody must have seen her after she
left Voigt’s place. C’mon boys.”
They hurried out, heading for the stable.
“You might as well go to bed, Jim,” Tellurium said. “No use settin’ up.”
“This,” replied Jim, “is no time to sleep.”
* * * * *
It was a long night. Dell Howard and Buck Ives came back for breakfast
and to see if Mary had returned.
“We can’t find any trace of her in Pinnacle City,” Dell told them.
“We’re makin’ up two posses for the search.”
“I’m goin’ with yuh,” declared Tellurium. “I’d go crazy, not doin’
anythin’. Jim can take care of the ranch.”
“I’d like to go along,” said Jim.
“You’d do us more good right here,” said Dell.
The three of them rode away in a cloud of dust. Jim wandered around
the place, not knowing what to do. Dell Howard had tossed the ranch
mail on the table, and Jim glanced at it. There was a paper from
Phoenix, a small mail-order catalogue, and one letter in a plain
brown envelope. Jim looked at the name, a puzzled expression on his
face. It was addressed to Jim Meade, care of the Lazy H, Pinnacle
City, Arizona.
Slowly he opened it, wondering who would write him. Inside was a single
sheet of soiled paper, on which had been written in ink, the letters
faded;