Sudden smiled agreement. `Well, we picked up the trail where Seale dropped it, at Deepridge. Mary Pavitt an' her husband had married, lived, an' died there. The child, a girl, was sent to a sort o' home for orphans at Redstone, with what money there was to pay for her keep an' education. When she was about sixteen, she went as a mother's help to a small farm in the district. Nearly four years later, these folk moved East, an' she got another job at Shanton. Know it?'
. `Passed through once, an' that was a-plenty,' Drait replied. `It's a bit south o' Taole Mesa.'
`That's so,' Sudden agreed. `We found the house--if yu could call it nhat--owned by a mighty craggy couple, the woman a virago an' the man a shifty-eyed sneak. They denied all knowledge o' the girl at first, but when they found that wouldn't get 'em anywhere but into trouble, they admitted she had been there, but had disappeared, somethin' short o' two months ago. Her name was Mary Frances Darrell. Mebbe yu can finish the tale.'
The nester looked up. `It's an amazin' one, for shore, an' there ain't much I can add to it,' he began. `I found her wanderin' in the woods the afternoon afore I met you. She admitted she had run away, had no folks, an' nowhere to go; I fetched her here. O' course, I never dreamed o' connectin' her with Pavitt; she didn't mention him, an' they were searchin' for a woman twice her age or a young man.'
`She may not have heard the name till she came to the valley,' Sudden suggested. `I'd like a word with her if it ain't too late.'
`I'll find out,' Nick replied.
He returned in a few moments. `She's comin' along,' he said. `Mebbe it'll be easier for her if I ain't here. Back soon.'
Before the other had time to protest, he had gone, and almost immediately, the girl came in, seated herself in the chair Nick had vacated, and looked enquiringly at the puncher.
`You have something to tell me?'
`Somethin' to ask yu first,' he smiled. `An' it ain't just curiosiny. Yu were born at?'
`A town called Deepridge, but as I left there when I was eight--having lost both my parents--I remember little of it.' Further questions brought confirmation of his own discoveries concerning her movements. There was one more test. `What did yore parents call yu?'
`Frankie. You see, I was a disappointment; both of them had wanted a boy.'
Sudden, conscious that he was reviving sad memories, grinned and said consolingly, `Shucks! boys ain't so much.' This brought a smile, wistful, maybe, but still, a smile. `Can you tell me yore mother's maiden name?' Sudden went on.
She shook her head. `I cannot recall ever having heard it.' `Well, I guess yu've told me all I need to know,' he said. `I'm obliged to yu, ma'am.'
`May I put a question?' she asked, and when he agreed that it was certainly her turn, added, `Why do you want this information?'
He told the history of Mary Pavitt, her flight from home, and the old man's bequest. `I've been lookin' for her child, who is the rightful owner of the S P ranch; I reckon I've found her,' he ended.
`It seems--incredible,' she breathed.
`The incredible part is that yu weren't unearthed a while ago,' Sudden said drily. `That lawyer fella must be dumb, or....' He left her to supply the alternative. `One thing more : I wouldn't speak of it, even to Lindy; there might be a snag somewheres.'
`Does Mister Drait know?' she asked.
`Naturally, I told him. He won't talk.'
She rose and began to stammer thanks, but he waved them aside. `Nothin' no that,' he said hastily. `I'm on'y doin' what I came to do.'
In the semi-darkness of her room, Mary strove to school her excited brain into a calm consideration of this seeming inevitable change in her life. What would it mean? Wealth, independence, freedom? Not the latter, for she would still be tied to the harsh, inscrutable man she had married. She wondered whether Drait would be glad, or sorry? He would never let her know, but she shut her teeth on the determination that it should be which she chose. She would be leaving Shadow Valley, and to her surprise, this thought produced a pang of regret.
While the girl was wrestling wint her problem, her husband returned to the parlour, dropped into a chair, and looked enquiringly at his companion.
`It's as certain as the Day o' Judgment,' the puncher told him, adding meditatively, `It busts up Cullin's game--yu won't need to consider that offer now.'
`I never intended to,' Drait said.
`If she decides to keep the ranch, she'll want a good man to run it; Gilman would steal the floor from under her feet.' `Yeah, it'll be a jolt for him, too. Bardoe won't like it, an' the sheriff'll be peeved. Take it all round, Jim, you ain't goin' to be the best-liked man hereabouts.'
`That's happened before,' Sudden replied, a twinkle in his eyes. `I never let it lose me any sleep. If some o' the folks I've met up with in this world o' sin had liked me, I'd 'a' hated myself.'
`I got fifty more critters from the S P while you were away. Yeah, I took the numbers o' the bills. What you meanin' to do about Seale?'
`Invite him to come over, mentionin' why. I'll bet he will too, a-runnin', an' I'll double the bet that from here he'll head straight for the Big C, in the hope o' still bein' able to corral that thousand bucks.'
`Well, I'm mightly glad you've turned the trick, Jim, both for the gal's sake an' yore own. With the job practically finished, I s'pose you'll be hittin' the trail soon?' Drait said moodily.
Sudden shook his head. `There's a lot to be done yet.'
`Good,' was the hearty reply, but as he returned to the bunkhouse the puncher had a feeling that his latest exploit had not quite pleased nhe nester, and he wondered why.
Chapter IX
THE letter announcing the bare fact that an heir to the S P had been brought to light produced a galvanic effect upon the Weasel. Though he tried to persuade himself that it must be a spurious claim which could be easily disproved, he lost no time in looking into the matter. The weekly coach carried him to Midway, and there he hired a buckboard to complete the journey, consoling himself with the reflection that the estate would pay his expenses.
He was conversant with the sinister history of Shadow Valley, and knew it was at present in the possession of an undesirable named Drait. But the letter he had received was signed `James Green' and this told him nothing. So, when ushered by Lindy into the parlour, it was quite a surprise to find a familiar face--that of the cowboy from the Border, who had visited him in Rideout.
`So it's you?' he said.
`Li'l of me,' the other smiled. `Couldn't go back to pore Eli empty-handed, yu know. Help yoreself to a seat.' He turned to the young girl, who, sitting rather in the shadow was the only other occupant of the room. `This is Luke Seale, ma'am; he's been tryin' to find yu for a goodish bit.'
`My search was for a much older woman or a youth called 'Frank,'' the lawyer said sharply. `If this is a joke....' `Do I look that sort o' fool?' Sudden demanded. `Now, pay close attention to what I'm goin' to tell yu. My enquiries started at Deepridge, where your'n left off.' The Weasel blinked at this, and then listened in glum silence while Sudden, step by step, related the tale of his investigation.
`Sounds all right,' he said sourly, when the puncher ended, `but it's no more than hearsay, so to speak; the Law demands documentary evidence.' At the back of his mind, however, a four-figure sum of money was receding into the distance.
`We aim to please,' Sudden smiled, and dived into a pocket. `I got on the trail o' the preacher who married Mary Pavitt an' Francis Darrell--fella named 'Josiah Jones.' ' Neither of the men noticed the girl's start of surprise. `He ain't at Deepridge no more, but I can tell yu where to locate him. He dug up an old register an' here's a copy o' the entry in it.'
Seale studied the slip of paper. `It could be forged,' he said, and looked into eyes of chilled steel. `I'm not saying it is `The same fella baptised the child, an' there's people in Deepridge who remember she was called 'Frankie' by her parents,' the puncher went on. `Here is another document, which is genuine--I wrote it my own self.' His grin was not of the pleasant variety. `It's the address o' the orphanage, where they'll show yu the record of Miss Darrell's stay there, an' give yu a pretty near description of her. Well, what d'yu think?'
