**
Yorky swung his team with a flourish as he pulled up in front of the ranch-house, where Mary and the Negress waited. `You Yorky, drive'm kearful now,' Lindy urged. `Dere's no hurry--we sho' got time a-plenty. If I gotta meet ma Maker, I aim to be in one piece.'
`That goes for me too,' Mary smiled, as he helped her into the vehicle.
`Never had a complaint from a passenger yet,' Yorky said boastfully.
The black woman's face split into a wide grin. `Must allus 'a' druv a hearse,' she said.
A low laugh came from the veranda. `Best not argue with her, boy,' Drait said. `She's a woman, bound to have the last word.' He waved his hat as the buckboard shot away.
With Yorky exercising unusual restraint, the journey proved uneventful.
As they drew up outside the bank, Mary became aware of a horseman reigning in, and a voice said, `Well, if I'm lucky.' She looked up into the smiling face of the Big C rancher. `I was over to the S P, on'y to learn they weren't expectin' you. So yo're givin' Sturm a try-out?'
`Yes, and thank you for sending him,' she replied. `He seems capable.' It was the description she had given Drait, she recalled.
`If he's not, send him packin'--don't hesitate,' Cullin said heartily. `I've found the job, but it's up to him to keep it.' He made no reference to the affair with the half-breed, but she saw him studying Yorky interestedly. Then his glance went to the bank, and he laughed. `Easy to guess yore errand is to get rid of money.'
`Quite correct,' she told him. `I'm going to find out how much I can afford, and spend it; the list of things I must have is simply terrifying.'
`Don't hope for much beyond the barest necessities,' he told her. `Midway is far from civilisation, an' freightin' an expensive business. When do I see this paradise you'll make at the S P?'
She turned starnled eyes on him. `Oh, it won't be ready for ever so long.'
`Then I gotta be patient, which isn't my habit,' he said, in a low, meaning tone. `Well, mustn't delay you. Good huntin'.' He rode on down the street, nodding to passers-by, and thegirl watched uneasily. For no definite reason she wished they had not met.
When Cullin arrived opposite the sheriff's quarters he became aware of that officer beckoning to him. He rode over, got down, and entered. `Well?' he asked.
`A chance to hit at that cursed nester,' Camort said.
The rancher's lips curled disdainfully. `I'd 'a' thought you were tired o' swallowin' the dirt he feeds you.'
`I'll never git tired till he's under the turf,' came the vicious answer. `It's like this, Greg
`When did I give you leave to use my front name?'
The sheriff swallowed hard. `Fancied we was friends.' `Fancy is misleadin'. I employ you, that's all. Go on.'
`There was a ruckus at the S P yestiddy,' Camort continued sulkily. `One o' Drait's men shot up Tomini, who hadn't reached for his shootin'-iron. He swears this fella was fetched over no get him. We could charge the gal an' the gunslinger with attempted murder.'
Cullin clenched his fists to keep his temper under control. `Listen to me, you idiot,' he rasped. `The Greaser was befoulin' the reputation of a lady, his boss. Taxed with it, he threw a knife an' got shot. The on'y mistake the lad who downed him made was not killin'. Now, go ahead with yore fool case an' I'll bring five witnesses to prove the truth.'
The sheriff's eyeballs bulged; active opposition was the last thing he had expected. Disappointment and anger nerved him. `Well, if you want I should lay off Drait, I ain't carin',' he said.
The rancher leaned forward, tight-lipped. `You can do what you please with the nester an' I'll thank you, but raise one finger against Miss Darrell or the S P an' I'll take the hide off you with a bull-whip; that's a promise.'
He stalked from the office, leaving a well-nigh paralysed man floundering in a mental mire. It was some time before he arrived at a satisfactory solution: Cullin not only coveted the ranch but the woman who possessed it. With a long-drawn whistle, the sheriff got out his makings and tried to roll a cigarette. His shaking fingers tore the paper and spilled the weed. Flinging them aside, he stood up.
`Better warn the Judge,' he concluded.
Towler was draped over a chair, snoring raucously; as usual, he had gone to bed early that day instead of the night before, and was not too pleased to have his slumbers disturbed. `Oh, it's you?' he growled. `What's the bad news?'
`Cullin is mad,' the visitor said.
`What about?'
`I don't mean thataway--just plain loco.'
`That isn't news,' the jurist said disgustedly. `We all are--must be to stay in this God-forgotten hole. I take it he turned down your stupid plan and forgot to thank you.'
The ironic reminder stirred the sheriff's bile. `I'm gittin' mighty tired o' bein' bullied by that fella,' was his answer. `Did you say as much?' Mildly.
`No, but I've half a mind
`Don't boast, Camort. Well, well, only my joke, but have you considered your chance of retaining your position--you were not elected for life--at least, we'll hope not.'
This could be taken in two ways, one sinister and the other unflattering, and neither added to the sheriff's ease of mind. But it made him think. Perhaps the `old soak' wasn't quite the fool he had imagined.
`You have lost the support of the S P, Vasco made his attitude very plain, and Bardoe is not pleased with the publicity you provided,' the Judge went on. `Quarrel winh Cullin and where are you to look for honey? Is your popularity with the townsfolk growing?'
'Bout keepin' step with yore own, I guess,' the officer replied, with a flash of insolence. It was a sore point that of late he had to pay for more of his liquor.
`Then it is on the down grade,' Towler returned equably. `But my post is different, in that it does not depend on the favour of the populace.'
`If the Governor knowed what' He stopped abruptly.
`If,' the Judge smiled. `A remarkable word, Camort; it sug
gests so many things. If, for example, this town knew how
much Cullin and Bardoe paid you to help Gilman escape ...' The sheriff started. `That's a secret, of course,' the other finished, and then, sharply, `Enough of this. What I am trying to get into your thick skull is that if you fall out with the Big C you're finished. On the other hand, with Drait out of the way, and Cullin in the saddle at the S P, he'll call the tune and Midway will dance. If you've helped him, Camort ...' He rose and picked up his hat. `Talking is dry work. The drinks are on you--for awaking me.'
That evening the sheriff left Midway to the care of itself and his deputies without informing it or them of his intention. In fact, he waited until dusk enabled him to leave unobserved, and then set off in the direction of Rideout. After covering something less than a couple of miles, he turned into a narrow path
* some text missing here - Camort meets Gilman and Tomini*
`I weel revenge myself,' the man said darkly.
`Well, here's yore chance; the chap who drilled you was sent by Drait, probably on purpose. How's yore wing gettin' on?'
'Ver' good,' Tomini replied. `Ze slug bre'k no bone. Een a week, I shoot.'
`Who's this jasper, Sturm?' Gilman asked.
`Dunn. Greg provided him, part of his plan. I s'pose.'
`Huh!' the late S P foreman grunted. `Other folk can make plans.'
`That's so, but his come off an' theirs don't,' Camort replied pointedly. `Think it over, boys, an' please yoreselves.'
Chapter XIII
ONE afternoon a week later, Sudden suggested a visit to Vasco, whom they had not seen since the trial. Nick agreed, and they set out, unaware that keen, vengeful eyes were on the watch. The owner of the Double V welcomed them cordially, and his Texas foreman also nodded a welcome.
`Anythin' I can do?' Vasco asked.
