"Much more than we can afford to lose. I understand the cattle business has been bad for some years."
"You won't lose a cent," Dover asserted. "There's better times right ahead."
"Mister Trenton, whose experience you must allow, doesn't share your views about that."
Dan's face darkened. "How came the Wagon-wheel into this?" He put a question.
"It is our rule never to disclose information about a client," Maitland said pompously.
"Then Trenton don't know about the Circle Dot?"
A second's hesitation, and then, "Not from us, Mister Dover," came the denial.
Watching the weak, irresolute features, Dan knew the words were untrue. Long years of sitting on a stool, adding up figures, had given the man a position of some responsibility, but not the knowledge to use it. He would bully those beneath him, and be servile to his superiors, and of the latter he would regard Trenton as one.
"What do you want me to do?" he asked.
"The mortgage expires in a little less than two months, and as I am convinced our Head Office will not consider a renewal, it must be paid off."
"An' failin' that?"
The banker lifted his shoulders. "We have the power to sell."
To all the young man's arguments that a forced sale would not produce even the amount of the debt, let alone the value of the ranch, and that, by waiting, the banker would get the whole sum due, he shook a stubborn head. He had the interests of his employers to consider; his predecessor had been unwise; he was sorry, and so on.
Dover listened with a set jaw; he knew the mean, warped little soul was joying in the possession of authority for the first time. Mechanically he took the flabby hand extended when he rose.
"I shall hope to see you at the dance," Maitland said. "A very kindly thought on the part of Mister Trenton. It will give me an opportunity of meeting our customers in a more congenial atmosphere than that of an office. My wife and daughter will appreciate it."
Dan gave a non-committal answer, went out, and proceeded to the Parlour. Bowdyr was alone--yesterday's patrons were sleeping it off, and to-day's had not yet begun to come in.
"Where's Malachi?" the rancher enquired.
"At the opposition joint, I expect," Bowdyr grinned. "He's an odd mixture: allus pays cash here, but runs an account there--sez he'd hate to die in my debt, but it would cheer his last moments to remember that he owed Sody 'bout a million dollars. You want him?"
"I want a drink more--a big one."
The saloon-keeper looked at him keenly. "What's the trouble, boy?" he asked, pushing forward bottle and glass. Dan swallowed a hearty gulp of the spirit, and then told the story. Ben's face grew graver as he listened.
"Hell!" he said, when all was told. "I knowed the Ol' Man was up agin it, but never suspicioned it was that bad. An' you think Trenton knows?"
"Shorely," Dan replied. "He'd milk that money-grubber dry. I've gotta raise that coin somehow, Ben, or he'll buy the Circle Dot for half its value."
"Well, Dan, any help I can give is yourn, but pore times in the cattle trade hits me too," Bowdyr said.
"I know that, Ben, an' thanks, but this is my job."
The entry of Malachi put an end to the conversation. He appeared to be sober, and helped himself to an unusually modest dose of his customary tipple.
"I'm obliged for yore message, Doc," the rancher said. "You've seen Maitland? What's your opinion of him?"
"I think he's taken the place of a better man."
"Yes, it was an unlucky day for Rainbow when Lawson elected to go back East," the doctor agreed. "This fellow has always had a boss; he'll find one here."
"He's done that a'ready," Dan said bitterly. "Though mebbe he ain't aware of it yet."
Malachi nodded. "Trenton gets the town to give a dance in his niece's honour, an' tells Maitland it's for him." He laughed wryly. "Clever devil; wonder how much he owes the bank?"
"I dunno, but I'd like to," Dan said. "You goin' to this festive gatherin'?"
"I might. I'm told the girl is pretty. Have you seen her?"
"yeah, she has looks," Dover admitted, and left soon after. "He's missin' his dad," Bowdyr remarked.
Malachi nodded agreement. "Ought to take more liquor; drink is the sovereign cure for depression, old settler; lifts a man to Paradise--"
"An' drops him in hell next mornin'," the saloon-keeper finished. "You can't tell me, Doc; I sell it."
Chapter VIII
Dover spoke little during the evening meal, but afterwards, when he joined Sudden and Burke at the fireside--for the nights were chilly--he shared the burden which had been on his mind all day. The effect on the foreman was shattering.
"Goda'mighty, Dan, it can't he true," he cried. "Them bank sharks must be framin' you."
"I saw the deed," the rancher replied. "It's straight enough.
We have to pay up, or let Trenton grab the Circle Dot."
"Is the Wagon-wheel in debt to the bank?" Sudden asked. "Shore to be, but not up to the neck, as we are."
"Then they won't find it easy to put up the price."
"Not unless Garstone can get it back East."
"That'll take time, an' gives us a fightin' chance to heat 'em to it," the puncher responded. "Mebbe if yu reduced the amount ..."
"I offered that, but he wouldn't listen. Trenton has painted a pretty gloomy future for cattle."
"Awright, we gotta make it so--for him," Sudden said grimly. "Meanwhile, we'd better keep this to ourselves; sometimes there ain't safety in numbers. Yu got anythin' in mind, Dan?"
"Yeah, but it's such a long shot that--well, it'll sound hopeless."
"Long shots come off--times."
The rancher pondered for a moment, and then, "Bill, you'll have heard o' Red Rufe's Cache?"
"Shore, but I never took much stock in it," Burke replied.
"It's true," Dan said, and went to an old desk in a corner of the room. They heard a click, and he returned with a creased half-sheet of paper. "Here's what it sez: `Dear Dave,--I've made a lot o' money an' a good few enemies. In case one o' these last gets me, I'm lettin' you know that my pile is cached in the hills. When you reach the bowl on 01' Cloudy's knees, watch out. West is north, an' north is noon, one half after will be too soon. I'm sendin' the rest o' the instructions by another hand. Yore brother, Rufe.' That was the last news we had of him, some three years ago."
"An' the second messenger never arrived?" Sudden asked. "I dunno. A stranger was found two-three miles out on the Cloudy trail a little while later; he'd been shot an' robbed. The first chap got drunk in the town an' may've talked some. Anyway, the story of the cache oozed out, an' there's been more than one try to find it, but Cloudy is big an' hard country."
"Yore father didn't attempt it?"
"I ain't shore; he was away for a week or more several times, but without the rest o' the directions, it's almost hopeless."
"An' it was this paper that--"
"Dad was killed for," Dan said gruffly. "Yeah, someone has the other. I figure Flint was sent here to steal it."
"That means Trenton has the other?"
"That's my belief, but I've no proof," the rancher admitted. "Yeah, I guess I could find this place the paper mentions, but without the further instructions ..." He shrugged his shoulders helplessly.
"Well, it's a forlorn hope, like yu said, Dan," Sudden remarked. "We gotta keep eyes an' ears open. One good pointto bite on is that whoever has the second message is wuss off than we are--he don't know where to begin."
"If on'y we could put our paws on that missin' paper," the foreman lamented.
"If--that's one hell of a word, ol'-timer," Sudden smiled. "Just the most provokin' one in the whole darn dictionary."
The evening of the dance arrived and found the Circle Dot bunkhouse in a state of feverish activity. Shirts had been washed, boots polished, and war-bags were being searched for a hoarded neckerchief or cherished tie, which was not always found in the possession of its rightful owner.