You oughta done as I suggested--searched her out yoreself,' he said. `Then we could've arranged that no claim would be made. What you gotta do now is make a friend o' the gal, put her in possession as soon as maybe, an'--not pointedly, slam the S P; it's been neglected, badly managed, the profit small, an' the outlook for the cattle trade generally--gloomy. Get her to let you sell an' invest the coin, leavin' her free to have a good time an' no anxiety. Play yore part right an' she'll fall for it, an' my offer to you still stands. By the way, where is that letter?'
`Burned--it was dangerous,' the lawyer lied. `As for your plan, it's good--you still have the gift--but it will fail; the girl won't lack advisers; I forgot to mention that at present she's living in Shadow Valley.'
Cullin sprang from his seat. `So it's that girl?' he cried. `How'n hell did she get there, an' what's she doin'?'
`She skedaddled from her last job, and Drait found her adrift in the wilds,' Seale explained, adding with a sneer, `As to what she's doing, it doesn't need two guesses.'
He got a black look. `I wouldn't repeat that, Seale,' came the warning. `I've seen her, an' she's not that sort.'
This left the man of law speechless; Cullin defending a woman's character was something he never dreamed of witnessing. He had expected an eruption, and here was the human volcano seated again, and wearing a slow smile of satisfaction. Indeed, the rancher had reason. The luck was breaking for him; the woman he wanted, the ranch for which he had schemed, and the man he hated, seemed no be almost within his grasp. He found himself wondering about the girl, for although he had closed Seale's evil mouth, it had been no tribute to her, but merely an automatic gesture--he would not permit a slur on one he intended to make his own. Presently he spoke again:
`Forget all I've said, Luke, except puttin' Miss Darrell in possession as quickly as possible. An' she's to have a straight deal. You can leave the rest to me; I'll see you don't lose by it.'
Fortified by a stiff dose of whisky, the lawyer set out for Midway, where he would stay the night and catch the coach in the morning. It had been a tiring day, both physically and mentally, and though cheered somewhat by the reflection that all was not yet lost, he was far from sanguine. Worry his wits as he might, utter failure resulted from his efforts to fathom Cullin's reaction to the news, but obviously the rancher had a plan, and the Weasel promised himself that he would discover and profit by it. The missing letter troubled him; he had only learned of the loss some days after it had been taken. The cowboy's farewell remark he put down as a shot in the dark, for he had completely forgotten the temporary absence of his keys.
Meanwhile, the man he had left was striding up and down his room, busily building a pleasing picture. Ownership of the Big C and the S P would make him the wealthiest cattleman for many miles round, and bring the corresponding power. Bardoe would have to be abolished, and Vasco eventually bought or squeezed out. Shadow Valley could be made use of.
`Might put up a fine house there, if she's keen on the spot,' he muttered. His thoughts went to this woman he had seen but once and desired so desperately. `Beau said she don't care none for the fella, so she won't miss him.' For Nicholas Drait was condemned; he was in the way.
**
Despite the fact that the day was young, Jack Gilman lay supine in the shade of the veranda, stretched out in a comfortable chair, feet on the railing, eyes closed and mouth open. He was awakened by a sharp command :
`Stick 'em up !'
He came alive instantly, started to obey, and then paused when he saw no weapon threatened him; the man who had given the order was merely regarding him with contemptuous amusement.
`You'd be easy, wouldn't you?' Cullin said, for he it was. `One o' these days somebody'll take the ranch away from you.' `Not while I got my health,' Gilman grinned. `I had a hard day yestiddy.'
Cullin got down and stood surveying the range. It pleased him, but the neglected condition of the buildings had the opposite effect. He reached out a cigar, passed one to the foreman, and took a seat.
`Ol' Sam certainly had an eye for a location,' he remarked. `Well, he was here first, an' it's on'y to be expected he'd get the best. You'll be sorry to leave it.'
`Leave it--me?' Gilman ejaculated. `What's yore meanin'?'
Cullin shrugged. `you don't appear to have heard the news. O' course, it ain't known but to a few yet.'
`Did you come to tell me?'
`No, just a neighbourly call--I allus had a fancy for this place,' the rancher replied. `I certainly thought Seale would have sent you word.'
`Word of what?' the foreman snapped. `If that dirty little runt is tryin' to put anythin' over on me....'
The suspense was putting an edge on his temper as the visitor intended. He now struck--hard : `There's no question o' that. The lawful owner o' the S P has turned up in the person o' Sam Pavitt's gran'daughter; "Frankie" wasn't a boy after all.'
He saw the man flinch as from a physical blow, and it gratified his delight in giving pain. But Gilman soon recovered. `A girl, huh?' he said. `That don't mean I gotta go. She'll need someone to manage things, I guess, knowin' nothin' about cattle.'
`I'm afraid you'll have no guess again,' Cullin said. `You see, the heiress happens to be the girl I told you was residing with Drait. If she wants help....'
This second blow shook the foreman to his very foundations. `That damned nester,' he exploded, after a stunned silence. `There's on'y one o' that name around here, thank God,' the other replied viciously. `An' he's one too many. By the way, I hear the stock he has in the valley came from the S P. What about it?'
`If they did, he stole 'em,' Gilman retorted instantly.
`A hundred head, all without brands?' This incredulously. `Ain't yore riders doin' anythin' for their pay?'
The foreman lifted his shoulders. `Shouldn't wonder if there's more. I'm short-handed--to keep down expenses--an' with the future o' the ranch in the air, I reckon none of us feels like overworkin'--you wouldn't yoreself.'
`Possibly, but you'll have some explainin' to do; Drait's no tenderfoot.'
`Me too; mebbe he'll have some to do first.'
`O' course, if you could prove he helped hisself to those cows,' Cullin said softly.
The eyes of the two men met, and the foreman knew that his story was not accepted; he also read the meaning behind Cullin's last remark.
`Have to consider if somethin' can't be done 'bout that,' he said. `If not, there's other ways.'
The rancher rose. `It is, o' course, entirely yore affair, but we shall miss you, Gilman.'
The foreman's sullen gaze watched him cross the open anddisappear among the trees. `Yeah, my affair,' he sneered. `You want him got rid of, an' I'm to do it for you. Mebbe I will, because it suits my hand too, but if I have to start killin', look to yoreself, Cullin, you bastard.'
Though he failed no divine the malignity he had left behind, the Big C man knew he had not earned any gratitude. Nevertheless, he was satisfied with the morning's work. It was perfectly plain to him that Gilman had been robbing the S P, and pretty certain that Drait already knew, or would soon discover the fact. The removal of the nester therefore became imperative if the foreman was to retain his post, or even his ill-gotten gains. But Cullin was not the type to be content with only one chance in a lottery, and his mind was casting about for a second. It did not take long to decide; Bardoe's animosity towards Drait almost equalled his own.
From where he was, the route to the 8 B skirted Shadow Valley, and he was only a short distance from nhe entrance when he saw a rider ahead, a slight figure, dressed in grey, which he instantly recognised. Smothering a whoop of exultation, he loped after and soon overtook her. Hat in hand, he ranged alongside.