Crooked Trails and Straight Part 40

"We're not entirely surprised, Mr. Thomas," Lieutenant O'Connor told the commissioner. "In point of fact we've rather been looking for something of the kind."

"Then you know where Luck is?" Thomas, a sociable garrulous soul, leaned forward eagerly.

"No, we don't. But we've a notion Fendrick knows." Bucky gave the government appointee his most blandis.h.i.+ng smile. "Of course we know _you_ won't talk about this, Mr. Thomas. Can we depend on your deputies?"

"I'll speak to them."

"We're much obliged to you. This clears up a point that was in doubt to us. By the way, what was the date when the relinquishment was signed?"

"To-day."

"And who was the notary that witnessed it?"

"Dominguez. He's a partner of Fendrick in the sheep business."

"Quite a family affair, isn't it. Well, I'll let you know how things come out, Mr. Thomas. You'll be interested to know. Have a cigar."

Bucky rose. "See you later, Curly. Sorry I have to hurry, Mr. Thomas, but I've thought of something I'll have to do right away."

Bucky followed El Molino Street to the old plaza and cut across it to the Hotel Wayland. After a sharp scrutiny of the lobby and a nod of recognition to an acquaintance he sauntered to the desk and looked over the register. There, among the arrivals of the day, was the entry he had hoped to see.

Ca.s.s Fendrick, C. F. Ranch, Arizona.

The room that had been a.s.signed to him was 212.

"Anything you want in particular, Lieutenant?" the clerk asked.

"No-o. Just looking to see who came in to-day."

He turned away and went up the stairs, ignoring the elevator. On the second floor he found 212. In answer to his knock a voice said "Come in."

Opening the door, he stepped in, closed it behind him, and looked at the man lying in his s.h.i.+rt sleeves on the bed.

"Evening, Ca.s.s."

Fendrick put down his newspaper but did not rise. "Evening, Bucky."

Their eyes held to each other with the level even gaze of men who recognize a worthy antagonist.

"I've come to ask a question or two."

"Kick them out."

"First, I would like to know what you paid Luck Cullison for his Del Oro claim."

"Thinking of buying me out?" was the ironical retort of the man on the bed.

"Not quite. I've got another reason for wanting to know."

"Then you better ask Cullison. The law says that if a man _sells_ a relinquishment he can't file on another claim. If he surrenders it for nothing he can. Now Luck may have notions of filing on another claim. You can see that we'll have to take it for granted he gave me the claim."

It was so neat an answer and at the same time so complete a one that O'Connor could not help appreciating it. He smiled and tried again.

"We'll put that question in the discard. That paper was signed by Luck to-day. Where was he when you got it from him?"

"Sure it was signed to-day? Couldn't it have been ante-dated?"

"You know better than I do. When was it signed?"

Fendrick laughed. He was watching the noted officer of rangers with narrowed wary eyes. "On advice of counsel I decline to answer."

"Sorry, Ca.s.s. That leaves me only one thing to do. You're under arrest."

"For what?" demanded the sheepman sharply.

"For abducting Luck Cullison and holding him prisoner without his consent."

Lazily Ca.s.s drawled a question. "Are you right sure Cullison can't be found?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you right sure he ain't at home attending to his business?"

"Has he come back?"

"Maybe so. I'm not Luck Cullison's keeper."

Bucky thought he understood. In return for the relinquishment Cullison had been released. Knowing Luck as he did, it was hard for him to see how pressure enough had been brought to bear to move him.

"May I use your 'phone?" he asked.

"Help yourself."

Fendrick pretended to have lost interest. He returned to his newspaper, but his ears were alert to catch what went on over the wires. It was always possible that Cullison might play him false and break the agreement. Ca.s.s did not expect this, for the owner of the Circle C was a man whose word was better than most men's bond. But the agreement had been forced upon him through a trick. How far he might feel this justified him in ignoring it the sheepman did not know.

O'Connor got the Circle C on long distance. It was the clear contralto of a woman that answered his "h.e.l.lo!"

"Is this Miss Cullison?" he asked. Almost at once he added: "O'Connor of the rangers is speaking. I've heard your father is home again. Is that true?"

An interval followed during which the ranger officer was put into the role of a listener. His occasional "Yes----Yes----Yes" punctuated the rapid murmur that reached Fendrick.

Presently Bucky asked a question. "On his way to town now?"

Again the rapid murmur.

"I'll attend to that, Miss Cullison. I am in Fendrick's room now. Make your mind easy."

Bucky hung up and turned to the sheepman. The latter showed him a face of derision. He had gathered one thing that disquieted him, but he did not intend to let O'Connor know it.

"Well?" he jeered. "Find friend Cullison in tolerable health?"