CHAPTER XIII—TWO SUSPECTS
Lila had sent for Angel. After what had happened in the Eagle that night, she felt that she would never want to speak to him again; but she wanted to know what was in that letter. Angel had only blurted a few words.
But he refused to tell her any more. He seemed to blame her for all his hard luck, which was manifestly unfair.
“Why didn’t you keep out of there?” he asked her. “You ruined everything. Even if Rance McCoy had practically busted my bank—he had brought the crowd back to my place, and I’d get it all back with interest. But if you want to know so much about yourself, I’ll tell yuh this much: your mother died in an insane asylum, and your father was shot for robbing a bank.”
Lila stepped back against the building, her face growing white, her eyes widening in horror.
“Angel, that is not true!” she gasped. “You are lying, just to hurt me.”
He shook his head quickly.
“No, I’m not lyin’. I tell yuh, it’s true. Rance McCoy can’t deny it. I had it all in writin’—but he tore it up. Oh, I can get another letter. Or you might write to the sheriff of Medicine Tree. He dug up the information for me.”
Angel turned and walked away, leaving her staring after him, her eyes full of misery. Her mother insane! Her father a thief! What a parentage!
She dismissed school for the afternoon, and the fifteen pupils went whooping away across the school yard. As she walked back down the street toward Parker’s home, it seemed as though every one on the street was looking at her, talking about her.
Suddenly she looked up. In front of her stood Rance McCoy. He was looking at her seriously, his mouth twisted a little, as though he wanted to smile, but was afraid.
For several moments they looked at each other.
Then—
“Yuh look like you’d jist seen a ghost, Lila,” he said.
Ghost! She wondered if he had talked with Angel.
“You ain’t sick, are yuh, Lila?”
“Sick?” Her voice sounded hoarse. “I—I guess I am. I talked with Angel today.”
Old Rance peered closely at her, coming nearer.
“You talked with Angel, eh? What about, Lila?”
“About my—my parents.”
“Yea-a-ah?” The old man’s lips tightened and he rubbed the knuckles of his right hand along the filled loops of his cartridge-belt.
“He’s bitter,” she said, as though defending him.
“Bitter, is he?” Rance laughed harshly. “Oh, I suppose he is—the dirty sidewinder.”
“He’s your son, Rance McCoy.”
“That don’t stop him from bein’ a sidewinder, does it?”
“Perhaps not. Oh, I’m sorry I went to the Eagle that night. I suppose it was none of my business, but he had admitted to me that he dealt crooked with you. You had already given him so much, you know.”
“I’m glad yuh came,” he said slowly. “It kinda showed that yuh—yuh hadn’t forgotten the old man. Angel hates me. He’s always hated me, Lila. And I’m gettin’ so old that it hurts to be hated.”
“I’m sorry. I—I don’t hate you. But it wasn’t fair to never let me know who I was. Angel swears that I came to expose him that night in order to—to get some of your money.”
“Some of my money, eh?” Old Rance smiled bitterly.
“He brags about how much of it he got.”
“Does he? It’s worth braggin’ about, Lila. How is yore school comin’ along?”
“All right. I love the work.”
“Well, that’s fine. It’s good honest work, Lila. We miss yuh out at the Circle Spade—me and Chuckwalla.”
“I may come out some day,” she said.
“That would sure be fine, Lila.”
He watched her go on down the street, and then went over to the Red Arrow bank, where he found Merkle, the prosecuting attorney, talking with the cashier. Merkle and Rance had never been friends; so they ignored each other.
Down at the Sheriff’s office Chuck Ring was making a close examination of the horse Hashknife had ridden, and when he went back into the office he declared he knew the owner of the horse.
“That’s the horse Kid Glover’s been ridin’,” he stated. “He broke the animal himself. There’s a scar on its left shoulder where it bulked into a hitchin’-post over by the Red Arrow Saloon. If Butch Reimer says he don’t know that horse, he’s either mistaken or lyin’ about it.”
“Are yuh sure of it, Chuck?” asked Slim.
“Jist as sure as hell. You go look at it, Scotty.” Scotty McKay grinned and shook his head.
“Don’t need to,” he said. “I knew the animal the moment I seen it; but I didn’t know whether it was supposed to be recognized or not.”
“And what kind of a jigger is Kid Glover?” asked Hashknife.
“If Kid Glover was in town, and yuh heard a dog yelp, you’d know who kicked it,” said Chuck Ring.
Hashknife grinned at Chuck.
“That’s sure givin’ him a bad name, Ring.”
“He’s a bad boy,” said Slim seriously. “Arizona puncher, ignorant as hell. He’s kept pretty well out of trouble around here, but he’s got the earmarks of a bad actor.”
“Well, we might as well go back there and teach him the difference between bay and gray,” said Sleepy.
“Sheriff, do yuh suppose he’s ignorant enough to make that trade in Welcome and come back to the ranch with the gray horse?” asked Hashknife.
Slim shook his head quickly.
“The Kid is ignorant, but that don’t mean he’s a fool. You’ll have to look further than the Half-Box R, Hartley.”
“That’s what I was thinkin’.”
“But why would Butch Reimer deny knowin’ the horse?” wondered Scotty McKay.
“Now, you’re talkin’,” grunted Chuck.
“And that’s about all,” said Slim quickly. “Butch Reimer ain’t so poor he has to steal horses.”
“Well, it looks to me as though I better be satisfied with the trade,” grinned Hashknife. “I dunno just where we’re goin’, but when we get there I’ll drop yuh a card. That gray horse will weight close to twelve hundred, and on his left shoulder is a Cross-in-a-Box brand. He’s five years old and he’ll buck when the spirit moves him.”
“I’ll shore keep an eye out for him, Hartley,” said Slim. “If he shows up, I’ll get him for yuh.”
“Thanks.”
Hashknife and Sleepy walked outside to their horses, followed by the sheriff and his men. Hashknife mounted, but Sleepy merely untied his animal, looking curiously at Hashknife.
“Do yuh mean that we’re headin’ back?” asked Sleepy.
“Sure,” said Hashknife seriously. “We’ll sleep in Welcome tonight, and then head south in the mornin’.”
“We will!” blurted Sleepy. “What’s the matter with you—losin’ yore grip, cowboy? Do you mean to set there and tell me that you’re goin’ to let an ignorant puncher forcibly trade yuh out of Ghost?”
“Well, it might take a long time, Sleepy. You wanted to go to Arizona pretty bad, and I just thought——”
“Well, we ain’t goin’—jist yet. Arizona won’t move away, will it? Git off that bronc and let’s find a place to sleep.”
“We-e-e-ell, all right,” grudgingly. “I suppose I’ve got to go through life humorin’ yuh, feller. I hope some day to have my own way in somethin’.”
But Sleepy knew Hashknife’s true feelings in the matter; knew that it would break Hashknife’s heart to go away and leave Ghost in the hands of some one else. And he knew that the puzzle of the train robbery was calling Hashknife to action.
With all Sleepy’s objections to working with Hashknife in solving these range mysteries, he was just as eager to mix into them as was Hashknife.
Scotty McKay went with them to the livery stable and to the hotel. When they went back to the office they found Slim talking with Merkle. After Merkle went away Slim called Hashknife aside.
“You heard some of the talk about old Rance McCoy beatin’ the Eagle games out of close to eight thousand, didn’t yuh?” asked Slim.
Hashknife said he had.
“Well,” continued Slim, “here’s the queer part of it. The old man drew seventy-five hundred from the bank that day—every cent he had. Now, he won close to eight thousand, which would make his roll close to sixteen thousand dollars. To-day, so Merkle tells me, the old man borrowed five hundred from the bank.”
“And you think the old man robbed that train, eh?”
“Who told yuh that?”
“Nobody; I just felt it.”
“Uh-huh; and I’ll tell yuh why, Hartley.”
Slim explained about finding Rance McCoy’s horse near the spot where the safe had been blown, and some of the things that happened during the actual blowing of the safe. He told Hashknife about the bruise on the old man’s head, and of the shots that had been fired at Scotty, when he went back to guard their evidence.
“Maybe somebody stole the horse,” said Hashknife.
“If they did, why didn’t the old man say something about it? He’s never said a word about it. And the men who shot at Scotty took away the saddle, after skinnin’ off all the brands and iden-tifyin’ marks.”
“How does it happen that yuh never arrested him?”
“Stole too much money. Amounts to over a hundred thousand, and when a man steals that much it’s pretty hard to put him in jail until after the money is found, yuh know.”
“That’s all right; but how are yuh goin’ to find out?”
“And there yuh are,” sighed Slim.
“You spoke about Angel McCoy goin’ broke. The robbery was a one-man job.”
“That’s true. I tell yuh, Hartley, there’s a lot of men in this county that would probably take a chance on that much money.”
“Yuh don’t need to confine yourself to this county.”
“I suppose not. I’m no detective. I believe one third of what I hear, and a half of all I see. I’m no closer to findin’ out who robbed that train than I was the night it happened.”
“Some cowboy may start wearin’ diamonds,” grinned Hashknife. “They won’t be easy to dispose of in this country.”
“Whoever got ’em can afford to wait for a chance to turn ’em into money—and they might wait a long time.”
Hashknife liked Slim Caldwell. He seemed to have a lot of common sense. But Hashknife was more interested in old Rance McCoy. They had told Hashknife about Chuckwalla, and he sounded rather interesting. While the robbery of the express safe held certain elements of mystery, Hashknife was not greatly interested in it—not yet.
It rather amused him to think that the sheriff, prosecuting attorney, and the Wells Fargo representative believed that old Rance McCoy robbed the train, but because of the great amount of money involved, they hesitated to charge him with the crime.
He wondered why Kid Glover traded horses with him. It looked as though the Kid, traveling fast, crippled his horse and was obliged to make a quick trade. But why had the Kid been traveling fast, he wondered? And why did Butch Reimer deny any knowledge of that bay horse when Chuck Ring and Scotty McKay had been able to identify it instantly? Hashknife decided that the thing to do was to find out something about Kid Glover.