“Oh, I can stand whatever the rest of you do. I don’t fork a horse as well as a cowboy or a circus rider, but I can stick on, and I can get there ’most as soon as anybody—I mighty near got there too soon when we went after Melgares, didn’t I?”
“All right, Pendleton! If you think you can stand it, come right along with me this morning. I’m going to ride the rest of the day and most of the night; but if that’s too much for you you can stop over at the ranch to-night, and catch up with us to-morrow.”
“I reckon I’ll take it all in along with you, and I’ll meet you in half an hour in front of the court-house,” and Pendleton bustled off. Conrad went after his mare, dropping into Bancroft’s office for a last word.
The president of the First National Bank was reading his morning’s mail. He frowned over a note from Rutherford Jenkins reminding him that the first of the month was approaching, and warning him not to forget the remittance due on that day. He looked at the calendar. No; he could not take time before the first to go to Las Vegas and crack the whip he was preparing over Jenkins’s head; he would have to make this payment. Next he opened a letter from Dellmey Baxter:
“My dear Bancroft:—I think you’d better correct young Conrad’s curious notion that I had anything to do with José Gonzalez’s attack upon him, or with José’s going down there. If you don’t he might turn his suspicions in some other direction. Of course, there’s nothing in it but that greaser’s bad temper. But he thinks there is, and he’s just hot-headed enough to make it uncomfortable for anybody he happens to suspect. I didn’t send José to him and so, naturally, I can’t do anything about it, even if the fellow does get angry and act like the devil.
“I’m sorry I can’t help you in your desire to retire from our Rio Grande valley land business. I’m tied up so that I’ve got no ready money with which to buy you out. Of course, if you are determined to get out, you might find a purchaser elsewhere. But as a friend I advise you not to sell. There’s going to be big money in it, and we can probably launch the enterprise within the next six months. You’ll make a great mistake if you quit. If you decide to stay in I’m willing for you to keep on as a silent partner, just as we have done so far.”
The banker scowled, swearing softly to himself as he read the first paragraph. “Didn’t send him, didn’t he,” he grumbled. “Then who did? I didn’t, that’s sure. He recommended the fellow as a good cowboy, and Conrad engaged him. I had nothing to do with it.” He was silent again as he studied the second part of the letter. A suspicion rose in his mind that Baxter was purposely making it difficult, almost impossible, for him to get out of the land scheme. What was his purpose in so doing? Did the Congressman wish to keep a hold on him to hamper, perhaps even to control, his movements? “I wonder,” Bancroft thought, “if Dell is afraid I’ll try to cut him out politically before he’s ready to step down. I’d like his place well enough if—but that’s something out of my reckoning for a long time yet, even if everything goes right.” The surmise that Baxter wished to have such a bridle upon him left him uneasy. Well, he would have to let this thing go on as it was. If he tried to sell to any one else knowledge of his connection with it might leak out and reach Lucy’s ears. He winced as he thought of her feeling toward Baxter because of this business. And the investment promised well; rich returns might be expected from it soon. Nobody knew of his part in it except Dell, and if he stayed in and kept quiet it was unlikely that anybody else would find it out. That might be the safer plan, after all.