Why should Sheriff Ogden seek to “railroad” him? What could be the man’s motive? He and Otis, while not close personal friends, had always been on friendly terms.
Could it be that the Sheriff was in some way identified with the cattle rustlers? The thought startled him. Perhaps the Sheriff deliberately was trying to get rid of him, because of his activity against the rustlers!
And mightn’t that theory explain the action of Ogden in chaining him to the tree in the path of the flood? Maybe he had done it deliberately, hoping Otis would be drowned. Maybe he feared that Otis possessed some information against him in connection with the cattle-rustling, which Otis might disclose if he ever came to trial.
But had the murder of the ranger been part of the plot? Otis could hardly believe that the rustlers would kill Fyffe merely to “frame up” a case against him. It would have been too easy to have gotten rid of him by a shot from ambush.
And then, there was the writing on the floor of the ranger cabin. Otis knew beyond any possibility of a doubt that the scrawl had been written by Ranger Fyffe himself, and by no other. No, that by no stretch of the imagination might be called a frame-up.
Otis was completely at a loss.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” he said at length, but without revealing any of the suspicions which had come upon him so suddenly. “I guess the Sheriff knows what he’s doing. I’ve told you all there is to tell, and I’ve told you the truth.”
Sterling Carr slowly shook his massive head.
“But why did you pick on Gus Bernat to give your alibi, son?” he asked uncomprehendingly. “There’s lots of others just as good, and better. Now, I have a hunch that if you’d remember, even now, that it wasn’t Gus Bernat, but Jess Bledsoe that seen you at the time of the killin’, that Jess would step right up at the time of the trial an’ give ’em all the details.”
“Dad,” began Otis, very soberly, “I know Jess would do it in a minute. But I’m not going to ask anyone to perjure himself to save me. I believe I could clear this thing up myself, if I had half a chance. Maybe I can, anyway. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your standing by me, because I know you feel that I’m lying to you. But I tell you again, and I’ll tell you every single time I see you, that I didn’t do it—I didn’t do it, and that’s all there is to it. How can I make it any stronger?”