“What is the light that twinkles on the cliff these days?” Mrs. Gonzales asked as she pointed upward with pursed lips.
“Bad man!” she sniffed after Hall explained that it was Cavanaugh’s light beam.
“What do you know about him, Mother?” Ralph asked.
“Nothing good.” She crossed her arms in the wide sleeves of her embroidered blouse to keep the evening chill away. “He came here in the early ’50s, looking for uranium. Pablo, my poor husband, was a prospector too in those days, and knew every foot of this reservation. Cavanaugh went into partnership with him, but somehow, he never got round to signing a contract.
“They made a strike too—one of the biggest. Cavanaugh sold the claim for much money, just before the government stopped buying ore. He forgot all his promises then, and went away. Pablo’s heart broke when the man he thought was his friend betrayed him.” She sighed deeply.
“Now Cavanaugh has returned,” she went on at last, “like the Spaniards who used to descend on us Indians like locusts when they needed more money. He is not good for this country.”
“He certainly is riding a high horse today,” Hall agreed. “When I was at the Agency he came stalking in with Pepper behind him, leading two of his big dogs on leashes. He looked just like the cat that ate the canary as he submitted a pile of sealed bids a foot high. I sure do wish I knew what he was up to.”
“If I didn’t have to attend the Council meeting,” Ralph said regretfully, “I could take the ‘ear’ up to his camp and find out, maybe.”
Kitty insisted on walking them back to town. She and Ralph went arm-in-arm until Hall met another oilman, got into a business discussion, and called his driller back to take part in it. Sandy and the girl continued on together.
Cavanaugh came out of the motel as they approached. Quite evidently, the redhaired man had had a few drinks.