Kendall Marsh came to Medicine Tree that morning, boiling mad. He knew what it would mean to him, and he fairly stamped the bank floor while he argued with John Freeman over who had done this.
“Don’t try to tell me that the cattlemen didn’t do it,” he raved. “It wouldn’t benefit anybody else, would it? Steal the mortgages from the bank and then burn the records! I tell you, Freeman, the cattlemen of Painted Valley did it. The guilt lies between three men. Perhaps all three of them had a hand in it. One man helped Blaze Nolan rob this bank. Perhaps the same man set fire to the courthouse.
“My God, I’ll have all of them in jail before I get through with them. I’ll start a court action that will make this valley sit up and know who I am. I’ll sue every one of them. Somebody will go to the penitentiary for this.”
“It’s a very regrettable thing,” said Freeman mildly.
“Oh, it is, eh?” sarcastically. “It don’t seem to worry you any. I guess you’re through with this bank, Freeman. You’ve been among these cow-lovers so long that you’re as bad as they are. Draw what you’ve got coming and I’ll lock up the place. No use keeping open, even if the safe wasn’t smashed. These folks wouldn’t do business with my bank, anyway. All I wanted it for was to control those mortgages.”
John Freeman sighed, but did not raise his voice in objections. He felt that it was coming.
“I wouldn’t advise you to stay in town, Mr. Marsh,” he said quietly. “There is quite a feeling about you, and it wouldn’t⸺”
“I go when I please, Freeman,” coldly. “I could buy this damn’ town and still have plenty of money to build a dozen more.”
“To build a dozen more—perhaps. But the price of this one might be rather steep.”
“I’ll own it before I get through.”