“Well,” grinned Cultus, “I didn’t suspect you, and I felt sure that the brand had been made with a runnin’-iron. I figured that Mendoza could have lapped his regular iron over that N and made a good job of it, instead of the way it was made.”
“You wanted to find out if I rode a horse into the Valley,” smiled Nolan.
“Sure. Somebody did, and I thought you might know. Well, I guess I better head back for Medicine Tree. I wonder if Marsh knows how they feel about him here.”
“Quien sabe? He’s no fool; but if he don’t, I’ll tell him. Me and him are due to meet pretty quick.”
Cultus shook hands with Mendoza and thanked him for the meal.
“You come some more,” urged Mendoza. “Plenty frijoles, plenty beef.”
Cultus assured him that he would come again, shook hands with Blaze, and rode away. He felt sure that Blaze was not guilty. Perhaps he did kill Ben Kelton, but there must have been a third party present, and this third party would know the truth.
CHAPTER XI: THE GUN ON THE WINDOW SILL
As far as the stolen gray horse was concerned, Cultus was decidedly at a loss to know where to find the thief. It was evident that somebody had tried to throw the guilt on the Circle M, in case the owner of the horse ever discovered it.
After leaving the Circle M, the road wound along the side of a hill, turned sharply to the left and went over the top of the mesa. On an air line, the top of the mesa at that point would not be over two hundred yards from the ranch-house. It was rather a stiff climb, and at the top Cultus drew rein for a breathing spell.