Curly waved the sheriff aside. “It don’t matter what he thinks, Miss Kate. He says he thinks Luck was mixed up in the hold-up. Maybe that’s what he thinks, but we don’t want to forget that Cass Fendrick made him sheriff and your father fought him to a fare-you-well.”
“Then we can’t expect any help from him.”
“Not much. He ain’t a bad fellow, Bolt ain’t. He’ll be square, but his notions are liable to be warped.”
“I’d like to talk with him,” the young woman announced.
“All right,” Mackenzie assented. “To-morrow mo’ning——”
“No, to-night, Uncle Mac.”
The cattleman looked at her in surprise. Her voice rang with decision. Her slight figure seemed compact of energy and resolution. Was this the girl who had been in helpless tears not ten minutes before?
“I’ll see if he’s at his office. Maybe he’ll come up,” Curly said.
“No. I’ll go down to the courthouse if he’s there.”
Flandrau got Bolt on the telephone at his room. After a little grumbling he consented to meet Miss Cullison at his office.