Mackenzie’s faith had been strengthened by the insistent loyalty of the girl. “That’s right, Nick. Let me tell you something else. Fendrick knew Luck was going to prove up on Thursday. He heard him tell us at the Round-Up Club Tuesday morning.”
The sheriff summed up. “You’ve proved Cass had interests that would be helped if Mr. Cullison were removed. But you haven’t shaken the evidence against Luck.”
“We’ve proved Cass Fendrick had to get Father out of the way on the very day he disappeared. One day later would have been too late. We’ve shown his enmity. Any evidence that rests on his word is no good. The truth isn’t in the man.”
“Maybe not, but he didn’t make this evidence.”
Kate had another inspirational flash. “He did—some of it. Somehow he got hold of father’s hat, and he manufactured a story about shooting it from the robber’s head. But to make his story stick he must admit he was on the ground at the time of the hold-up. So he must have known the robbery was going to take place. It’s as plain as old Run-A-Mile’s wart that he knew of it because he planned it himself.”
Bolt’s shrewd eyes narrowed to a smile. “You prove to me that Cass had your father’s hat before the hold-up, and I’ll take some stock in the story.”
“And in the meantime,” suggested Curly.
“I’ll keep right on looking for Luck Cullison, but I’ll keep an eye on Cass Fendrick, too.”
Kate took up the challenge confidently. “I’ll prove he had the hat—at least I’ll try to pretty hard. It’s the truth, and it must come out somehow.”
After he had left her at the hotel, Curly walked the streets with a sharp excitement tingling his blood. He had lived his life among men, and he knew little about women and their ways. But his imagination seized avidly upon this slim, dark girl with the fine eyes that could be both tender and ferocious, with the look of combined delicacy and strength in every line of her.