Tangled Trails

by Raine, William MacLeod

  "He did it so that we wouldn't see it. Is there any other record kept of the marriages?"

  "Sure there is. The preachers and the judges who perform marriages have to turn back to us the certificate within thirty days and we make a record of it."

  "Can I see that book?"

  "I'll do the lookin'," the clerk said shortly. "Whose marriage is it?

  And what date?"

  Lane gave such information as he could. The clerk mellowed when Rose told him it was very important to her, as officials have a way of doing when charming young women smile at them. But he found no record of any marriage of which they knew either of the contracting parties.

  "Once in a while some preacher forgets to turn in his certificate," the clerk said as he closed the book. "Old Rankin is the worst that way. He forgets. You might look him up."

  Kirby slipped the clerk a dollar and turned away. Rankin was a forlorn hope, but he and Rose walked out to a little house in the suburbs where the preacher lived.

  He was a friendly, white-haired old gentleman, and he made them very much at home under the impression they had come to get married. A slight deafness was in part responsible for this mistake.

  "May I see the license?" he asked after Kirby had introduced himself and Rose.

  For a moment the cattleman was puzzled. His eye went to Rose, seeking information. A wave of color was sweeping into her soft cheeks. Then Lane knew why, and the hot blood mounted into his own. His gaze hurriedly and in embarrassment fled from Miss McLean's face.

  "You don't quite understand," he explained to the Reverend Nicodemus Rankin. "We've come only to—to inquire about some one you married—or rather to find out if you did marry him. His name is Cunningham. We have reason to think he was married a month or two ago. But we're not sure."

  The old man stroked his silken white hair. At times his mind was a little hazy. There were moments when a slight fog seemed to descend upon it. His memory in recent years had been quite treacherous. Not long since he had forgotten to attend a funeral at which he was to conduct the services.

  "I dare say I did marry your friend. A good many young people come to me. The license clerk at the court is very kind. He sends them here."

  "The man's name was Cunningham—James Cunningham," Kirby prompted.

  "Cunningham—Cunningham! Seems to me I did marry a man by that name. Come to think of it I'm sure I did. To a beautiful young woman," the old preacher said.

  "Do you recall her name? I mean her maiden name," Rose said, excitement drumming in her veins.

  "No-o. I don't seem quite to remember it. But she was a charming young woman—very attractive, I might say. My wife and daughter mentioned it afterward."

  "May I ask if Mrs. Rankin and your daughter are at present in the house?" asked Lane.

  "Unfortunately, no. They have gone to spend a few days visiting in Idaho Springs. If they were here they could reënforce any gaps in my memory, which is not all it once was." The Reverend Nicodemus smiled apologetically.

  "Was her name Esther McLean?" asked Rose eagerly.

  The old parson brought his mind back to the subject with a visible effort. "Oh, yes! The young lady who was married to your friend—" He paused, at a loss for the name.

  "—Cunningham," Kirby supplied.

  "Quite so—Cunningham. Well, it might have been McLeod. I—I rather think it did sound like that."

  "McLean. Miss Esther McLean," corrected the cattleman patiently.

  "The fact is I'm not sure about the young lady's name. Mother and Ellen would know. I'm sorry they're not here. They talked afterward about how pleasant the young lady was."

  "Was she fair or dark?"

  The old preacher smiled at Rose benevolently. "I really don't know.

  I'm afraid, my dear young woman, that I'm a very unreliable witness."

  "You don't recollect any details. For instance, how did they come and did they bring witnesses with them?"

  "Yes. I was working in the garden—weeding the strawberry-patch, I think. They came in an automobile alone. Wife and daughter were the witnesses."

  "Do you know when Mrs. Rankin and your daughter will be home?"

  "By next Tuesday, at the latest. Perhaps you can call again. I trust there was nothing irregular about the marriage."

  "Not so far as we know. We were anxious about the young lady. She is a friend of ours," Kirby said. "By the way, the certificate of the marriage is not on record at the court-house. Are you sure you returned it to the clerk?"

  "Bless my soul, did I forget that again?" exclaimed the Reverend Nicodemus. "I'll have my daughter look for the paper as soon as she returns."

  "You couldn't find it now, I suppose," Lane suggested.

  The old gentleman searched rather helplessly among the papers overflowing his desk. He did not succeed in finding what he looked for.

  Kirby and Rose walked back to the court-house. They had omitted to arrange with the license clerk to forward a copy of the marriage certificate when it was filed.

  The rough rider left the required fee with the clerk and a bank note to keep his memory jogged up.

  "Soon as Mrs. Rankin comes home, will you call her up and remind her about lookin' for the certificate?" he asked.

  "Sure I will. I've got to have it, anyhow, for the records. And say, what's the name of that fresh guy who came in here and cut the page from the register? I'm going after him right, believe you me."

  Kirby gave his cousin's name and address. He had no animosity whatever toward him, but he thought it just as well to keep Jack's mind occupied with troubles of his own during the next few days. Very likely then he would not get in his way so much.

  They were no sooner clear of the court-house than Rose burst out with what was in her mind.

  "It's just as I thought. Your uncle married Esther and got her to keep quiet about the marriage for some reason. Your cousins are trying to destroy the evidence so that the estate won't all go to her. I'll bet we get an offer of a compromise right away."

  "Mebbe." Kirby's mind was not quite satisfied. Somehow, this affair did not seem to fit in with what he knew of his uncle. Cunningham had been always bold and audacious in his actions, a law to himself. Yet if he were going to marry the stenographer he had wronged, he might do it secretly to conceal the date on account of the unborn child.

  The eyes of Rose gleamed with determination. Her jaw set. "I'm gonna get the whole story out of Esther soon as I get back to town," she said doggedly.

  But she did not—nor for many days after.

  CHAPTER XXV

  A CONFERENCE OF THREE

  Kirby heard his name being paged as he entered his hotel.

  "Wanted at the telephone, sir," the bell-hop told him.

  He stepped into a booth and the voice of Rose came excited and tremulous. It was less than ten minutes since he had left her at the door of her boarding-house.

  "Something's happened, Kirby. Can you come here—right away?" she begged. Then, unable to keep back any longer the cry of her heart, she broke out with her tidings. "Esther's gone."

  "Gone where?" he asked.

  "I don't know. She left a letter for me. If you'll come to the house—Or shall I meet you downtown?"

  "I'll come. Be there in five minutes."

  He more than kept his word. Catching a car on the run at the nearest corner, he dropped from it as it crossed Broadway and walked to Cherokee.

  Rose opened the house door when he rang the bell and drew him into the parlor. With a catch of the breath she blurted out again the news.

  "She was gone when I got home. I found—this letter." Her eyes sought his for comfort. He read what Esther had written.

  I can't stand it any longer, dearest. I'm going away where I won't disgrace you. Don't look for me. I'll be taken care of till—afterward.

  And, oh, Rose, don't hate me, darling. Even if I am wicked, love me.

  And try some time to forgive your little sister.

  ESTHER

&nbs
p; "Did anybody see her go?" Lane asked.

  "I don't know. I haven't talked with anybody but the landlady. She hasn't seen Esther this afternoon, she said. I didn't let on I was worried."

  "What does she mean that she'll be taken care of till afterward?

  Who'll take care of her?"

  "I don't know."

  "Have you any idea where she would be likely to go—whether there is any friend who might have offered her a temporary home?"

  "No." Rose considered. "She wouldn't go to any old friend. You see she's—awf'ly sensitive. And she'd have to explain. Besides, I'd find out she was there."

  "That's true."

  "I ought never to have left her last spring. I should have found work here and not gone gallumpin' all over the country." Her chin trembled. She was on the verge of tears.

  "Nonsense. You can't blame yourself. We each have to live our own life. How could you tell what was comin'? Betcha we find her right away. Mebbe she let out somethin' to Cole. She doesn't look to me like a girl who could play out a stiff hand alone."

  "She isn't. She's dependent—always has leaned on some one." Rose had regained control of herself quickly. She stood straight and lissom, mistress of her emotions, but her clear cheeks were colorless. "I'm worried, Kirby, dreadfully. Esther hasn't the pluck to go through alone. She—she might—"

  No need to finish the sentence. Her friend understood.

  His strong hand went out and closed on hers. "Don't you worry, pardner. It'll be all right. We'll find her an' take her somewhere into the country where folks don't know."

  Faintly she smiled. "You're such a comfort."

  "Sho! We'll get busy right away. Denver ain't such a big town that we can't find one li'l' girl muy pronto." His voice was steady and cheerful, almost light. "First off, we'll check up an' see if any one saw her go. What did she take with her?"

  "One suitcase."

  "How much money? Can you make a guess?"

  "She had only a dollar or two in her purse. She had money in the bank.

  I'll find out if she drew any."

  "Lemme do that. I'll find Cole, too. You make some inquiries round the house here, kinda easy-like. Meet you here at six o'clock. Or mebbe we'd better meet downtown. Say at the Boston Chop House."

  Cole was with Kirby when he met Rose at the restaurant.

  "We'll go in an' get somethin' to eat," Lane said. "We'll talk while we're waitin'. That way we'll not lose any time."

  They found a booth and Kirby ordered the dinner. As soon as the waiter had gone he talked business.

  "Find out anything, Rose?"

  "Yes. A girl at the house who works for the telephone company saw Esther get into an automobile a block and a half from the house. A man helped her in. I pretended to laugh and asked her what sort of a lookin' man he was. She said he was a live one, well-dressed and handsome. The car was a limousine."

  "Good. Fits in with what I found out," Kirby said. "The bank was closed, but I got in the back door by pounding at it. The teller at the K-R window was still there, working at his accounts. Esther did not draw any money to-day or yesterday."

  "Why do you say good?" Cole wanted to know. "Is it good for our li'l' friend to be in the power of this good-lookin' guy with the big car, an' her without a bean of her own? I don't get it. Who is the man? Howcome she to go with him? She sure had no notion of goin' when we was eatin' together an hour before."

  "I don't see who he could be. She never spoke of such a man to me,"

  Rose murmured, greatly troubled.

  "I don't reckon she was very well acquainted with him," Lane said, shaking out his napkin.

  The talk was suspended while he ladled the soup into the plates and the waiter served them. Not till the man's back was turned did Rose fling out her hot challenge to Kirby.

  "Why would she go with a man she didn't know very well? Where would she be going with him?" The flame in her cheeks, the stab of her eyes, dared him to think lightly of her sister. It was in her temperament to face all slights with high spirit.

  His smile reassured. "Mebbe she didn't know where she was goin'. That was his business. Let's work this out from the beginnin'."

  Kirby passed Rose the crackers. She rejected them with a little gesture of impatience.

  "I don't want to eat. I'm not hungry."

  Lane's kind eyes met hers steadily. "But you must eat. You'll be of no help if you don't keep up your strength."

  Rather than fight it out, she gave up.

  "We know right off the reel Esther didn't plan this," he continued. "Before we knew the man was in it you felt it wasn't like her to run away alone, Rose. Didn't you?"

  "Yes."

  "She hadn't drawn any money from her account, So she wasn't makin' any plans to go. The man worked it out an' then persuaded Esther. It's no surprise to me to find a Mr. Man in this thing. I'd begun to guess it before you told me. The question is, what man."

  The girl's eyes jumped to his. She began to see what he was working toward. Cole, entirely in the dark, stirred uneasily. His mind was still busy with a possible love tangle.

  "What man or men would benefit most if Esther disappeared for a time?

  We know of two it might help," the man from Twin Buttes went on.

  "Your cousins!" she cried, almost in a whisper.

  "Yes, if we've guessed rightly that Esther was married to Uncle James. That would make her his heir. With her in their hands and away from us, they would be in a position to drive a better bargain. They know that we're hot on the trail of the marriage. If they're kind to her—and no doubt they will be—they can get anything they want from her in the way of an agreement as to the property. Looks to me like the fine Italian hand of Cousin James. We know Jack wasn't the man. He was busy at Golden right then. Kinda leaves James in the spotlight, doesn't it?"

  Rose drew a long, deep breath. "I'm so glad! I was afraid—thought maybe she would do something desperate. But if she's being looked after it's a lot better. We'll soon have her back. Until then they'll be good to her, won't they?"

  "They'll treat her like a queen. Don't you see? That's their game.

  They don't want a lawsuit. They're playin' for a compromise."

  Kirby leaned back and smiled expansively on his audience of two. He began to fancy himself tremendously as a detective.

  CHAPTER XXVI

  CUTTING TRAIL

  Kirby's efforts to find James Cunningham after dinner were not successful. He was not at his rooms, at the Country Club, or at his office. Nor was he at a dinner dance where he was among the invited guests, a bit of information Rose had gathered from the society columns of the previous Sunday's "News." His cousin reached him at last next morning by means of his business telephone. An appointment was arranged in five sentences.

  If James felt any surprise at the delegation of three which filed in to see him he gave no sign of it. He bowed, sent for more chairs from the outer office, and seated his visitors, all with a dry, close smile hovering on the edge of irony.

  Kirby cut short preliminaries. "You know why we're here and what we want," he said abruptly.

  "I confess I don't, unless to report on your trip to Golden," James countered suavely. "Was it successful, may I ask?"

  "If it wasn't, you know why it wasn't."

  The eyes of the two men met. Neither of them dodged in the least or gave to the rigor of the other's gaze.

  "Referring to Jack's expedition, I presume."

  "You don't deny it, then."

  "My dear Kirby, I never waste breath in useless denials. You saw Jack.

  Therefore he must have been there."

  "He was. He brought away with him a page cut from the marriage-license registry."

  James lifted a hand of protest. "Ah! There we come to the parting of the ways. I can't concede that."

  "No, but you know it's true," said Kirby bluntly.

  "Not at all. He surely would not mutilate a public record."

  "We needn't go into that. He did.
But that didn't keep us from getting the information we wanted."

  "No?" James murmured the monosyllable with polite indifference. But he watched, lynx-eyed, the strong, brown face of his cousin.

  "We know now the secret you wanted to keep hidden in the court-house at

  Golden."

  "I grant you energy in ferreting out other people's business, dear cousin. If you 're always so—so altruistic, let us say—I wonder how you have time to devote to your own affairs."

  "We intend to see justice done Miss Esther McLean—Mrs. James

  Cunningham, I should say. You can't move us from that intention or—"

  The expression on the oil broker's face was either astonishment or the best counterfeit of it Kirby had ever seen.

  "I beg pardon. What did you say?"

  "I told you, what you already know, that Esther McLean was married to

  Uncle James at Golden on the twenty-first of last month."

  "Miss McLean and Uncle James married—at Golden—on the twenty-first of last month? Are you sure?"

  "Aren't you? What did you think we found out?"

  Cunningham's eyes narrowed. A film of caution spread over them. "Oh, I don't know. You're so enterprising you might discover almost anything. It's really a pity with your imagination that you don't go into fiction."

  "Or oil promotin'," suggested Cole with a grin. "Or is that the same thing?"

  "Let's table our cards, James," his cousin said. "You know now why we're here."

  "On the contrary, I'm more in the dark than ever."

  Kirby was never given to useless movements of his limbs or body. He had the gift of repose, of wonderful poise. Now not even his eyelashes flickered.

  "We want to know what you've done with Esther McLean."

  "But, my dear fellow, why should I do anything with her?"

  "You know why as well as I do. Somehow you've persuaded her to go somewhere and hide herself. You want her in your power, to force or cajole her into a compromise of her right to Uncle James's estate. We won't have it."