Bannister also was looking at Cromer with interest, a smile suggesting derision showing faintly on his lips.
“I told you we were all excited yesterday,” said Cromer impatiently. “There never was any intention on the part of the Marble Dome Land and Irrigation Company to keep water from the Indian River stockmen. Our contract calls for so many inches from the river. We are entitled to that flow. If it doesn’t leave sufficient water for you folks down here, we could ask pay for water if we wanted to, I suppose. But I’m down here this morning to tell you that we have no such intention.”
Macy considered this, while Bannister and Florence looked on as interested spectators. “Funny you changed your mind so quick,” Macy observed suspiciously.
“Not funny at all,” Cromer protested. “And I didn’t change my mind because of your threat to take the water if we didn’t give it to you. In fact, I didn’t change my mind at all, for we had no intention of working a hardship on you people. Do you think it would pay us . . . in a business way, I mean . . . to do that? Of course not. It wouldn’t pay us to antagonize anybody.” He saw with great inward satisfaction that his bluff was going over.
“You would tell the other members of the association committee that?” Macy inquired.
“I would,” Cromer answered readily.
“You’d make an agreement as to that?” Macy asked.
“At the next meeting of the board of directors on July Tenth,” said Cromer. He had decided while they were talking to hold the drawing on the Fourth of July and make a gala event of it.
“Well, it sounds all right,” said Macy, “an’, anyway, I’ve two witnesses.”
“You won’t need them,” Cromer snapped out with a show of indignation. “My word is good.”
“Then we’ll take it,” John Macy decided, with his first smile of the morning. “Miss Flo”—turning to Florence—“my visit up here this morning turned out better than I expected. Now I’ll be ridin’ over to headquarters to spill the news.”
Cromer watched him go, satisfied that he had convinced him, and knowing very well that he was playing a dangerous game.
“I told Bannister that you would not keep the water from the southern stockmen,” said Florence in a tone of relief. She still was thinking of Macy’s statement about the gunman, and Cromer’s contention that he was entitled to a bodyguard, but she did not intend to refer to it again. It did not, however, set Cromer forth in a very good light; she realized that.
“Never had any intention of doing anything of the kind,” declared Cromer. He was conscious of an intangible barrier forming between them. “They came at me the wrong way, that was all. I guess I was rather tired, for I’d had a hard morning with the engineers.” Then, turning to Bannister: “I wonder if I could have a little talk with you about a . . . a problem I have up there.”
“Sure thing,” said Bannister. “Come right along.”
A commonplace or two with Florence, and Cromer followed him to the bunkhouse. Inside, Cromer sat on one of the chairs by the table, took off his hat, and wiped his forehead with his handkerchief, then eyed Bannister curiously as the latter took his place across from him. He was about to play a trump card.
“Bannister,” he said slowly, “I’m not going to exact a promise, but I’ll leave it to your sense of fairness not to mention anything about what I am going to say to Miss Marble, if you are not interested. If you are interested, use your best judgment as to explanations.”
“Sounds important,” was Bannister’s comment.
“Now, that incident of yesterday,” Cromer began uneasily, “I had Le Beck around in case of … well, I don’t know these fighting Westerners any too well, and I’m not a gunman, and I thought it would be as well to have him handy to stop any trouble. I discharged him for firing that shot.”
“Le Beck was lucky I didn’t fire back,” said Bannister quietly.
“I expect so.” Cromer nodded. “Well, now, I don’t want to appear as butting in or anything like that . . . but there’s no question but that you’re worth far more money than you’re receiving here, and that you could really be of more service to Miss Marble elsewhere.” He was watching Bannister closely and was gratified to see his eyes light up with interest.
“In just what way?” Bannister asked coolly.
“Miss Marble is heavily interested in the Marble Dome Land and Irrigation Company,” Cromer pointed out. “She has considerable at stake, just as I have . . . just as all of us have. The success of the project means much to her, as it means much to all of us. Now, the company needs men, not merely laborers, but men of unique ability able to assume unusual duties and difficult tasks. You are such a man, Bannister.” He ended in a subtle note of flattery.
“You think so?” said Bannister pleasantly.
“I know so,” Cromer declared, feeling that he was making headway. “I could use you, Bannister, if Miss Marble could spare you, and I could use you at a very good salary . . . at a very large salary, in fact.”
“You offering me a job?” Bannister inquired mildly.
“I am that,” replied Cromer, “and, as I say, at a big salary.”
“I’d rather have a lump sum,” said Bannister coldly.
Cromer’s eyes shone. It was just as he had expected. He patted himself on the back mentally. Bannister had been playing a game, just as he had reasoned. Now Bannister was willing to be bought off. “How . . . how much would you expect?” he asked, smiling and lifting his brows significantly.
“One hundred thousand dollars,” Bannister answered nonchalantly.
“A hundred thousand . . . but that’s preposterous!” Cromer gasped.
Bannister leaned his elbows on the table and looked Cromer straight in the eye. “You don’t want me to work up there and you know it,” he said evenly. “You want me to slope out of here. All right, I’m willing to slope . . . for a hundred thousand. And I’ll see that you get a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of Marble Dome Land and Irrigation Company stock in exchange.”
Cromer’s eyes were bulging. “Where would you get that much stock?” he demanded derisively.
“Florence Marble has about that, hasn’t she?”
“What’s that got to do with it?”
“Just this,” said Bannister, tapping his forefinger on the table top. “You turn over the hundred thousand, Miss Marble will turn over the stock . . . and I go.”
“Miss Marble never said anything to me about wanting to turn over any stock,” said Cromer warmly. “I don’t get you at all.”
“Of course not. So far as I know at the present moment she doesn’t want to turn over any stock. But I believe I could induce her to do so. Don’t you think that’s quite a chunk of money for that girl to have invested in your . . . enterprise?”
“I fail to see where it’s any of your business,” Cromer retorted hotly.
Bannister shrugged. “I am in Miss Marble’s employ,” he said mildly, “and naturally I have her interests at heart. You paid me a compliment about having certain ability a while back. Let’s grant, then, that I can see this girl is in pretty strong. If anything was to slip, say, if those stockmen down there were to go on the rampage or something, if your bookkeeping staff was to get tangled up . . . sit down!” Cromer, red-faced, his eyes glaring, sank back into his chair at the command. “As I say,” Bannister continued, “if anything was to go wrong, she’d stand to lose more’n she could afford, maybe. And her house is papered so she’d have no use for those stock certificates. I’ve never mentioned these things to her, but I think she’s beginning to wonder whether she was hypnotized or not. You came down here to buy me off. I’ve shown you how you can do it. Do you agree to the terms?”
“No!” shouted Cromer, slamming the table with his fist. “It’s the most impertinent proposition I ever listened to.”
“So I guess we can’t make a deal,” said Bannister, rising. Then, as Cromer, white with fury, plunged toward the door, he called to him: “Cromer!”
The other swung about, his fists clenched.
“Be careful,” Bannister warned. “Watch your knitting up there, or I’ll take that irrigation project away from you.”
Chapter Nineteen
Cromer’s rage was at such white heat that he did not dare risk further conversation with Florence Marble that morning. As she had gone into the house, he did not even take the trouble to tell her he was going, but dashed madly through the cottonwoods and spurred his horse up the road to the bench land at a cruel pace. Then he straightened out for Marble, pushing his horse to the utmost to keep pace with his racing thoughts. He actually had a feeling that Bannister had betrayed him. He had been sure that Bannister would take his price and quit the country. His manner as Cromer had talked indicated such action. And then Bannister had sprung his bombshell. What rankled as much, and more, was the fact that something had come between himself and Florence Marble. He felt, somehow, the overwhelming conviction that so far as ever obtaining Florence for a wife, he might as well give up. He did not blame this on his own actions, but on Bannister. It was all plain now. Bannister was after the girl. He was using Howard as a tool. He would doubtless use the proposition Cromer had made this morning as another wedge to gain further favor. He would play up the story of Le Beck being in the office during the conference with the committee. He would discount Cromer’s promise to Macy.
Cromer ground his teeth in bitter and futile anger as he sped northward. Take his irrigation project away from him! How far did the fool think he could go? There was only one solution to the whole problem, and that was to get rid of Bannister in any way that offered. This Cromer decided to do if it was the last thing he did on earth. With this determination deeply rooted in his mind, the man cooled down considerably, and, when he rode into town in record time, he was comparatively calm.
* * * * *
Florence Marble had been standing just within the front doorway when he left at such a furious pace. She went out on the porch as Bannister came from the bunkhouse.
“Whatever has got into Mister Cromer?” she asked wonderingly.
“Reckon he’s in a hurry,” was the cryptic reply.
“He didn’t even pause to wave good-bye,” said the puzzled girl, eyeing Bannister keenly. “Bannister, what did he want with you?”
“Oh, just explaining how that gunman happened to be in the office yesterday sort of by accident,” Bannister answered casually. “Wanted to know where he could pick up some good men, and one thing and another.”
“Bannister, you’re concealing something,” she accused severely. “But we’ll let that go. Who was the gunman in the office up there? I’ve a right to know, remember, because you were there as my proxy.”
“Well . . .” Bannister hesitated. But she had put it up to him so he could hardly get out of it. “It was Le Beck,” he finished.
“Le Beck!” she exclaimed. “So he’s hired that killer as a . . . what did he call it? Bodyguard?”
“That’s what he called him,” Bannister replied dryly.
“And you didn’t say a word about it. You were protecting him. Why, the man’s a coward. And him coming down here trying to tell me you were The Maverick. I don’t care if you do know now, after what’s happened.”
“I had a hunch it was him,” said Bannister.
She was looking at him queerly. “You’re not much for talking about people behind their backs, are you, Bannister?” she asked in a lower voice.
“Not so you could notice it,” he conceded. “But there are emergencies when I reckon it has to be done. I haven’t met up with any of ’em yet, but there’s no telling.”
She walked over to him and held out her hand. As he took it, a series of thrills vibrated through his whole being.
“Bannister, I took you for what you are from the start,” she said simply. “You’re just naturally all man.”
Something tugged at his throat. All man. The Maverick? The horrible futility of his situation kept back the words that were on his tongue. Finally: “Where’d Howard go?” he asked lamely.
“I sent him to town for a sprayer,” she told him. “Oh, here’s Manley in from the Dome.”
Bannister turned and saw the manager, who had taken charge of the big herd of beef cattle at the Dome, jogging out of the trees. He was mighty glad of the interruption.
“I’ll take your horse,” he said to Manley as the latter dismounted. But he didn’t have a chance to do so for old Jeb came at a swift hobble and took charge of the animal.
“How’s everything at the Dome, Manley?” asked Florence by way of greeting.
“Not so good,” said the manager, wiping sweat and dust from his face and forehead. “I took count out there an’ we’re some hundred an’ sixteen steers short.” He paused as if lost in thought. “I can’t understand it,” he resumed. “That many couldn’t stray without our knowing it. An’ if they’re being stolen, they’re being taken a few at a time. The hell of it is, I haven’t a chance of taking a look around right now.”
“Well, I have,” Bannister put in, “and, if it’s all right with you, I’ll do a little snooping around below the Dome and see what I can see.”
“It’s sure all right with me,” said Manley. “If you could strike a trail that’s being used, or see some sign, we might get a line on this business.”
“You really think we’re up against rustlers again?” Florence asked in a worried voice.
“I can’t see any other reason for a hundred an’ sixteen head being missing at a crack so soon after the roundup,” Manley replied. “An’ we’ve been watching ’em close, too, damn it.”
“They’d take ’em through the river breaks,” said Bannister with conviction. “And that’s where I’m going to look.”
“Might be,” Manley agreed. “Pretty likely, in fact. Suppose you do take a look around down there. I’ve got to make out the time of a couple of hands I’m letting go, or . . . but there’s nothing more to tell you. You know the Half Diamond brand . . . it’s a big Half Diamond over a small M. But you’ve seen it, of course, so what am I talking about? Well, I’m going into the office. If you find out anything, let me know. The whole outfit’s ready to take the trail if we have something to go on.”
“I’ll have Martha get a lunch ready while you’re getting your horse,” Florence told Bannister as she started for the house.
Bannister rode eastward just outside the timber fringe along the river. This was a new angle to Florence Marble’s troubles. Although she might not realize it, she really was menaced by Cromer on the north, by the stockmen on the south, and now rustlers were operating in the east. He remembered old Jeb’s hint that Hayes might have designs on Half Diamond cattle. He hadn’t seen Hayes anywhere in town. Link was still in the hospital. He recalled, too, how incensed Hayes had been because of Bannister’s presence on the ranch and his inadvertently calling him a spy. Why spy? Had it been a slip? And Hayes had been exceedingly interested that first day when Bannister had come on the ranch from the south. But this, of course, was all wild conjecture. Still, as a skilled trailer, Bannister was ready to grasp at any clue or sign.
He rode slowly eastward, and, whenever he came to a trail, however dim, leading into the wilderness of the badlands, he paused and looked for signs to ascertain whether it had recently been used. He saw no such sign, and eventually reached the main road or trail from the Dome which led to the wide ford of the river. Here there were tracks, comparatively fresh tracks, but they had been made by horses. As this was the main trail north and south, Bannister decided that the Cattlemen’s Association committee members had crossed the river here on their way to and from the town of Marble. He rode on.
He came finally to the trail by which he and Howard had entered the badlands the day they were exploring the district. Cattle had been on this trail, but not recently. He followed it in and soon was involved in a labyrinth of trails and cross trails, running in every direction, with tracks everywhere. He checked his horse with an exclamation of di
sgust. A few head of stock could make all those old tracks, and there were strays in the breaks. He was getting nowhere. Next he decided to ride down to the trail that ran east and west above the banks of the river.
It was well past noon by this time, with the sun past the zenith and poised for its drop toward the western mountains. He came to a little meadow with good grass and a spring and dismounted. After refreshing himself at the spring, he watered his horse, loosened the saddle cinch, and turned the animal out to graze. Then he had recourse to the fat lunch Martha had put up for him. After he had eaten, he lay back on the soft grass in the shade at the edge of the meadow and smoked.
As a matter of fact, Bannister was not so much concerned with the rustling operations—though they were important—as he was with the activities of Cromer. The Marble Dome Land and Irrigation Company project didn’t look good to him, as it was being managed. He could not get the impression out of his mind that there was more interest on the part of Cromer in selling stock and plots than in the work of the project itself. He smoked and dozed until midafternoon before he resumed the saddle. When he reached the river trail, he stopped dead at first sight. He had found his sign! Plain and fresh were the tracks left by two horses that had gone east. Bannister decided they had been made early that morning. That being the case, there was an excellent possibility that the horsemen might be expected to return at nightfall. He considered his next move carefully. If he followed those tracks, he would leave a fresh track of his own. This would be bound to excite suspicion when it was seen by the men who had ridden down this way. Even if he was to follow the tracks and discover a rendezvous, it might avail him nothing because of the sign he would leave himself. If the tracks led to where stolen cattle were cached, he would have to investigate, ascertain how the stock was being driven in, and how the rustlers were to be taken. And the chief of the band must be taken above all things.
Bannister knew of no other trail by which he could parallel the river trail. Then he came to a decision. He would not risk going on the river trail, but he would take up his station on a low ridge above it and wait for night—wait all night, if necessary. If the riders returned on their way out, he would then ride down the trail, assuming they would be gone some time. If they didn’t return, he would take the down trail in the morning.
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