LITMIR.BIZ

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fatigue strangely scurried out of him. Straight east he pointed and one hour later was lost in the rolling leagues; he dipped into an arroyo, dismounted and picketed his horse, himself rolling up in the saddle blanket on the rocky bed. Having achieved his immediate purpose, which was to get within striking distance of Fort Carson without being spied upon, he fell soon asleep. But it seemed only a moment later that he was wide awake and staring up to the paling stars in the sky. A horseman was drumming up from Box M direction; the man came abreast at a distance of about fifty yards and sped by, never veering. Clint saw the momentary blur of that rider's shadow from the rim of the arroyo, and he went back to his blanket extraordinarily thoughtful.

      "Wonder if more information about me has leaked out? Seems like this country is shot with deceit. There goes a man in a mighty big hurry for Dead Man. A crook running to warn crooks. Appears—"

      Far off, a lone shot's echo floated back, a signal in this mystery-ridden night. Clint shrugged his shoulders and slept again.

      Buck Manners, riding alone and hurriedly, came into Box M quarters no more than a half hour after Clint pulled out. The yellow-haired ranch owner replied impatiently to the challenge of the guard and even more impatiently when he was halted again at the porch. "Fitz and the men back?" he asked.

      "A-huh," said the guard.

      "Everything go all right?"

      "Was a scrap with Curly," said the guard. "We lost Pink, and Lee died on us later. But we put a worse crimp in Curly. Charterhouse come into the fight unexpected. That was his little surprise."

      "The man is full of surprises," muttered Buck Manners. "I don't know that I approve of these brainstorms of his when they cost two men per throw."

      There was a light burning in the living room, and Manners, knocking lightly, walked quickly in. Sherry sat in front of the fireplace with a blanket wrapped around her.

      Her troubled face turned to him and then dropped away. Manners pressed his lips together at this lack of interest.

      But he came over to warm his hands by the blaze, letting the silence run on for several minutes. Finally he drew himself straight.

      "Sherry, you know me pretty well, don't you? I've been visiting Box M since I was one year old. You and I grew up together. You know the kind of a fellow I am—you've made up your mind about me long ago."

      "I think so, Buck," she said slowly, still gazing into the flames.

      "Then why in the name of heaven won't you let me take this burden off your shoulders? Look what is happening. All this fine scheming of Charterhouse's—"

      "Don't belittle him, Buck. He walks with his head up and his heart clear."

      "I have no desire to belittle the gentleman," explained Manners with a rather formal courtesy. "You know that is not my way. If I ever feel criticism for a man, I am willing to say as much to his face. I know nothing about Charterhouse's heart, but I think I've got a right to pick flaws in his judgment."

      "He is fighting for this ranch, Buck."

      "So indeed—but with what result? Two dead men and Curly's sure and certain revenge. It is poor tactics. It will not help Box M."

      She lifted her eyes at that. "Then you know what had happened tonight?"

      His easy-going carriage had been set aside; suddenly she saw clearly a part of his nature that hitherto had been suppressed—a part that she had sensed only in passing flashes. This Buck Manners was a dominant man, proud of his strength, a little grim, promising action. He spoke bluntly, the words striking clear and sharp in the room.

      "I told you once that I could relieve you of all this burden. You saw fit to doubt it and put your trust in Charterhouse, a fellow who knows nothing of this country. It wasn't my place to explain what I could do. But tell you now, Sherry, that I have more irons in the fire than you imagine. Nothing happens in this country I don't know of in short order. It's been pride with me. I have my own scouts out, my own men placed where they can do me the most good. That fight in the Bowlus meadow happened around nine o'clock. I knew of it one hour later. My dear girl, I can fight."

      Her glance fastened more securely on him. "You have never hinted anything like this before, Buck. Did Dad ever know—"

      He shook his head, and she thought he was regretting his confession. He went on doggedly. "It's been my hobby, a secret one. I have a great ranch, given to me without much work on my own part. But I have sweated and schemed and worked to establish some sort of underground supervision over Casabella. Those fools—Shander and the rest—don't know that I have their little tricky actions tagged and registered day by day. Frankly, Sherry, I have been content to collect information so far. For while your father lived I always regarded him as the boss of this county. But now, now that things have changed, I am moving into this struggle. I am going to boss Casabella, my dear girl. Before I get through they will jump through my hoop, or get out, or die!"

      "Why, Buck, I never dreamed—"

      He checked his swift eagerness. "Nor anybody else," he said more quietly. "I only tell you because I think you ought to let me do the fighting for you. I have tried to stand by and wait until this bitter business was gone from your heart. But I think we ought to be honest enough to look straight ahead. Sherry, I think you ought to marry me right away. I'd feel a thousand times easier, knowing that you were where I could keep a better watch on you and more protection around you. I could drive ahead without worry. This is going to be a bad fight."

      "Buck, I'm sorry—"

      He was darkly displeased, struggling with temper. "So you feel differently?"

      A long silence. Her eyes fell away, a light in them slowly withdrawing. "Yes," said she quite softly. "Yes, I'm afraid so."

      "Charterhouse?"

      "I—I don't know, Buck."

      "I do," he grunted. "Better if the man had never seen this country."

      She had a swift answer for that. "Buck, you must not turn against him now! You're not a mean man, not small. You'll back him up—you must."

      "Take my licking and grin, is that it? Sherry, you don't know me so well if you think it's that easy. I have waited a long time for you. I'd rip this country end to end to keep you. I fight for the things I've won. Let Charter-house show he's fit to have you."

      "No, Buck. You don't mean that. You will be his friend. You've got to be."

      The anger and the stiffness went out of him suddenly and after a long interval he nodded his blond head. "Yeah, I suppose. Grin and wish him luck. I have never taken a licking in my life but now I've got to take the worst of all. There never was a man who could match my muscle till he came along. He smiled when he did it, and I could have used the gun on him for that. Sherry, I've got my weaknesses. Some you've never seen. Pride, ambition. Here he comes and cuts the ground from under me without lifting his voice. Lord. I never thought any man on earth would do it to me."

      "But you'll be his friend, Buck?"

      "Yeah," he muttered dryly. "Much as it's possible to be."

      She switched the subject. "You've heard about Haggerty?"

      His interest flashed up sharply. "What about him?"

      She seemed to debate something in her mind. "He—hasn't come back yet."

      "That's all?" he demanded, studying her.

      "No-o. Clint managed to get into Angels and overheard Haggerty talking with Shander and Studd and Curly. Haggerty's crooked, Buck."

      "Crooked? I don't believe it! Well, hold on. It may be so at that. Haggerty's not an open-handed man. Funny streak in him. You're sure about it?"

      "Clint heard too much to doubt it."

      "That means there may be others about the ranch then," muttered Manners. "You'll have to be careful. Keep your crew on hand all the time. Don't let them go on any wild-goose chases. You weren't planning on any attack, were you?"

      She

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