William MacDonald - The Battle At Three-Cross

“I’ve heard that.” Lance nodded. “I believe the Yaquentes brought him to Pozo Verde, and nobody ever discovered who did it.”

“That’s correct. Father was given that ranch years ago in return for certain ser vices he rendered the Mexican Government’s Bureau of Mines. Father was really a mining man, you see. He didn’t know very much about cattle raising but he wanted to try. Things didn’t go as well as he hoped, though he made a good living for us. Then, when I was fifteen, Mother died. There was a revolution brewing in Mexico at the time. Father thought it best if I return to the States. He sent me up to San Francisco, where I lived at a school for girls, to complete my education.”

“And you haven’t been back to the ranch since?” Lance asked.

Katherine shook her head. “I never saw Father again. That’s nearly seven years ago. He was always promising to get away from the Three-Cross and come to San Francisco to visit me, but the ranch always needed him. He was still working hard to put it on a big-paying business, and I guess it wasn’t easy. I wanted to be with him, but he always refused to let me come to the ranch until, as he said, he could furnish it fit for a lady. That was foolish, of course, but, after all, he was the boss.”

Lance ground out his cigarette butt in the sandy soil at his feet and waited for the girl to continue. In a few moments she went on, “A little over a year ago I had a letter from Father. He seemed more cheerful than usual and enclosed a draft on the Pozo Verde bank for five thousand dollars, which he wrote was to make up for the years of doing without things—though that was another foolish idea. I may not have had as many clothes as other girls at the school but I wasn’t doing any protesting. He said that before long he would be sending for me.”

“That was the last letter you had from him?”

“The last.” Katherine nodded. “He explained that for twenty-five thousand dollars he had sold a half-interest in the ranch to a man named Malcolm Fletcher and that they intended to buy some blooded bulls and raise the quality of their stock. Father appeared very cheerful about his new pardner and mentioned that he’d made a discovery that might make us all wealthy. He didn’t mention what it was but said he was sending a present that might give me a clue.”

“What was the present?”

Katherine unbuttoned the sleeve of her shirt and rolled it up to display a heavy silver arm clasp about two inches wide. She slipped it off and handed it to Lance who examined it curiously, conscious of its warmth from the girl’s arm. It was of extremely fine workmanship and looked like pure silver. Its surface was almost entirely covered with an orderly series of strange symbols, arranged in straight lines, down and across the armlet, raised slightly above the level of the silver.

Lance scrutinized the markings. “Looks like Indian work,” he said dubiously, “though I don’t know.”

“Uncle Uly thought they were Aztec symbols, if not of an earlier race.”

“I’d take the professor’s word for it if he knows about those early races the way he does cactus—cacti. I suppose your dad had this made up someplace. What was his discovery?—a silver mine?”

“That’s what I’m inclined to think, but I don’t know. Mr Fletcher claims he never heard anything of the discovery.”

“Where does Fletcher fit into this story? Does he deny your ownership of half the ranch—or anything of the sort?”

Katherine shook her head. “Not at all. He’s really been very kind about the whole business. In a way I feel obligated to him. You see, it was he who wrote me of Father’s death. Mr Fletcher wasn’t at the Three-Cross when it happened. Some Yaquente Indians found Father’s body and brought it to Pozo Verde. It was Fletcher who arranged to have it shipped to San Francisco for burial. He intended coming with it but at the last moment telegraphed me he was unavoidably detained but would come later to see me and tell me what he knew——”

“Did he know anything?”

“Nothing, except that the Yaquentes had found Father’s body a short way from the ranch house. He had been shot. But I didn’t verify that until we arrived in Pozo Verde and I met Fletcher personally. You see, he’d kept writing from time to time that he was coming to San Francisco, and I kept postponing my visit here while awaiting his arrival. A whole year passed in such fashion. Finally I made up my mind to come here. Uncle Uly was about to start his cactus expedition, so we decided to make it a joint affair. He’ll look for cactus, and I’ll see what, if anything, I can learn regarding Father’s death.”

“The professor came on here from Washington, of course?” Lance said.

“Why—oh yes, of course.” Katherine appeared flustered. She went on, “And Uncle decided you’d be the man to accompany us on the trip into Mexico. Will you?”

Lance slowly shook his head. “I’d like to, but I can’t just see my way clear.” He tapped his deputy sheriff’s badge. “You see, I couldn’t very well resign after just taking on this job. It may prove to be a big job before I get through with it. If you’re bound to go down there it seems to me Fletcher is the man you want. He knows the conditions and the country down there. Probably he’ll be all right when he understands you insist on going.”

“I’m afraid not,” Katherine said, flushing a little. “You see, he’s against my going there in the first place, and in the second—well, we quarreled over it—and something else. You may as well know. He asked me to marry him, and I refused.”

“What! I don’t blame you,” Lance blurted.

Katherine smiled. “You don’t like him, do you?”

What Lance might have answered the girl never knew. At that instant there came a sudden silvery flattening of lead against a large chunk of granite situated near the girl’s left shoulder. Almost instantly the report of a high-powered rifle reached their ears. A second shot whined viciously close to Lance’s face, then a third!

XIV Manley Disappears

Lance threw himself swiftly across the stretch of sandy soil intervening between himself and Katherine, threw one arm around her waist and forced her to the earth. Then he half dragged, half carried the girl behind the shelter of an upthrust of granite rock. Even as he moved another leaden missile scattered dust and gravel close to his body.

“You stay there—down, out of sight!” Lance snapped.

Turning, he sprang to his pony, gathered the reins and leaped into the saddle without touching stirrup. The roan gelding needed no more than a touch of the spur to get into motion.

“Lance,” Katherine wailed. “Come back! You’ll be hit!”

“You stay out of sight,” Lance yelled back over his shoulder.

He was riding low in the saddle, crouched behind his horse’s head. Those shots had come from an easterly direction, and Lance was heading toward a brush-covered ridge from which he calculated the shots had been fired. It wasn’t easy going. There was too much brush and cacti barring the way.

“Damn cactus!” Lance growled, and touched the gelding again with his spurs.

He was nearing the side of the ridge now, momentarily expecting to ride straight into a hail of rifle fire. Lance’s six-shooter was out, but he could see nothing at which to shoot. His eyes were intent on the ridge ahead. No further shots were forthcoming. Lance wondered if the hidden assailant was holding his fire for close-up work. The tough little gelding dug in its hoofs and scrambled, panting, up the side of the steep slope.

It was slow going, but finally horse and man reached the crest. From this position Lance had a wide view of the surrounding country, but there was nothing to be seen except a vast sea of mesquite, paloverde trees, creosote bush and cacti, with the hot sun making shimmery waves of the distant landscape.