William MacDonald - The Battle At Three-Cross

Within fifteen minutes he was back. “Manley has plumb disappeared,” he announced. “About six o’clock he hired a horse and buggy at the Lone Star Livery.”

“Did he happen to say where he was going?” Lance asked quickly.

“Not definitely. Just told the livery man he wanted a horse and rig that could make a quick trip to Saddleville.”

“How far is Saddleville?”

“About eighteen miles. I went to his boarding-house first. They hadn’t seen him since breakfast.”

“How’d you happen to go to the livery?”

“Dropped in there on my way back to see if Fletcher had put in an appearance. He hadn’t. Fletcher got his horse this afternoon and hasn’t been back since.”

“I wonder if there’s any connection between the two?” Lance frowned. “Oh hell, nothing works out right. I’m going to bed. Maybe we’ll have better luck tomorrow——”

“Wait,” Oscar interrupted. “Here’s the rub. The horse and buggy Manley hired is back. The horse came wandering in about an hour ago. But Manley wasn’t with it. There’s a suitcase in the rig. That’s all.”

“Nope, I’m not going to bed,” Lance said wearily. “I reckon we’d better saddle up and see if we can find Manley along the Saddleville Road. There’s no rest for the wicked, Oscar.”

“You mean,” Oscar pointed out, “the wicked don’t seem to give us any rest. All right, let’s go.”

XV Traced Shipments

They hurried across the street to inform the sheriff what had happened. Lockwood looked concerned. “I don’t like it. All right, you boys get going. I’ll see what I can do at this end.”

Lance and Oscar hurried to saddle up. Within five minutes they were riding out of town on the Saddleville Road. Lance felt from the beginning such efforts were futile, but it was part of the routine that had to be gone through.

Lance proved to be right. Gray dawn was lighting the silent streets of Pozo Verde when they returned and put their ponies up at the livery stable. Then they hastened to the sheriff’s office. Lockwood had spent the night there sleeping on Oscar’s cot. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Any news?” he asked.

Lance shook his head, his eyes dark with fatigue. “We went all the way to Saddleville. It was too dark to see any tracks, of course. When it did commence to get light this morning on the way back the road was too chopped up to figure out anything anyway, even if we knew exactly at what spot to look. Course, we were half hoping we might find Manley’s body along the way someplace—but no dice. We had the ride for nothing.”

“Did you learn anything, Ethan?” Oscar asked.

“Not much. I got Gill Addison out of his bed last night after you left and queried him some. He didn’t know where Manley was. He said Manley left the bank about five-thirty or a quarter to six to get his supper. As Addison tells it, Manley was due back at the bank to put in another hour or so on the accounts. Addison was plumb riled he didn’t come back.”

“Manley told me,” Lance said, “that he had to work some last night.”

“Here’s something,” Lockwood went on. “I opened up that suitcase that was in the buggy. It was filled with old newspapers.”

“Newspapers?” Lance exclaimed.

“Newspapers.” Lockwood nodded. “What do you make of it?”

Lance shook his head. “It’s got me down. There’s just this much to it. If Manley had suddenly decided to leave town he certainly wouldn’t pack his suitcase with newspapers——”

“Unless,” Lockwood put in, “somebody exchanged suitcases with him and he didn’t notice the exchange. What would the employee of a bank have in a suitcase maybe?”

“Money,” Oscar said promptly.

“That’s what Gill Addison thought too.” Lock-wood nodded. “He got dressed to once and hurried down to his bank. He was here just a few minutes before you boys arrived. He couldn’t find any money missing, so he felt better. But he’s still peeved at Manley. I could tell it in his manner when he left to go back to bed.”

“Did Manley have that suitcase with him when he hired the horse and rig?” Lance asked.

“I asked the livery man about that,” Lockwood replied. “He doesn’t remember for sure, but he thinks not. Doesn’t remember seeing it leastwise. What do we do now?”

“I’m going to the hotel and grab a couple hours of shut-eye,” Lance replied.

Lockwood nodded. “It’s a good idea. Oscar, you tumble into your cot. I’ve managed to get in several hours, so I won’t bother going to bed.”

The lobby of the hotel was deserted when Lance opened the door and quickly ascended the stairway to the upper floor. He paused a moment, listening, outside of Fletcher’s door. He could hear nothing from the room beyond. Then he knocked. There was no answer. Lance frowned. “I wonder if that hombre didn’t come back all night either?”

Turning, he let himself into his own room, undressed and went to bed. He didn’t sleep long but he felt refreshed by the time he again descended to the street. It wasn’t eight o’clock yet. He found Oscar already having breakfast in the Chinaman’s restaurant when he stepped in.

Oscar grinned and said, “Hope you had pleasant dreams.”

“I slept like a log while it lasted.” Lance gave his breakfast order to the slant-eyed Oriental behind the counter, then turned back to Oscar. “Anything new show up?”

“Not much. I talked to Ethan just before I came in here. He’s been over to Manley’s boarding house and asked questions but he didn’t uncover much. He examined Manley’s room. All Manley’s clothes and things were there. Either he didn’t expect to stay away long or——”

“He didn’t expect to leave,” Lance finished the thought. “I don’t like it, Oscar.”

Ham, eggs, coffee and bread were placed on the counter before Lance. The two men ate in silence. Oscar finished first. He said to Lance, “Well, where do we go next?”

“There’s much to be done, but damned if I know where to start,” Lance answered. “We can’t do anything about Manley’s disappearance until we dig up a clue or something to go on. Suppose you go to the bank and talk to that bookkeeper. Manley might have let something drop that will help. If you know anybody else that was close to him see what you can dig up. I can’t help feeling his disappearance is mixed up in this whole business—peyotes, stolen money, Bowman murdered. Jeepers! What a mess. And I don’t know where to start to dig myself out. If Kilby hadn’t been shot——”

“I know,” Oscar put in, “and if Manley had met you as he promised and if you only knew something definite about Jones——Shucks! What are you going to do?”

“I sent a telegraph to our operative in El Paso. Maybe by this morning Johnny Quinn will have an answer. If he does maybe we’ll know who sent for that shipment of peyotes.”

“I’ll give you odds Jones is the man.”

Lance smiled wryly. “I don’t like to take any man’s money on a sure-thing bet, Oscar. I’d bet in a minute if I thought there was a chance of your losing——”

“I know what’s eating you,” Oscar said. “You don’t like the idea of Katherine Gregory being mixed up in the business.”

Lance reddened and drained his coffee cup. “Hell! I don’t even like to think the professor is mixed into it. In spite of myself I like him.”

They slid down off the stools and went out to the street after paying for their breakfasts. Lance rolled and lighted a cigarette. Blue smoke floated in the bright morning sunlight. Lance said, “It’s going to be hot today.”

“By cripes!” Oscar said, “it’s been hot every day since you hit this neck of the range. And I’m not talking about sunshine.”