Sundown Slim Part 12

Loring strode toward Corliss. The girl turned to her father. He raised his arm and pointed toward the road. "You git!" he said. She reached up and patted his grizzled cheek. Then she clung to him, sobbing.

CHAPTER VIII

AT "THE LAST CHANCE"

The afternoon following the day of his discharge from the Concho, Fadeaway rode into Antelope, tied his pony to the hitching-rail in front of "The Last Chance," and entered the saloon. Several men loafed at the bar. The cowboy, known as "a good spender when flush," was made welcome. He said nothing about being out of employment, craftily antic.i.p.ating the possibility of having to ask for credit later, as he had but a half-month's pay with him. He was discussing the probability of early rains with a companion when Will Corliss entered the place.

Fadeaway greeted him with loud, counterfeit heartiness, and they drank together. Their talk centered on the Concho. Gradually they drew away from the group at the bar. Finally Corliss mentioned his brother.

Fadeaway at once became taciturn.

Corliss noticed this and questioned the puncher. "Had a row with Jack?" he asked.

"Between you and me, I did. He fired me, couple of days ago."

"Full?"

"Nope. Chance killed one of Loring's sheep. John hung it onto me, seein' Chance was with me. Guess John's gettin' religion."

Corliss laughed, and his lips twisted to a sneer. "Guess he is. I tried to touch him for two hundred of my own money and he turned me down. Maybe I like it."

"Turned you down, eh! That's what I call nerve! And you been away three year and more. Reckon, by the way the Concho is makin' good, you got more'n two hundred comin'. She's half yours, ain't she?"

"Yes. And I'm going to get my share. He told me I could have a job--that he was short-handed. What do you think of that! And I own half the Concho! I guess I'd like to ride range with a lot of--well, you understand, Fade. I never liked the Concho and I never will.

Let's have another. No. This is on me."

Again they drank and Corliss became more talkative. He posed as one wronged by society in general and his brother especially.

As his talk grew louder, Fadeaway cautioned him. "Easy, Billy. No use advertisin'. Come on over here." And Fadeaway gestured toward one of the tables in the rear of the room.

Corliss was about to retort to the other's apparently good-natured interference with his right to free speech, when he caught Fadeaway's glance. "Well?" he exclaimed.

The cowboy evidently had something to say in confidence. Corliss followed him to one of the tables.

"It's this way," began the cowboy. "You're sore at Jack. Now Jack's got friends here and it won't help you any to let 'em know you're sore at him. I ain't feelin' like kissin' him myself--right now. But I ain't advertisin' it. What you want to do is--"

"What's that got to do with me?" interrupted Corliss.

Fadeaway laughed. "Nothin'--if you like. Only there's been doin's since you lit out." And he paused to let the inference sink in.

"You mean--?"

"Look here, Billy. I been your friend ever since you was a kid. And seein' you're kind of out of luck makes me sore--when I think what's yours by rights. Mebby I'm ridin' over the line some to say it, but from what I seen since you been gone, Jack ain't goin' to cry any if you never come back. Old man Loring ain't goin' to live more'n a thousand years. Mebby Jack don't jest love him--but Jack ain't been losin' any time since you been gone."

Corliss flushed. "I suppose I don't know that! But he hasn't seen the last of me yet."

"If I had what's comin' to you, you bet I wouldn't work on no cattle-ranch, either. I'd sure hire a law-shark and find out where I got off."

Fadeaway's suggestion had its intended effect. The younger man knew that an appeal to the law would be futile so long as he chose to ignore that clause in the will which covered the contingency he was ill.u.s.trating by his conduct. Fadeaway again cautioned him as he became loud in his invective against his brother. The cowboy, while posing as friend and adviser, was in reality working out a subtle plan of his own, a plan of which Corliss had not the slightest inkling.

"And the Concho's makin' good," said Fadeaway, helping himself to a drink. He shoved the bottle toward Corliss. "Take a little 'Forget-it,' Billy. That's her! Here's to what's yours!" They drank together. The cowboy rolled a cigarette, tilted back his chair, and puffed thoughtfully. "Yes, she's makin' good. Why, Bud is gettin' a hundred and twenty-five, now. Old Hi Wingle's drawin' down eighty--Jack's payin' the best wages in this country. Must of cleaned up four or five thousand last year. And here you're settin', broke."

"Well, you needn't rub it in," said Corliss, frowning.

Fadeaway grinned. "I ain't, Billy. I'm out of a job myself: and nothin' comin'--like you."

Corliss felt that there was something in his companion's easy drift that had not as yet come to the surface. Fadeaway's hard-lined face was unreadable. The cowboy saw a question in the other's eyes and cleverly ignored it. Since meeting the brother he had arrived at a plan to revenge himself on John Corliss and he intended that the brother should take the initiative.

He got up and proffered his hand. "So long, Billy. If you ever need a friend, you know where to find him."

"Hold on, Fade. What's your rush?"

"Got to see a fella. Mebby I'll drop in later."

Corliss rose.

Fadeaway leaned across the table. "I'm broke, and you're broke. The Concho pays off Monday, next week. The boys got three months comin'--close to eighteen hundred--and gold."

"Gold? Thought John paid by check?"

"He's tryin' to keep the boys from cas.h.i.+n' in, here. Things are goin'

to be lively between Loring and the Concho before long. Jack needs all the hands he's got."

"But I don't see what that's got to do with it, Fade."

"Nothing 'ceptin' I'm game to stand by a pal--any time."

"You mean--?"

"Jest a josh, Billy. I was only thinkin' what _could_ be pulled off by a couple of wise ones. So-long!"

And the cowboy departed wondering just how far his covert suggestion had carried with Will Corliss. As for Will Corliss, Fadeaway cared nothing whatever. Nor did he intend to risk getting caught with a share of the money in his possession, provided his plan was carried to a conclusion. He antic.i.p.ated that John Corliss would be away from the ranch frequently, owing to the threatened encroachment of Loring's sheep on the west side of the Concho River. Tony, the Mexican, would be left in charge of the ranch. Will Corliss knew the combination of the safe--of that Fadeaway was pretty certain. Should they get the money, people in the valley would most naturally suspect the brother.

And Fadeaway reasoned that John Corliss would take no steps to recover the money should suspicion point to his brother having stolen it.

Meanwhile he would wait.

Shortly after Fadeaway had gone out, Will Corliss got up and sauntered to the street. He gazed up and down the straggling length of Antelope and cursed. Then he walked across to the sheriff's office.

The sheriff motioned him to a chair, which he declined. "Better sit down, Billy. I want to talk to you."

"Haven't got time," said Corliss. "You know what I came for."

"That's just what I want to talk about. See here, Billy, you've been hitting it up pretty steady this week. Here's the prospect. John told me to hand you five a day for a week. You got clothes, grub, and a place to sleep and all paid for. You could go out to the ranch if you wanted to. The week is up and you're goin' it just the same. If you want any more money you'll have to see John. I give you all he left with me."

"By G.o.d, that's the limit!" exclaimed Corliss.

"I guess it is, Billy. Have a cigar?"