Partners of Chance Part 33

CHAPTER XXII

BOX-S BUSINESS

A few days later, Bartley stopped at a small town to have his horse shod. The blacksmith seemed unusually interested in the horse and complimented Bartley upon owning such a good mount.

"Comes from up San Andreas way," said the smith, noticing the brand on Dobe's flank.

"Yes. I picked him up at Antelope. I understand he was raised on Senator Brown's ranch."

"That's Steve Brown's brand, all right. Heard the news from up that way?"

"Nothing special."

"Seems somebody run off a bunch of Senator Steve's horses, last week.

Thought mebby you'd heard."

"No."

"Well, thought I'd just tell you. I seen one posse ride through yesterday. They'll be lookin' for strangers along the road."

"Thanks. I bought this horse--and I happen to know Senator Brown."

"No offense, stranger. If I'd 'a' suspicioned you'd stole that horse, you wouldn't take him out of here. Like I said to Cheyenne, last week; he could fetch a whole carload of stock in here and take 'em out again without trouble. He was tellin' me how he lost his horses, and we got to talkin' about some folks bein' blind when they're facin' a brand on a critter. Mebby you heard tell of Cheyenne Hastings?"

"I have traveled with him. You say he stopped here a few days ago?"

"Well, not just stopped; he kind of looked in to see how I was gettin'

along. He acted queerlike, for him. I've knowed Cheyenne for years. Said he was feelin' all right. He ast me if I'd seen Panhandle Sears down this way, recent. Seemed kind of disappointed when I told him no.

Cheyenne used to be a right-smart man, before he had trouble with that woman of his."

"Yes? He told me about it," said Bartley, not caring to hear any more of the details of Cheyenne's trouble.

"'Most everybody knows it," stated the smith. "And if I was Sears I'd sure leave this country."

"So should I. I've seen Cheyenne handle a gun."

"You got the right idea!" exclaimed the blacksmith, evidently pleased.

"All Cheyenne's friends have been waitin' for years for him to clean that slate and start fresh again. He used to be a right-smart hand, before he had trouble."

The blacksmith accompanied his conversation with considerable elbow motion and the rattle and clang of shaping horseshoes. Presently Dobe was new shod and ready for the road. Bartley paid the smith, thanked him for a good job, and rode south. Evidently Cheyenne's open quarrel with Sears was the talk of the countryside. It was expected of Cheyenne that he would "clean the slate and start fresh" some day. And cleaning the slate meant killing Sears. To Bartley it seemed strange that any one should be pleased with the idea of one man killing another deliberately.

In speaking of the recent horse-stealings, the blacksmith had mentioned no names. But Bartley at once drew the conclusion that it had been Sneed's men who had run off the Senator's horses. Sneed was known to be a horse-thief. He had never been convicted, although he had been arrested and tried several times. It was also known that Senator Steve had openly vowed that he would rid the country of Sneed, sooner or later.

Several times, during his journey south, Bartley was questioned, but never interfered with. Thus far he heard of Cheyenne occasionally, but, nearing Phoenix, he lost track of his erstwhile companion. However, he took it for granted that Phoenix had been Cheyenne's destination. And Bartley wanted to see the town for himself, in any event.

Cheyenne, arriving in Phoenix, stabled his horses at the Top-Notch livery, and took a room for himself directly opposite the Hole-in-the-Wall gambling-house. He refused to drink with the occasional acquaintance he met, not because he did not like liquor, but because Colonel Stevenson, the city marshal, had told him that Panhandle Sears and his friends were in town.

"Why don't you tell me to go git him?" queried Cheyenne, looking the marshal in the eye.

"I didn't think it was necessary," said the marshal.

"What? To git him?"

The marshal smiled. Then casually: "I hear that Panhandle and his friends are drinking heavy and spending considerable money. They must have made a strike, somewhere."

"I see by the paper somebody run off a bunch of the Box-S hosses,"

remarked Cheyenne, also casually.

Then, without further comment, he left the marshal wondering if Panhandle's presence in town had any connection with the recent running-off of the Box-S stock. The sheriff of Antelope had wired Colonel Stevenson to be on the lookout for Bill Sneed and his gang, but had not mentioned Panhandle's name in the telegram.

The following day, Senator Brown and his foreman, Lon Pelly, arrived in Phoenix and had a long talk with the marshal. That afternoon Lon Pelly took the train south. Early in the evening Senator Brown received a telegram from Pelly stating that Sneed and four men had left Tucson, headed north and riding horses.

The stolen horses had been trailed south as far as Phoenix. It was evident that they had been driven to Tucson and disposed of somewhere in that vicinity. Yet there was no conclusive proof that Sneed had stolen the horses. As usual, he had managed to keep a few days ahead of his pursuers. Sneed was known to have left his camp in the hills above San Andreas. The first posse had found the camp abandoned. Sneed had not been identified until Pelly got track of him in Tucson.

During his talk with Senator Brown the marshal mentioned the fact that Panhandle Sears was in Phoenix.

"Did Panhandle come in from the south?" queried the Senator.

"n.o.body seems to know."

"Well, if he did, we have got the link that's missing in this chain, Colonel. Pelly is holdin' one end of the chain down in Tucson, and the other end is layin' right here in Phoenix. If we can connect her up--"

"But we haven't located the horses, Senator."

"Colonel, I'll find those horses if I can. But I'm after Sneed, this journey. He has been running things about ten years too long to suit me.

I've got a check-book with me. You have the men. I'm out to do a little housecleanin' of my own. If we can get Panhandle to talk, we can find out something."

"He's been on a drunk for a week. I could run him in for disturbing the peace and--"

"And he'd suspect what we're after and freeze up, tight. No, let him run loose, but keep your eye on him. He'll give the deal away, sooner or later."

"I hope it's sooner," said the Colonel. "Cheyenne is holed up down the street, waiting for a chance to get Sears. Cheyenne didn't say so, but it was in his eye. He's changed considerable since I saw him last."

"Was there any one with him: a tall, dark-haired, kind of clean-cut boy, for instance?"

"No, not when I saw him. He rode in with his usual outfit."

"Wonder where he lost young Bartley? Well, I'm glad the boy isn't here.

He might get hurt."