Kitabı oku: «Mason of Bar X Ranch», sayfa 6
CHAPTER VIII – THE MEXICAN ESCAPES
Mason’s heart beat violently as he held the dead weight of the girl in his arms. Tenderly he laid her down and hastily made a pillow of his coat to support her head. There was a spring close by and he filled his hat with the cool water and bathed her temples. His efforts were rewarded by a flutter of her eyelids just as Scotty came up and joined them. With a little gasp the girl rose weakly to her feet and stared with dilated eyes at Powers. He was lying on the ground with both hands clutched to his side and groaning.
“Is he dying?” The girl motioned the question to them with dry lips.
“He’s turned his last trick,” Scotty answered, grimly. “The bullet struck him in a vital spot. I had him covered for over five minutes, but didn’t dare fire for fear of hitting you.”
Josephine gave him a grateful look.
“I want to thank you both for saving my life,” she said in a voice deep with emotion.
Scotty mumbled something under his breath and seemed pleased at her praise, while Mason silently pressed her offered hand, his voice too full for words.
“Come, take me home,” she requested with a shudder, after glancing again at Powers.
The outlaw breathed his last just as they were taking their departure. They planned to send Bud and his men back to look after the removal of his body.
“Powers got his just desert,” was Scotty’s comment, as they made their way down the gorge.
Josephine gradually threw off the feeling of depression which had seized her. When they reached the trail leading out of the gorge, she saw her own favorite horse, Fleet. He was quietly grazing where Mason had left him. With a glad cry the girl ran up to him, and throwing her arms around his neck gave him a regular bear hug.
Fleet seemed equally pleased to see his mistress and voiced his appreciation with a low whinny of delight. Scotty insisted on having Mason ride his horse while the Scot rode the horse that Josephine had ridden at the time of her capture by the outlaws.
The girl was in high spirits again by this time, and lightly springing into the saddle started Fleet towards home. She rode slowly while she related her experiences with the outlaws from the time of her capture.
Scotty, in turn, explained how he came to arrive in time to put an end to the outlaw’s career.
He had miscalculated his horse’s speed and in making a wide detour had got far in the outlaw’s rear. Hearing only faint sounds of firing he determined to search for Josephine while waiting for the cowboys to come up. He had left his horse at the bottom of a deep gorge and started to climb a trail that led to a high plateau where he hoped to get a better view of the locality. He had made the summit and climbed up on a huge boulder when his startled eyes took in the scene already described.
“My finger itched when I drew down on that cutthroat, but he had you swung in front of him and I had to wait my chance,” Scotty concluded, addressing Josephine.
Mason told Scotty of his part in the chase, and as they were now nearing the spot where the Mexican had fallen the two men rode in advance as there was a chance of the halfbreed showing fight if he had not been wounded seriously. Mason had no idea how badly he had been hurt, for he had paid little attention to him in his mad dash after Powers. Mason pointed out the spot to Scotty where the Mexican had fallen, but they could see no trace of him.
Josephine, who had drawn up to the group while they were discussing the possible escape of the halfbreed, suddenly remarked:
“Here comes Bud with Joe and the rest of the cowboys.”
The cowboys saw them at about the same time and with a rush and roar, bore swiftly down upon them.
There was an excited clamor of voices as the cowboys dismounted and rushed up to Josephine to shake her hand, each man with hat off and expressing his pleasure at her safe return in his own characteristic way.
Mason and Scotty came in for a generous round of hand-shaking and glory from the cowboys when Josephine told them of their part in her rescue.
Mason walked away from the group of cowboys and sought out Bud, to whom Josephine had immediately gone after greeting the cowboys.
Bud had been wounded in the shoulder and the girl was giving him a scolding for not having gone home at once to have his wound attended to. She was adjusting a crude bandage for him and it gave Mason a sharp pang as he realized that she was gravely concerned over Bud’s welfare. Mason briefly outlined the result of his chase to him, and of the possible escape of the halfbreed. Bud listened quietly until he had finished, then his jaws came together with a snap.
“You and Scotty take the girl home, and the men will stay here with me while we clean up and look into the matter of the halfbreed,” he directed Mason.
Josephine uttered a cry of protest.
“You’re not coming with us?” she asked in a pained voice.
“No,” Bud answered with an air of finality. “We have got some work to do here before we go and I want to see it through.”
Mason admired the grit of the man, for he reasoned that he must be suffering tortures from his wound by this time. The girl gave a sigh as Bud stalked off to give orders to his men, and Mason, watching her, felt convinced that she was in love with her father’s foreman. Soon, Scotty rode toward them on a fresh horse and they set a fast pace for home with Josephine leading and having little to say.
They arrived at the ranch in due time, and Mason had to turn his head away at the touching scene, when the girl burst into the house and into her mother’s arms. They were laughing and crying in the same breath, and the father had his arms around the two, wife and daughter.
The next minute the girl was romping with her dog Rover, and calling him endearing names. A tear glistened on the ranch owner’s cheek as he silently wrung Mason’s hand when Josephine told of his part in her rescue.
That night when Bud and his men returned, they reported that they could find no trace of the halfbreed. They believed that the Mexican with his wide knowledge of the mountains had probably escaped to some retreat.
A few days of rest and quiet were indulged in by the men who had followed the trail of the outlaws so determinedly.
One fine morning, Mason, who had found a shady spot on the porch and had lazily stretched himself out for a nap, found his plans rudely shattered by the mistress of the ranch herself. She came running out of the house and stood surveying him with an air of severity.
“I would like to know, Sir Jack, if you are in the habit of breaking your promises,” she demanded, trying to keep her look of severity while pointing an accusing finger at him.
Mason looked up at her in astonishment. “Why, Josephine, I don’t know what you are driving at,” he answered with a blank look. He thought he had never seen her look as pretty as she did this morning. She stood before him, her eyes fairly dancing with fun.
“Then, Sir, I will refresh your memory,” she began with increasing severity. “Did you or did you not promise me long, long ago to take me for a ride in that fast racing car of yours?”
Mason sprang to his feet.
“What a dunce I’ve been, Josephine,” he exclaimed. “We’ll go for a ride this very morning. What do you say?”
“I’ll say, I’ll go,” she answered with a happy laugh and ran to tell her mother.
Mason backed the trim racer out of the shed and had the motor running smoothly by the time Josephine rejoined him.
“My, but you make a lot of smoke and noise,” she cried, putting her fingers to her ears.
“Just racing the engine a little,” he explained, as the girl bent over to watch him adjust the gas mixture. “Jump in, we’ve picked as fine a morning as you’ll find in these parts,” he added gaily, as he lifted her into the seat with strong arms.
It was an ideal morning with a cool and gentle breeze blowing. Mason let the car out at high speed for several miles, then slowing down a little he turned and looked curiously at the girl beside him. She had not uttered a sound, but sat with parted lips smiling in contentment. Her golden hair blown and tumbled by the wind, and her blue-gray eyes sparkling with the joy of life and health, made her a most bewitching picture.
If she only knew how well he loved her, but with the thought came the image of Anderson who had first claim on her. He gripped the wheel savagely, a frown on his face. The girl was snuggled deep in the cushions.
“Oh, but this ride is fine,” she said in a low voice. Then noticing his frown she added quickly:
“What is the trouble, Sir Jack, didn’t your breakfast set well this morning?”
“Breakfast is the least of my troubles,” he answered, forcing a smile as he slowed the car down to about fifteen miles per hour.
He had much to say to her this morning, and had determined to tell her of his love. Josephine was rearranging her tumbled hair with deft fingers while watching him with an amused smile.
“There,” she said, putting the finishing touches to a rebellious curl. “I hope I look more presentable. You drove like a regular savage, Sir Jack, and you looked like a fiend a minute ago. Now, I can’t see why you should have any troubles, you are getting along fine out here. Perhaps you are worrying about that letter your father wrote to you about Ricker.”
She was regarding him with troubled eyes now, and he thought he detected a tender light in them. He longed to take her in his arms and cover her face with kisses, but crushed the thought out of his mind with a groan.
“Yes, that is one thing that bothers me, and by the way, I received a letter from mother; she and my sister will be out here in a few days,” his voice was steady and sure now.
“Oh, won’t that be grand?” she cried in delight. “I am very anxious to meet your mother and sister, Sir Jack.”
“Sis is a good kid, and I think you will like her. She is about your age, Josephine.”
“Oh, I know I will like your mother and sister just from what you have told me of them. Now, what other troubles have you got, if you can call your mother and sister a trouble?” She was leaning slightly toward him with a half smile mingled with a look of severity on her face.
He shifted uneasily in his seat.
“You have a regular lawyer’s way of pinning a man down to a question,” he said at last.
“Does the truth hurt?”
He had driven the car to one side of the trail and stopped the engine.
“Josephine!” Mason turned and faced her.
“Little girl,” he began and imprisoned both her hands. “It is you that is troubling me. Before I came out here I had been leading a fast life, and had seen bad girls and nice girls, but I never cared for any of them. I know, now, that I love you, Josephine, and I will tell you how I came to know the truth. I admired you from the first time we met, but it took another man to awaken me to the truth; I guess you know who I mean, his name is Anderson and I know you care for him. Please tell me, dear, if I have a chance.”
“I – I – don’t – just know,” Josephine faltered faintly. “I will think it over.”
“You give me a little hope, then?” he cried eagerly. “I won’t bother you about it again to-day, but may I have your permission to tell you how much I love you, some other time?”
“Yes,” she answered gently, “but come, Sir Jack, it’s not nice of you to keep me here all day; we started for Trader’s Post, you know.”
“Really, I had almost forgotten,” he said with a happy boyish laugh, “but we’re nearly there now. Sit tight and I’ll have you there in a jiffy, and then we will take the long road back.”
“But not quite so fast as you drove before, besides you promised to teach me how to drive,” she demurred, smiling at him naïvely.
Mason let the car out at a reasonable road speed and soon the outbuildings of Trader’s Post came into view. A moment later he drove up to the general store where Josephine wished to do some trading.
“This is the place where you rescued the fair Waneda,” she reminded him.
His face reddened.
“I still think the Spanish girl was made an innocent tool by Ricker’s gang and didn’t know what her message contained,” he answered in defence.
Josephine had one foot on the running board and flashed a tantalizing smile up at him.
“See if you can keep out of trouble, Sir Jack, while I am in the store. I will try to be quick,” and with a wave of her hand she disappeared inside.
Mason grinned broadly.
“If she is like most women when they go shopping, I will have some wait,” he mused to himself.
Swinging around in his seat he took to watching the four corners or common, which was all Trader’s Post could boast of.
There were a few people in sight, mostly cowboys, and as he looked, the only hotel in the place came under his observation. Suddenly he sat up stiff and straight, staring hard at the hotel porch. He had made out the figure of MacNutt and he was staggering with locked arms around another cowboy, who was maudlin drunk, and the other cowboy was from Ricker’s ranch!
A low whistle escaped his lips. All his former distrust for this man who called himself MacNutt came back to him with double force. He resolved to denounce MacNutt to the owner of Bar X when he got back to the ranch. He was interrupted in his meditations by Josephine. She came hurrying out of the store with her arms full of bundles and deposited them at his feet with a sigh of relief.
“I didn’t keep you waiting very long, did I?” she asked a little anxiously.
“Yes, I mean no,” he replied absently, still keeping his eyes on the two men.
“What are you staring at?” she questioned.
“Jump in and I will explain to you when we get under way,” he said, starting the car in motion.
“It’s about that man MacNutt,” he confided to her. “While you were in the store I happened to look over to the hotel, and there was MacNutt talking with one of the cowboys from the Ricker ranch. I never quite trusted the fellow from the start, and it looks mighty suspicious to see him mixing with that bunch.”
“It does look peculiar,” Josephine answered gravely. “He knows the Ricker crowd are enemies of my father. I don’t see what MacNutt would want of them.”
“Well, don’t worry your pretty head about it, and I will take the matter up with your father when we get back to the ranch. We are out on a pleasure trip to-day and I am going to teach you how to run this car before we get home.”
“You talk very confidently.”
“Is my confidence misplaced?”
She laughed easily.
“I never met a man like you before.”
“Nor have I ever met a girl like you before,” he returned instantly.
“Oh, come now, you will be trying to make love to me in another minute, and you promised to be good for the rest of the day. What is that thing-ama-jig on the dashboard?”
“That’s the instrument board,” he corrected her, “and what you are pointing at is the speedometer.”
Then he explained the various workings of the instruments to her. They had reached a part of the country that was clear and level for miles, and Mason let the trim racer dart ahead in a fresh burst of speed. Josephine had her eyes glued on the dial indicator and as the hand crept slowly up she saw that they had attained a speed of over fifty miles per hour.
“Slow down,” she managed to gasp, “I can’t talk to you when you drive so fast.”
He obediently slowed the car down.
“I can promise you some exciting times when my friend Roy Purvis gets here,” he said after a long silence.
“Roy Purvis,” she repeated after him, “I never heard you mention that name before.”
“He is an old friend of mine and we used to race together before he went in for aviation. He promised me just before I left New York that he would visit me out here.”
Little did they know what a thrilling part Roy Purvis and his airplane was to play in their future lives.
The girl was deeply interested in what Mason had told her.
“That will be jolly fun,” her eyes were keenly enthusiastic. “I have never seen an airplane, I hope he comes soon.”
Mason nodded.
“Roy is very eccentric, and I wouldn’t be surprised to see him out here any time.”
On the way home he stopped the car and let Josephine take his seat while he instructed her in driving. Soon she was driving the racer almost as skillfully as he.
After about an hour she became tired and he relieved her at the wheel.
“You have accomplished wonders with your first lesson,” he told her with honest conviction in his voice. “I am truly proud of you.”
“I am very glad you think so, and if you will take me out again some time, I think I can do still better.” He fancied there was just the suspicion of an appeal in her voice.
“The pleasure will be all mine,” he answered gallantly.
They were nearing the ranch now, and just as they rode past the corral they were surprised to see MacNutt throwing a blanket over his sweat-reeked horse.
Apparently he had ridden faster and by taking a shorter route had arrived just ahead of them.
CHAPTER IX – MYSTERIOUS MACNUTT
The following morning, and before anybody was astir at Bar X ranch, the form of a man emerged from the bunkhouse and looking cautiously around to make sure that no one was watching him, stealing silently to the corral, he quickly roped and saddled one of the horses. It was MacNutt, and had any of the cowboys seen his face at that moment they would have been amazed. All trace of the half-wit smile had vanished, and in place of the drooping shoulders and shambling gait that had been characteristic of the man, he now moved with the cunning and quickness of a panther.
As his supple body shot into the saddle a pair of revolver butts were exposed to view for an instant. Whatever MacNutt’s mission was, the man was going heavily armed. He rode leisurely as though fearful the noise of his horse’s hoofbeats might strike the ears of some early prowler of the ranch.
When well clear of the outbuildings of the ranch he gave his horse free rein, riding with all the ease and grace of a cowboy. Ten miles from Bar X ranch the trail divided. One trail led to Trader’s Post and the other to Ricker’s ranch.
When MacNutt came to this point, he chose the trail leading to the Ricker ranch!
A grim smile spread over the man’s face.
“I don’t suppose it was necessary for me to sneak out in this fashion,” he spoke softly to his horse, “none of the Bar X outfit take me seriously, only young Mason. I will have to watch out for him, he’s liable to spoil my plans.”
His face grew dark and ominous at the thought. Having a fresh mount he pressed the horse on relentlessly as though to reach the ranch in time to keep an appointment. Time and distance passed swiftly beneath his horse’s pounding hoofs, and when within a few miles of Ricker’s ranch he carefully examined his guns to see if they were in good working order.
As he drew near Ricker’s ranch his tense muscles relaxed, the half-wit smile appeared and with it the awkward poise and drooping shoulders of the man MacNutt. Although he did not know it, his movements had been watched by a guard placed by Ricker.
This man swept the plains with field glasses and word was quickly sent to Ricker by the guard for instructions. He was promptly ordered to hold the rider up at any cost. Since the last time Ricker had been visited by the cowboys of the Bar X ranch, he swore an oath that no more of them should pass farther than a given spot and that was where he had placed the guard.
Ricker had picked a good man for the job, for when he was in a quandary as to who should hold the post, his eyes fell on one of his cowboys, Tug Conners by name, and he was placed about a hundred yards from the ranch where he could command a view of the plains in all directions.
Tug Conners was a daredevil and desperado who would shoot first and ask questions afterwards, and it was to this man that MacNutt would have to pass muster. The guard set himself and studied the rider through his glasses. The watcher swore softly. The slow gait of the horse and its rider’s awkward position in the saddle had him puzzled.
Twice he raised the rifle at his side and covered the stranger, only to lower it each time in disgust. Seizing the glasses again he tried to make out who the stranger was. An exclamation burst from his lips, for this time he had a close view of the rider.
“Well, I’ll be damned!” he swore furiously, “I remember that freak, he was with the sheriff when they made that call on Ricker. He looks like a damn fool and acts the part. Wonder what the tenderfoot can want here?”
Tug was bitterly disappointed as he had hoped the rider would prove to be one of the sheriff’s cowboys, and he would have started trouble with any of them at the slightest provocation. He hated them all intensely, but with this fellow it was different.
Tug couldn’t bring himself to pick trouble with a half-wit, so he determined to throw a scare into him and run him off the ranch.
He was crouched behind a small mound and as MacNutt came abreast his place of concealment he sprang up and covered him with his rifle.
“Stretch your arms!” Tug commanded him, his eyes glittering savagely, “I reckon this is about your limit. Who let you out, anyway?”
MacNutt’s hands went up with alacrity, and such a look of dismay spread over his features that he brought a grin to Tug’s face.
“Get down off that horse,” he next commanded him, keeping the rifle on a line with his heart.
“Don’t keep that cannon pointed at me, it makes me nervous,” protested MacNutt in a trembling voice as he laboriously dismounted.
“Oh, the gun makes you nervous, does it, tenderfoot?” Tug sneered with bitter sarcasm. “Well, it will go off mighty sudden if you don’t answer my questions right smart. You’re from Bar X, ain’t you? Who sent you here, and what do you want?”
MacNutt had apparently found his nerve again, the foolish smile appearing on his face.
“You fire your questions too fast,” he protested in his droll voice, and started to lower his hands.
“Keep ’em up!” his captor snarled, raising his gun threateningly.
MacNutt smiled at Tug blandly, his hands held high in the air.
“I rode over from the ranch to see one of Ricker’s men,” he explained with childlike simplicity. “Met him at the Post yesterday. He ain’t got no more use for the Bar X outfit than I have, and I agreed to put him wise to some things I know about them.”
Tug stared at him incredulously.
“What is the name of the cowboy you met yesterday?” he questioned, suspicion in his voice.
“I can’t remember his name,” MacNutt replied readily. “We were slopped up a little, but I can describe him.” This he proceeded to do, and evidently to Tug’s satisfaction.
“You mean Jean Barry,” he said in a modified tone when MacNutt had finished his description. “Come, and I’ll take you to him.”
A curious gleam shone in MacNutt’s eyes for an instant, as he was ordered by Tug to keep six paces in advance of him. On the way to the ranch house, a close observer would have noticed that not a single item of the plans of the buildings or out-houses of the ranch had escaped MacNutt’s notice. Although his eyes held their dull sleepy look, they sought out every object of importance. A group of cowboys were watching the approach and one of them walked out rapidly to meet them. He proved to be Ricker.
“What have we here, Tug?” he demanded, with a suspicious look at MacNutt.
“Claims he knows Jean Barry and wants to see him,” Tug answered tersely.
Ricker scowled darkly.
“Jean is down to the corral. Go get him and see if he knows this fellow,” he ordered Tug, while watching MacNutt sharply.
Tug soon returned in company with a cowboy.
“Jean, do you know this man?” Ricker question with a wave of his hand toward MacNutt.
“Shore, I know him, he’s all right,” the man Jean answered without an instant’s hesitation.
Ricker looked immensely relieved.
“All right, take him to the ranch and make him acquainted with the boys. I’ll hold you responsible for him. We are going to have rifle and revolver practice in a few minutes, maybe your friend would like to join us,” he said, addressing Jean and giving MacNutt another sharp look.
Just a fleeting gleam came into MacNutt’s eyes as he readily consented to join them. He was conducted to the ranch by Jean, Tug having gone back to his post. At the ranch he was presented to Waneda the Spanish girl and to the cook, an old Negress. It was his first opportunity to see Waneda at close range, and he studied her face intently although seemingly interested in what Jean was telling him about the target practice.
Finally Jean left him alone with the two women after saying he was going to help set up targets, and would let him know when they were ready.
MacNutt immediately drew the girl into a conversation after making sure he had nothing to fear from the old Negress, she being quite deaf. MacNutt had again thrown off his assumed role of a half-wit and was alert and thinking rapidly. The girl had noticed the change, and shrank back against the wall staring at him dumbly.
“I know you are a good girl, Waneda,” he was saying rapidly and in a low voice, “I can generally size a person up at first glance, and you have a good face. Now, I wish to clear my mind on one point: did you know the contents of the note you delivered to the Bar X ranch that sent the cowboys into the mountains after Powers and the half-breed?”
“No,” she answered guardedly, her eyes searching his face, eager to read his thoughts.
His face grew stern.
“I was almost sure of it, but your answer proves that point,” he said kindly, “still, that very note came near getting some good men killed. You like young Mason, don’t you?”
A startled cry escaped her lips. With a quick move she seized him by the arm.
“I love him! Is he in danger? Speak quick!”
MacNutt gently released her hold and placed a chair for her.
“Steady, girl,” he warned her; “no, he’s not in danger just now, but you are. This is no place for you, and I am going to get you out of here, but before that time comes you must help also, and in doing that you will be helping Mason, too.
“There’s going to be hell brewing around here before long. What do you suppose Ricker has that guard out there for? And this target shoot is for a purpose, too. I think I can trust you not to betray me, and you also will be able to prove your loyalty to Mason and wipe out the damage you caused by carrying that note.”
The girl was thoroughly aroused now.
“Who are you?” she demanded, her breath coming in quick gasps. “If Ricker finds out that you are against him, your life wouldn’t be worth a plugged nickel!”
Jean Barry hurriedly entered the room at this moment and interrupted his talk with the girl. A lightning glance of understanding passed between the two men.
“I’ll be with you in a few minutes and join the men at the shoot,” MacNutt said rapidly in answer to an inquiring look from his friend.
Jean nodded, and was gone in the same hurried manner that he had entered the room.
MacNutt turned and looked gravely at the girl.
“Who are you?” she repeated impatiently.
“Your friend,” he answered earnestly; “that is all I can tell you at present, but you must trust me implicitly. Just go on here as before, and if Jean Barry tells you to leave this place at a certain time you must obey him, for he is working with me. If Jean comes to you for any information, give it to him if you can without causing suspicion. You will be helping me and Mason. I can trust you in this, can’t I?”
“You are a strange man,” she answered slowly, “but somehow I have confidence in you. I feel that this ranch is uncanny, and things are not as they should be. At night I hear strange sounds and men come and go at all hours. I am afraid of the men and especially of Ricker; he wants me to marry him and I hate him. The old Negress here has protected me from him many a time when he had been drinking. I wanted to leave here long ago, but I am afraid to leave for Ricker would find me again, and then even the Negress couldn’t save me. He is terrible when he is in a rage and the cowboys fear him too, for he is a dead shot and none of them would have a chance with him. I’ll trust you and do as you say.”
She had crept close to him while talking and her face was deathly pale.
Something like an oath escaped from MacNutt’s lips.
“Be brave,” he said, speaking earnestly. “It won’t be but a few weeks now before I will have you out of here, and maybe in a few days. Ricker is engaged in some lawless business besides mere cattle raising. He has a collection of the worst crooks in the country about him, and I mean to get to the bottom of his game.”
After saying a few more words of comfort to the girl, MacNutt strolled leisurely out and joined the party near the targets.
He had again assumed his slouching gait and halfwit smile. He was greeted indifferently by the cowboys, save by Ricker, who was again regarding him sharply. MacNutt returned the stare with his usual good-natured grin, while engaging Jean Barry in conversation.
“Watch sharp!” Jean Barry cautioned him.
“Ricker seems to suspect you for some reason and may put you to a severe test.”
MacNutt nodded and inclined his head slightly, as he noticed Ricker call one of his cowboys over to him. The man called by Ricker was his foreman, Jim Haley, the most expert shot on the ranch with the exception of Ricker himself. A low conversation took place between the two men.
“Jim, how long has Jean Barry been with us?” Ricker demanded of his foreman.
Tall and muscular, with deep cruel lines written on his face, Jim Haley the foreman turned and looked at the man in question.
“Oh, about a month, I reckon,” he replied, glancing quizzically at his chief.
The answer set Ricker’s brows to knitting.
“Jim, I want you to watch Jean Barry,” he said sharply, as though coming to a sudden decision. “He’s the last man we took on and hasn’t been with us long enough to be trusted too far. As for this man MacNutt, keep your eye on him also. He claimed to the guard that he isn’t friendly with the Bar X outfit and has a grievance against them. I can’t just make him out, and I want you to trail him after he leaves here and find out just what his standing is at Bar X. Jean took up with him mighty sudden, and I don’t like the looks of it. Look sharp now, and make your report to me in the morning.”
