Part 38 (1/2)

Cheyenne sat sideways on Jimmy's pony as they rode down the last easy slope and turned into the ranch gate. Aunt Jane, who was busy cooking,--it seemed that Aunt Jane was always busy cooking something or other, when she wasn't dressmaking or mending clothing or ironing,--greeted them warmly. Frank was working down at the lower end.

Dorry had gone to San Andreas. She would be back 'most any time, now.

And weren't they hungry?

They were. And there was fresh milk and pie. But they put up the horses first.

Later, Cheyenne and Little Jim decided to walk down to the lower end of the ranch and see Uncle Frank. Cheyenne had washed his hands and face before eating, as had Bartley. But Bartley did not let it go at that. He begged some hot water and again washed and shaved, brushed his clothes, and changed his flannel s.h.i.+rt for a clean one. Then he strolled to the kitchen and chatted with Aunt Jane, who had read of the killing of the outlaws in Phoenix, and had many questions to ask. It had been a terrible tragedy. And Mr. Bartley had actually seen the shooting?

Aunt Jane was glad that Cheyenne had not been mixed up in it, especially as that man Sears had been killed. But now that he had been killed, people would talk less about her brother. It really had seemed an act of Providence that Cheyenne had had nothing to do with the shooting. Of course, Mr. Bartley knew about the trouble that her brother had had--and why he had never settled down--

”His name was not mentioned in the papers,” said Bartley, thinking that he must say something.

”There's Dorry, now,” said Aunt Jane, glancing through the kitchen window.

Bartley promptly excused himself and stepped out to the gate, which he vaulted and opened as Dorothy waved a greeting. Bartley carried the groceries in, and later helped unhitch the team. They chatted casually neither referring to the subject uppermost in their minds.

When Cheyenne returned, riding on a load of alfalfa with Uncle Frank and Little Jim, Bartley managed to let Uncle Frank know that he was not supposed to have had a hand in the Phoenix affair. Cheyenne thanked him.

”But you ain't talked with Dorry, yet, have you?” queried Cheyenne.

Bartley shook his head.

”She'll find out,” stated Cheyenne. ”You can't fool Dorry.”

That evening, while Uncle Frank and Cheyenne were discussing a matter which seemed confidential to themselves, and while Aunt Jane was quietly keeping an eye on Jimmy, who could hardly keep from interrupting his seniors--Bartley and Dorry didn't count, just then, for _they_ were also talking together--Dorothy intimated to Bartley that she would like to talk with him alone. She did not say so, nor make any gesture to indicate her wish, yet Bartley interpreted her expression correctly.

He suggested that they step out to the veranda, where it was cooler.

From the veranda they strolled to the big gate, and there she asked him, point-blank, to tell her just what had happened in Phoenix. She had read the papers, and she surmised that there was more to the affair than the papers printed. For instance, Senator Brown, upon his return to the Box-S, had kindly sent word to Aunt Jane that Cheyenne was all right.

Bartley thought that the thoughtful Senator had rather spilled the beans.

”Did Cheyenne--” and Dorothy hesitated.

”Cheyenne didn't kill Sears,” stated Bartley.

”You talked with Cheyenne, and got him to keep out of it?”

”I tried to. He wouldn't listen. Then I wished him good luck and told him I hoped he'd win.”

Dorothy was puzzled. ”How do you know he didn't?”

”Because I was standing beside him when it happened. I don't see why you shouldn't know about it. Cheyenne and I were just about to cross the street, that night, when we saw Panhandle coming down the opposite side.

Sneed and his men, who were evidently waiting for him, called to Panhandle. Panhandle must have thought it was the sheriff, or the city marshal. It happened suddenly. Panhandle began firing at Sneed and his riders. They shot him down just as he reached the curb in front of us.

They kept on shooting at him as he lay in the street. Cheyenne couldn't stand that. He emptied his gun, trying to keep them off--and he emptied some saddles.”

”Thank you for trying to--to give Cheyenne my message,” said Dorothy.

And she shook hands with him.

”Do you know this is the loveliest vista I have seen since leaving Phoenix--this San Andreas Valley,” said Bartley.