Black Jack Part 45

He straightened and staggered down the stairs like a drunken man, clinging to the banister. It was an old-faced man who came out onto the veranda, where Waters was chewing his cigar angrily. At sight of his host he started up. He was a keen man, was Waters. He could sense money a thousand miles away. And it was this buzzard keenness which had brought him to the Cornish ranch and made him Vance's right-hand man. There was much money to be spent; Waters would direct and plan the spending, and his commission would not be small.

In the face of Vance he saw his own doom.

"Waters," said Vance Cornish, "everything is going up in smoke. That d.a.m.ned girl--Waters, we're ruined."

"Tush!" said Waters, smiling, though he had grown gray. "No one girl can ruin two middle-aged men with our senses developed. Sit down, man, and we'll figure a way out of this."

CHAPTER 38

The fine gray head, the hawklike, aristocratic face, and the superior manner of Waters procured him admission to many places where the ordinary man was barred. It secured him admission on this day to the office of Sheriff McGuire, though McGuire had refused to see his best friends.

A proof of the perturbed state of his mind was that he accepted the proffered fresh cigar of Waters without comment or thanks. His mental troubles made him crisp to the point of rudeness.

"I'm a tolerable busy man, Mr.--Waters, I think they said your name was.

Tell me what you want, and make it short, if you don't mind."

"Not a bit, sir. I rarely waste many words. But I think on this occasion we have a subject in common that will interest you."

Waters had come on what he felt was more or less of a wild-goose chase.

The great object was to keep young Hollis from coming in contact with Elizabeth Cornish again. One such interview, as Vance Cornish had a.s.sured him, would restore the boy to the ranch, make him the heir to the estate, and turn Vance and his high ambitions out of doors. Also, the high commission of Mr. Waters would cease. With no plan in mind, he had rushed to the point of contact, and hoped to find some scheme after he arrived there. As for Vance, the latter would promise money; otherwise he was a shaken wreck of a man and of no use. But with money, Mr. Waters felt that he had the key to this world and he was not without hope.

Three hours in the hotel of the town gave him many clues. Three hours of casual gossip on the veranda of the same hotel had placed him in possession of about every fact, true or presumably true, that could be learned, and with the knowledge a plan sprang into his fertile brain. The worn, worried face of the sheriff had been like water on a dry field; he felt that the seed of his plan would immediately spring up and bear fruit.

"And that thing we got in common?" said the sheriff tersely.

"It's this--young Terry Hollis."

He let that shot go home without a follow-up and was pleased to see the sheriff's forehead wrinkle with pain.

"He's like a ghost hauntin' me," declared McGuire, with an attempted laugh that failed flatly. "Every time I turn around, somebody throws this Hollis in my face. What is it now?"

"Do you mind if I run over the situation briefly, as I understand it?"

"Fire away!"

The sheriff settled back; he had forgotten his rush of business.

"As I understand it, you, Mr. McGuire, have the reputation of keeping your county clean of crime and scenes of violence."

"Huh!" grunted the sheriff.

"Everyone says," went on Waters, "that no one except a man named Minter has done such work in meeting the criminal element on their own ground.

You have kept your county peaceful. I believe that is true?"

"Huh," repeated McGuire. "Kind of soft-soapy, but it ain't all wrong.

They ain't been much doing in these parts since I started to clean things up."

"Until recently," suggested Waters.

The face of the sheriff darkened. "Well?" he asked aggressively.

"And then two crimes in a row. First, a gun brawl in broad daylight-- young Hollis shot a fellow named--er--"

"Larrimer," snapped the sheriff viciously. "It was a square fight.

Larrimer forced the sc.r.a.p."

"I suppose so. Nevertheless, it was a gunfight. And next, two men raid the bank in the middle of your town, and in spite of you and of special guards, blow the door off a safe and gut the safe of its contents. Am I right?"

The sheriff merely scowled.

"It ain't clear to me yet," he declared, "how you and me get together on any topic we got in common. Looks sort of like we was just hearing one old yarn over and over agin."

"My dear sir," smiled Waters, "you have not allowed me to come to the crux of my story. Which is: that you and I have one great object in common--to dispose of this Terry Hollis, for I take it for granted that if you were to get rid of him the people who criticize now would do nothing but cheer you. Am I right?"

"If I could get him," sighed the sheriff. "Mr. Waters, gimme time and I'll get him, right enough. But the trouble with the gents around these parts is that they been spoiled. I cleaned up all the bad ones so d.a.m.n quick that they think I can do the same with every crook that comes along. But this Hollis is a slick one, I tell you. He covers his tracks.

Laughs in my face, and admits what he done, when he talks to me, like he done the other day. But as far as evidence goes, I ain't got anything on him--yet. But I'll get it!"

"And in the meantime," said Waters brutally, "they say that you're getting old."

The sheriff became a brilliant purple.

"Do they say that?" he muttered. "That's grat.i.tude for you, Mr. Waters!

After what I've done for 'em--they say I'm getting old just because I can't get anything on this slippery kid right off!"

He changed from purple to gray. To fail now and lose his position meant a ruined life. And Waters knew what was in his mind.

"But if you got Terry Hollis, they'd be stronger behind you than ever."

"Ah, wouldn't they, though? Tell me what a great gent I was quick as a flash."

He sneered at the thought of public opinion.

"And you see," said Waters, "where I come in is that I have a plan for getting this Hollis you desire so much."

"You do?" He rose and grasped the arm of Waters. "You do?"

Waters nodded.

"It's this way. I understand that he killed Larrimer, and Larrimer's older brother is the one who is rousing public opinion against you. Am I right?"

"The dog! Yes, you're right."

"Then get Larrimer to send Terry Hollis an invitation to come down into town and meet him face to face in a gun fight. I understand this Hollis is a daredevil sort and wouldn't refuse an invitation of that nature.

He'd have to respond or else lose his growing reputation as a maneater."