“Yes, a young man who seemed to worship the ground he walked on. He was nice enough, but, well, sort of dewy-eyed, if you know what I mean.”
“I know,” Sandy grunted, “and not quite dry behind the ears, either. That was Pepper March.”
“Well, time to get classes started.” Kitty jumped up with a flutter of skirts and shooed her children to their desks. For the next two hours, while Sandy listened admiringly, she was an efficient, understanding schoolmarm. As he followed the recitation he had to admit that, as she had said, the Navajo children were “bright as silver dollars.” They displayed an eagerness to learn that almost frightened him. Very few youngsters showed that hunger for knowledge back at Valley View High.
That got him to thinking about poor old Quiz. How he would have enjoyed this visit. What tough luck! But maybe he’d have a chance to get some sort of line on Cavanaugh, the big lug.
The roar of an approaching truck jerked him out of his reverie. Kitty quickly dismissed her pupils and she and Sandy were alone in the trailer when Cavanaugh strode in, closely pursued by Pepper.
“Oh!” The big man frowned at the unexpected visitor until Pepper rushed forward, shouting Sandy’s name, and shook hands as though his school rival were the best friend he had in the world.
Then Cavanaugh turned on a smile as bright as a neon sign and insisted on shaking hands too.
“I’ve heard a lot about you from Pepper,” he boomed. “Wish you were on my team instead of John Hall’s. Say! I heard you had a bit of luck at your well. Is that right?”
“Luck?” Sandy stammered, wondering how on earth he was going to get out of this one.
“Oh, sure. Everybody knows about the telegram that brought you all tearing back from Chinle. Did the well come in?”
“It… We…” Sandy almost swallowed his Adam’s apple and his face went white under its tan. What on earth could he say?
Cavanaugh misunderstood the reason for his hesitation and lost his momentary advantage by rushing on.
“Oh, come on, son.” He pounded the boy’s shoulder with a great show of affection. “You don’t owe a thing to that old skinflint Hall. Give me the real lowdown on the well and I’ll make it very much worth your while.”
Sandy jerked away, his fists clenched in fury, but Kitty stepped quickly between him and his tormentor.
“Mr. Cavanaugh,” she said in a voice that dripped ice water, “you’re new around the oil regions, aren’t you?”
“What do you mean?” The electronics man pulled in his dimpled chin as though the girl had slapped him.
“Out here in the Southwest,” she said slowly, “folks don’t pry into other folks’ business if they know what’s good for them.”
“Well… I… You…” His face turned scarlet. “You can’t talk to me…”
“I can, and will.” Her black eyes flashed fire. “Your truck is trespassing on school property belonging to the state of Utah. Remove it at once!”
Cavanaugh opened and closed his mouth several times, like a fish out of water.
“You’ll both be sorry for this,” he gritted like a stage villain. “Come along, Pepper.”
“Do you…” Sandy spoke through a dry throat after Cavanaugh’s truck had thundered away. “Kitty, do you live here in the trailer?”
“Why, of course.” She looked at him oddly. “There’s not the slightest danger.”
“I’m not so sure, now. Couldn’t you stay with one of the Navajo families in the neighborhood for a while?”
“Then who would protect the school? It’s more important than I am.”
“But…”
“Don’t you worry, Sandy Carson Steele.” She patted his arm. “The Navajos are my friends, and they’re no friends of Cavanaugh. I’ll tell them what’s happened and they’ll take good care of me. Now you had better get back to the well as fast as you can. The roads are completely impossible after dark.”
CHAPTER NINE
Fighting Fire with Fire
When he got back to the well Sandy found that Hall had already set out on his fund-raising campaign while Donovan had locked himself in his trailer laboratory and was running analyses on oil samples he had taken before the cement was poured. Ralph had just finished welding a heavy cap to the top of the casing.
“I defy anybody to find out what’s down there until we’re ready to let them know,” he said as he grinned at the tired and dirty boy. The grin changed to a frown. “What have you been up to this time, Sandy? You look like something the cat refused to drag in!”
When he learned about the events at Kitty’s school, the driller nodded grimly.
“I warned you about the curly wolves,” he said. “Go get cleaned up and have some supper. Then come over to the lab. We’ll talk to Don about this.”
The geologist smoked thoughtfully while Sandy reported. Then he knocked out his pipe and said, “He’s impossible.”
“Who’s impossible?” Ralph asked.
“This man Cavanaugh. No man can spread himself as thin as he has been doing. Look at it this way.” He held up a long finger stained with chemicals. “First, he’s bidding for helium leases on land where he wouldn’t be allowed to drill. Second”—another finger went up—“he’s bidding for uranium leases although the government isn’t buying ore from companies that don’t have mills. Third, he’s spying on our well. Fourth, he’s trying to lease land in the disputed San Juan River bed. Fifth, he’s prospecting on school lands without asking anyone’s permission. Hmmm! I’ll run out of fingers pretty soon. Sixth, he’s peddling electronic exploration equipment that isn’t worth a hoot when used by itself. Seventh, he’s operating an unlicensed light beam communications network. Eighth—and here’s something I learned when I drove over to Farmington with John and we called Lukachukai to find out how Chief Ponytooth is getting on—Cavanaugh flew down there yesterday and almost pulled the hospital apart trying to get permission to talk to the old man.”
“That means he hopes to get in on the ground floor if the Navajos and Hopis settle their dispute,” said Ralph.
“Either that or he wants to hurt John by convincing the Chief that the tribes shouldn’t get together.”
“How is the Chief feeling?” Sandy asked.
“Just fine, the nurse told me. He’s tough as shoe leather. Now, is there anything else about Cavanaugh’s activities that we should consider?”
“Why does he work day and night to convince people that he’s a heel?” Ralph contributed.
“Quiz thinks there’s something wrong with the football stories he’s always telling,” said Sandy.
“All right,” Donovan went on thoughtfully. “I suggest that a lot of the things Cavanaugh is doing are meant to be camouflage. He’s throwing up some sort of smoke screen to get people confused about his true intentions. And, since we’re the ones most likely to get hurt by whatever he’s really up to, I also think we had better do a little investigating. Does either of you have any suggestions?”
“If he were sending up smoke signals instead of talking on a light beam, I’ll bet I could soon find out,” the Indian said.
“That’s an excellent idea, Ralph.” The geologist fired up his pipe and sent clouds of smoke billowing through the crowded lab. “Eavesdroppers never hear anything good about themselves, they say. Nevertheless, I think we should fight fire with fire by listening in on him and learning the worst.”
“But