"Seems like straight thinking," opined Clint and gathered the reins. "A little queer, though, that Fitz didn't leave some word behind. Maybe he didn't want to expose his plans to some wandering Shander rider. Which is exactly why I hadn't better leave a note for Heck. He'll have to figure it out."
With that, he straightened down the meadow, let the horse pick a path through the trees and a little later lined across the open prairie for Box M. He regretted leaving Seastrom on his own. But time pressed, the night was better than half gone and there was much riding yet to do. As he clipped off the miles, he tried to piece together the tag ends of information his eavesdropping behind the sheriff's office had brought him. He had no idea where Fort Carson was, nor what plan Shander and Curly had agreed upon; but the fact that Curly had suggested a plan was more or less an indication that they meant to smash Box M hard and fast at some particular point. That was the egotistic and impatient Curly's style.
"The piece of a licking they took tonight has sort of brought things to a head," reflected Clint. "It's stung 'em. They'll hit from the shoulder. Looks to me as if things have smoked around to a downright spell of thunder and lightning. As for Haggerty, I'm not much surprised. No telling how much damage he's already done the ranch; and he'll probably try to do a great deal more. If he comes riding back, I can make a handy tool out of him, to carry false hints. But I wonder if he'll come back? Tonight's affair in Angels might have made him cagey."
So the intervening desert fell behind and Box M's shadowed outline loomed directly in front of him. No lights broke over the earth; but his approach had been detected, for he saw a silhouette cantering across his path. He slowed and sent out a musical hail. In reply he was arrested bluntly.
"Draw in. Who is it?"
"Charterhouse."
"Come ahead slow. I don't make your voice."
The horses came face on. A Box M rider leaned cautiously forward from his saddle and muttered, "Strike a match." Clint obeyed. The guard relaxed, "Where's Seastrom?"
"He didn't show up and I didn't feel like there was time to waste. Fitzgibbon pull in?"
"Yeah. Manners come back with twenty riders and we buried old John. Manners seemed to be plumb uneasy about something, for he told Sherry somebody had better ride towards Angels and draw Fitz back in case Shander made a strike at us. So Haggerty went to deliver the message. Why ain't he with you? He told Fitz he'd stay at the Bowlus place and wait for you and Heck."
"Who sent him away from the ranch?" pressed Clint.
"Why, I reckon he just took it upon himself to go," countered the other. "No—I call to mind Buck Manners pointed him out for the trip. Why ain't he with you?"
"You'll have to ask Haggerty next time you see him. What happened to Bowlus?"
"Fitz made him come in so's he wouldn't stop no stray lead."
Clint turned away and rode for the main house. Another guard came beside him and dropped away. He crossed the porch and went into the dark living room, calling quietly, "Sherry."
She was in an adjoining bedroom, but not asleep, for a quick answer came back. "Is it Clint? Wait there. I'll be right out."
Clint felt a chair in front of him and settled into it with a swift realization that he was extraordinarily tired. The events of the day had taken the sap out of him; and now that he let his mind play back upon them all the grim accidents flashed before him with a startling clarity and force. Compressed within sunrise and midnight was disaster, death, struggle and treachery; enough for an average life. Yet it was but the beginning. There was doubtless more to come, more death, more treachery and heartbreak and more weary hours of riding. His head slipped against the chair's tall back and his eyes, heavy with fatigue, dropped. When he started suddenly up to his feet, there was lamplight in the room and Sherry Nickum, tall and gravely beautiful in a bed robe, stood before him.
"You were dead to the world," she said softly. "I waited five minutes before I had the heart to waken you. Sam is outside. Let him put away your horse. You go to bed."
"Not yet."
"You have earned it, Clint."
"Maybe, but I doubt if any of us will be able to realize on our earnings in the next few days. Sherry, who sent Haggerty to bring Fitz's party back here?"
"Buck Manners came for...for the funeral, Clint. He had been to Angels and he seemed worried with what he saw there. He felt there was some bigger piece of trouble coming and he wanted me to draw in all the men to the place. I was not sure it was wise to interfere with your plans, Clint, and didn't exactly want to do it. But he insisted and overrode my objections. He told Haggerty to go—and go in a hurry. I'm sorry if it spoiled anything you had in mind."
"It might have," replied Clint somberly. "But I wasn't thinking of that. What time did Haggerty leave here?"
"Before sundown. Why?"
"I am just trying to settle a few queer items in my head," muttered Clint. "Is Manners here now?"
"He left for his place to get his crew posted. He thought the renegades might try to attack him, too. But he said he'd come back here before daylight himself."
Fitzgibbon, sleepy-eyed, tramped into the room. "Where's Seastrom and Haggerty?"
"Close the door, Fitz, and come over here."
Fitz did as he was told. Clint let his voice fall. "Seastrom and I got into Angels. I heard a few things. Seastrom was on the other side of town and I guess he got into trouble, for trouble developed. When I got back to my horse Heck had already pulled out. But he wasn't in the clearing and I couldn't wait for him. What did Haggerty tell you?" "Why," reflected Fitz, "he told me to beat it for home in a hurry. I bucked, but he gave the orders in Sherry's name, so I couldn't do less. He said he'd stay and wait for you and Heck."
Clint calculated the hours swiftly. "So he left here at sunset and didn't reach you until after the scrap. That's around three- four hours he took to come on a trip that could be covered in an hour and a half or less of fast riding. I'd like to know where he detoured between the beginning and the finish."
"Yeah, but where is he?" asked Fitz. Both he and Sherry were watching Clint with aroused interest.
Clint trailed his voice to just above a whisper. "He didn't wait for me. He came into Angels and visited Studd, Curly and Shander. I was listening in. He's crooked! He's sold out. He's been on the other side of the fence for gosh knows how long. I think he tipped off our location in Bowlus' clearing to Curly and caused us to have a stiff battle. He might have been the instrument that would have wiped out Seastrom's party—only he didn't know that I had made a wide circle in the prairie and come down to back Seastrom up. I knew somebody in Box M would blab but I wasn't prepared to find Haggerty the man."
A small sigh escaped Sherry. Fitz, however, was too old a hand to display emotion. Nothing much surprised him and nothing much put him off balance. By and by he said, "It's possible. Anything's possible. He was a good foreman, but hard and sometimes uncivil."
Clint turned to Sherry. "Who was it that rode out of the yard right after I left with my party?"
"I didn't notice," said Sherry.
"Somebody did. There's more than one leak around here. Haggerty had some pets, didn't he?"
"A-huh," agreed Fitz.
"Then we'll have to keep an eye on them, too. Where's Fort Carson?"
"Fifteen miles toward Dead Man's Range. In fact, right in under Dead Man Ridge. Why?"
Clint walked suddenly to the door and opened it. But there was nobody on the porch. He came back. "Shander and Curly have agreed on some sort of a play over there tomorrow night. I don't know what, but I'm going to find out."
"Um," grunted Fitz. Clint held his peace while the stunted puncher followed some thought methodically to its end. "We got a spread of cattle that way."
"That might be it. Well, I'm going to line