Chapter V: A Strange Tangle

“Hal’s gone back to the border!” said Austin stupidly to the foreman.

“The damn fool,” Sands muttered.

Austin shut his jaws tightly, his eyes blinking rapidly. Then: “Sands, are you sure Sheriff Nolan told the truth--that my Hal----”

“I think he did, Frank.”

“That’s awful! I can’t tell his mother. She isn’t the kind you can tell things like that. What on earth am I to do?” he demanded helplessly.

“Let him alone and he’ll come to his senses.”

“I suppose that is best; but it’s a hell of a remedy in a case like this. Maybe he’ll marry that Mexican girl. Cal, I’ve got to do something to get him out of this country.”

“No, I don’t believe Juana will marry him.”

“Damn your beliefs; I’ve got to _know_.”

“I’m no mind-reader,” said Sands testily. “You’ve got to take a chance. If I’m any judge, Rosita Diaz ain’t goin’ to let Juana marry anybody--not yet.”

“I hope not,” Austin said fervently. “Well, I suppose we may as well go on. No use going back to Indian Wells.”

“Not a bit,” agreed Sands, and they went on toward Keno City. A short distance farther on they met Goober Glendon and Johnny Wells. The old cowboy and his young companion merely nodded, as they rode past.

“Know either of them fellers?” asked Sands.

Austin nodded shortly. “The old one. He used to be down in this country a long time ago. His name is Glendon. Was with the Texas Rangers at one time, and later he was with the Cattle Association, I believe, and made a hit as a range detective.”

“Still with the Association?” queried Sands casually.

“I don’t think so.”

“You might hire him to investigate.”

“No,” replied Austin emphatically. “Once is enough.”

Goober Glendon snorted audibly after they had passed, and Johnny grinned as he said, “You and Austin must ’a’ been pretty thick in the old days.”

“He’s shore crazy about me now,” Goober admitted grimly. “From what Smoky says, Austin is worried about rustlers adoptin’ his stock. Let ’em! I hope some old cow kicks him flat on his back in a manure pile.”

Johnny laughed softly. “Yore curses are pretty severe, Goober.”

They rode on to Indian Wells. Goober had been there years before, and he failed to see where the place had advanced any. They saw Hal on the street, and both of them recognised him, although Hal had been too drunk to remember seeing them in Silver Bar.

Porfiro Mendez and his two cousins came swaggering down the narrow street, and Goober looked Mendez over thoughtfully. He had known “Lobo” Mendez years before, and recognised him, in spite of the fact that Mendez had grown from a wiry young _vaquero_, cow-puncher, to a hulking figure resplendent in gaudy clothes and silver.

Mendez looked keenly at the old cowboy for several moments, and his big mouth widened to a smile.

“_Madre de Dios!_” he exclaimed. “Señor Glendon, I’m bet your hat!”

“Hello there, Porfiro,” laughed Goober. “You old son-of-a-gun!”

“Sonn off a gonn, eh?” laughed Mendez, as they shook hands. “Where you been all thees long time?”

“North most of the time: Oregon, Washington, Montana, Idaho.”

“You leeve down ’ere now?”

“Nope; jist passin’ through, kinda lookin’ for a job.”

“You not weeth Texas Ranger no more?”

“Not for a long time.”

“Hm-m-m-m-m.”

“How is the world treatin’ you?” asked Goober.

“_Muy bien._ I’m beeg man in my own city. You come down see Piñon.”

“The old town of Piñon, eh?”

“Ver’ old, ver’ nice. I am _alcalde_ there.”

“Justice, eh?” Goober laughed. “Featherin’ yore own nest, Porfiro?”

“W’at you mean?”

“I guess you ain’t runnin’ no Sunday school.”

Possibly Mendez did not know what Sunday school meant, but he evaded the issue anyway. “Thees like ol’ time,” he said. “To-day I’m see Frank Austin; now I’m see you.”

“You remember Frank?”

“Sure; he’s a relation from me.”

“Yea-a-a-ah?”

“Sure. I’m marry one seester, he marry other seester.”

“That’s right. By golly, I forgot that. Your wife still alive?”

“I’m don’ know; she _vamos_ long time ago.”

“Uh-huh? Mendez, I want yuh to meet Johnny Wells, my partner.”

They shook hands, and Mendez turned to Mike and Dick Gonzales.

“Thees is my cousin, both of them, Miguel and Ricardo Gonzales. Bot’ good man, but not brain enough to pour sand from rat-’ole. Shake ’ands.”

That formality over, they went on. Goober laughed softly, as he and Johnny went on up the street.

“Fine trio of smugglers,” said Goober. “Mendez, bein’ _alcalde_ of Piñon, it gives him a chance to run everythin’ from drugs to diamonds across the line.”

“What was that stuff about him and Austin bein’ related?” asked Johnny.

“They married twin sisters--Mexican girls. Austin was still livin’ with his Mexican wife when I left here, but it’s a cinch he’s made a change since then. I remember seein’ Austin’s wife, but I never knew what became of the one Mendez married. How about foldin’ ourselves around a little chuck?”

Goober stopped a prosperous-looking Mexican and asked him where there was a good place to eat.

“You like cheeken, ver’ nice fry--good _vino_?”

“Shore,” grinned Johnny.

The Mexican pointed out the Casa del Diaz, and they thanked him.

They went over and entered the place. Hal was sitting alone at a table in the patio, looking rather downcast.

As they sat down Rosita came in to take their order. Goober looked sharply at her, his brow furrowed in thought. She recognised him, and her eyes widened. Goober had not changed since the days when Rosita Diaz was a belle of Indian Wells. He started to speak her name, but hesitated. He had only known her as Mrs. Austin.

“Bring us some chicken and some wine,” he said softly, and she turned away.

Juana came in through an outside entrance to the patio, carrying a bunch of roses, and Hal got quickly to his feet.

“I thought you go back to Keno City,” she said.

“I came back to see you, Juana,” he replied. “I want to see you alone.”

She whispered something to him and he nodded quickly. She went on and entered another door. Goober looked at Johnny, a queer expression in his eyes. “What’s eatin’ yuh?” asked Johnny softly.

Goober shook his head. Rosita came back with a bottle of wine. Hal got up and entered the _cantina_.

“It’s been a long time since I seen you,” said Goober softly.

He looked up at Rosita. Except for her luminous eyes, there was no change in expression.

“Many years, Señor Glendon,” she murmured. “Years I would forget.”

“Wasn’t that Frank Austin’s son?”

“Yes.”

Goober’s glass was too full, and he spilled some of it on the table.

“Frank Austin was your good friend,” said Rosita softly, a catch in her voice.

“Not now. He has forgotten old friends. Money makes some men forget.”

“Forget everything,” breathed Rosita. “But that is past.”

“You married again?”

“No, _señor_.”

“That girl--he called her Juana?”

Rosita’s lips shut tightly for a moment and her eyes turned toward the doorway to the _cantina_. “She is mine,” she said firmly.

“Sure,” said Goober slowly. “It is none of my business, _señora_.”

“_Gracias_. I will send the chicken.”

She went away, leaving them alone in the patio, with the scolding parrots.

“What’s it all about?” asked Johnny.

Goober shook his head sadly. “Tough deal, it looks like. Puttin’ two and two together, it looks as though Hal Austin was in love with his half-sister, and none of ’em have nerve enough to tell him.”

“Why in hell don’t her mother tell him?”

“I dunno, Johnny. Mebbe she’s got an axe to grind with Frank Austin.”

“Why don’t Austin tell his kid?”

“Ashamed--mebbe. I dunno. Anyway, it’s none of our business, pardner.”

“And that girl shore is a peach, Goober.”

“Buy a cue in the game--she’s half white.”

“_Está la vida!_” screamed a parrot. “_Por Dios! Está la vida!_”

“‘By God! This is the life,’” translated Goober. “You’re right, Polly.”

“Smart parrot,” grinned Johnny. “Here comes the chicken.”