Tangled Trails | Page 8

sure?"
She nodded. "Esther won't tell me a thing. She's shielding him. But I
went through her letters and found a note from him. It's signed 'J. C.' I
accused him point-blank to her and she just put her head down on her
arms and sobbed. I know he's the man."
"What do you mean to do?"

"I mean to have a talk with him first off. I'll make him do what's right."
"How?"
"I don't know how, but I will," she cried wildly. "If he don't I'll settle
with him. Nothing's too bad for a man like that."
He shook his head. "Not the best way, Rose. Let's be sure of every
move we make. Let's check up on this man before we lay down the law
to him."
Some arresting quality in him held her eye. He had sloughed the gay
devil-may-care boyishness of the range and taken on a look of strong
patience new in her experience of him. But she was worn out and
nervous. The pain in her arm throbbed feverishly. Her emotions had
held her on a rack for many hours. There was in her no reserve power
of endurance.
"No, I'm going to see him and have it out," she flung back.
"Then let me go with you when you see him. You're sick. You ought to
be in bed right now. You're in no condition to face it alone."
"Oh, don't baby me, Kirby!" she burst out. "I'm all right. What's it
matter if I am fagged. Don't you see? I'm crazy about Esther. I've got to
get it settled. I can rest afterward."
"Will it do any harm to take a friend along when you go to see this
man?"
"Yes. I don't want him to think I'm afraid of him. You're not in this,
Kirby. Esther is my little sister, not yours."
"True enough." A sardonic, mirthless smile touched his face. "But
James Cunningham is my uncle, not yours."
"Your uncle?" She rose, staring at him with big, dilated eyes. "He's
your uncle, the man who--who--"

"Yes, an' I know him better than you do. We've got to use finesse--"
"I see." Her eyes attacked him scornfully. "You think we'd better not
face him with what he's done. You think we'd better go easy on him.
Uncle's rich, and he might not like plain words. Oh, I understand now."
Wild Rose flung out a gesture that brushed him from her friendship.
She moved past him blazing with anger.
He was at the elevator cage almost as soon as she.
"Listen, Rose. You know better than that. I told you he was my uncle
because you'd find it out if I'm goin' to help you. He's no friend of mine,
but I know him. He's strong. You can't drive him by threats."
The elevator slid down and stopped. The door of it opened.
"Will you stand aside, sir?" Rose demanded. "I won't have anything to
do with any of that villain's family. Don't ever speak to me again."
She stepped into the car. The door clanged shut. Kirby was left
standing alone.
CHAPTER V
COUSINS MEET
With the aid of a tiny looking-glass a young woman was powdering her
nose. Lane interrupted her to ask if he might see Mr. Cunningham.
"Name, please?" she parroted pertly, and pressed a button in the
switchboard before her.
Presently she reached for the powder-puff again. "Says to come right in.
Door 't end o' the hall."
Kirby entered. A man sat at a desk telephoning. He was smooth-shaven
and rather heavy-set, a year or two beyond thirty, with thinning hair on
the top of his head. His eyes in repose were hard and chill. From the

conversation his visitor gathered that he was a captain in the Red Cross
drive that was on.
As he hung up the receiver the man rose, brisk and smiling, hand
outstretched. "Glad to meet you, Cousin Kirby. When did you reach
town? And how long are you going to stay?"
"Got in hour an' a half ago. How are you, James?"
"Busy, but not too busy to meet old friends. Let me see. I haven't seen
you since you were ten years old, have I?"
"I was about twelve. It was when my father moved to Wyoming."
"Well, I'm glad to see you. Where you staying? Eat lunch with me
to-morrow, can't you? I'll try to get Jack too."
"Suits me fine," agreed Kirby.
"Anything I can do for you in the meantime?"
"Yes. I want to see Uncle James."
There was a film of wariness in the eyes of the oil broker as he looked
at the straight, clean-built young cattleman. He knew that the strong
face, brown as Wyoming, expressed a pungent personality back of
which was dynamic force.