to admire Bart Luby if you accepted him from the surface appearance.
He had a dashing way, and he was a powerful man physically, handsome and smooth talking.
He was the one who had the Stockman's Show organized, and for thre e years now had been featured in it for his fine riding, roping, and bulldogging. H e was the local champion, because for those three years he had won all the major events.
But that will-that was something else.
Rowdy Horn was usually reasonable, but on the subject of that will he ceased bein g reasonable. It was flatly contradictory to everything he knew of Tom Slater, wh o had been almost a father to him.
Besides that, nobody could work with a man as Rowdy had worked with Bart Luby withou t knowing something of him, and Bart had always been unscrupulous in little things.
He had left the Bar 0 to become a rodeo contest rider and a cattle buyer, and ther e had been vague rumors, never substantiated and never investigated, that his succes s as a buyer was due to his association-suspected only-with Jack Rollick.
Rollick was a known rustler who haunted the broken canyon country beyond the Rim , and did his rustling carefully and with skill among the brakes south of the Rim.
It was hard to get proof of his depredations-nobody had, as yet-for he never drov e off large numbers of cattle, and never rustled any stock with unusual markings. H e weeded cattle from the herds, or the lone steers that haunted the thick brush, an d it was generally believed he gathered them in some interior valley to hold unti l he had enough to drive to market. Such shortages as his rustling caused would no t show up until the roundup.
"Well, I'm riding back into Aragon, then, if you won't listen to a thing I say,"
Jenny said, swinging into her saddle. "But I do wish you'd change your mind and le t me see Bart for you."
Rowdy shook his head, grinning up at her. Looking at him, Jenny thought for the thousandt h time that he was easily the handsomest cowboy, the best-looking man afoot or in th e saddle in the whole South Rim country. It was too bad he was so stubborn and suc h a poor manager.
"Don't worry," he said, smiling. "One way or another I'll be in that rodeo, and I'l l win first money. Then we can be married." She gave him her hand. "I know you will , dear. Luck." With a wave of her hand, she wheeled the paint and rode of f at a snappy trot. He watched her go, uncertain again. Cub nickered plaintively a s if unaware of the disaster his misfortune had brought upon them.
Rowdy ran his hand under Cub's mane and scratched the horse's neck.
"Too bad, old boy. We worked mighty hard, trainin' you fo r that rodeo, and all for nothing. That hole you stepped into was sure in the wron g place."
Gravely, he studied the situation, but could see no way out, no escape. His Slas h Bar was a small ranch, the place upon which Tom Slater had made his start. Rowd y had bought the ranch from the bank, making the down payment with his savings an d the reward for the capture of Beenk Danek, a bank robber.
There had been a few good months after the ranch was his, then the roundup-and h e had been missing more than two hundred head of cattle, more than any other one rancher , even those with much larger herds. His was small.
Then there had been fence trouble with Luby's men, although never with Luby himself , and more than once it had almost led to shooting. Despite Luby's smooth excuses , he was sure the cattleman was deliberately instigating trouble. To top it all, wate r shortages had developed, and he had fallen behind in his payments to the bank. S o it had been the Stockman's Rodeo that had offered him the best chance to make a substantia l payment on the ranch as well as to provide the things on which jenny insisted. Unti l Cub's injury, he had been certain he had at least an even chance with Bart Luby , and Bart had been aware of it, too.
Now still another worry had developed. One of his two hands, Mike McNulty, had ridde n in a