Raw Land by Luke; Short Page A

bound to turn over the spread to him.
    He didn’t know what to think of Chap’s death. Who could have killed him, and why? Will met a blank there. He knew nothing about Chap, about his enemies. Chap had lived a lifetime here, and all men have enemies. Will didn’t have a clue to his death; only Phipps could unravel that killing.
    The other thing that troubled him was the presence of Charlie Sommers. It could mean that he was on Milt’s trail, or it could mean nothing except that he was passing through on business of his office.
    Before he ate Will had a drink in Mohr’s saloon and learned that Chap was to be buried early that afternoon from the small white church down one of the back streets. Will didn’t go to the services, but he was the first one at the small bleak cemetery out on the flats where the fresh earth from Chap’s grave was drying in the sun.
    A lot of people were at Chap’s funeral, among them Phipps, Case and Becky, and Pres Milo. The words that were spoken there didn’t mean much to Will; he thought of Chap only as an old man with a passionate interest in justice, a man who had befriended him and counseled him—and whose counsel he had not followed. And during that service he made a private vow that he would get Chap’s killer if it turned out to be Milt himself. He would see Mygrave, too—sheriff or no sheriff.
    After the services, Will hunted out Sheriff Phipps, who was dressed in a hot black suit. The old man looked sad, for Chap Hale was one of his friends. He greeted Will coolly when Will spoke to him, and led him out of the slow stream of people who were heading for their buggies and horses at the cemetery tie rail.
    â€œI’d like to ask a couple of questions, sheriff,” Will began.
    Phipps nodded.
    Will asked, “Do you know the man that waited on the landing for Chap?”
    Phipps angrily shook his head. “If I did, would I be here now?”
    â€œWho are Chap’s heirs?”
    â€œRelatives back East.”
    â€œWho’s handlin’ his property?”
    Phipps looked at him curiously.
    â€œHis executor is Angus Case.”
    Will was inwardly dismayed at that, but his lean face was impassive. Only the gray eyes gave a hint of trouble as he thanked Phipps, and the sheriff went on.
    Will saw Becky and Angus Case walking slowly toward their buggy, and he followed them, determined to learn everything now.
    Case was just picking up the reins when he saw Will approach. Over his face came an expression of stolid dislike.
    Will touched his hat to Becky and then said to Case, “I understand you’re Chap’s executor, Case.”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œI want to explain what you’ll find when you look over Chap’s papers.” Will said evenly. “He bought the Pitchfork place for me, you know.”
    â€œSo I heard.”
    â€œBut the title is still in his name,” Will said.
    Case stared at him, frowning.
    â€œHow’s that?”
    â€œChap thought maybe after I’d seen the place that I’d change my mind about wantin’ it. So he bought it in his own name. I didn’t change my mind, and he was goin’ to make over the title to me. I don’t think he got around to it before he died.”
    Case said slowly, “Then the spread ain’t yours legally?”
    â€œIt was bought with my money, but the title’s in Chap’s name.”
    Case looked at him a long moment, and then cleared his throat.
    â€œYou’ll get your money back,” he said.
    Will flushed. “I don’t want the money, Case. I want the spread.”
    Case said, smiling thinly, “I’m to be the judge of that, I reckon. As Chap’s executor, I have the right to dispose of the property.”
    Will was getting mad, and he knew it and didn’t care. “You’ll sell it to me, Case, or I’ll make you!” he said