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diff --git a/25779-h/25779-h.htm b/25779-h/25779-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7b38315 --- /dev/null +++ b/25779-h/25779-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11010 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of 'Drag' Harlan, by Charles Alden Seltzer</title> +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + h3 {text-align:center; font-weight: normal; font-size: 1.4em} + h3.pg {text-align:center; font-weight: bold; font-size: 100%} + .figcenter {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center;} + div.ce p {text-align: center; margin: auto 0;} + .caption {font-size:.8em} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + hr.tb {width: 35%; margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; color: silver; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + hr.major {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + hr.silver {width: 100%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver;} + h2 {text-align:center; font-weight: normal; font-size: 1.6em} + + h1 { text-align: center; } + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} +// --> +/* XML end ]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, 'Drag' Harlan, by Charles Alden Seltzer, +Illustrated by P. V. E. Ivory</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: 'Drag' Harlan</p> +<p>Author: Charles Alden Seltzer</p> +<p>Release Date: June 13, 2008 [eBook #25779]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 'DRAG' HARLAN***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3 class="pg">E-text prepared by Roger Frank<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:2em; margin-top:0.5em; margin-bottom:0.5em;'>“DRAG” HARLAN</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a name='linki_1' id='linki_1'></a> +<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<span class='caption'> +She laid her head on his shoulder, sobbing, and talking incoherently. <i>Page 65</i> +<br /> +</span> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:2em; margin-top:1em;'>“DRAG” HARLAN</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p style=' font-size:1em;'>BY</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em;'>CHARLES ALDEN SELTZER</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em;'>AUTHOR OF</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>THE BOSS OF THE LAZY Y,</p> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>“FIREBRAND” TREVISON,</p> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>THE TRAIL HORDE,</p> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>THE RANCHMAN, <span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Etc</span>.</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>FRONTISPIECE BY</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>P. V. E. IVORY</p> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-emb.png' alt='' title='' /><br /> +<span class='caption'> + +<br /> +</span> +</div> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em;'>GROSSET & DUNLAP</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.0em;'>PUBLISHERS NEW YORK</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>Made in the United States of America</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>Copyright</p> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>A. C. McClurg & Co.</p> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>1921</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'>Published May, 1921</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p style=' font-size:0.8em;'><i>Copyrighted in Great Britain</i></p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em;'>CONTENTS</p> +</div> + +<p style='line-height: 1'> </p> + +<table border='0' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'> +<tr> + <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small;'>CHAPTER</span></td> + <td></td> + <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small;'>PAGE</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>I </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>A Desert Rider </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#I_A_DESERT_RIDER'>1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>II </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>A Man’s Reputation </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#II_A_MAN_S_REPUTATION'>9</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>III </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>A Girl Waits </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#III_A_GIRL_WAITS'>31</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>IV </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>His Shadow Before </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IV_HIS_SHADOW_BEFORE'>38</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>V </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>A Prison </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#V_A_PRISON'>48</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>VI </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Chain-Lightning </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VI_CHAINLIGHTNING'>58</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>VII </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Single-Handed </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VII_SINGLEHANDED'>66</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>VIII </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Barbara Is Puzzled </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VIII_BARBARA_IS_PUZZLED'>78</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>IX </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>An Unwelcome Guest </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IX_AN_UNWELCOME_GUEST'>88</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>X </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>On Guard </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#X_ON_GUARD'>96</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XI </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Intruder </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XI_THE_INTRUDER'>107</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XII </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Barbara Sees a Light </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XII_BARBARA_SEES_A_LIGHT'>114</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XIII </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Harlan Takes Charge </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIII_HARLAN_TAKES_CHARGE'>119</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XIV </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Shadows </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIV_SHADOWS'>129</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XV </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Linked </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XV_LINKED'>142</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XVI </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Deep Water </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVI_DEEP_WATER'>153</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XVII </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Forging a Letter </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVII_FORGING_A_LETTER'>159</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XVIII </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Harlan Rides Alone </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVIII_HARLAN_RIDES_ALONE'>169</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XIX </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Harlan Joins the Gang </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIX_HARLAN_JOINS_THE_GANG'>174</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XX </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Left-Handed </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XX_LEFTHANDED'>191</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XXI </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Black-Bearded Man </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXI_THE_BLACKBEARDED_MAN'>206</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XXII </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>A Dead Man Walks </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXII_A_DEAD_MAN_WALKS'>219</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XXIII </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Deveny Secedes </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXIII_DEVENY_SECEDES'>225</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XXIV </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Kidnapped </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXIV_KIDNAPPED'>229</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XXV </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Ambushed </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXV_AMBUSHED'>238</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XXVI </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Rogers Takes a Hand </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXVI_ROGERS_TAKES_A_HAND'>242</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XXVII </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>A Dual Tragedy </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXVII_A_DUAL_TRAGEDY'>248</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XXVIII </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Converging Trails </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXVIII_CONVERGING_TRAILS'>252</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XXIX </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>World’s End </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXIX_WORLD_S_END'>258</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XXX </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>The Ultimate Treachery </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXX_THE_ULTIMATE_TREACHERY'>263</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right'>XXXI </td> + <td valign='top' align='left'>Peace—and a Sunset </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXXI_PEACE_AND_A_SUNSET'>274</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div><span class='pagenum'><a id='page_1' name='page_1'></a>1</span></div> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:2em;'>“DRAG” HARLAN</p> +</div> + +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 0em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='I_A_DESERT_RIDER' id='I_A_DESERT_RIDER'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3>A DESERT RIDER</h3> +</div> + +<p>From out of the shimmering haze that veiled the +mystic eastern space came a big black horse bearing +a rider. Swinging wide, to avoid the feathery dust that +lay at the base of a huge sand dune, the black horse +loped, making no sound, and seeming to glide forward +without effort. Like a somber, gigantic ghost the animal +moved, heroic of mold, embodying the spirit of +the country, seeming to bear the sinister message of +the desert, the whispered promise of death, the lingering +threat, the grim mockery of life, and the conviction +of futility. +</p> +<p>The black horse had come far. The glossy coat of +him was thickly sprinkled with alkali dust, sifted upon +him by the wind of his passage through the desert; his +black muzzle was gray with it; ropes of it matted his +mane, his forelock had become a gray-tinged wisp +which he fretfully tossed; the dust had rimmed his eyes, +causing them to loom large and wild; and as his rider +pulled him to a halt on the western side of the sand +dune—where both horse and rider would not be visible +on the sky line—he drew a deep breath, shook +his head vigorously, and blew a thin stream of dust +from his nostrils. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_2' name='page_2'></a>2</span></p> +<p>With head and ears erect, his eyes flaming his undying +courage and his contempt for distance and the +burning heat that the midday sun poured upon him, he +gazed westward, snorting long breaths into his eager +lungs. +</p> +<p>The rider sat motionless upon him—rigid and alert. +His gaze also went into the west; and he blinked +against the white glare of sun and distance, squinting +his eyes and scanning the featureless waste with appraising +glances. +</p> +<p>In the breathless, dead calm of the desert there was +no sound or movement. On all sides the vast gray +waste stretched, a yawning inferno of dead, dry sand +overhung with a brassy, cloudless sky in which swam +the huge ball of molten silver that for ages had ruled +that baked and shriveled land. +</p> +<p>A score of miles westward—twoscore, perhaps—the +shadowy peaks of some mountains loomed upward +into the mystic haze, with purple bases melting into the +horizon; southward were other mountains, equally distant +and mysterious; northward—so far away that +they blurred in the vision—were still other mountains. +Intervening on all sides was the stretching, soundless, +aching void of desolation, carrying to the rider its lurking +threat of death, the promise of evil to come. +</p> +<p>The man, however, seemed unperturbed. In his +narrowed, squinting eyes as he watched the desert was +a gleam of comprehension, of knowledge intimate and +sympathetic. They glowed with the serene calm of +confidence; and far back in them lurked a glint of grim +mockery. It was as though they visualized the threatened +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_3' name='page_3'></a>3</span> +dangers upon which they looked, answering the +threat with contempt. +</p> +<p>The man was tall. His slim waist was girded by a +cartridge belt which was studded with leaden missiles +for the rifle that reposed in the saddle holster, and for +the two heavy pistols that sagged at his hips. A gray +woolen shirt adorned his broad shoulders; a scarlet +neckerchief at his throat which had covered his mouth +as he rode was now drooping on his chest; and the big, +wide-brimmed felt hat he wore was jammed far down +over his forehead. The well-worn leather chaps that +covered his legs could not conceal their sinewy strength, +nor could the gauntleted leather gloves on his hands +hide the capable size of them. +</p> +<p>He was a fixture of this great waste of world in +whose center he sat. He belonged to the country; he +was as much a part of it as the somber mountains, the +sun-baked sand, the dead lava, and the hardy, evil-looking +cacti growth that raised its spined and mocking +green above the arid stretch. He symbolized the spirit +of the country—from the slicker that bulged at the +cantle of the saddle behind him, to the capable gloved +hands that were now resting on the pommel of the +saddle—he represented the force which was destined +to conquer the waste places. +</p> +<p>For two days he had been fighting the desert; and +in the serene calm of his eyes was the identical indomitability +that had been in them when he had set forth. +As he peered westward the strong lines around his +mouth relaxed, his lips opened a trifle, and a mirthless +smile wreathed them. He patted the shoulder of the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_4' name='page_4'></a>4</span> +black horse, and the dead dust ballooned from the +animal’s coat and floated heavily downward. +</p> +<p>“We’re about halfway, Purgatory,” he said aloud, +his voice coming flat and expressionless in the dead, +vacuum-like silence. He did not cease to peer westward +nor to throw sharp glances north and south. He +drew off a glove and pushed his hat back, using a +pocket handkerchief to brush the dust from his face +and running the fingers of the hand through his hair—thereby +producing another ballooning dust cloud which +splayed heavily downward. +</p> +<p>“What’s botherin’ me is that shootin’,” he went on, +still speaking to the black horse. “We sure enough +heard it—didn’t we?” He laughed, again patting the +black’s shoulder. “An’ you heard it first—as usual—with +me trailin’ along about half a second behind. But +we sure heard ’em, eh?” +</p> +<p>The black horse whinnied lowly, whereupon the +rider dismounted, and stretched himself. +</p> +<p>From a water-bag at the cantle of the saddle he +poured water into his big hat, watching sympathetically +while the big horse drank. Some few drops that still +remained in the hat after the horse had finished he +playfully shook on the animal’s head, smiling widely +at the whinny of delight that greeted the action. He +merely wet his own lips from the water-bag. Then for +an instant, after replacing the bag, he stood at the +black’s shoulder, his face serious. +</p> +<p>“We’ll hit the Kelso water-hole about sundown, I +reckon, Purgatory,” he said. “That’s certain. There’s +only one thing can stop us—that shootin’. If it’s +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_5' name='page_5'></a>5</span> +Apaches, why, I reckon there’s a long dry spell ahead +of us; but if it’s only Greasers——” +</p> +<p>He grinned with grim eloquence, patted the black +again, and climbed into the saddle. Again, as before, +he sat silent upon his mount, scanning the sun-scorched +waste; and then he rode forward. +</p> +<p>An hour later, during which he loped the black horse +slowly, he again drew the animal to a halt and gazed +around him, frowning, his eyes gleaming with a savage +intolerance. +</p> +<p>The shooting he had heard some time previous to +his appearance at the base of the big sand dune had +not been done by Indians. He was almost convinced +of that now. Or, if Indians had done the shooting, +they had not yet observed him. The fact that he had +seen no smoke signals proved that. +</p> +<p>Still, there was the deep silence on every hand to +bring doubt into his mind; and he knew that Indians—especially +Apaches—were tricky, sometimes foregoing +the smoke signals to lie in ambush. And very likely—if +they had seen him coming—they were doing that +very thing: waiting for him to ride into the trap they +had prepared. He had not been able to locate the +point from which the reports had come. It had seemed +to him that they had come from a point directly westward; +but he could not be sure, for he had seen no +smoke. +</p> +<p>He talked no more to the horse, sitting rigidly in +the saddle, erect, his head bent a little forward, his +chin thrusting, his lips curving with a bitterly savage +snarl. He felt the presence of living things with him +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_6' name='page_6'></a>6</span> +in the desert; a presentiment had gripped him—a conviction +that living men were close and hostile. +</p> +<p>Reaching downward, he drew the rifle from the +saddle holster and examined its mechanism. Placing it +across his knee, he drew out his heavy pistols, one after +another, slowly twirling the cylinders. He replaced +the pistols, making sure that the holster flaps were out +of the way so that they would not catch or drag at the +weapons when he wanted to use them—and with the +rifle resting across his legs near the saddle horn, he +rode slowly forward. +</p> +<p>He swung wide of even the small sand dunes as he +passed them, and he kept a vigilant eye upon the dead +rocks that dotted the level at infrequent intervals. +Even the cactus clumps received flattering attention; +and the little stretches of greasewood that came within +range of his vision were examined closely. +</p> +<p>At the end of half an hour he had seen nothing unusual. +Here and there he had noticed a rattler lurking +in the shade of a rock or partly concealed under the +thorny blade of a sprawling cactus; and he had seen a +sage hen nestling in the hot sand. But these were fixtures—as +was also the Mexican eagle that winged its +slow way in mile-wide circles in the glaring, heat-pulsing +sky. +</p> +<p>The rider again halted the black horse. The presentiment +of evil had grown upon him, and he twisted +around in the saddle, sweeping the desolate vast level +with cold, alert, puzzled eyes. +</p> +<p>There was no object near him behind which an +enemy might lie concealed; the gray floor of the desert +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span> +within many hundred miles of him was smooth and flat +and obstructionless. Far away, half a mile, perhaps, +he saw a thrusting knob of rock, with some cactus +fringing it. From where he sat in the saddle it seemed +that the rock might be the peak of a mountain reaching +upward out of the sea of sand and desert waste—but +it was barren on sides and top, and would afford no +concealment for an enemy, except at its base. And +even the base was not large enough to conceal more +than a few men. +</p> +<p>The rider gazed long at the rock, but could detect no +sign of movement near it. He had turned from it, to +look again into the western distance, when Purgatory +whinnied lowly. +</p> +<p>Flashing around in the saddle, the rider again faced +the rock. And he saw movement there now. The distance +was great, but the clarity of the atmosphere +brought a moving object distinctly into his vision. The +object was a man, and, like a huge fly, he was crawling +rapidly up the sloping side of the rock, toward its +peak, which flattened abruptly at the summit. +</p> +<p>The man bore a rifle. The rider could see it dragging +from the man’s hand; and in a flash the rider was +out of the saddle, throwing himself flat behind a low +ridge of sand, his own rifle coming to a rest on a small +boulder as he trained its muzzle upon the man, who +by this time had reached the summit of the rocks in +the distance. The rider waited, nursing the stock of +the rifle, his eyes blazing, while Purgatory, seemingly +aware of an impending tragedy, moved slowly away as +though understanding that he must not expose himself. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span></p> +<p>The rider waited, anticipating the bullet that would +presently whine toward him. And then he heard the +report of the man’s rifle, saw that the smoke streak +had been directed downward, as though the man on the +summit of the rock were shooting at something below +him. +</p> +<p>The rider had been pressing the trigger of his own +weapon when he saw the smoke streak. He withheld +his fire when he divined that the man was not shooting +at him; and when he saw the man on the rock shoot +again—downward once more—the rider frowned +with embarrassment. +</p> +<p>“Don’t even know I’m here!” he mused. “An’ me +gettin’ ready to salivate him!” +</p> +<p>He got to his knees and watched, curiosity gleaming +in his eyes. He saw the man on the rock fire again—downward—and +he noted a smoke spurt answer the +shot, coming upward from the base of the rock. The +rider got to his feet and peered intently at the rock. +And now he saw another man crouching near its base. +This man, however, was not the one the man on the +summit of the rock was shooting at, for smoke streaks +were issuing from a weapon in that man’s hand also, +but they were horizontal streaks. +</p> +<p>Therefore the rider divined that the two men must +be shooting at another who was on the far side of the +rock; and he ran to Purgatory, speaking no word until +he had vaulted into the saddle. Then he spoke shortly. +</p> +<p>“They’re white men, Purgatory, an’ they’re havin’ +a private rukus, looks like. But we’re doin’ some investigatin’ +just to see if the game’s on the level.” +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='II_A_MAN_S_REPUTATION' id='II_A_MAN_S_REPUTATION'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<h3>A MAN’S REPUTATION</h3> +</div> + +<p>Purgatory moved fast, but warily. The black +horse seemed to have caught something of his +rider’s caution. For part of the distance toward the +rock the animal traveled straight, loping rapidly, but +as he neared the little stretch of broken country that +surrounded the rock he began to sheer off, advancing +with mincing steps, his ears erect, his eyes wide and +alert, snorting suspiciously. +</p> +<p>Knowing his horse, the rider made no attempt to +guide him; he knew Purgatory was alert to any hostile +movement on the part of the men who were shooting, +and that at the first sign of danger to himself or to his +rider he would do what was required of him. +</p> +<p>The man on the summit of the rock was still shooting, +though intermittently. It seemed to the rider that +the man’s target must be elusive or concealed, for the +shooter’s actions showed that he was irritated. The +other man, too, was still shooting. The rider noted +that he, too, seemed to be meeting with failure, for as +the rider drew nearer he heard the man curse. +</p> +<p>Neither of the two men who were visible to the rider +had seen him—neither of them had heard the big +black horse gliding over the deep sand of the desert. +The rider grinned with grim mirthlessness, edging Purgatory +around so that the two men, their backs toward +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span> +him, were not more than twenty or thirty feet away +and entirely exposed to his view. +</p> +<p>So intent were they upon their work that they did +not even hear the rider’s low laugh as he brought the +big black horse to a halt and sat quietly in the saddle, +a heavy pistol in each hand, watching them. +</p> +<p>The rock, the rider noted, was a huge granite block, +rotted from long exposure to the elements, seamed and +scarred and cracked. The action of the eternally moving +sand had worn an irregular-shaped concave into its +southern wall, so that the summit overhung the side. +The man on the summit was lying flat on his stomach, +leaning far over, still shooting downward. The other +man, who was standing at the base, was flattened +against it, facing the concave side, shooting occasionally, +and cursing volubly. +</p> +<p>The rider was curious. Glancing sidelong, southward, +he saw two horses not more than a hundred +yards away. They were in a depression, behind a sand +ridge, which accounted for the fact that the rider had +not seen them before. +</p> +<p>Sight of the horses brought a widening grin to the +rider’s face. He had thought, at first, that the two +men were shooting at another man, concealed behind +the rock; but the fact that there were only two horses +indicated that he had been in error. No man would +be foolhardy enough to attempt to cross the desert on +foot, and unless a man were a friend he would not be +carried upon another man’s horse. Therefore, it +seemed to be evident that the target at which the men +were shooting was not another man. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span></p> +<p>And now, convinced that the men had cornered an +animal of some kind, and that they feared it too +greatly to face it openly, the rider laughed loudly and +called to the men, his voice freighted with sarcasm. +</p> +<p>“Scared?” he said. “Oh, don’t be. If you’ll back +off a little an’ give him room, he’ll just naturally slope, +an’ give you a chance to get to your cayuses.” +</p> +<p>Both men wheeled almost at the same instant. The +man at the base of the rock snarled—after the first +gasp of astonishment, baring his teeth in hideous mirth +and embarrassment; the other man, startled and caught +off balance at the sound of the rider’s voice, slipped, +tried to catch himself, failed, and tumbled awkwardly +down, scrambling and cursing, to the sand within a few +feet of the rider. +</p> +<p>Sitting in the sand at the base of the rock, the man +who had fallen also snarled as he sat, looking at the +rider. +</p> +<p>Neither of the two men moved after the involuntary +muscular action that had resulted from their astonishment. +The man at the base of the rock stood +in the position in which he had found himself when +he had wheeled. +</p> +<p>The pistol in his right hand was held close to his +side, the muzzle directed at the rider. +</p> +<p>But a change was coming over the man’s face. The +color was slowly going out of it, the lips were loosening +as his jaws dropped, his body began to sag, and his +eyes began to widen with fear, stark and naked. At +length, the rider now watching him with a gaze in +which there began to glow recognition and contempt, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span> +the man dropped his hands to his sides and leaned +against the rock. +</p> +<p>“‘Drag’ Harlan!” he muttered hoarsely. +</p> +<p>The rider watched, his eyes glittering coldly, his lips +twisting in a crooked sneer. Amusement was his dominating +emotion, but there was hate in his gaze, mingling +with a malignant joy and triumph. The pistols +in his hands became steady as his wrist muscles stiffened; +and he watched the two men warily, apparently +looking straight at the standing man, but seeing the +sitting man also. +</p> +<p>And now a silence fell—a strained, premonitory +silence that had in it a hint of imminent tragedy. The +sitting man stiffened, divining the promise of violence; +the standing man shrank back a little and looked downward +at the pistol in his right hand. +</p> +<p>The rider saw the glance and laughed lowly. +</p> +<p>“Keep her right where she is, Dolver,” he warned. +“You lift her one little wee lift, an’ I bore you plumb +in the brain-box. Sort of flabbergasted, eh? Didn’t +expect to run into me again so soon?” +</p> +<p>He laughed as the other cringed, his face dead +white, his eyes fixed on the rider with a sort of dread +fascination. +</p> +<p>“Dolver, didn’t you know when you got my little +partner, Davey Langan, that I’d be comin’ for you?” +said the rider in a slow, drawling whisper. “In the +back you got him, not givin’ him a chance. You’re +gettin’ yours now. I’m givin’ you a chance to take it +like a man—standin’, with your face to me. Lift her +now—damn you!” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span></p> +<p>There was no change in his expression as he watched +the man he had called Dolver. There came no change +in the cold, steady gleam of his eyes as he saw the man +stiffen and swing the muzzle of his pistol upward with +a quick, jerky motion. But he sneered as with the +movement he sent a bullet into the man’s chest; his +lips curving with slight irony when Dolver’s gun went +off, the bullet throwing up sand at Purgatory’s forehoofs. +</p> +<p>His eyes grew hard as he saw Dolver stagger, drop +his pistol, and clutch at his chest; and he watched with +seeming indifference as the man slowly sank to his +knees and stretched out, face down, in the dust at the +base of the rock. +</p> +<p>His lips were stiff with bitter rage, however, as he +faced the other man, who had not moved. +</p> +<p>“Get up on your hind legs, you yellow coyote!” he +commanded. +</p> +<p>For an instant it seemed that the other man was to +share the fate of the first. The man seemed to think +so, too, for he got up trembling, his hands outstretched +along the rock, the fingers outspread and twitching +from the paralysis of fear that had seized him. +</p> +<p>“Shoot your gab off quick!” commanded the rider. +“Who are you?” +</p> +<p>“I’m Laskar,” the man muttered. +</p> +<p>“Where you from?” +</p> +<p>“Lamo.” +</p> +<p>The rider’s eyes quickened. “Where did you meet +up with that scum?” He indicated Dolver. +</p> +<p>“In town.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span></p> +<p>“Lamo?” +</p> +<p>The man nodded. +</p> +<p>“How long ago?” asked the rider. +</p> +<p>“’Bout a week.” +</p> +<p>The man’s voice was hoarse; he seemed reluctant to +talk more, and he cast furtive, dreading glances toward +the base of the rock where Dolver had stood before +the rider had surprised the men. +</p> +<p>Watching the man narrowly, the rider noted his +nervous glance, and his shrinking, dreading manner. +Harlan’s eyes gleamed with suspicion, and in a flash +he was off the black and standing before Laskar, forbidding +and menacing. +</p> +<p>“Take off your gun-belt an’ chuck it under my +horse!” he directed sharply. “There’s somethin’ +goin’ on here that ain’t been mentioned. I’m findin’ +out what it is.” +</p> +<p>He watched while the man unbuckled his cartridge +belt and threw it—the pistol still in the holster—into +the sand at Purgatory’s hoofs. Then he stepped to the +man, sheathed one of his pistols, and ran the free hand +over the other’s clothing in search of other weapons. +Finding none, he stooped and took up Dolver’s pistol +and rifle that had fallen from the man’s hands when he +had tumbled off the rock, throwing them near where +the cartridge belt had fallen. +</p> +<p>“You freeze there while I take a look around this +rock!” he commanded, with a cold look at the man. +</p> +<p>Half a dozen steps took him around the base of the +rock. He went boldly, though his muscles were tensed +and his eyes alert for surprises. But he had not taken +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span> +a dozen steps in all when he halted and stiffened, his +lips setting into straight, hard lines. +</p> +<p>For, stretched out on his left side in the sand close +to the base of the rock—under the flattened summit +which had afforded him protection from the bullets the +man with the rifle had been sending at him—was a +man. +</p> +<p>The man was apparently about fifty, with a seamed, +pain-lined face. His beard was stained with dust, his +hair was gray with it; his clothing looked as though +he had been dragged through it. He was hatless, and +one of his boots was off. The foot had been bandaged +with a handkerchief, and through the handkerchief +the dark stains of a wound appeared. +</p> +<p>The man’s shirt was open in front; and the rider +saw that another wound gaped in his chest, near the +heart. The man had evidently made some attempt to +care for that wound, too, for a piece of cloth from his +shirt had been cut away, to permit him to get at the +wound easily. +</p> +<p>The man’s left side seemed to be helpless, for the +arm was twisted queerly, the palm of the hand turned +limply upward; but when the rider came upon him the +man was trying to tuck a folded paper into one of the +cylinders of a pistol. +</p> +<p>He had laid the weapon in the sand, and with his +right hand was working with the cylinder and the +paper. When he saw the rider he sneered and ceased +working with the pistol, looking up into the rider’s +face, his eyes glowing with defiance. +</p> +<p>“No chance for that even, eh?” he said, glancing +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span> +at the paper and the pistol. “Things is goin’ plumb +wrong!” +</p> +<p>He sagged back, resting his weight on the right elbow, +and looked steadily at the rider—the look of a +wounded animal defying his pursuers. +</p> +<p>“Get goin’!” he jeered. “Do your damnedest! I +heard that sneak, Dolver, yappin’ to you. You’re +‘Drag’ Harlan—gun-fighter, outlaw, killer! I’ve +heard of you,” he went on as he saw Harlan scowl +and stiffen. “Your reputation has got all over. I +reckon you’re in the game to salivate me.” +</p> +<p>Harlan sheathed his gun. +</p> +<p>“You’re talkin’ extravagant, mister man.” And now +he permitted a cold smile to wreathe his lips. “If it’ll +do you any good to know,” he added, “I’ve just put +Dolver out of business.” +</p> +<p>“I heard that, too,” declared the man, laughing bitterly. +“I heard you tellin’ Dolver. He killed your +partner—or somethin’. That’s personal, an’ I ain’t +interested. Get goin’—the sooner the better. If +you’d hand it to me right now, I’d be much obliged to +you; for I’m goin’ fast. This hole in my chest—which +I got last night while I was sleepin’—will do +the business without any help from you.” +</p> +<p>After a pause for breath, the man began to speak +again, railing at his would-be murderers. He was +talking ramblingly when there came a sound from the +opposite side of the rock—a grunt, a curse, and, +almost instantly, a shriek. +</p> +<p>The wounded man raised himself and threw a glance +of startled inquiry at Harlan: “What’s that?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span></p> +<p>Harlan watched the man steadily. +</p> +<p>“I reckon that’ll be that man Laskar,” he said +slowly. “I lifted his gun an’ his rifle, an’ Dolver’s +gun, an’ throwed them under Purgatory—my horse. +Laskar has tried to get them, an’ Purgatory’s raised +some objection.” +</p> +<p>He stepped back and peered around the rock. +Laskar was lying in the sand near the base of the +rock, doubled up and groaning loudly, while Purgatory, +his nostrils distended, his eyes ablaze, was standing +over the weapons that lay in the sand, watching +the groaning man malignantly. +</p> +<p>Harlan returned to the wounded man, to find that +he had collapsed and was breathing heavily. +</p> +<p>For some minutes Harlan stood, looking down at +him; then he knelt in the sand beside him and lifted +his head. The man’s eyes were closed, and Harlan +laid his head down again and examined the wound in +his chest. +</p> +<p>He shook his head as he got up, went to Purgatory, +and got some water, which he used to wipe away the +dust and blood which had become matted over the +wound. He shook his head again after bathing the +wound. The wound meant death for the man within +a short time. Yet Harlan forced some water into the +half-open mouth and bathed the man’s face with it. +</p> +<p>For a long time after Harlan ceased to work with +him the man lay in a stupor-like silence, limp and +motionless, though his eyes opened occasionally, and +by the light in them Harlan knew the man was aware +of what he had been doing. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span></p> +<p>The sun was going now; it had become a golden, +blazing ball which was sinking over the peaks of some +distant mountains, its fiery rays stabbing the pale azure +of the sky with brilliantly glowing shafts that threw off +ever-changing seas of color that blended together in +perfect harmony. +</p> +<p>Harlan alternately watched the wounded man and +Laskar. +</p> +<p>Laskar was still groaning, and finally Harlan +walked to him and pushed him with a contemptuous +foot. +</p> +<p>“Get up, you sneak!” he ordered. And Laskar, +groaning, holding his chest—where Purgatory’s hoofs +had struck him—staggered to his feet and looked +with piteously pleading eyes at the big man who stood +near him, unmoved by the spectacle of suffering he +presented. +</p> +<p>And when he found that Harlan gave him no sympathy, +he cursed horribly. This drew a cold threat +from Harlan. +</p> +<p>“Shut your rank mouth or I’ll turn Purgatory loose +on you—again. Lookin’ for sympathy, eh? How +much sympathy did you give that hombre who’s cashin’ +in behind the rocks? None—damn you!” +</p> +<p>It was the first flash of feeling Harlan had exhibited, +and Laskar shrank from him in terror. +</p> +<p>But Harlan followed him, grasping him by a shoulder +and gripping it with iron fingers, so that Laskar +screamed with pain. +</p> +<p>“Who is that man?” Harlan motioned toward the +rock. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span></p> +<p>“Lane Morgan. He owns the Rancho Seco—about +forty miles south of Lamo,” returned Laskar +after a long look into Harlan’s eyes. +</p> +<p>“Who set you guys onto him—what you wantin’ +him for?” +</p> +<p>“I don’t know,” whined Laskar. “Day before yesterday +Dolver an’ me meets up in Lamo, an’ Dolver +asks me to help him give Morgan his pass-out checks +on the ride over to Pardo—which Morgan’s intendin’ +to make. I ain’t got any love for Morgan, an’ so I +took Dolver up.” +</p> +<p>“You’re a liar!” +</p> +<p>Harlan’s fingers were sinking into Laskar’s shoulder +again, and once more the man screamed with pain and +impotent fury. +</p> +<p>“I swear—” began Laskar. +</p> +<p>Harlan’s grin was bitterly contemptuous. He placed +the other hand on Laskar’s shoulder and forced the +man to look into his eyes. +</p> +<p>“You’re a liar, but I’m lettin’ you off. You’re a +sneak with Greaser blood in you. I don’t ever want to +see you again. I’m goin’ to Lamo—soon as this man +Morgan cashes in. I’ll be there some time tomorrow. +Lamo wouldn’t please me none if I was to find you +there when I ride in. You slope, now—an’ keep on +hittin’ the breeze until there ain’t no more of it. I’d +blow you apart if this man Morgan was anything to +me. But it ain’t my game unless I see you again.” +</p> +<p>He watched until Laskar, still holding his chest, +walked to where the two horses were concealed, and +mounted one of them. When Laskar, leaning over +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span> +the pommel of the saddle, had grown dim in the haze +that was settling over the desert, Harlan scowled and +returned to the wounded man. +</p> +<p>To his astonishment, Morgan was conscious—and +a cold calmness seemed to have come over him. His +eyes were filled with a light that told of complete +knowledge and resignation. He half smiled as Harlan +knelt beside him. +</p> +<p>“I’m about due, I reckon,” he said. “I heard you +talkin’ to the man you just let get away. It don’t +make any difference—about <i>him</i>. I reckon he was +just a tool, anyway. There’s someone behind this +bigger than Dolver an’ that man Laskar. He didn’t +tell you?” +</p> +<p>Harlan shook his head negatively, watching the +other intently. +</p> +<p>“I didn’t reckon he would,” said Morgan. “But +there’s <i>somebody</i>.” He gazed long into Harlan’s face, +and the latter gazed steadily back at him. He seemed +to be searching Harlan’s face for signs of character. +</p> +<p>Harlan stood the probing glance well—so that at +last Morgan smiled, saying slowly: “It’s funny—damned +funny. About faces, I mean. Your reputation—it’s +bad. I’ve been hearin’ about you for a +couple of years now. An’ I’ve been lookin’ at you an’ +tryin’ to make myself say, ‘Yes, he’s the kind of a +guy which would do the things they say he’s done.’ +</p> +<p>“I can’t make myself say it; I can’t even make myself +think it. Either you’re a mighty good actor, or +you’re the worst-judged man I ever met. Which +is it?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span></p> +<p>“Mostly all of us get reputations we don’t deserve,” +said Harlan lowly. +</p> +<p>Morgan’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “Meanin’ +that you don’t deserve yours?” he said. +</p> +<p>“I reckon there’s been a heap of lyin’ goin’ on about +me.” +</p> +<p>For a long time Morgan watched the other, studying +him. The long twilight of the desert descended +and found them—Morgan staring at Harlan; the latter +enduring the gaze—for he knew that the end +would not long be delayed. +</p> +<p>At last Morgan sighed. +</p> +<p>“Well,” he said, “I’ve got to take a chance on you. +An’, somehow, it seems to me that I ain’t takin’ much +of a chance, either. For a man that’s supposed to be +the hell-raisin’ outlaw that folks say you are, you’ve +got the straightest eyes I ever seen. I’ve seen killers—an’ +outlaws, an’ gun-fighters, an’ I never seen one +that could look at a man like you’ve looked at me. +Harlan,” he went on slowly, “I’m goin’ to tell you +about some gold I’ve hid—a hundred thousand +dollars!” +</p> +<p>Keenly, suspicion lurking deep in his eyes, his mouth +half open, seemingly ready to snap shut the instant he +detected greed or cupidity in Harlan’s eyes, he watched +the latter. +</p> +<p>It seemed that he expected Harlan to betray a lust +for the gold he had mentioned; and he was ready to +close his lips and to die with his secret. And when he +saw that apparently Harlan was unmoved, that he +betrayed, seemingly, not the slightest interest, that +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span> +even his eyelids did not flicker at his words, nor his +face change color—Morgan drew a tremulous sigh. +</p> +<p>“You’ve got me guessin’,” he confessed weakly. +“I don’t know whether you’re a devil or a saint.” +</p> +<p>“I ain’t claimin’ nothin’,” said Harlan. “An’ I +ain’t carin’ a damn about your gold. I’d a heap rather +you wouldn’t mention it. More than one man has +busted his character chasin’ that rainbow.” +</p> +<p>“You ain’t interested?” demanded Morgan. +</p> +<p>“Not none.” +</p> +<p>Morgan’s eyes glowed with an eager light. For +now that Harlan betrayed lack of interest, Morgan +was convinced—almost—that the man’s reputation +for committing evil deeds had been exaggerated. +</p> +<p>“You’ve got to be interested,” he declared, lifting +himself on his good arm and leaning toward Harlan. +“It ain’t the gold that is botherin’ me so much, anyway—it’s +my daughter. +</p> +<p>“It’s all my own fault, too,” he went on when he +saw Harlan’s eyes quicken. “I’ve felt all along that +somethin’ was wrong, but I didn’t have sense enough +to look into it. An’ now, trustin’ folks so much, an’ +not payin’ strict attention to what was goin’ on +around me, I’ve got to the point where I’ve got to +put everything into the hands of a man I never saw +before—an outlaw.” +</p> +<p>“There ain’t nobody crowdin’ you to put anything +into his hands,” sneered Harlan. “I ain’t a heap +anxious to go around buttin’ into trouble for you. +Keep your yap shut, an’ die like a man!” +</p> +<p>Morgan laughed, almost triumphantly. “I’ll do +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span> +my dyin’ like a man, all right—don’t be afraid of +that. You want to hear what I’ve got to tell you?” +</p> +<p>“I’ve got to listen. Shoot!” +</p> +<p>“There’s a gang of outlaws operatin’ in the Lamo +country. Luke Deveny is the chief. It’s generally +known that Deveny’s the boss, but he keeps his tracks +pretty well covered, an’ Sheriff Gage ain’t been able +to get anything on him. Likely Gage is scared of +him, anyway. +</p> +<p>“Anyway, Gage don’t do nothin’. Deveny’s a bad +man with a gun; there ain’t his equal in the Territory. +He’s got a fellow that runs with him—Strom Rogers—who’s +almost as good as he is with a gun. They’re +holy terrors; they’ve got the cattlemen for two hundred +miles around eatin’ out of their hands. They’re +roarin’, rippin’ devils! +</p> +<p>“There ain’t no man knows how big their gang is—seems +like half the people in the Lamo country +must belong to it. There’s spies all around; there +ain’t a thing done that the outlaws don’t seem to +know of it. They drive stock off right in front of +the eyes of the owners; they rob the banks in the +country; they drink an’ kill an’ riot without anyone +interferin’. +</p> +<p>“There ain’t anyone knows where their hang-out +is—no one seems to know anything about them, except +that they’re on hand when there’s any devilment +to be done. +</p> +<p>“I’ve got to talk fast, for I ain’t got long. I’ve +never had any trouble with Deveny or Rogers, or any +of the rest of them, because I’ve always tended to my +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span> +own business. I’ve seen the thing gettin’ worse an’ +worse, though; an’ I ought to have got out of there +when I had a chance. Lately there ain’t been no +chance. They watch me like a hawk. I can’t trust +my men. The Rancho Seco is a mighty big place, an’ +I’ve got thirty men workin’ for me. But I can’t trust +a damned one of them. +</p> +<p>“About a year ago I found some gold in the Cisco +Mountains near the ranch. It was nugget gold—only +a pocket. I packed it home, lettin’ nobody see +me doin’ it; an’ I got it all hid in the house, except +the last batch, before anybody knowed anything about +it. Then, comin’ home with the last of it, the damned +bottom had to bust out of the bag right near the corral +gate, where Meeder Lawson, my foreman, was +standin’ watchin’ me. +</p> +<p>“It turned out that he’d been watchin’ me for a +long time. I never liked the cuss, but he’s a good +cowman, an’ I had to hold onto him. When he saw +the gold droppin’ out an’ hittin’ the ground like big +hailstones, he grinned that chessie-cat grin he’s got, +an’ wanted to know if I was through totin’ it home. +</p> +<p>“I wanted to know how he knowed there was more +of it, an’ he said he’d been keepin’ an eye on me, +an’ knowed there was a heap more of it somewhere +around. +</p> +<p>“I fired him on the spot. There’d have been gunplay, +but I got the drop on him an’ he had to slope. +Well, the next mornin’ Luke Deveny rode up to where +I was saddlin’, an’ told me I’d have to take Lawson +back. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span></p> +<p>“I done so, for I knowed there’d be trouble with +the outlaws if I didn’t. I ain’t never been able to +get any of that gold to the assayer. They’ve been +watchin’ me like buzzards on a limb over some carrion. +I don’t get out of their sight. +</p> +<p>“An’ now they’ve finally got me. I’ve got a little +of the gold in my pocket now—here it is.” He drew +out a small buckskin bag and passed it to Harlan, +who took it and held it loosely in his hands, not taking +his gaze from Morgan. +</p> +<p>“Keep a-goin’,” suggested Harlan. +</p> +<p>“Interested, eh?” grinned Morgan; “I knowed +you’d be. Well, here I am—I didn’t get to the assay +office at Pardo; an’ I’ll never get there now.” He +paused and then went on: +</p> +<p>“Now they’re after Barbara, my daughter. Deveny—an’ +Strom Rogers, an’ some more—all of +them, I reckon. I ought to have got out long ago. +But it’s too late now, I reckon. +</p> +<p>“That damned Deveny—he’s a wolf with women. +Handsome as hell, with ways that take with most any +woman that meets him. An’ he’s as smooth an’ cold +an’ heartless as the devil himself. He ain’t got no +pity for nobody or nothin’. An’ Strom Rogers runs +him a close second. An’ there’s more of them almost +as bad. +</p> +<p>“They watch every trail that runs from the Rancho +Seco to—to anywhere. If I ride north there’s someone +watchin’ me. If I ride south there’s a man on +my trail. If I go east or west I run into a man or +two who’s takin’ interest in me. When I go to Lamo, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span> +there’ll be half a dozen men strike town about the +same time. +</p> +<p>“I can’t prove they are Deveny’s men—but I +know it, for they’re always around. An’ it’s the same +way with Barbara—she can’t go anywhere without +Deveny, or Rogers—or some of them—ain’t trailin’ +her. +</p> +<p>“As I said, the sheriff can’t do anything—or he +won’t. He looks worried when I meet him, an’ gets +out of my way, for fear I’ll ask him to do somethin’. +</p> +<p>“That’s the way it stands. An’ now Barbara will +have to play it a lone hand against them. Bill Morgan—that’s +my son—ain’t home. He’s gallivantin’ +around the country, doin’ some secret work for the +governor. Somethin’ about rustlers an’ outlaws. He +ought to be home now, to protect Barbara. But instead +he’s wastin’ his time somewheres else when he +ought to be here—in Lamo—where’s there’s plenty +of the kind of guys he’s lookin’ for. +</p> +<p>“There’s only one man in the country I trust. He’s +John Haydon, of the Star ranch—about fifteen miles +west of the Rancho Seco. Seems to me that Haydon’s +square. He’s an upstandin’ man of about thirty, an’ +he’s dead stuck on Barbara. Seems to me that if it +wasn’t for Haydon, Deveny, or Lawson, or Rogers, +or some of them scum would have run off with Barbara +long ago. +</p> +<p>“You see how she shapes up?” he queried as he +watched Harlan’s face. +</p> +<p>“Looks bad for Barbara,” said Harlan slowly. +</p> +<p>Morgan writhed and was silent for a time. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span></p> +<p>“Look here, Harlan,” he finally said; “you’re considered +to be a hell-raiser yourself, but I can see in +your eyes that you ain’t takin’ advantage of women. +An’ Harlan”—Morgan’s voice quavered—“there’s +my little Barbara all alone to take care of herself +with that gang of wolves around. I’m wantin’ you to +go to the Rancho Seco an’ look around. My wife +died last year. There’s mebbe two or three guys +around the ranch would stick to Barbara, but that’s +all. Take a look at John Haydon, an’ if you think +he’s on the level—an’ you want to drift on—turn +things over to him.” +</p> +<p>Morgan shuddered, and was silent for a time, his +lips tight-shut, his face whitening in the dusk as he +fought the pain that racked him. When he at last +spoke again his voice was so weak that Harlan had +to kneel and lean close to him to hear the low-spoken +words that issued from between his quavering lips: +</p> +<p>“Harlan—you’re white; you’ve got to be white—to +Barbara! That paper I was tryin’ to stuff into my +gun—when you come around the rock. You take it. +It’ll tell you where the gold is. You’ll find my will—in +my desk in my office—off the <i>patio</i>. Everything +goes to Barbara. Everybody knows that. Haydon +knows it—Deveny’s found it out. You can’t get +me back—it’s too far. Plant me here—an’ tell +Barbara.” He laughed hollowly. “I reckon that’s +all.” He felt for one of Harlan’s hands, found it, +and gripped it with all his remaining strength. His +voice was hoarse, quavering: +</p> +<p>“You won’t refuse, Harlan? You can’t refuse! +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span> +Why, my little Barbara will be all alone, man! What +a damned fool I’ve been not to look out for her!” +</p> +<p>Night had come, and Morgan could not see Harlan’s +face. But he was conscious of the firm grip of +Harlan’s hands, and he laughed lowly and thankfully. +</p> +<p>“You’ll do it—for Barbara—won’t you? Say +you will, man! Let me hear you say it—now!” +</p> +<p>“I’m givin’ you my word,” returned Harlan slowly. +And now he leaned still closer to the dying man and +whispered long to him. +</p> +<p>When he concluded Morgan fought hard to raise +himself to a sitting posture; he strained, dragging +himself in the sand in an effort to see Harlan’s face. +But the black desert night had settled over them, and +all Morgan could see of Harlan was the dim outlines +of his head. +</p> +<p>“Say it again, man! Say it again, an’ light a match +so’s I can see you while you’re sayin’ it!” +</p> +<p>There was a pause. Then a match flared its light +revealing Harlan’s face, set in serious lines. +</p> +<p>“I wouldn’t lie to you—now—Morgan,” he said; +“I’m goin’ to the Lamo country to bust up Deveny’s +gang.” +</p> +<p>Morgan stared hard at the other while the flickering +light lasted with a strained intensity that transfigured +his face, suffusing it with a glow that could +not have been more eloquent with happiness had the +supreme Master of the universe drawn back the mysterious +veil of life to permit him to look upon the great +secret. +</p> +<p>When the match flickered and went out, and the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span> +darkness of the desert reigned again, Morgan sank +back with a tremulous, satisfied sigh. +</p> +<p>“I’m goin’ now,” he said; “I’m goin’—knowin’ +God has been good to me.” He breathed fast, gaspingly. +And for a moment he spoke hurriedly, as +though fearful he would not be given time to say +what he wanted to say: +</p> +<p>“Someone plugged me—last night while I was +sleepin’. Shot me in the chest—here. Didn’t give +me no chance. There was three of them. My fire had +gone out an’ I couldn’t see their faces. Likely Laskar +an’ Dolver was two. The other one must have +sloped. It was him shot me. Tried to knife me, too; +but I fought him, an’ he broke away. It happened +behind a rock—off to the left—a red boulder. +</p> +<p>“I grabbed at him an’ caught somethin’. What it +was busted. I couldn’t wait to find out what it was. +I’m hopin’ it’s somethin’ that’ll help you to find out +who the man was. I ain’t goin’ to be mean—just +when I’m dyin’; but if you was to look for that +thing, find it, an’ could tell who the man is, mebbe +some day you’d find it agreeable to pay him for what +he done to me.” +</p> +<p>He became silent; no sound except his fast, labored +breathing broke the dead calm of the desert night. +</p> +<p>“Somethin’ more than the gold an’ Barbara back +of it all,” he muttered thickly, seeming to lapse into +a state of semiconsciousness in which the burden that +was upon his mind took the form of involuntary +speech: “Somethin’ big back of it—somethin’ they +ain’t sayin’ nothin’ about. But Harlan—he’ll take +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span> +care of—” He paused; then his voice leaped. “Why, +there’s Barbara now! Why, honey, I thought—I—why——” +</p> +<p>His voice broke, trailing off into incoherence. +</p> +<p>After a while Harlan rose to his feet. An hour later +he found the red rock Morgan had spoken of—and +with a flaming bunch of mesquite in hand he searched +the vicinity. +</p> +<p>In a little depression caused by the heel of a boot +he came upon a glittering object, which he examined in +the light of the flaming mesquite, which he had thrown +into the sand after picking up the glittering object. +Kneeling beside the dying flame he discovered that the +glittering trifle he had found was a two- or three-inch +section of gold watch chain of peculiar pattern. He +tucked it into a pocket of his trousers. +</p> +<p>Later, he mounted Purgatory and fled into the appalling +blackness, heading westward—the big black +horse loping easily. +</p> +<p>The first streaks of dawn found Purgatory drinking +deeply from the green-streaked moisture of Kelso’s +water-hole. And when the sun stuck a glowing rim +over the desert’s horizon, to resume his rule over the +baked and blighted land, the big black horse and his +rider were traveling steadily, the only life visible in +the wide area of desolation—a moving blot, an atom +behind which was death and the eternal, whispered +promise of death. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='III_A_GIRL_WAITS' id='III_A_GIRL_WAITS'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<h3>A GIRL WAITS</h3> +</div> + +<p>Lamo, sprawling on a sun-baked plain perhaps a +mile from the edge of the desert, was one of +those towns which owed its existence to the instinct of +men to foregather. It also was indebted for its existence +to the greed of a certain swarthy-faced saloon-keeper +named Joel Ladron, who, anticipating the edict +of a certain town marshal of another town that shall +not be mentioned, had piled his effects into a prairie +schooner—building and goods—and had taken the +south trail—which would lead him wherever he +wanted to stop. +</p> +<p>It had chanced that he had stopped at the present +site of Lamo. Ladron saw a trail winding over the +desert, vanishing into the eastern distance; and he +knew that where trails led there were sure to be thirsty +men who would be eager to look upon his wares. +</p> +<p>Ladron’s history is not interesting. As time fled to +the monotonous clink of coins over the bar he set up +in the frame shack that faced the desert trail, Ladron’s +importance in Lamo was divided by six. +</p> +<p>The other dispensers had not come together; they +had appeared as the needs of the population seemed +to demand—and all had flourished. +</p> +<p>Lamo’s other buildings had appeared without ostentation. +There were twenty of them. A dozen of the +twenty, for one reason or another, need receive no +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span> +further mention. Of the remaining few, one was occupied +by Sheriff Gage; two others by stores; one answered +as an office and storage-room for the stage +company; and still another was distinguished by a +crude sign which ran across its weather-beaten front, +bearing the legend: “Lamo Eating-House.” The +others were private residences. +</p> +<p>Lamo’s buildings made some pretense of aping +the architecture of buildings in other towns. The eating-house +was a two-story structure, with an outside +stairway leading to its upper floor. It had a flat roof +and an adobe chimney. Its second floor had been subdivided +into lodging-rooms. Its windows were small, +grimy. +</p> +<p>Not one of Lamo’s buildings knew paint. The +structures, garish husks of squalor, befouled the calm, +pure atmosphere, and mocked the serene majesty of +nature. +</p> +<p>For, beginning at the edge of “town,” a contrast to +the desert was presented by nature. It was a mere +step, figuratively, from that land from which came the +whisper of death, to a wild, virgin section where the +hills, the green-brown ridges, the wide sweeps of plain, +and the cool shadows of timber clumps breathed of the +promise, the existence, of life. +</p> +<p>To Barbara Morgan, seated at one of the east windows +of the Lamo Eating-House—in the second +story, where she could look far out into the desert—the +contrast between the vivid color westward and the +dun and dead flatness eastward, was startling. For +she knew her father had entered the desert on his way +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span> +to Pardo, on some business he had not mentioned; +and the whispered threat that the desert carried was +borne to her ears as she watched. +</p> +<p>On a morning, two days before, Morgan had left +the Rancho Seco for Pardo. The girl had watched +him go with a feeling—almost a conviction—that +she should have kept him at home. She had not mentioned +to him that she had a presentiment of evil, for +she assured herself that she should have outgrown +those puerile impulses of the senses. And yet, having +watched him depart, she passed a sleepless night, and +early the next morning had saddled her horse to ride to +Lamo, there to await her father’s return. +</p> +<p>It was late in the afternoon when she reached +Lamo; and she had gone directly to the Eating-House, +where she had passed another restless night—spending +most of her time sitting at the window, where she +was at this minute. +</p> +<p>Of course it was a three-day trip to Pardo, and she +had no reason to expect Morgan to return until the end +of the sixth day, at the very earliest. And yet some +force sent her to the window at frequent intervals, +where she would sit, as now, her chin resting in her +hands, her eyes searching the vast waste land with an +anxious light. +</p> +<p>An attaché of the Eating-House had put her horse +away—where, she did not know; and her meals had +been brought to her by a middle-aged slattern, whose +probing, suspicion-laden glances had been full of mocking +significance. She had heard the woman speak of +her to other female employees of the place—and once +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span> +she had overheard the woman refer to her as “that +stuck-up Morgan heifer.” +</p> +<p>Their coarse laughter and coarser language had disgusted +the girl, and she had avoided them all as much +as possible. +</p> +<p>It was the first time she had remained overnight in +the Eating-House lodging-rooms, though she had seen +the building many times during her visits to Lamo. It +wasn’t what she was accustomed to at the Rancho Seco, +nor was it all that a lodging-house might be—but it +provided shelter for her while she waited. +</p> +<p>The girl felt—as she looked—decidedly out of +place in the shabby room. Many times during her vigil +she had shuddered when looking at the dirty, threadbare +ingrain carpet on the floor of the room; oftener, +when her gaze went to the one picture that adorned +the unpapered walls, she shrank back, her soul filled +with repugnance. +</p> +<p>Art, as here represented, was a cheap lithograph in +vivid colors, of an Indian—an Apache, judging from +his trappings—scalping a white man. In the foreground, +beside the man, was a woman, her hair disheveled, +wild appeal in her eyes, gazing at the Indian, +who was grinning at her. +</p> +<p>A cheap bureau, unadorned, with a broken mirror +swinging in a rickety frame; one chair, and the bed in +which she had tried to sleep, were the only articles of +furniture in the room. +</p> +<p>The girl, arrayed in a neat riding habit; her hair +arranged in graceful coils; her slender, lissom figure +denoting youth and vigor; the clear, smooth skin of +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span> +her face—slightly tanned—indicating health—was +as foreign to her present surroundings as life is foreign +to the desert. In her direct eyes was the glow of +sturdy honesty that had instantly antagonized the slattern +who had attended her. +</p> +<p>That glow was not so pronounced now—it was +dulled by anxiety as she looked out of the window, +watching the desert light fade as twilight came, blotting +the hot sand from her sight, erasing the straight, +unfeatured horizon, and creating a black void which +pulsed with mystery. +</p> +<p>She sighed when at last she could no longer penetrate +the wall of darkness; got up and moved her +chair to one of the front windows, from where she +could look down into Lamo’s one street. +</p> +<p>Lamo’s lights began to flicker; from the town’s +buildings sounds began to issue—multisonous, carrying +the message of ribaldry unrestrained. +</p> +<p>From a point not very far away came the hideous +screeching of a fiddle, accompanied by a discordant, +monotonous wail, as of someone singing a song unfamiliar +to him; from across the street floated a medley +of other noises, above which could be heard the +jangling music of a heavily drummed piano. There +came to her ears coarse oaths and the maudlin laughter +of women. +</p> +<p>She had heard it all the night before; but tonight +it seemed that something had been added to the volume +of it. And as on the night before, she sat at the window, +watching—for it was all new and strange to +her—even if unattractive. But at last the horror of +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span> +it again seized her, and she closed the window, determined +to endure the increased heat. +</p> +<p>Half an hour later, lying, fully dressed, on the bed, +she heard a voice in the hallway beyond the closed +door of her room—a man’s voice. +</p> +<p>“It isn’t what one might call elegant,” said the voice; +“but if it’s the best you’ve got—why, of course, it +will have to do.” +</p> +<p>The girl sat straight up in bed, breathless, her face +paling. +</p> +<p>“It’s Luke Deveny!” she gasped in a suffocating +whisper. +</p> +<p>The man’s voice was answered by a woman’s—low, +mirthful. The girl in the room could not distinguish +the words. But the man spoke again—in a whisper +which carried through the thin board partition to the +girl: +</p> +<p>“Barbara Morgan is in there—eh?” he said and +the girl could almost see him nodding toward her +room. +</p> +<p>This time the girl heard the woman’s voice—and +her words: +</p> +<p>“Yes she’s there, the stuck-up hussy!” +</p> +<p>The voice was that of the slattern. +</p> +<p>The man laughed jeeringly. +</p> +<p>“Jealous, eh?” he said. “Well, she <i>is</i> a mighty +good-looking girl, for a fact!” +</p> +<p>That was all. The girl heard Deveny step into a +room—the room adjoining hers; she could hear his +heavy boots striking the floor as he removed them. +</p> +<p>For a long time the girl rested on her elbow, listening; +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span> +but no further sounds came from the room into +which Deveny had gone. At last, trembling, her face +white with fear, the girl got up and stole noiselessly +to the door. +</p> +<p>A light bolt was the door’s only fastening; and the +girl stood long, with a hand upon it, considering its +frailty. How easy it would be for a big man like +Deveny to force the door. One shove of his giant +shoulder and the bolt would give. +</p> +<p>Stealthily, noiselessly, straining with every ounce of +her strength, she managed to lift the cheap bureau and +carry it to the door, placing it against the latter, barricading +it. Not satisfied, she dragged the bed over +against the bureau. +</p> +<p>Even when that had been accomplished, she was not +satisfied and during the greater part of the night she +sat on the edge of the bed, listening and watching the +door. For in the days that had fled Deveny had said +certain things to her that she had not repeated to her +father; he had looked at her with a significance that +no man could have understood; and there had been a +gleam in his eyes at these times which had convinced +her that behind the bland smoothness of him—back +of the suave politeness of his manner—was a primitive +animalism. His suave politeness was a velvet veil of +character behind which he masked the slavering fangs +of the beast he really was. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IV_HIS_SHADOW_BEFORE' id='IV_HIS_SHADOW_BEFORE'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3>HIS SHADOW BEFORE</h3> +</div> + +<p>At ten o’clock the following morning, in a rear +room of “Balleau’s First Chance” saloon—which +was directly across the street from the Lamo +Eating-House—Luke Deveny and two other men +were sitting at a card-table with bottle and glasses +between them. A window in the eastern side of the +room gave the men an unobstructed view of the desert, +and for half an hour, as they talked and drank, they +looked out through the window. +</p> +<p>A tall, muscular man with a slightly hooked nose, +keen blue eyes with a cold glint in them, black hair, +and an equally black mustache which revealed a firm-lipped +mouth with curves at the corners that hinted of +cynicism, and, perhaps cruelty, was sitting at the table +so that he faced the window. His smile, as he again +glanced out of the window, roved to Deveny—who +sat at his right. +</p> +<p>“One man—an’ a led horse,” he said shortly. +“Looks like Laskar.” +</p> +<p>Deveny—big, smooth-shaven—with black, glowing, +attractive eyes that held a glint quite as hard as +that which shone in the eyes of the speaker, looked +long out of the window at a moving dot on the desert, +which seemed to be traveling toward them. Deveny +had looked before; but now he saw two dots where at +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span> +other times he had seen only one. His lips held a +slight pout as he glanced at the speaker. +</p> +<p>“You’re right, Rogers,” he said; “there’s only one. +The old fool must have put up a fight.” +</p> +<p>Deveny filled a glass from the bottle and drank +slowly. His features were large. His nose was well +shaped, with wide nostrils that hinted of a fiery, passionate +nature; his thrusting chin and the heavy neck +muscles told of strength, both mental and physical—of +mental strength that was of a tenacious character, +of physical strength that would respond to any demand +of the will. +</p> +<p>He was handsome, and yet the suggestion of ruthlessness +in the atmosphere of him—lurking behind the +genial, easy-going exterior that he wore for appearances—or +because it was his nature to conceal his +passions until he desired to unleash them—was felt by +those who knew him intimately. It had been felt by +Barbara Morgan. +</p> +<p>Deveny was king of the lawless element in the Lamo +section. The magnetism of him; the arrogance, +glossed over with the calm and cold politeness of his +manner; his unvarying immaculateness; the air of large +and complete confidence which marked his every action; +the swiftness with which he struck when he was +aroused, or when his authority was questioned, placed +him without dissent at the head of the element that +ruled the Lamo country. +</p> +<p>Deveny ruled, but Deveny’s rule was irksome to +Strom Rogers—the man to whom Deveny had just +spoken. For while Deveny drank, Rogers watched +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span> +him with covert vigilance, with a jeering gleam far +back in his eyes, with a secret envy and jealousy, with +hatred and contempt and mockery. +</p> +<p>Yet there was fear in Rogers’ eyes, too—a mere +glimmer of it. Yet it was there; and when Deveny set +his glass down and looked straight at Rogers, it was +that fear which brought the fawning, insincere smirk +to Rogers’ lips. +</p> +<p>“See the girl?” questioned Rogers. +</p> +<p>Deveny laughed lowly. Apparently he did not notice +the glow in Rogers’ eyes; but had Rogers looked +closely he might have seen Deveny’s lips straighten as +he shot a glance at the other. +</p> +<p>“Had the room next to her last night. Heard her +drag the bed in front of the door of her room. She +knew I was there, all right!” Deveny laughed deeply. +“She’s wised up by this time. Lolly Kaye hates her—because +Barbara’s a good-looking girl, I suppose. +That’s like some women. Lolly would see Barbara +roasting in hell and not give her a hand!” +</p> +<p>“Lolly’s been disappointed in love—I reckon.” +Rogers’ laugh was hollow, mirthless. And again Deveny +shot a glance at him. +</p> +<p>“But you didn’t bother her—Barbara?” questioned +Rogers in a dry, light voice. +</p> +<p>“No,” grinned Deveny; “that time hasn’t come—yet. +It’s coming soon. I told Lolly to keep an eye on +her; I’ve got Engle and Barthman and Kelmer watching +at the doors so Barbara can’t light out for the +Rancho Seco. She don’t get away until tomorrow. +Then she goes with me to the end of Sunset Trail. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span> +I’ve sent Shorty Mallo to Willow’s Wells for the +parson.” +</p> +<p>“Barbara know what’s up?” Rogers’ voice was +low and throaty. +</p> +<p>Again Deveny glanced at him—sharply. +</p> +<p>“Hell, no!” he snapped. “It’s none of her damned +business—nor anybody’s!” He grinned maliciously +when he saw Rogers’ face whiten. +</p> +<p>“Barbara will need a husband now,” Deveny went +on. “With old Morgan gone and her brother sloped +from the home ranch, she’ll be kind of lonesome. I +aim to cure her of that.” +</p> +<p>He laughed, and Rogers writhed inwardly. For +Rogers had long nursed a secret hope that one day +the fates might take a notion to give him the chance +that Deveny intended to seize. +</p> +<p>But Rogers was forced to conceal his jealousy and +disappointment. He laughed mirthlessly. +</p> +<p>“So she can’t get away, eh?—she’s corralled!” +</p> +<p>“Bah!” declared Deveny; “she won’t want to get +away—once she knows what I mean—that it’s going +to be a regular wedding. She’ll raise a fuss, most +likely, to make folks believe she’s unwilling, but in the +end she’ll get over it.” +</p> +<p>Deveny glanced out of the window at the blot that +was now closer. +</p> +<p>“It’s Laskar, all regular,” he said. “He’s leading +a sorrel horse—Dolver’s horse. Old Morgan got +Dolver—looks like, the damned old gopher! Men +as willing as Dolver are not found every day.” He +looked at the third man, who had not spoken. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span></p> +<p>“Lawson,” he said, “you mosey down the trail a +little piece and meet Laskar. Bring him here!” +</p> +<p>Lawson, a thin-faced, medium-sized man with narrow +shoulders, whose distinguishing mark was a set of +projecting upper teeth that kept his mouth in a continual +smirking smile, got up quickly and went out. +Deveny and Rogers, their thoughts centered upon the +same person—Barbara Morgan—sat silent, watching +Lawson as he rode down the street toward the +point where the trail, crossing the broken stretch of +country that intervened, merged into the desert. +</p> +<p>Half an hour later Laskar, holding his chest, where +Purgatory had kicked him, was sitting at the table in +the rear room of the First Chance, cursing with a +fluency that he had not yielded to in many years. +</p> +<p>“Dolver’s wiped out!” he gasped hoarsely; +“plugged so quick he didn’t know he was hit. A center +shot—plumb in the heart; his own gun goin’ off +while he was fallin’. I looked him over—after. He +was croaked complete. Then that sober-faced hyena +lifts my gun—an’ the rifle—an’ says things to me, +which I don’t try to cross him. Then he goes behind +the rock—where we was havin’ it out—an’ while he’s +gone I tries to git my guns from under that devil-eyed +cayuse of his’n. +</p> +<p>“An’ I don’t succeed—noways. That black devil +turns on a half-dollar an’ plants his hoofs plumb in my +breast-bone. If I’d been an inch nearer, or if he’d +have kicked me a foot lower, or a foot higher, I’d be +layin’ out there where Dolver is now, the coyotes an’ +the buzzards gnawin’ at me.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span></p> +<p>Unmoved by Laskar’s incoherence, Deveny calmly +watched him. And now, when Laskar paused for +breath, Deveny spoke slowly: +</p> +<p>“A <i>black</i> horse, you said. How did a black horse +get there? Old Morgan rode a bay when he left +Lamo—Balleau says.” +</p> +<p>“Did I say Morgan rode a black horse?” queried +Laskar, knowledge in his eyes that he had a thing to +tell that would blanch their faces. He grinned, still +holding his chest, his glance malicious. +</p> +<p>“Did I say a <i>black</i> horse?” he repeated. “Did I +say Morgan rode a black horse? Morgan didn’t. +Morgan rode a bay—an’ the Chief run it off after he +shot Morgan. But Morgan didn’t die right away, an’ +the Chief he had to slope, he said—an’ he did—leavin’ +me an’ Dolver to finish old Morgan. +</p> +<p>“We was tryin’ our damnedest when this guy on the +black horse pops up out of nowhere an’ salivates Dolver.” +</p> +<p>“Who was it?” +</p> +<p>This was Deveny. He was now leaning forward, +a pout on his lips, watching Laskar with an intent, +glowering gaze. +</p> +<p>“‘Drag’ Harlan!” shouted Laskar. His face +lighted with a hideous joy as he watched the effect of +his news. +</p> +<p>“‘Drag’ Harlan! Do you hear?” he went on. +“‘Drag’ Harlan, the Pardo ‘two-gun’ man! He’s +headed toward Lamo. He bored Dolver, an’ he said +that soon as Morgan cashed in he was hittin’ the +breeze for here!” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span></p> +<p>Lawson, the man who had gone to meet Laskar, +ejaculated hoarsely, and stood rigid, his mouth open, +his eyes bulging. It was the involuntary expression of +the astonishment and fear that had seized him. Laskar +forgot the pain in his chest long enough to +straighten and grin at Lawson. +</p> +<p>Rogers’ face had changed color. He, too, had become +rigid. He had been in the act of reaching for +the bottle on the table, and the hand that had been +extended had been suddenly drawn back, so that the +hand was now midway between his body and the bottle—and +the fingers were clenched. The other hand, +under the table, was likewise clenched, and the muscles +of his jaws were corded. Into his eyes had come a +furtive, restless gleam, and his face had paled. +</p> +<p>Deveny gave no visible sign of perturbation. He +coolly reached out, grasped the bottle that Rogers had +been reaching for, and poured some of the amber fluid +into one of the glasses. The other men watched him +silently—all of them intent to note the tremor they +expected to see. +</p> +<p>Deveny’s hand did not tremble. He noted the +glances of the men—the admiration that came into +their eyes as with steady muscles he raised the glass +and drank—and he smiled with slight contempt. +</p> +<p>“Coming here, eh?” he said evenly. “So he said +that. Did he mention what he was coming for?” +</p> +<p>“He didn’t mention,” replied Laskar. +</p> +<p>“So he downed Dolver. Did he say what for?” +</p> +<p>“Said Dolver had shot up his partner, Davey +Langan—back in Pardo. Harlan was evenin’ up.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span></p> +<p>“What do you know about Harlan?” +</p> +<p>The question was addressed to all of them. +</p> +<p>Rogers answered. +</p> +<p>“He’s a bad guy—all bad. He’s an iceberg, an’ +he’s got the snakiest gun-hand of any man in the +country. Draws hesitatin’-like. A man don’t know +when he’s goin’ to uncork his smoke-wagons. I seen +him put Lefty Blandin’ out. He starts for his guns, +an’ then kind of stops, trickin’ the other guy into goin’ +for his. Then, before the other guy can get his gun to +workin’, Harlan’s stickin’ his away, an’ the guy’s ready +for the mourners. +</p> +<p>“Harlan got his handle that way. He goes for his +guns so slow an’ hesitatin’ that he seems to drag ’em +out. But some way he’s always shootin’ first. An’ +they always let him off because it’s mighty plain that +the other guy tried to draw first.” +</p> +<p>“I’ve heard that,” said Deveny slowly. “What’s +his record?” +</p> +<p>“Plays her a lone hand,” returned Rogers. He +watched the other steadily. +</p> +<p>Deveny toyed with a glass as he gazed out of the +window. There was a cold, sullen gleam in his eyes +when he finally looked at Laskar. +</p> +<p>“You said Harlan told you he was coming here as +soon as Morgan cashed in. According to that, Morgan +must have been hit bad.” +</p> +<p>“The Chief said he bored him plenty. An’ me an’ +Dolver must have got him some.” +</p> +<p>“You didn’t get a chance to search Morgan?” +</p> +<p>“No chance—he fit like a hyena; an’ when he got +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span> +behind that damned rock there was no way of gettin’ +at him.” +</p> +<p>“Then,” said Deveny, “according to what you say, +Harlan will come here as soon as Morgan dies. And +when you left there Morgan was in a bad way. Harlan +is due most any time, then.” +</p> +<p>“That’s the way I figger,” agreed Laskar. +</p> +<p>And now Laskar fidgeted. “I aim to be hittin’ the +breeze now—before Harlan hits town. This climate +is gettin’ unhealthy for me. Harlan give me notice.” +</p> +<p>“To leave town?” +</p> +<p>It was Deveny who spoke. There was a snarl in +his voice; he leaned forward and scowled at Laskar. +</p> +<p>Laskar nodded. +</p> +<p>Rogers cleared his throat, and Lawson moved his +feet uneasily. +</p> +<p>Deveny’s scowl faded; he grinned coldly. +</p> +<p>“Giving orders—is he?” he snapped. “Well, +we’ll see.” He laughed. “When Harlan hits town +it will be a sign that old Morgan’s crossed the Divide. +Well, there was no witnesses to Morgan’s cashing in, +and one man’s word is as good as another’s in this +country.” +</p> +<p>“Meanin’?” questioned Rogers, noting the light in +Deveny’s eyes. +</p> +<p>“Meaning that Laskar is going—right now—to +whisper into Sheriff Gage’s ear that he saw our friend, +‘Drag’ Harlan, killing old Morgan.” +</p> +<p>Rogers got to his feet, grinning. The gleam in his +eyes indicated that he felt some relief over the prospect +presented by Deveny’s suggestion. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span></p> +<p>“Of course we ain’t sure Harlan means to make +trouble here,” he told Deveny; “but it’s just as well to +shove him off onto the sheriff.” +</p> +<p>The four men walked to the front door of the First +Chance, after pausing for a few minutes at the bar. +</p> +<p>Outside, halting for an instant on the board platform +in front of the saloon, Rogers, who had been the +first to emerge, started as he glanced toward the desert, +and then stood rigid, shading his hands with his eyes +against the sun that poured into his face. +</p> +<p>“He’s comin’ now!” he said. +</p> +<p>Deveny and the others also looked into the blinding +glare of the sun—likewise shading their eyes. +And they saw, far out upon the vast sea of sand—yet +not so far that they could not distinguish objects—a +black horse coming steadily toward them. +</p> +<p>Deveny was strangely silent, glowering toward the +desert; Rogers folded his arms and faced the oncoming +rider and the somber-coated animal he bestrode; Lawson +scowled; and Laskar nervously estimated the distance +that stretched between himself and the steady-eyed +man who had told him certain things in a voice +that had been entirely convincing. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='V_A_PRISON' id='V_A_PRISON'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<h3>A PRISON</h3> +</div> + +<p>Barbara Morgan had not been able to sleep +except by fits and starts. A dozen times during +the night she had caught herself on the verge of sinking +into deep slumber, and each time she had got up +and washed her eyes with some water from a pitcher +on the bureau, determined that she would not take +any chances of permitting Deveny to surprise her. +</p> +<p>When the dawn came she was haggard and tired; +and she got up listlessly, combed her hair, and washed +her face, and dragged away the pieces of furniture that +had formed the barricade at the door. +</p> +<p>She felt more secure with the dawn, and when the +sunlight began to stream into the east windows she +opened the door of the room, descended the stairs, and +took a short walk to the edge of town. +</p> +<p>Returning, she saw a man arrayed in overalls, boots, +a blue woolen shirt, and broad felt hat, standing in +the doorway of the stable that, she felt, belonged to +the Eating-House. Sight of the stable brought to her +thoughts of her horse—Billy—and she decided to +determine if the man who had taken charge of him had +put him into the stable. +</p> +<p>She paused before the door, directly in front of the +man, who did not move aside to permit her to enter. +</p> +<p>She thought at first that he was not aware of her +desire—until she observed an amused light in his eyes; +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span> +and then she knew that he was purposely barring her +way. +</p> +<p>“This is the Eating-House stable, I suppose?” she +inquired quietly. +</p> +<p>“You’re supposin’ is a heap correct, ma’am,” +grinned the man. +</p> +<p>“Well,” she said, “if you will kindly step aside I +shall see if my horse is all right.” +</p> +<p>“Your horse is all right, ma’am,” returned the man. +“I’ve just fed him.” +</p> +<p>Irritated by his attitude, she spoke sharply: +</p> +<p>“Step aside, please; I am going into the stable!” +</p> +<p>The man grinned widely. “It’s ag’in’ orders, +ma’am; you’ll have to stay out.” +</p> +<p>“Whose orders?” +</p> +<p>“Deveny’s. You ain’t to go into the stable.” +</p> +<p>She hesitated, afflicted with a queer sensation of +weakness and indecision. +</p> +<p>It was her fear of Deveny, she supposed, that made +her feel that way, together with the conviction that +Deveny must have known that she had been in the +room next to the one he had taken, even before he had +ascended the stairs. It seemed to her that this deliberate +interference with her must be inspired by evil +intentions, and for an instant panic overtook her. +</p> +<p>Then, yielding to the flash of anger that surged over +her, she drew the small revolver she always carried +with her on her rides, and presented it. She stepped +back a little, so that the man might not strike the +weapon from her hand, and spoke shortly, commandingly +to him. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span></p> +<p>“Get away from that door!” +</p> +<p>“Shootin’, ma’am?” he drawled. “Oh, don’t!” +</p> +<p>He grinned at her and calmly began to roll a cigarette, +at which action she gulped with dismay, wheeled +swiftly, and walked to the stairs. She went up proudly +enough, her head held high, for she divined that the +man would be watching her. But when she entered +her room her pride forsook her, and she sank into a +chair by the east window, dismayed and frightened. +</p> +<p>While she sat there the slatternly woman slowly +opened the door and stuck her head in. She grinned +widely at Barbara. +</p> +<p>“Goin’ ridin’ this mawnin’, deary?” +</p> +<p>Barbara looked at her, saw the mockery in the +jealous eyes, and turned her head again, making no +reply. +</p> +<p>“Too stuck up to talk, eh?” jibed the slattern. +“Well, before you get out of here you’ll be tickled +enough to shoot off your gab. Bah! You an’ your +airs! If you want any grub this mawnin’ you’ll come +down an’ grab it yourself, I’m tellin’ you that.” +</p> +<p>She slammed the door, her jeering laugh penetrating +the partition with hideous resonance. +</p> +<p>After the woman had gone Barbara got up, her lips +set in resolute lines. +</p> +<p>Once in the hall she started to walk toward the +stairs, when she saw the cowboy of the stable lounging +against the rail on the platform. He saw her at the +instant she looked at him, and he grinned hugely. +</p> +<p>“I reckon you’ve noticed I’ve sort of shifted,” he +said. “I keep goin’ up—gettin’ higher in the world.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span></p> +<p>“What are you doing here?” she demanded. +</p> +<p>“Just loafin’, I reckon,” grinned the other. “An’ +obeyin’ orders,” he added instantly. “Much as I hate +to disconvenience a lady, I ain’t takin’ no chances on +rilin’ Deveny.” +</p> +<p>“Do you mean that Deveny placed you here to +watch me?” +</p> +<p>“He didn’t issue no particular orders as to where +I was to do my standin’. But he was sure earnest about +sayin’ that you wasn’t to leave your room.” +</p> +<p>“I left it once this morning.” +</p> +<p>“My fault,” he grinned. “I was sneakin’ a drink +in the Antler, an’ you slipped me. I’m bettin’ it don’t +happen ag’in!” +</p> +<p>Overcome with a cold terror that suddenly seized +her, Barbara wheeled and re-entered her room, standing +for an instant at the door as she locked it, and +then walking to the chair and sinking nervelessly into +it. +</p> +<p>Somehow, she sensed the futility of further effort at +escape. She was aware of Deveny’s power in the +country; she knew that he ruled Lamo as he ruled +every foot of land in the section; and she was convinced +that it would be wasted effort to call for help. +Even her own sex—represented by the slattern, and +most of the women in Lamo were of that type, in +character—seemed to be antagonistic toward her. It +seemed to her that they would mock her as the slattern +had mocked her, should she appeal to them. +</p> +<p>And as for the men of Lamo, they were not to be +considered. She was certain she could not induce one +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span> +of them to act contrary to Deveny’s wishes. For her +father had told her about Lamo’s men—how they +were slaves to the will of the man whose deeds of +outlawry had made him feared wherever men congregated; +and she knew Lamo itself was a sink-hole of +iniquity where women were swallowed by the evil +passions of men. +</p> +<p>She might have appealed to Gage, the sheriff, and +she thought of Gage while she sat at the window. But +Gage, her father had told her, with disgust in his eyes, +was a man of colorless personality and of little courage—a +negligible character upon whom the good people +of the section, who were pitifully few, could not depend. +Her father had told her that it was his opinion +that Gage, too, was a slave to Deveny’s will. +</p> +<p>She wished now that she had not yielded to the +impulse which had brought her to Lamo; but her lips +grew firm and her eyes defiant as she at last got up and +walked to one of the front windows. +</p> +<p>Now, more vividly than ever, could she understand +the significance of Deveny’s glances at her in the past; +the light in his eyes had been an expression of premeditated +evil, awaiting an opportunity. +</p> +<p>She was pale, and her hands were trembling as she +placed them on the sill of the front window and +glanced down into the street, hoping that she might +see a friendly face; praying that one of the Rancho +Seco men might have come to town during the night. +</p> +<p>But she saw no one she knew. Indeed, except for a +pony standing in front of a saloon down the street a +little distance, and several others hitched to a rail +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span> +across the street, in front of the First Chance saloon, +Lamo seemed to be deserted. And a silence, deep and +portentous of evil, seemed to have settled over the +town. +</p> +<p>But as she leaned upon the sill a sound floated to her +through the open window—a man’s voice, so close to +her that it made her start and stiffen. It was Deveny’s +voice, and it seemed to come from a point in the street +directly beneath the window. +</p> +<p>“Did you find Gage?” it said. +</p> +<p>Barbara leaned forward a little and looked downward. +Below her, on the narrow board-walk that ran +in front of the Eating-House, were four men. She +recognized three of them—Deveny, Strom Rogers, +and Meeder Lawson, the Rancho Seco foreman. +</p> +<p>The other man was a stranger. Evidently it was +the stranger to whom Deveny had spoken, for it was +the stranger who answered. +</p> +<p>“He’s in his office now.” +</p> +<p>Deveny turned to Lawson and Rogers. “You two +wait here, Laskar and myself will do the talking to +Gage.” He started away with the man who had answered +him; then called back over his shoulder: +“Hang around; if there’s trouble, you’ll want to get +in on it.” +</p> +<p>Deveny and Laskar walked down the street; the girl +saw them enter the building occupied by the sheriff. +</p> +<p>Wondering, intensely curious—for that word +“trouble” meant shooting in the vocabulary of men of +the Deveny type—Barbara drew back until she was +certain the men in the street could not see her. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span></p> +<p>When Deveny and Laskar disappeared, Strom +Rogers laughed sneeringly: +</p> +<p>“Deveny’s scared of ‘Drag’ Harlan, I reckon. It’s +a cheap frame-up.” +</p> +<p>“Aw, hell,” jibed the other; “you’re jealous, that’s +all. You’d like to see Harlan plug Deveny, eh; so’s +you’d have a chance with Barbara Morgan. I’d be a +heap careful, if I was you, Rogers. Deveny knows +you took a shine to Barbara Morgan. I seen him +lookin’ hostile at you when you was quizzin’ him in +Balleau’s. He’s next.” +</p> +<p>“This is a free country,” returned Rogers. The +girl caught the malignant note in his voice, and she +leaned outward a little, trying to see his face, while she +shivered with dread. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” laughed Lawson; “a man can cash in without +any excuse, usual; all he’s got to do is to cross +Deveny. You’re a damned fool, Strom, to go to takin’ +a shine to Barbara Morgan, when Deveny wants her. +He’s been waitin’ for her, an’ meanin’ to have her, all +along. He’s only been waitin’ until ol’ Morgan cashed +in, so’s he’d have a chance to take her. Now that +Morgan’s dead his chance has come.” +</p> +<p>Silently, her face dead white, her eyes closed, Barbara +slipped backward and crumpled into a heap on +the dirty carpet of the room. +</p> +<p>When she again opened her eyes it was to look +wildly at the open window through which the terrible +news had come. Then she dragged herself to it, and +making no sound leaned her arms on the sill and listened +again, her heart seeming to be in the clutch of +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span> +icy fingers, her brain atrophied, reeling in a chaos of +incoherent, agonized impulses. +</p> +<p>She did not know how long she had been unconscious. +She saw that Rogers and Lawson were still +below, and still talking. So keen was her sense of +hearing—every nerve straining in the effort to learn +more—that the voices of the men came in through +the window with a resonance that, she felt, must be +audible to every person in Lamo. +</p> +<p>“It ain’t my style, that’s all. I’d meet Harlan on +the level, man to man, if he was lookin’ for me. It’s +likely he ain’t at that. I’ve heard, bad as he is, that +he plays square. An’ if I was runnin’ things I’d take +a look at him before chargin’ him with killin’ Lane +Morgan, when the killin’ had been done by the Chief, +an’ Dolver, an’ Laskar.” +</p> +<p>It was Strom Rogers’ voice. It bore conviction +with it, even though there was passionate feeling +behind it, mingled strangely with personal hatred and +jealousy. +</p> +<p>Dumbly, Barbara clutched the window-sill. One +dry, agonized sob racked her; and then she sat on +the floor, to stare vacantly at the dingy walls of the +room. +</p> +<p>Once more she heard Rogers’ voice; this time there +was a note of savage glee in it: +</p> +<p>“There’s Harlan now, just slippin’ off his cayuse in +front of Gage’s place. ‘Drag,’ eh? Well, there don’t +seem to be nothin’ impedin’ his actions anywhere.” +</p> +<p>Prompted by the urge of a curiosity that she could +not resist, Barbara reeled to her feet, and with her +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span> +hands resting on the window-sill leaned out and looked +up the street. +</p> +<p>In front of the sheriff’s office, not more than thirty +or forty feet distant, she saw a tall, well-built man +standing beside the hitching rail that fringed the board +sidewalk. He had evidently just dismounted, and he +was standing at the head of a big, coal-black horse. +He was in the act of hitching the animal, and his back +was toward her. +</p> +<p>She watched breathlessly until he turned. And then +she stared hard at him, noting the steady, cold, alert +eyes; the firm lips; the bigness of him, the atmosphere +of capableness that seemed to surround him; the low-swung +guns at his hips, with no flaps on the holster-tops, +and the bottoms of the holsters tied to his leather +chaps with rawhide thongs. +</p> +<p>Never had she seen a man like him. For some +reason, as yet inexplicable to her, he brought into her +troubled consciousness a feeling of cold calm, a refreshing +influence that might be compared to the sweep +of a cool and unexpected breeze in the middle of a +hot day. +</p> +<p>He dominated the group of men that instantly surrounded +him; and the dominance was not of attire, for +he was arrayed like the others. She saw Deveny +standing near him, and the man Laskar behind Deveny +and Sheriff Gage and several other men. And +she saw Rogers and Lawson as they walked slowly +toward him. +</p> +<p>And then a realization of her loss, of the tragedy +that had descended upon her, again assailed her; and a +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span> +fury of intolerance against inaction seized her. She +could not stay in this room and suffer the hideous uncertainty; +she could not take Rogers’ word that her +father had been killed. There must be some mistake. +Perhaps Rogers knew she was at the window, listening, +and he had said that just to spite her. For she had discouraged +Rogers’ advances as she had discouraged +Deveny’s. +</p> +<p>Breathing fast, she unlocked the door and went out +into the hall. +</p> +<p>The man whom Deveny had placed to guard her +was still lounging on the stair platform, and he grinned +when he saw her. +</p> +<p>“Comin’ to try ag’in?” he grinned. +</p> +<p>She smiled—a disarming smile that brought a fatuous +gleam into the man’s eyes, so that he permitted +her to come close to him. +</p> +<p>“Deveny’s got damn’ good judgment,” he said as +she halted near him. “He knows a thoroughbred +when he sees—Hell!” +</p> +<p>The ejaculation came from his lips as Barbara +leaped swiftly past him. He threw out a futile arm, +and stood for an instant, shocked into inaction as +Barbara ran down the stairs toward the street. Then +the man leaped after her, cursing. She could hear him +saying: “Damn your hide! Damn your hide!” as +he came after her, his spurs jangling on the steps. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VI_CHAINLIGHTNING' id='VI_CHAINLIGHTNING'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<h3>CHAIN-LIGHTNING</h3> +</div> + +<p>Turning from Purgatory, after he had dismounted +in front of the sheriff’s office, Harlan +faced three men who stood just outside of the building, +watching him. +</p> +<p>The slightly humorous smile that curved Harlan’s +lips might have betrayed his reason for dismounting +in front of the sheriff’s office, for he had seen Laskar +standing with the two other men. But no man could +have told that he looked at Laskar directly, except +Laskar himself, who would have sworn that Harlan +did not remove his gaze from him, once he had slipped +from Purgatory’s back. +</p> +<p>For Harlan’s eyes told nothing. They seemed to be +gazing at nothing, and at everything. For Gage, +watching the man, was certain Harlan was looking +directly at him as he grinned, and Deveny, like Laskar, +was sure Harlan’s gaze was upon him. And all +of them, noting one another’s embarrassment, stood +silent, marveling. +</p> +<p>And now Deveny discovered that Harlan was +watching the three of them together—a trick which +is accomplished by fixing the gaze upon some object +straight in front of one; in this case it was Deveny’s +collar—and then including other objects on each side +of the center object. +</p> +<p>Steady nerves and an inflexible will are required to +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span> +keep the gaze unwavering, and a complete absence of +self-consciousness. Thus Deveny knew he was standing +in the presence of a man whose poise and self-control +were marvelous; and he knew, too, that Harlan +would be aware of the slightest move made by either +of the three; more, he could detect any sign of concerted +action. +</p> +<p>And concerted action was what Deveny and Laskar +and the sheriff had planned. And they had purposely +dragged Laskar outside, expecting Harlan would do +just as he had done, and as his eyes warned he intended +to do. +</p> +<p>“I’m after you, Laskar,” he said softly. +</p> +<p>Laskar stiffened. He made no move, keeping his +hands at his sides, where they had been all the time +that had elapsed since Harlan had dismounted. +</p> +<p>Laskar’s eyes moved quickly, with an inquiring flash +in them, toward Deveny and the sheriff. It was time +for Deveny and the sheriff to precipitate the action +they had agreed upon. +</p> +<p>But the sheriff did not move. Nor did Deveny +change his position. A queer, cold chill had come over +Deveny—a vague dread, a dragging reluctance—an +indecision that startled him and made of his thoughts +an odd jumble of half-formed impulses that seemed to +die before they could become definite. +</p> +<p>He had faced gun-fighters before, and had felt no +fear of them. But something kept drumming into his +ears at this instant with irritating insistence that this +was not an ordinary man; that standing before him, +within three paces, his eyes swimming in an unfixed +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span> +vacuity which indicated preparation for violent action, +was Harlan—“Drag” Harlan, the Pardo two-gun +man; Harlan, who had never been beaten in a gunfight. +</p> +<p>Could he—Deveny—beat him? Could he, now, +with “Drag” Harlan watching the three of them, +could he draw with any hope of success, with the hope +of beating the other’s lightning hand on the downward +flash to life or death? +</p> +<p>Deveny paled; he was afraid to take the chance. +His eyes wavered from Harlan’s; he cast a furtive +glance at the sheriff. +</p> +<p>Harlan caught the glance, smiled mirthlessly and +spoke shortly to Laskar: +</p> +<p>“I told you to keep hittin’ the breeze till there +wasn’t any more breeze,” he said. “I ought to have +bored you out there by the red rock. I gave you your +chance. Flash your gun!” +</p> +<p>“Harlan!” +</p> +<p>This was Gage. His voice sounded as though it +had been forced out: it was hoarse and hollow. +</p> +<p>Harlan did not move, nor did his eyes waver. There +was feeling in them now: intense, savage, cold. And +his voice snapped. +</p> +<p>“You’re the sheriff, eh? You want to gas, I reckon. +Do it quick before this coyote goes for his gun.” +</p> +<p>The sheriff cleared his throat. “You’re under arrest, +Harlan, for killin’ Lane Morgan out there in the +desert yesterday.” +</p> +<p>Harlan’s eyes narrowed, his lips wreathed into a +feline smile. But he did not change his position. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span></p> +<p>“Who’s the witness against me?” +</p> +<p>“Laskar.” +</p> +<p>“Has he testified?” +</p> +<p>“He’s goin’ to.” +</p> +<p>Harlan backed away a little. His grin was tiger-like, +a yellow flame seemed to leap in his eyes. Laskar, +realizing at last that he could hope for no assistance +from Gage or Deveny, grew rigid with desperation. +</p> +<p>Death was in front of him; he knew it. Death or a +deathless fame. The fates had willed one or the other, +and he chose to take the gambler’s chance, the chance +he and Dolver and the Chief had refused Lane Morgan. +</p> +<p>Deathless fame, the respect and the admiration of +every man in the section was his if he beat “Drag” +Harlan to the draw. Forever afterward, if he beat +Harlan, he would be pointed at as the man who had +met the Pardo gunman on even terms and had downed +him. +</p> +<p>He stepped out a little, away from the front of the +building, edging off from Deveny and Gage so that +Harlan would have to watch in two directions. +</p> +<p>Lawson and Rogers, having advanced to a position +within a dozen paces of the group in front of the +sheriff’s office, now backed away, silent, watchful. +Other men who had been standing near were on the +move instantly. Some dove into convenient doorways, +others withdrew to a little distance down the street. +But all intently watched as Laskar showed by his actions +that he intended to accept his chance. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span></p> +<p>Deveny, too, watched intently. He kept his gaze +fixed upon Harlan, not even glancing toward Laskar. +For Deveny’s fear had gone, now that the dread presence +had centered its attention elsewhere, and he was +determined to discover the secret of Harlan’s hesitating +“draw,” the curious movement that had given the +man his sobriquet, “Drag.” The discovery of that +secret might mean much to him in the future; it might +even mean life to him if Harlan decided to remain in +the section. +</p> +<p>Harlan had made no hostile movement as yet. He +still stood where he had stood all along, except for the +slight backward step he had taken before Laskar began +to move. But he watched Laskar as the latter edged +away from the other men, and when he saw Laskar’s +eyes widen with the thought that precedes action, with +the gleam that reflects the command the brain transmutes +to the muscles, his right hand flashed downward +toward the hip. +</p> +<p>With a grunt, for Harlan had almost anticipated his +thoughts, Laskar’s right hand swept toward the butt +of his pistol. +</p> +<p>But Harlan’s hand had come to a poise, just above +the stock of his weapon—a pause so infinitesimal that +it was merely a suggestion of a pause. +</p> +<p>It was enough, however, to throw Laskar off his +mental balance, and as he drew his weapon he glanced +at Harlan’s holster. +</p> +<p>A dozen men who watched swore afterward that +Laskar drew his gun first; that it was in his hand +when Harlan’s bullet struck him. But Deveny knew +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span> +better; he knew that Laskar was dead on his feet before +the muzzle of his weapon had cleared the holster, +and that the shot he had fired had been the result of +involuntary muscular action; that he had pulled the +trigger after Harlan’s bullet struck him, and while his +gun had been loosening in his hand. +</p> +<p>For Deveny had seen the bullet from Laskar’s gun +throw up sand at Harlan’s feet after Harlan’s weapon +had sent its death to meet Laskar. And Deveny had +discovered the secret of Harlan’s “draw.” The pause +was a trick, of course, to disconcert an adversary. +But the lightning flash of Harlan’s hand to his gun-butt +was no trick. It was sheer rapidity, his hand moving +so fast that the eye could not follow. +</p> +<p>And Deveny could get no pleasure from his discovery. +Harlan had waited until Laskar’s fingers were +wrapped around the stock of his pistol before he had +drawn his own, and therefore in the minds of those +who had witnessed the shooting, Harlan had been +justified. +</p> +<p>Sheriff Gage thought so, too. For, after Laskar’s +body had been carried away, Harlan stepped to where +the sheriff stood and spoke shortly: +</p> +<p>“You wantin’ me for this?” +</p> +<p>Sheriff Gage shook his head. “I reckon everybody +saw Laskar go for his gun. There was no <i>call</i> for him +to go for his gun. If you’d have shot him without him +reachin’ for it things would have been different.” +</p> +<p>Harlan said coldly, “I’m ready for that trial, now.” +</p> +<p>The sheriff’s eyes glowed with some secret significance +as they met Harlan’s. He was standing at a +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span> +little distance from Deveny, and he deliberately closed +an eye at Harlan. +</p> +<p>“Trial—hell!” he declared, “you’ve destroyed the +evidence.” +</p> +<p>Harlan wheeled, to see Deveny standing near. And +for an instant as their eyes met—Harlan’s level and +cold, Deveny’s aflame with a hostility unmistakable—the +crowd which had witnessed the shooting of Laskar +again became motionless, while a silence, portending +further violence, descended over the street. +</p> +<p>Then Deveny abruptly wheeled and began to walk +across to the First Chance. +</p> +<p>He had not taken many steps, however, when there +were sounds of commotion farther down the street +toward the Eating-House—a man cursing and a girl +screaming. +</p> +<p>Deveny halted and faced the point from which the +sounds came, and a scowl appeared on his face. +</p> +<p>Harlan wheeled, also. And he saw, at a little distance +down the street, a girl running, her hair tossing +in a mass around her, her eyes wild with fright and +terror. Behind her came a man, cursing as he ran. +</p> +<p>Harlan heard Sheriff Gage curse, too—heard him +say: +</p> +<p>“That’s Lane Morgan’s daughter—Barbara! +What in hell is she doin’ here?” +</p> +<p>The girl, not more than a dozen feet ahead of her +pursuer, ran straight toward Harlan. And when—as +she drew closer and he saw that she was, indeed, +actually coming toward him—her eyes on him as +though she had singled him out as a protector—he +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span> +advanced toward her, drawing one of his guns as he +went. +</p> +<p>And, grinning as she neared him, he opened his +arms wide and she ran straight into them, and laid +her head on his shoulder, sobbing, and talking incoherently. +While Harlan, his grin fading as he +looked at her pursuer—who had halted within half a +dozen paces of the girl—commanded lowly: +</p> +<p>“You’re runnin’ plumb into a heap of trouble, mister +man. Throw your rope around the snubbin’ post. +Then get on your hind legs an’ do some explainin’. +What you chasin’ this girl for?” +</p> +<p>The man reddened, looked downward, then up at +Deveny. The latter, a pout on his lips, his eyes glowing +savagely, walked to where Harlan stood with one +arm around the girl, while Lawson, Rogers, Gage, and +several other men advanced slowly and stood near +him. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VII_SINGLEHANDED' id='VII_SINGLEHANDED'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<h3>SINGLE-HANDED</h3> +</div> + +<p>Noting the concerted movement toward him, +Harlan grinned at Barbara, gently disengaged +himself from her grasp, and urged her toward the +door of the sheriff’s office. She made no objection, +for she felt that further trouble impended, and she +knew she must not impede any action her rescuer +planned. +</p> +<p>Reaching the street a few minutes before, she had +noted the preparations for the swift tragedy that had +followed; and despite her wild desire to escape Deveny’s +man, she had halted, fascinated by the spectacle +presented by the two men, gambling with death. +</p> +<p>She had halted at a little distance, crouching against +the front of a building. And while she had been +crouching there, trembling with a new apprehension, +her pursuer had caught her. +</p> +<p>She had hardly been aware of him, and his grasp on +her arm she had not resisted, so intense was her interest +in what was transpiring. But the sudden ending of +the affair brought again into her consciousness the +recollection of her own peril, and when she saw Deveny +cross the street she broke from the man’s restraining +grasp and ran to Harlan, convinced that he—because +he seemed to be antagonistic toward the forces +arrayed against her—would protect her. +</p> +<p>And now, shrinking into the open doorway of the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span> +sheriff’s office, she watched breathlessly, with straining +senses, the moving figures in the drama. +</p> +<p>Harlan had backed a little way toward the doorway +in which Barbara stood. The movement was +strategic, and had been accomplished with deliberation. +He was facing Lamo’s population—at least +that proportion of it which was at home—with the +comforting assurance that no part of it could get behind +him. +</p> +<p>The gun he had drawn upon the approach of Barbara’s +pursuer was still in his right hand. It menaced +no one, and yet it seemed to menace everyone within +range of it. +</p> +<p>For though the gun was held loosely in Harlan’s +hand, the muzzle downward, there was a glow in the +man’s eyes that conveyed a warning. +</p> +<p>The smile on his face, too, was pregnant with the +promise of violence. It was a surface smile, penetrating +no deeper than his lips, and behind it, partially +masked by the smile, the men in the group in the +street could detect the destroying passion that ruled +the man at this instant. +</p> +<p>Deveny, who had approached to a point within a +dozen feet of Harlan, came to a slow, reluctant halt +when he caught a glimpse of the strange glow in Harlan’s +eyes. All the others, Sheriff Gage included, likewise +halted—most of them at a considerable distance, +as their conceptions of prudence suggested. +</p> +<p>Harlan’s grin grew ironic as he noted the pause—the +concerted rigidity of Lamo’s population. +</p> +<p>“Seems there’s a heap of folks wantin’ to palaver,” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span> +he said lowly. “An’ no one is crowdin’ me. That’s +polite an’ proper. Seems you all sort of guessed +there’s plenty of room, an’ crowdin’ ain’t necessary. +I’d thank every specimen to hook his thumbs in the +armholes of his vest—same as though he’s a member +of the pussy-café outfit which I’ve seen in Chicago, +makin’ moon-eyes at girls. If there’s any of you ain’t +got on vests, why, you can fasten your sky-hooks on +your shoulders any way to suit your idee of safety. +Get them up!” +</p> +<p>It seemed ludicrous to Barbara, despite the shadow +of tragedy that lurked over it all—the embarrassed +manner in which Lamo’s citizens complied with the +command, and the spectacle they presented afterward. +</p> +<p>Deveny’s hands were the last to go up. There was +a coldly malignant glare in his eyes as under Harlan’s +unwavering gaze he finally raised his hands and held +them, palms outward, as for inspection. +</p> +<p>Rogers had complied instantly. There was a smile +on his face, faint and suggestive of grim amusement, +for he had been mentally tortured over the contemplation +of Barbara’s predicament, and had been unable +to think of any plan by which he might assist her. +</p> +<p>Meeder Lawson’s face was sullen and full of impotent +rage, and he watched Deveny with a gaze of +bitter accusation when he saw that the big man intended +to obey Harlan’s order. Barbara’s pursuer, +having felt Deveny’s angry gaze upon him, and being +uncomfortably conscious that Harlan had not forgotten +him, was red of face and self-conscious. He +started, and the red in his face deepened, when Harlan, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span> +in the silence which followed the concerted raising of +hands, spoke sharply to him: +</p> +<p>“What was you tryin’ to corral that girl for? Talk +fast or I’ll bust you wide open!” +</p> +<p>The man grinned foolishly, shooting a furtive glance +at Deveny. +</p> +<p>“Why,” he said, noting Deveny’s scowl, “I reckon +it was because I’d took a shine to her. I was tryin’ to +cotton up to her on the landin’ about the Eatin’-House, +an’ she——” +</p> +<p>“You lie!” +</p> +<p>This was Barbara. Pale, her eyes flashing with +indignation, she stepped down into the street, standing +near Harlan. +</p> +<p>“That man,” Barbara went on, pointing to the red-faced +pursuer, “told me early this morning that Luke +Deveny had told him to watch me, that I was not to +leave my room until Deveny came for me. I was a +prisoner. He didn’t try to make love to me. I should +have killed him.” +</p> +<p>Speech had broken the tension under which Barbara +had been laboring; the flow of words through her lips +stimulated her thoughts and sent them skittering back +to the salient incidents of her enforced confinement; +they brought into her consciousness a recollection of +the conversation she had heard between Meeder Lawson +and Strom Rogers, regarding her father. She forgot +Harlan, Deveny, and the others, and ran to Sheriff +Gage. +</p> +<p>Gage, a tall, slender man of forty, was pale and uncomfortable +as he looked down at the girl’s white, upturned +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span> +face. He shrank from the frenzied appeal of +her eyes, and he endured the pain of her tightly gripping +fingers on the flesh of his arms without flinching. +</p> +<p>“Did—is father <i>dead</i>!” +</p> +<p>She waited, frantically shaking Gage. And Gage +did not answer until his gaze had roamed the crowd. +</p> +<p>Then he said slowly and reluctantly: +</p> +<p>“I reckon he’s dead. Deveny was tellin’ me—he +was chargin’ this man, Harlan, with killin’ your +father.” +</p> +<p>Barbara wheeled and faced Deveny. Rage, furious +and passionate, had overwhelmed the grief she felt +over the death of her father. The shock had been +tremendous, but it had come while she had been leaning +out of the window listening to Rogers and Lawson—when +she had lain for many minutes unconscious +on the floor of the room. Therefore the emotion she +experienced now was not entirely grief, it was rather +a frantic yearning to punish the men who had killed +her father. +</p> +<p>“You charged this man with murdering my +father?” she demanded of Deveny as she walked to +him and stood, her hands clenched, her face dead +white and her eyes blazing hate. “You know better. +I heard Strom Rogers tell Meeder Lawson that it was +Dolver and Laskar and somebody he called the +‘Chief,’ who did it. I want to know who those men +are; I want to know where I can find them! I want +you to tell me!” +</p> +<p>“You’re unstrung, Barbara,” said Deveny slowly, +coolly, a faint smile on his face. “I know nothing +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span> +about it. I merely repeated to Gage the word Laskar +brought. Laskar said this man Harlan shot your +father. It happened about a day’s ride out—near +Sentinel Rock. If Laskar lied, he was paid for his +lying. For Harlan has——” +</p> +<p>Deveny paused, the sentence unfinished, for the girl +turned abruptly from him and walked to Harlan. +</p> +<p>“That was Laskar—the man you killed just now?” +</p> +<p>“Laskar an’ Dolver,” relied Harlan. “There was +three of them your father said. One got away in the +night, leavin’ Dolver an’ Laskar to finish the job. I +run plumb into them, crossin’ here from Pardo. I +bored Dolver, but I let Laskar off, not havin’ the +heart to muss up the desert with scum like him.” +</p> +<p>The girl’s eyes gleamed for an instant with venomous +satisfaction. Then she said, tremulously: +</p> +<p>“And father?” +</p> +<p>“I buried him near the rock,” returned Harlan, +lowly. +</p> +<p>Soundlessly, closing her eyes, Barbara sank into the +dust of the street. +</p> +<p>Harlan broke the force of her fall with his left +hand, supporting her partially until she collapsed; then, +his eyes alight with a cold flame, he called, sharply, +his gaze still on the group of men: +</p> +<p>“Get her, Gage! Take her into your place!” +</p> +<p>He waited until Gage carried the slack form inside. +Then, his shoulders sagging, the heavy pistol in his +right hand coming to a poise, the fingers of the left +hand brushing the butt of the weapon in the holster +at his left hip, the vacuous gleam in his eyes telling +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span> +them all that his senses were alert to catch the slightest +movement, he spoke, to Deveny: +</p> +<p>“I seen that desert deal. It wasn’t on the level. I +ain’t no angel, but when I down a man I do it fair an’ +square—givin’ him his chance. I sent that sneak Dolver +out—an’ that coyote Laskar. It was a dirty, +rotten deal, the way they framed up on Morgan. It’s +irritated me—I reckon you can hear my rattles right +now. I’m stayin’ in Lamo, an’ I’m stickin’ by this Barbara +girl until you guys learn to walk straight up, like +men!” +</p> +<p>He paused, and a heavy silence descended. No man +moved. A sneer began to wreathe Harlan’s lips—a +twisting, mocking, sardonic sneer that expressed his +contempt for the men who faced him. +</p> +<p>“Not havin’ any thoughts, eh?” he jeered. +“There’s some guys that would rather do their fightin’ +with women, an’ their thoughts wouldn’t sound right +if they put words around them. I ain’t detainin’ you +no longer. Any man who thinks it’s time to call for +a show-down can do his yappin’ right now. Them +that’s dead certain they’re through can mosey along, +takin’ care not to try any monkey business!” +</p> +<p>He stood, watching, his wide gaze including them +all, until, one after another the men in the group +silently moved away. They did not go far. Some of +them merely stepped into near-by doorways, others +sauntered slowly down the street and halted at a little +distance to look back. +</p> +<p>But no man made a hostile move, for they had seen +the tragedy in which Laskar had figured, and they had +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span> +no desire to provoke Harlan to express again the cold +wrath that slumbered in his eyes. +</p> +<p>Meeder Lawson was the first of Deveny’s intimates +to leave the group. His face sullen, his eyes venomous, +he walked across the street to the First Chance, +and stood in the doorway, beside Balleau, who had +been an interested onlooker. +</p> +<p>Then Strom Rogers moved. He wheeled slowly, +flashing an inquiring glance at Deveny—who still +stood motionless. Deveny had lowered his hands—they +were hanging at his sides, the right hand having +the palm toward Harlan, giving eloquent testimony +of its owner’s peaceable intentions. +</p> +<p>Rogers’ glance included the out-turned palm, and his +lips curved in a faint smile. The smile held as his +glance went to Harlan’s face, and for an instant as the +eyes of the two men met, appraisal was the emotion +that ruled in them. Harlan detected in Rogers’ eyes +a grim scorn of Deveny, and a malignant satisfaction; +Rogers saw in Harlan’s eyes a thing that not one of +the men who had faced the man had seen—cold +humor. +</p> +<p>Then Rogers was walking away, leaving Deveny to +face the man who had disrupted his plans. +</p> +<p>Deveny had not changed his position, and for an instant +following the departure of Rogers, there was no +word spoken. Then for the first time since he had +dismounted from Purgatory, Harlan’s eyes lost their +wide, inclusive vacuity. They met Deveny’s fairly, +with a steady, direct, boring intensity; a light in them +that resembled the yellow flame that Deveny had once +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span> +seen in the eyes of a Mexican jaguar some year before +at a camp on the Neuces. +</p> +<p>Deveny knew what the light in Harlan’s eyes meant. +It meant the presence of a wild, rending passion, of +elemental impulses; it meant that the man who faced +him was eager to kill him, was awaiting his slightest +hostile movement. It meant more. The gleam in Harlan’s +eyes indicated that the man possessed that strange +and almost uncanny instinct of thought reading, that +he could detect in another’s eyes a mental impulse before +the other’s muscles could answer it. Also, it meant +certain death to Deveny should he obey the half-formed +determination to draw and shoot, that was in +his mind at this instant. +</p> +<p>He dropped his lids, attempting to veil the thought +from Harlan. But when he again looked up it was to +see Harlan’s lips twisting into a cold smile—to see +Harlan slowly sheathing the gun he had held in his +right hand. +</p> +<p>And now Harlan was standing before him, both +weapons in their holsters. He and Deveny were facing +each other upon a basis of equality. Harlan had disdained +taking advantage. +</p> +<p>Apparently, if Deveny now elected to draw and +shoot, his chances were as good as Harlan’s. +</p> +<p>And yet Deveny knew they were not as good. For +Harlan’s action in sheathing his gun convinced Deveny +that the man had divined his thoughts from the expression +of his eyes before he had veiled them with +the lids, and he was convinced that Harlan had sensed +the chill of dread that had swept over him at that instant. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span> +He was sure of it when he heard Harlan’s +voice, low and taunting: +</p> +<p>“You waitin’ for a show-down?” +</p> +<p>Deveny smiled, pallidly. “I don’t mind telling you +that I <i>did</i> have a notion that way a moment ago. But +I was afraid I might be a little slow. When you +downed Laskar I watched you, trying to learn the +secret of your draw. I didn’t learn it, because there is +no secret—you’re just a natural gunslinger without a +flaw. You’re the fastest man with a gun I ever saw—and +I’m taking my hat off to you.” +</p> +<p>Harlan smiled faintly, but his eyes did not lose their +alertness, nor did the flame in them cool visibly. Only +his lips betrayed whatever emotion he felt. He distrusted +Deveny, for he had seen the half-formed determination +in the man’s eyes, and his muscles were +tensed in anticipation of a trick. +</p> +<p>“You didn’t stay here to tell me that. Get goin’ +with the real talk.” +</p> +<p>“That’s right—I didn’t,” said Deveny. He was +cool, now, and bland, having recovered his poise. +</p> +<p>“Higgins <i>was</i> watching Barbara Morgan at my orders. +But I meant no harm to the girl. I knew she +was in town, and I heard there were a few of the boys +that were making plans about her. So I set Higgins +to guard her. Naturally, she thought I meant harm +to her.” +</p> +<p>“Naturally,” said Harlan. +</p> +<p>Deveny said coolly: “I’ll admit I have a bad reputation. +But it doesn’t run to women. It’s more in +your line.” He looked significantly at the other. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span></p> +<p>“Meanin’?” +</p> +<p>“Oh, hell—you know well enough what I mean. +You’re not such a law-abiding citizen, yourself. I’ve +heard of you—often. And I’ve admired you. To +get right down to the point—I could find a place +where you’d fit in just right. We’re needing another +man—a man of your general size and character.” +</p> +<p>Harlan grinned. “I’m thankin’ you. An’ I sure +appreciate what you’ve said. You’ve been likin’ me +so much that you tried to frame up on me about sendin’ +Lane Morgan out.” +</p> +<p>“That’s business,” laughed Deveny. “You were +an unknown quantity, then.” +</p> +<p>“But not now—eh?” returned Harlan, his eyes +gleaming with a cold humor. “You’ve got me sized +up right. The yappin’ I done about stickin’ to Barbara +Morgan wasn’t the real goods, eh?” +</p> +<p>“Certainly not!” laughed Deveny, “there must be +some selfish motive behind that.” +</p> +<p>“An’ you sure didn’t believe me?” +</p> +<p>“Of course not,” chuckled Deveny, for he thought +he saw a gleam of insincerity in Harlan’s eyes. +</p> +<p>“Then I’ve got to do my yappin’ all over again,” +said Harlan. “Now get this straight. I’m stickin’ to +Barbara Morgan. I’m runnin’ the Rancho Seco from +now on. I’m runnin’ it <i>my</i> way. Nobody is botherin’ +Barbara Morgan except them guys she wants to have +bother her. That lets you out. You’re a rank coyote, +an’ I don’t have no truck with you except at the business +end of a gun. Now take your damned, sneakin’ +grin over an’ wet it down, or I’ll blow you apart!” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span></p> +<p>Deveny’s face changed color. It became bloated +with a poisonous wrath, his eyes gleamed evilly and his +muscles tensed. He stood, straining against the murder +lust that had seized him, almost persuaded to take +the slender chance of beating Harlan to his weapon. +</p> +<p>“You got notions, eh?” he heard Harlan say, jeeringly. +“Well, don’t spoil ’em. I’d admire to make +you feel like you’d ought to have got started a week +ago.” +</p> +<p>Deveny smiled with hideous mirthlessness. But he +again caught the flame in Harlan’s eyes. He wheeled, +saying nothing more, and walked across the street without +looking back. +</p> +<p>Smiles followed him; several men commented +humorously, and almost immediately, knowing that +this last crisis had passed, Lamo’s citizens resumed +their interrupted pleasures. +</p> +<p>Harlan stood motionless until Deveny vanished into +the First Chance, then he turned quickly and entered +the sheriff’s office. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VIII_BARBARA_IS_PUZZLED' id='VIII_BARBARA_IS_PUZZLED'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<h3>BARBARA IS PUZZLED</h3> +</div> + +<p>Half an hour later, with Barbara Morgan, on +“Billy”—a piebald pinto—riding beside him, +Harlan loped Purgatory out of Lamo. They took a +trail—faint and narrow—that led southward, for +Barbara had said that the Rancho Seco lay in that +direction. +</p> +<p>Harlan had not seen Deveny or Rogers or Lawson +after the scene in front of the sheriff’s office. He had +talked for some time with Gage, waiting until Barbara +Morgan recovered slightly from the shock she had +suffered. Then when he had told her that he intended +to accompany her to the Rancho Seco—and she had +offered no objection—he had gone on a quest for her +pony, finding him in the stable in the rear of the +Eating-House. +</p> +<p>So far as Harlan knew, no one in Lamo besides +Sheriff Gage had watched the departure of himself +and Barbara. And there had been no word spoken +between the two as they rode away—Lamo becoming +at last an almost invisible dot in the great yawning +space they left behind them. +</p> +<p>Barbara felt a curious unconcern for what was happening; +her brain was in a state of dull apathy, resulting +from shock and the period of dread under which +she had lived for more than a day and a night. +</p> +<p>She did not seem to care what happened to her. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span> +She knew, to be sure, that she was riding toward the +Rancho Seco with a man whom she had heard called +an outlaw by other men; she was aware that she must +be risking something by accepting his escort—and yet +she could not bring herself to feel that dread fear that +she knew any young woman in her position should feel. +</p> +<p>It seemed to her that nothing mattered now—very +much. Her father was dead—murdered by some +men—two of whom had been punished by death, and +another—a mysterious person called the “Chief”—who +would be killed as soon as she could find him. +That resolution was deeply fixed in her mind. +</p> +<p>Her gaze though, after a while, went to Harlan, +and for many miles she studied him without his suspecting. +And gradually she began to think about him, +to wonder why he had protected her from the man, +Higgins, and why he was going with her to the Rancho +Seco. +</p> +<p>She provided—after a while—an answer to her +first question: He had protected her because she had +run into his arms in her effort to escape the clutches of +the man who had pursued her—Higgins. She remembered +that while she had been at the window, +watching Harlan when he had dismounted in front of +the sheriff’s office, he had seemed to make a favorable +impression upon her. +</p> +<p>That was the reason, when she had seen him before +her in the street, after he had shot Laskar, she had +selected him as a protector. That had seemed to be +the logical thing to do, for he had arrayed himself +against her enemies in killing Laskar, and it was reasonable +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span> +to suppose—conceding Laskar and Higgins +were leagued with Deveny—that Harlan would protect +her. +</p> +<p>It all seemed exceedingly natural, that far. It was +when she began to wonder why Harlan was with her +now that an element of mystery seemed to rule. And +she was puzzled. +</p> +<p>She began to speculate over Harlan, and her mental +efforts in that direction banished the somber thoughts +that had almost overwhelmed her after the discovery +of her father’s death. Yet they had ridden more than +ten miles before she spoke. +</p> +<p>“What made you decide to ride with me to the +Rancho Seco?” she demanded sharply. +</p> +<p>Harlan flashed a grin at her. He was riding a little +in advance of her, and he had to turn in the saddle to +see her face. +</p> +<p>“I was headin’ that way, an’ wanted company. It +sure gets lonesome ridin’ alone.” +</p> +<p>She caught her breath at this answer, for it seemed +that he had not revealed the real reason. And she had +got her first good look at his face. It was lean and +strong. His eyes were deep-set and rimmed by heavy +lashes and brows, and there was a glow in them as he +looked at her—a compelling fixity that held her. Her +own drooped, and were lifted to his again in sheer +curiosity, she thought at first. +</p> +<p>It was only when she found herself, later, trying to +catch his glance again that she realized they were magnetic +eyes, and that the glow in them was of a subtle +quality that could not be analyzed at a glance. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span></p> +<p>The girl was alert to detect a certain expression in +his eyes—a gleam that would tell her what she half +feared—that the motive that had brought him with +her was like that which had caused Deveny to hold her +captive. But she could detect no such expression in +Harlan’s eyes, she could see a quizzical humor in his +glances at times, or frank interest, and there were +times when she saw a grim pity. +</p> +<p>And the pity affected her strangely. It brought him +close to her—figuratively; it convinced her that he was +a man of warm sympathies in spite of the reputation +he held in the Territory. +</p> +<p>She had heard her father speak of him—always +with a sort of awe in his voice; and tales of his reckless +daring, his Satanic cleverness with a six-shooter, of his +ruthlessness, had reached her ears from other sources. +He had seemed, then, like some evil character of mythology, +remote and far, and not likely to appear in the +flesh in her section of the country. +</p> +<p>It seemed impossible that she had fled to such a man +for protection—and that he had protected her; and +that she was now riding beside him—or slightly behind +him—and that, to all appearances, he was quite +as respectful toward her as other men. That, she surmised, +was what made it all seem so strange. +</p> +<p>Harlan did not seem disposed to talk; and he kept +Purgatory slightly in the lead—except when the trail +grew dim or disappeared altogether. Then he would +pull the black horse up, look inquiringly at Barbara, +and urge Purgatory after her when she took the lead. +</p> +<p>But there were many things that Barbara wanted to +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span> +inquire about; and it was when they were crossing a +big level between some rimming hills, where the trail +was broad, that she urged her pony beside the black. +</p> +<p>“Won’t you tell me about father—how he died?” +she asked. +</p> +<p>He looked sharply at her, saw that she was now +quite composed, and drawing Purgatory to a walk, began +to relate to her the incident of the fight at Sentinel +Rock. His story was brief—brutally brief, she might +have thought, had she not been watching his face during +the telling, noting the rage that flamed in his eyes +when he spoke of Dolver and Laskar and the mysterious +“Chief.” +</p> +<p>It was plain to the girl that he had sympathized +with her father; and it was quite as plain that he now +sympathized with her. And thus she mentally recorded +another point in his favor: +</p> +<p>He might be a gunman, a ruthless killer, an outlaw +of such evil reputation that men mentioned his name +with awe in their voices—but she <i>knew</i>, now, that he +had a keen sense of justice, and that the murder of her +father had aroused the retributive instinct in him. +</p> +<p>Also, she was convinced that compared to Deveny, +Rogers, and Lawson, he was a gentleman. At least, +so far he had not looked at her as those men had +looked at her. He had been with her now for several +hours, in a lonely country where there was no law +except his own desires, and he had been as gravely +courteous and considerate as it was possible for any +man to be. +</p> +<p>When he finished his story, having neglected to mention +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span> +the paper he had removed from one of the cylinders +of Morgan’s pistol—upon which was written instructions +regarding the location of the gold Morgan +had secreted—Barbara rode for a long time in silence, +her head bowed, her eyes moist. +</p> +<p>At last she looked up. Harlan’s gaze was straight +ahead; he was watching the trail, where it vanished +over the crest of a high ridge, and he did not seem to +be aware of Barbara’s presence. +</p> +<p>“And father told you to tell me—wanted you to +bring the news to me?” +</p> +<p>Harlan nodded. +</p> +<p>“Then,” she went on “your obligation—if you +were under any—seems to have been completed. You +need not have come out of your way.” +</p> +<p>“I was headed this way.” +</p> +<p>“To the Rancho Seco?” she questioned, astonished. +</p> +<p>Again he nodded. But this time there was a slight +smile on his lips. +</p> +<p>Her own straightened, and her eyes glowed with a +sudden suspicion. +</p> +<p>“That’s odd,” she said; “very odd.” +</p> +<p>“What is?” +</p> +<p>“That you should be on your way to the Rancho +Seco—and that you should encounter father—that +you should happen to reach Sentinel Rock about the +time he was murdered.” +</p> +<p>He looked straight at her, noting the suspicion in +her eyes. His low laugh had a hint of irony in it. +</p> +<p>“I’ve heard of such things,” he said. +</p> +<p>“What?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span></p> +<p>“About guys happenin’ to run plumb into a murder +when they was innocent of it—an’ of them bein’ accused +of the murder.” +</p> +<p>It was the mocking light in his eyes that angered +her, she believed—and the knowledge that he had +been aware of her suspicion before it had become half +formed in her mind. +</p> +<p>“I’m not accusing you!” she declared. +</p> +<p>“You said it was odd that I’d be headed this way—after +I’d told you all there was to tell.” +</p> +<p>“It is!” she maintained. +</p> +<p>“Well,” he conceded; “mebbe it’s odd. But I’m +still headin’ for the Rancho Seco. Mebbe I forgot to +tell you that your father said I was to go—that he +made me promise to go.” +</p> +<p>He had not mentioned that before; and the girl +glanced sharply at him. He met the glance with a +slow grin which had in it a quality of that subtleness +she had noticed in him before. A shiver of trepidation +ran over her. But she sat rigid in the saddle, determined +she would not be afraid of him. For the +exchange of talk between them, and his considerate +manner—everything about him—had convinced her +that he was much like other men—men who respect +women. +</p> +<p>“There is no evidence that father made you promise +to go to the Rancho Seco.” +</p> +<p>“There wasn’t no evidence that I made any promise +to keep that man Deveny from herd-ridin’ you,” he +said shortly, with a grin. “I’m sure goin’ to the +Rancho Seco.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span></p> +<p>“Suppose I should not wish it—what then?” +</p> +<p>“I’d keep right on headin’ for there—keepin’ my +promise.” +</p> +<p>“Do you always keep your promises?” she asked, +mockery in her voice. +</p> +<p>“When I make ’em. Usually, I don’t do any promisin’. +But when I do—that promise is goin’ to be +kept. If you ain’t likin’ my company, ma’am, why, I +reckon there’s a heap of trail ahead. An’ I ain’t afraid +of gettin’ lost.” +</p> +<p>“Isn’t that remarkable!” she jeered. +</p> +<p>He looked at her with sober eyes. “If we’re +figurin’ on hittin’ the Rancho Seco before night we’ll +have to quit our gassin’ an’ do some travelin’,” he advised. +“Accordin’ to the figures we’ve got about forty +miles to ride, altogether. We’ve come about fifteen—an’,” +he looked at a silver watch which he drew +from a pocket, “it’s pretty near two now.” +</p> +<p>Without further words—for it seemed useless to +argue the point upon which he was so obviously determined—Barbara +urged Billy on, taking the lead. +</p> +<p>For more than an hour she maintained the lead, +riding a short distance in advance, and seemingly paying +no attention to Harlan. Yet she noted that he +kept about the same distance from her always—though +she never permitted him to observe that she +watched him, for her backward glances were taken +out of the corners of her eyes, when she pretended to +be looking at the country on one side or the other. +</p> +<p>Harlan, however, noted the glances. And his lips +curved into a faint grin as he rode. Once when he +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span> +had dropped behind a little farther than usual, he +leaned over and whispered into Purgatory’s ear: +</p> +<p>“She’s sure ignorin’ us, ain’t she, you black son-of-a-gun! +She ain’t looked back here more’n three times +in the last five minutes!” +</p> +<p>And yet Harlan’s jocular mood did not endure long. +During those intervals in which Barbara kept her gaze +straight ahead on the trail, Harlan regarded her with +a grave intentness that betrayed the soberness of his +thoughts. +</p> +<p>In all his days he had seen no woman like her; +and when she had come toward him in Lamo, with +Higgins close behind her, he had been so astonished +that he had momentarily forgotten Deveny and all the +rest of them. +</p> +<p>Women of the kind he had met had never affected +him as Barbara had affected him. He had still a +mental picture of her as she had come toward him, +with her hair flying in a golden-brown mass over her +shoulders; her wide, fear-lighted eyes seeking his with +an expression of appeal so eloquent that it had sent a +queer, thrilling, protective sensation over him. +</p> +<p>And as she rode ahead of him it was the picture she +had made <i>then</i> that he saw; and the emotions that +assailed him were the identical emotions that had beset +him when for a brief instant, in Lamo, he had held +her in his arms, with her head resting on his shoulder. +</p> +<p>That, he felt, had been the real Barbara Morgan. +Her manner now—the constrained and distant pose +she had adopted, her suspicions, her indignation—all +those were outward manifestations of the reaction that +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span> +had seized her. The real Barbara Morgan was she +who had run to him for protection and she would always +be to him as she had appeared then—a soft, +yielding, trembling girl who, at a glance had trusted +him enough to run straight into his arms. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IX_AN_UNWELCOME_GUEST' id='IX_AN_UNWELCOME_GUEST'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<h3>AN UNWELCOME GUEST</h3> +</div> + +<p>It was late afternoon when Barbara and Harlan—the +girl still riding a little in advance of the man—rode +their horses out of a stretch of broken country +featured by low, barren hills and ragged draws, and +came to the edge of a vast level of sage and mesquite +that stretched southward an interminable distance. +</p> +<p>The sun was low—a flaming red disk that swam in +a sea of ever-changing color between the towering +peaks of two mighty mountains miles westward—and +the sky above the big level upon which Barbara and +Harlan rode was a pale amethyst set in the dull gray +frame of the dusk that was rising from the southern +and eastern horizons. +</p> +<p>Eastward the gray was pierced by the burning, flaming +prismatic streaks that stretched straight from the +cleft in the mountains where the sun was sinking—the +sun seemed to be sending floods of new color into the +streaks as he went, deepening those that remained; +tinging it all with harmonious tones—rose and pearl +and violet and saffron blending them with a giant, +magic brush—recreating them, making the whole +background of amethyst sky glow like a huge jewel +touched by the myriad colors of a mighty rainbow. +</p> +<p>The trail taken by Barbara Morgan ran now, in a +southeasterly direction, and it seemed to Harlan that +they were riding straight into the folds of a curtain of +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span> +gauze. For a haze was rising into the effulgent expanse +of color, and the sun’s rays, striking it, wrought +their magic upon it. +</p> +<p>Harlan, accustomed to sunsets—with a matter-of-fact +attitude toward all of nature’s phenomena—caught +himself admiring this one. So intent was he +that he looked around with a start when Purgatory +halted, to find that Barbara had drawn Billy down and +was sitting in the saddle close to him, watching him, +her eyes luminous with an emotion that thrilled Harlan +strangely. +</p> +<p>“This is the most beautiful place in the world,” she +declared in a voice that seemed to quaver with awe. +</p> +<p>“It’s sure a beauty,” agreed Harlan. “I’ve been in +a heap of places where they had sunsets, but dump ’em +all together an’ they wouldn’t make an edge on this +display. She’s sure a hummer!” +</p> +<p>The girl’s eyes seemed to leap at his praise. +</p> +<p>“I never want to leave this place,” she said. “There +is nothing like it. Those two mountains that you see +far out into the west—where the sun is going down—are +about forty miles distant. If you will notice, you +can see that there are other mountains—much smaller—connected +with them. They are two small ranges, +and they melt into the plains there—and there.” +</p> +<p>She pointed to the south and to the north, where +the two ranges, seemingly extending straight westward, +merged into the edge of the big level where +Barbara and Harlan sat on their horses. +</p> +<p>The two ranges were perhaps a dozen miles apart, +separated by a low level valley through which ran a +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span> +narrow river, its surface glowing like burnished gold +in the rays of the sinking sun. +</p> +<p>Gazing westward—straight into the glow—Harlan +noted the virgin wildness of the immense valley. +It lay, serene, slumberous; its salient features—ridges, +low hills, rocky promontories and wooded slopes—touched +by the rose tints that descended upon them; +while in the depressions reigned purple shadows, soft-toned, +blending perfectly with the brighter colors. +</p> +<p>With the sunset glow upon it; with the bastioned +hills—barren at their peaks, ridged and seamed—looming +clear and definite above the vast expanse of +green, the colossal valley stretched, with no movement +in it or above it—in a vacuum-like stillness that might +have reigned over the world on the dawn of creation’s +first morning. +</p> +<p>Harlan looked covertly at Barbara. The girl’s face +was pale, and her eyes were glowing with a light that +made him draw a long breath of sympathy and understanding. +But it had been many years since he had +felt the thrill of awe that she was experiencing at this +minute. +</p> +<p>He knew that presently the spell would pass, and +that material things would exact their due. And the +resulting contrast between the beauty of the picture +upon which she was gazing, and the solemn realization +of loss that memory would bring, instantly, would almost +crush her. +</p> +<p>Therefore he spoke seriously when he caught her +looking at him. +</p> +<p>“There’s sunsets <i>an’</i> sunsets,” he said. “They tell +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span> +me that they’re a heap common in some parts of the +world. Wyoming, now—Wyoming prides herself on +sunsets. An’ I’ve heard they have ’em in Italy, an’ +France—an’ some more of them foreign places—where +guys go to look at ’em. But it’s always seemed +to me that there ain’t a heap of sense in gettin’ fussed +up over a sunset. The sun has got his work to do; an’ +he does it without any fussin’. An’ they tell me that +it’s the same sun that sets in all them places I’ve been +tellin’ you about. +</p> +<p>“Well, it’s always been my idee that the sun ain’t +got no compliments due him—he’ll set mighty beautiful—sometimes; +an’ folks will get awed an’ thrilly +over him. But the next day—if a man happens to be +ridin’ in the desert, where there ain’t any water, he’ll +cuss the sun pretty thorough—forgettin’ the nice +things he said about it once.” +</p> +<p>Barbara scowled at him. +</p> +<p>“You haven’t a bit of poetry in your soul!” she +charged. “I’m sorry we stopped to look at the valley +or the sun—or anything. You don’t—you can’t appreciate +the beautiful!” +</p> +<p>He was silent as she urged Billy onward. And +as they fled southwestward, with Purgatory far behind, +Harlan swept his hat from his head and bowed toward +the mighty valley, saying lowly: +</p> +<p>“You’re sure a hummer—an’ no mistake. But if +a man had any poetry in his soul—why——” +</p> +<p>He rode on, gulping his delight over having accomplished +what he had intended to accomplish. +</p> +<p>“She’ll be givin’ it to me pretty regular; an’ she +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span> +won’t have time for no solemn thoughts. They’ll come +later, though, when she gets to the Rancho Seco.” +</p> +<p>It was the lowing of cattle that at last brought to +Harlan the conviction that they were near the Rancho +Seco—that and the sight of the roofs of some buildings +that presently came into view. +</p> +<p>But they had been riding for half an hour before +they came upon the cattle and buildings, and the flaming +colors had faded into somber gray tones. The +filmy dusk that precedes darkness was beginning to settle +over the land; and into the atmosphere had come +that solemn hush with which the wide, open places +greet the night. +</p> +<p>Barbara had no further word to say to Harlan until +they reached a group of buildings that were scattered +on a big level near a river. They had passed a long +stretch of wire fence, which Harlan suspected, enclosed +a section of land reserved for a pasture; and the girl +brought her pony to a halt in front of an adobe building +near a high rail fence. +</p> +<p>“This is the Rancho Seco,” she said shortly. “This +is the stable. Over there is the ranchhouse. Evidently +the men are all away somewhere.” +</p> +<p>She got off the pony, removed the saddle and bridle, +carried them into the stable, came out again, and +opened a gate in the fence, through which she sent +“Billy.” Then she closed the gate and turned to Harlan, +who had dismounted and was standing at Purgatory’s +head. +</p> +<p>“I thank you for what you have done for me,” she +said, coldly. “And now, I should like to know just +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span> +what you purpose to do—and why you have come.” +</p> +<p>Harlan’s eyes narrowed as he returned her gaze. +He remembered Lane Morgan’s words: “John Haydon +is dead stuck on Barbara;” and he had wondered +ever since the meeting in Lamo if Barbara returned +Haydon’s affection, or if she trusted Haydon enough +to confide in him. +</p> +<p>Barbara’s attitude toward Haydon would affect +Harlan’s attitude toward the girl. For if she loved +Haydon, or trusted him enough to confide in him—or +even to communicate with him concerning ordinary details, +Harlan could not apprise her of the significance +of his presence at the Rancho Seco. +</p> +<p>For Haydon was unknown to Harlan and Harlan +was not inclined to accept Morgan’s praise of him as +conclusive evidence of the man’s worthiness. Besides, +Morgan had qualified his instructions with: “Take +a look at John Haydon, an’ if you think he’s on the +level—an’ you want to drift on—turn things over +to him.” +</p> +<p>Harlan did not want to “drift on.” Into his heart +since his meeting in Lamo with Barbara—and during +the ride to the Rancho Seco—had grown a decided +reluctance toward “drifting.” And not even the girl’s +scorn could have forced him to leave her at the ranch, +unprotected. +</p> +<p>But he could not tell her why he could not go. Despite +her protests he must remain—at least until he +was able to determine the character of John Haydon. +</p> +<p>A gleam of faint mockery came into his eyes as he +looked at Barbara. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span></p> +<p>“I’m keepin’ my promise to your dad—I’m stayin’ +at the Rancho Seco because he told me to stay. He +wanted me to sort of look out that nothin’ happened to +you. I reckon we’ll get along.” +</p> +<p>The girl caught her breath sharply. In the growing +darkness Harlan’s smile seemed to hold an evil significance; +it seemed to express a thought that took into +consideration the loneliness of the surroundings, the +fact that she was alone, and that she was helpless. +More—it seemed to be a presumptuous smile, insinuating, +full of dire promise. +</p> +<p>For Harlan was an outlaw—she could not forget +that! He bore a reputation for evil that had made +him feared wherever men congregated; and as she +watched him it seemed to her that his face betrayed +signs of his ruthlessness, his recklessness, and his readiness +for violence of every kind. +</p> +<p>He might not have killed her father—Rogers and +Lawson had acquitted him of that. But he might be +lying about the promise to her father merely for the +purpose of providing an excuse to come to the Rancho +Seco. It seemed to her that if her father had really +exacted a promise from him he would have written to +her, or sent her some token to prove the genuineness +of it. There was no visible evidence of Harlan’s truthfulness. +</p> +<p>“Do you mean to say you are going to stay here—indefinitely?” +she demanded, her voice a little hoarse +from the fright that was stealing over her. +</p> +<p>He smiled at her. “You’ve hit it about right, +ma’am.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span></p> +<p>“I don’t want you to stay here!” she declared, +angrily. +</p> +<p>“I’m stayin’, ma’am.” His smile faded, and his +eyes became serious—earnest. +</p> +<p>“Later on—when things shape themselves up—I’ll +tell you why I’m stayin’. But just now——” +</p> +<p>She shrank from him, incredulous, a growing fear +plain in her eyes. And before he could finish what he +intended to say she had wheeled, and was running toward +the ranchhouse. +</p> +<p>He watched until she vanished through an open +doorway; he heard the door slam, and caught the +sound of bars being hurriedly dropped into place. And +after that he stood for a time watching the house. No +light came from within, and no other sound. +</p> +<p>He frowned slightly, drawing a mental picture of +the girl inside, yielding to the terror that had seized +her. Then after a while he walked down along the +corral fence until he came to another building—a +bunkhouse. And for a long time he stood in the doorway +of the building, watching the ranchhouse, afflicted +with grim sympathy. +</p> +<p>“It ain’t so damn’ cheerful, at that,” he mused. “I +reckon she thinks she’s landed into trouble with both +feet—with her dad cashin’ in like he did, an’ Deveny +after her. It sure must be pretty hard to consider all +them things. An’ on top of that I mosey along, with +a reputation as a no-good son-of-a-gun, an’ scare the +wits out of her with my homely mug. An’ I can’t tell +her why she hadn’t ought to be scared. I call that +mighty mean.” +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='X_ON_GUARD' id='X_ON_GUARD'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<h3>ON GUARD</h3> +</div> + +<p>The man whose soul held no love of the poetic +sat for two or three hours on the threshold of +the bunkhouse door, his gaze on the ranchhouse. He +was considering his “reputation,” and he had reached +the conclusion that Barbara Morgan had reason to +fear him—if rumor’s tongues had related to her all +of the crimes that had been attributed to him. And he +knew she must have heard a great many tales about +him, for rumor is a tireless worker. +</p> +<p>And for the first time in his life Harlan regretted +that he had permitted rumor to weave her fabric of +lies. For not one of the stories that luridly portrayed +him in the rôle of a ruthless killer and outlaw was true. +</p> +<p>It was easy enough for him to understand how he +had gained that reputation. He grinned mirthlessly +now, as he mentally reviewed a past which <i>had</i> been +rather like the record of a professional man-killer. +And yet, reviewing his past—from the day about five +years ago, when he had shot a Taos bully who had +drawn a gun on him with murderous intent, until today, +when he had sent Laskar to his death—he could not +remember one shooting affray for which he could be +blamed. As a matter of fact, he had—by the courts +in some instances, and by witnesses in others, where +there were no courts—been held blameless. +</p> +<p>There had been men who had seen Harlan draw his +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span> +weapons with deadly intent—men who insisted that +the man’s purpose was plain, to goad an enemy to draw +a weapon, permitting him partially to draw it, and +then to depend upon his superior swiftness and unerring +aim. And this theory of Harlan’s character +had gone abroad. +</p> +<p>And because the theory had been accepted, Harlan’s +name became associated with certain crimes which are +inseparable from the type of character which the popular +imagination had given him. Strangers—criminals—in +certain towns in the Territory and out of it must +have heard with considerable satisfaction that their +depredations had been charged to Harlan. Only once +had Harlan been able to refute the charge of rumor. +That was when, having passed a night in the company +of Dave Hallowell, the marshal of Pardo, word was +brought by a stage-driver that “Drag” Harlan had +killed a man in Dry Bottom—a town two hundred +miles north—and that Harlan had escaped, though a +posse had been on his trail. +</p> +<p>Even when the driver was confronted by Harlan in +the flesh he was doubtful, surrendering grudgingly, as +though half convinced that Harlan had been able to +transport himself over the distance from Dry Bottom +to Pardo by some magic not mentioned. +</p> +<p>So it had gone. But the terrible record of evil deeds +attributed to Harlan had not affected him greatly. In +the beginning—when he had killed the Taos bully—he +had been reluctant to take life; and he had avoided, +as much as possible, company in which he would be +forced to kill to protect himself. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span></p> +<p>And through it all he had been able to maintain his +poise, his self-control. The reputation he had achieved +would have ruined some men—would have filled them +with an ambition to fulfil the specifications of the +mythical terror men thought him. There was a danger +there; Harlan had felt it. There was a certain satisfaction +in being pointed out as a man with whom other +men dared not trifle; respect of a fearsome equality +was granted him—he had seen it in the eyes of men, +as he had seen an awed adulation in the eyes of +women. +</p> +<p>He had felt them all—all the emotions that a real +desperado could feel. He had experienced the impulse +to swagger, to pose—really to live the part that his +ill-fame had given him. +</p> +<p>But he had resisted those impulses; and the glow in +his eyes when in the presence of men who feared him +was not the passion to kill, but a humorous contempt +of all men who abased themselves before him. +</p> +<p>On the night he had been with Dave Hallowell, the +marshal of Pardo, he had listened with steady interest +to a story told him by the latter. It concerned the +Lamo region and the great basin at which he and +Barbara Morgan had been looking when the girl had +accused him of a lack of poetic feeling. +</p> +<p>“I’ve heard reports about Sunset Valley,” Hallowell +had said, squinting his eyes at Harlan. “I’ve met +Sheriff Gage two or three times, an’ he’s had somethin’ +to say about it. Accordin’ to Gage, everything ain’t +on the surface over there; there’s somethin’ behind all +that robbin’ an’ stealin’ that’s goin’ on. There’s somethin’ +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span> +big, but it’s hid—an’ no man ain’t ever been able +to find out what it is. But it’s somethin’. +</p> +<p>“In the first place, Deveny’s gang ain’t never been +heard of as pullin’ off anything anywheres else but in +Sunset Valley. As for that, there’s plenty of room in +the valley for them without gettin’ out of it. But it +seems they’d get out once in a while. They don’t—they +stay right in the valley, or close around it. Seems +to me they’ve got a grudge ag’in’ them Sunset Valley +ranchers, an’ are workin’ it off. +</p> +<p>“Why? That question has got Gage guessin’. It’s +got everybody guessin’. Stock is bein’ run off in big +bunches; men is bein’ murdered without no cause; no +man is able to get any money in or out of the valley—an’ +they’re doin’ other things that is makin’ the +cattlemen feel nervous an’ flighty. +</p> +<p>“They’ve scared one man out—a Pole named +Launski—from the far end. He pulled stakes an’ +hit the breeze runnin’ sellin’ out for a song to a guy +named Haydon. I seen Launski when he clumb on +the Lamo stage, headin’ this way, an’ he sure was a +heap relieved to get out with a whole skin.” +</p> +<p>Hallowell talked long, and the mystery that seemed +to surround Sunset Valley appealed to Harlan’s imagination. +Yet he did not reveal his interest to Hallowell +until the latter mentioned Barbara Morgan. +Then his eyes glowed, and he leaned closer to the +marshal. +</p> +<p>And when Hallowell remarked that Lane Morgan, +of the Rancho Seco had declared he would give half +his ranch to a trustworthy man who could be depended +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span> +upon to “work his guns” in the interest of the Morgan +family, the slow tensing of Harlan’s muscles might +have betrayed the man’s emotions—for Hallowell +grinned faintly. +</p> +<p>Hallowell had said more. But he did not say that +word had come to him from Sheriff Gage—an appeal, +rather—to the effect that Morgan had sent to him for +such a man, and that Gage had transmitted the appeal +to Hallowell. Hallowell thought he knew Harlan, +and he was convinced that if he told Harlan flatly that +Morgan wanted to employ him for that definite purpose, +Harlan would refuse. +</p> +<p>And so Hallowell had gone about his work +obliquely. He knew Harlan more intimately than he +knew any other man in the country; and he was aware +that the chivalric impulse was stronger in Harlan than +in any man he knew. +</p> +<p>And he was aware, too, that Harlan was scrupulously +honest and square, despite the evil structure +which had been built around him by rumor. He had +watched Harlan for years, and knew him for exactly +what he was—an imaginative, reckless, impulsive +spirit who faced danger with the steady, unwavering +eye of complete unconcern. +</p> +<p>As Hallowell had talked of the Rancho Seco he had +seen Harlan’s eyes gleam; seen his lips curve with a +faint smile in which there was a hint of waywardness. +And so Hallowell knew he had scattered his words on +fertile mental soil. +</p> +<p>And yet Harlan would not have taken the trail that +led to the Rancho Seco had not the killing of his +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span> +friend, Davey Langan, followed closely upon the story +related to him by the marshal. +</p> +<p>Harlan had ridden eastward, to Lazette—a matter +of two hundred miles—trailing a herd of cattle from +the T Down—the ranch where he and Langan were +employed. +</p> +<p>When he returned he heard the story of the killing +of his friend by Dolver and another man, not identified, +but who rode a horse branded with the L Bar M—which +was the Rancho Seco brand. +</p> +<p>It was Hallowell who broke the news of the murder +to Harlan, together with the story of his pursuit of +Dolver and the other man, and of his failure to capture +them. +</p> +<p>There was no thought of romance in Harlan’s mind +when he mounted Purgatory to take up Dolver’s trail; +and when he came upon Dolver at Sentinel Rock—and +later, until he had talked with Lane Morgan—he +had no thought of offering himself to Morgan, to +become that trustworthy man who would “work his +guns” for the Rancho Seco owner. +</p> +<p>But after he had questioned Laskar—and had felt +that Laskar was not the accomplice of Dolver in the +murder of Langan—he had determined to go to the +ranch, and had told Morgan of his determination. +</p> +<p>Now, sitting on the threshold of the Rancho Seco +bunkhouse, he realized that his talk with Morgan +had brought him here in a different rôle than he had +anticipated. +</p> +<p>From where he sat he had a good view of all the +buildings—low, flat-roofed adobe structures, scattered +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span> +on the big level with no regard for system, apparently—erected +as the needs of a growing ranch required. +Yet all were well kept and substantial, indicating that +Lane Morgan had been a man who believed in neatness +and permanency. +</p> +<p>The ranchhouse was the largest of the buildings. +It was two stories high on the side fronting the slope +that led to the river, and another section—in what +appeared to be the rear, facing the bunkhouse, also +had a second story—a narrow, boxlike, frowning section +which had the appearance of a blockhouse on the +parapet wall of a fort. +</p> +<p>And that, Harlan divined, was just what it had been +built for—for defensive purposes. For the entire +structure bore the appearance of age, and the style +of its architecture was an imitation of the Spanish +type. It was evident that Lane Morgan had considered +the warlike instincts of wandering bands of +Apache Indians when he had built his house. +</p> +<p>The walls connecting the fortlike section in the rear +with the two-story front were about ten feet in height, +with few windows; and the entire structure was built +in a huge square, with an inner court, or <i>patio</i>, +reached by an entrance that penetrated the lower +center of the two-story section in front. +</p> +<p>Harlan’s interest centered heavily upon the ranchhouse, +for it was there that Barbara Morgan had hidden +herself, fearing him. +</p> +<p>She had entered a door that opened in the wall +directly beneath the fortlike second story, and it was +upon this door that Harlan’s gaze was fixed. He +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span> +smiled wryly, for sight of the door brought Barbara +into his thoughts—though he was not sure she had +been out of them since the first instant of his meeting +with her in Lamo. +</p> +<p>“They’ve been tellin’ her them damn stories about +me bein’ a hell-raiser—an’ she believes ’em,” he +mused. And then his smile faded. “An she ain’t +none reassured by my mug.” +</p> +<p>But it was upon the incident of his meeting with +Barbara, and the odd coincidence of his coming upon +her father at Sentinel Rock, that his thoughts dwelt +longest. +</p> +<p>It was odd—that meeting at Sentinel Rock. And +yet not so odd, either, considering everything. +</p> +<p>For he had been coming to the Rancho Seco. +Before he had reached Sentinel Rock he had been +determined to begin his campaign against the outlaws +at the Rancho Seco. It was his plan to ask Morgan +for a job, and to spend as much of his time as possible +in getting information about Deveny and his +men, in the hope of learning the identity of the man +who had assisted in the murder of Langan. +</p> +<p>What was odd about the incident was that Morgan +should attempt to cross to Pardo to have his gold +assayed at just about the time Harlan had decided to +begin his trip to the Rancho Seco. +</p> +<p>Harlan smiled as his gaze rested on the ranchhouse. +He was glad he had met Lane Morgan; he was glad +he had headed straight for Lamo after leaving Morgan. +For by going straight to Lamo he had been +able to balk Deveny’s evil intentions toward the girl +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span> +who, in the house now, was so terribly afraid of him. +</p> +<p>He had told Morgan why he was headed toward +the Rancho Seco section, but he had communicated to +Morgan that information only because he had wanted +to cheer the man in his last moments. That was what +had made Morgan’s face light up as his life had ebbed +away. And Harlan’s eyes glowed now with the recollection. +</p> +<p>“The damned cuss—how he did brighten up!” he +mused. “He sure was a heap tickled to know that +the deck wasn’t all filled with dirty deuces.” +</p> +<p>And then Harlan’s thoughts went again to Lamo, +and to the picture Barbara had made running toward +him. It seemed to him that he could still feel her in +his arms, and a great regret that she distrusted him +assailed him. +</p> +<p>He had sat for a long time on the threshold of +the bunkhouse door, and after a time he noted that the +moon was swimming high, almost overhead. He got +up, unhurriedly, and again walked to the stable door, +looking in at Purgatory. For Harlan did not intend +to sleep tonight; he had resolved, since the Rancho +Seco seemed to be deserted except for his and Barbara’s +presence, to guard the ranchhouse. +</p> +<p>For he knew that the passions of Deveny for the +girl were thoroughly aroused. He had seen in Deveny’s +eyes there in Lamo a flame—when Deveny +looked at Barbara—that told him more about the +man’s passions than Deveny himself suspected. He +grinned coldly as he leaned easily against the stable +door; for men of the Deveny type always aroused +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span> +him—their personality had always seemed to strike +discord into his soul; had always fanned into flame the +smoldering hatred he had of such men; had always +brought into his heart those savage impulses which +he had sometimes felt when he was on the verge of +yielding to the urge to become what men had thought +him—and what they still thought him—a conscienceless +killer. +</p> +<p>His smile now was bitter with the hatred that was +in his heart for Deveny—for Deveny had cast longing, +lustful eyes upon Barbara Morgan—and the +smile grew into a sneer as he drew out paper and +tobacco and began to roll a cigarette. +</p> +<p>But as he rolled the cigarette his fingers stiffened; +the paper and the tobacco in it dropped into the dust +at his feet; and he stiffened, his lips straightening, his +eyes flaming with rage, his muscles tensing. +</p> +<p>For a horseman had appeared from out of the +moonlit haze beyond the river. Rigid in the doorway—standing +back a little so that he might not be seen—Harlan +watched the man. +</p> +<p>The latter brought his horse to a halt when he +reached the far corner of the ranchhouse, dismounted, +and stole stealthily along the wall of the building. +</p> +<p>Harlan was not more than a hundred feet distant, +and the glare of the moonlight shining full on the man +as he paused before the door into which Barbara Morgan +had gone, revealed him plainly to Harlan. +</p> +<p>The man was Meeder Lawson. Harlan’s lips +wreathed into a grin of cold contempt. He stepped +quickly to Purgatory, drew his rifle from its saddle +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span> +sheath and returned to the doorway. And there, standing +in the shadows, he watched Lawson as the latter +tried the door and, failing to open it, left it and crept +along the wall of the building, going toward a window. +</p> +<p>The window also was fastened, it seemed, for Lawson +stole away from it after a time and continued along +the wall of the house until he reached the southeast +corner. Around that, after a fleeting glance about +him, Lawson vanished. +</p> +<p>Still grinning—though there was now a quality in +the grin that might have warned Lawson, had he seen +it—Harlan stepped down from the doorway, slipped +into the shadow of the corral fence, and made his way +toward the corner where Lawson had disappeared. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XI_THE_INTRUDER' id='XI_THE_INTRUDER'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<h3>THE INTRUDER</h3> +</div> + +<p>After closing the door through which she had +entered, Barbara Morgan slipped the fastenings +into place and stood, an ear pressed against the door, +listening for sounds that would tell her Harlan had +followed her. But beyond the door all was silence. +</p> +<p>Breathing fast, yielding to the panic of fear that had +seized her, over the odd light she had seen in Harlan’s +eyes—a gleam, that to her, seemed to have been a +reflection of some evil passion in the man’s heart—she +ran through the dark room she had entered, +opened a door that led to the <i>patio</i>, and peered fearfully +outward, as though she half expected to see Harlan +there. +</p> +<p>But the court was deserted, apparently, though there +were somber shadows ranging the enclosing walls that +would afford concealment for Harlan, had he succeeded +in gaining entrance. As she stepped out of the +doorway she peered intently around. +</p> +<p>Then, further frightened by the brooding silence +that seemed to envelop the place, and tortured by +tragic thoughts in which her father occupied a prominent +position—almost crazed by the memory of what +had happened during the preceding twenty-four hours—she +fled across the <i>patio</i> swiftly, her terror growing +with each step. +</p> +<p>She knew the house thoroughly; she could have +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span> +found her way in complete darkness; and when she +reached the opposite side of the court she almost threw +herself at a door which, she knew, opened into the +big room in which she and her father had usually +passed their leisure. +</p> +<p>Entering, she closed the door, and barred it. Then, +feeling more secure, she stood for an instant in the +center of the room, gazing about, afflicted with an +appalling sense of loss, of loneliness, and of helplessness. +</p> +<p>For this was the first time she had entered the +house since the news of her father’s death had reached +her; and she missed him, feeling more keenly than +ever the grief she had endured thus far with a certain +stoic calm; yielding to the tears that had been very +close for hours. +</p> +<p>She did not light the kerosene lamp that stood on a +big center table in the room. For there was light +enough for her to see objects around her; and she +went at last to an arm-chair which had been her +father’s favorite, knelt beside it, and sobbed convulsively. +</p> +<p>Later, yielding to a dull apathy which had stolen +over her, she made her way upstairs, to her room—which +was directly over the front entrance to the <i>patio</i>—and +sank into a chair beside one of the windows. +</p> +<p>She had locked her door after entering; and for +the first time since arriving at the Rancho Seco she +felt comparatively safe. +</p> +<p>Her thoughts were incoherent—a queer jumble of +mental impulses which seemed to lead her always back +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span> +to the harrowing realization that she had lost her +father. That was the gigantic axis around which her +whole mental structure revolved. It was staggering, +stupefying, and her brain reeled under it. +</p> +<p>Other thoughts came, flickered like feeble lights, +and went out—thoughts of what had happened to her +at Lamo; a dull wonder over Meeder Lawson’s presence +in town when he should have been with the men +on the range; speculation as to the whereabouts of the +men—why none of them had remained at the ranchhouse; +and a sort of dumb, vague wonder over what +her future would be. +</p> +<p>She thought, too, of John Haydon of the Star ranch—the +big, smiling, serene-eyed man who seemed to +bring a breath of romance with him each time he +visited the Rancho Seco. Haydon would help her, she +knew, and she would go to him in the morning. +</p> +<p>Her father had trusted Haydon, and she would +trust him. Haydon was the one man in the section +who seemed to have no fear of Deveny and his men—many +times he had told her that most of the stories +told of Deveny’s crimes were untrue—that he had not +committed all those that were attributed to him. +</p> +<p>Not that Haydon condoned those offenses upon +which Deveny stood convicted by circumstantial evidence. +Nor had Haydon ever sought to defend Deveny. +On the other hand, Haydon’s condemnation of +the outlaw and his men had been vigorous—almost +too vigorous for Haydon’s safety, she had heard her +father say. +</p> +<p>It was when her thoughts dwelt upon Harlan that +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span> +she was most puzzled—and impressed. For though +she was acquainted with the man’s reputation—knowing +him to be an outlaw of the reckless, dare-devil type—she +felt the force of him, the compelling originality +of him—as he differed from the outlaw of popular +conception—his odd personality, which seemed to be +a mingling of the elements of character embracing both +good and evil. +</p> +<p>For though an outlaw himself, he had protected +her from outlaws. And she had seen in his eyes certain +expressions that told her that he felt impulses of +sympathy and of tenderness. And his words to Deveny +and others had seemed to hint of a fairly high honorableness. +</p> +<p>And though she had seen in his eyes a cold gleam +that was convincing evidence of the presence of those +ruthless passions which had made him an enemy of +the law, she had also detected expressions in his eyes +that told plainly of genial humor, of gentleness, and +of consideration for other humans. +</p> +<p>But whatever she had seen in him, she felt his force—the +terrible power of him when aroused. It was +in the atmosphere that surrounded him; it was in the +steady gleam of his eyes, in the poise of his head, and +in the thrust of his jaw, all around him. She feared +him, yet he fascinated her—compelled her—seemed +to insist that she consider him in her scheme of life. +</p> +<p>In fact, he had made it plain to her that he intended +to be considered. “I’m stayin’ here,” he had told her +in his slow, deliberate way. +</p> +<p>And that seemed to end it—she knew he <i>would</i> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span> +stay; that he was determined, and that nothing short +of force would dissuade him. And what force could +she bring against him? A man whose name, mentioned +in the presence of other men, made their faces blanch. +</p> +<p>Deep in her heart, though, lurked a conviction that +Harlan had not told her everything that had happened +at Sentinel Rock. She was afflicted with a suspicion +that he was holding something back. She had +seen that in his eyes, too, she thought. It seemed to +her that her father <i>might</i> have told him to come to +the Rancho Seco, and to stay there. And for that +reason—because she suspected that Harlan had not +told all he knew—she felt that she ought not order +him away. If only he had not looked at her with +that queer, insinuating smile! +</p> +<p>She had sat at the window for, it seemed to her, +many hours before she became aware that the moon +had risen and was directly overhead, flooding the +ground in the vicinity of the ranchhouse with a soft, +silver radiance. +</p> +<p>She got up with a start, remembering that she had +left Harlan standing outside the door in the rear. She +had almost forgotten that! +</p> +<p>She went to a window that opened into the <i>patio</i>, +and looked downward. Every nook and corner of the +<i>patio</i> was visible now; the dark, somber shadows had +been driven away, and in the silvery flood that poured +down from above the enclosure was brilliant, clearly +defined—and deserted. +</p> +<p>And yet as the girl looked, a presentiment of evil +assailed her, whitening her cheeks and widening her +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span> +eyes. The quiet peace and tranquillity of the <i>patio</i> +seemed to mock her; she felt that it held a sinister +promise, a threat of dire things to come. +</p> +<p>The feeling was so strong that it drove her back +from the window to the center of the room, where she +stood, holding her breath, her hands clasped in front +of her, the fingers twining stiffly. It seemed to her that +she was waiting—waiting for something to happen—something +that threatened. +</p> +<p>And when she heard a slight sound, seeming to arise +from the room below her, she caught her breath with +a gasp of horror. +</p> +<p>But she did not move. She stood there, with no +breath issuing from between her lips, for many minutes, +it seemed—waiting, dreading, a cold paralysis +stealing over her. +</p> +<p>And then again it came—an odd sound—slow, +creaking, seeming to come always nearer. It was not +until she heard the sound directly outside her door +that she realized that what she heard was a step on +the stairs. And then, convinced that Harlan had +gained entrance, she slipped noiselessly across the room +to the front wall, where she took down a heavy pistol +that hung from a wooden peg. +</p> +<p>With the huge weapon in hand she returned to a +point near the center of the room, and with bated +breath and glowing, determined eyes, faced the door. +</p> +<p>And when, after a time, she heard the door creak +with a weight that seemed to be against it—after she +saw it give; heard the lock break, and saw a man’s +form darken the opening as the door was flung wide—she +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span> +pressed the trigger of the weapon once—twice—three +times—in rapid succession. +</p> +<p>She heard the man curse, saw him catch at his chest, +and tumble headlong toward her. And she fired +again, thinking he was trying to grasp her. +</p> +<p>She laughed hysterically when she saw him sink to +the floor and stretch out with a queer inertness. Then, +swaying, her brain reeling with the horror of the thing, +she managed to get to the bed at the other side of the +room. When she reached it she collapsed gently, a +long, convulsive shudder running over her. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XII_BARBARA_SEES_A_LIGHT' id='XII_BARBARA_SEES_A_LIGHT'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<h3>BARBARA SEES A LIGHT</h3> +</div> + +<p>When Barbara regained consciousness it was +with a gasp of horror over the realization of +what had happened. She stiffened immediately, however, +and lay, straining at the dread paralysis that had +gripped her; for she saw Harlan standing at her side, +looking down into her face, his own set in a grim smile. +</p> +<p>She must have fainted again, for it seemed to her +that a long period of time elapsed until she again became +conscious of her surroundings. Harlan had +moved off a little, though he was still watching her +with the grimly humorous expression. +</p> +<p>She sat up, staring wildly at him; then shrank back, +getting as far away from him as she could. +</p> +<p>“You!” she gasped, “You! Didn’t I——” +</p> +<p>He interrupted her, drawling his words a little: +</p> +<p>“The guy you shot was Lawson. You bored him a +heap. I’ve toted him downstairs. He’s plenty dead. +It was plumb good shootin’—for a woman.” +</p> +<p>His words shocked her to action, and she got up +and walked around the foot of the bed, from where +she could see the spot where the intruder must have +fallen after she had shot him. A dark stain showed +on the floor where the man had lain, and the sight of +it sent her a step backward, so that she struck the foot +of the bed. She caught at the bed and grasped one +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span> +of the posts, holding tightly to it while she looked +Harlan over with dreading, incredulous eyes. +</p> +<p>“It—it wasn’t <i>you</i>!” she demanded. “Are you +sure?” +</p> +<p>He smiled and said, slowly and consolingly: “I +reckon if you’d shot <i>me</i> I’d be knowin’ it. Don’t take +it so hard, ma’am. Why, if a man goes to breakin’ +into a woman’s room that way he sure ain’t fit to go +on livin’ in a world where there <i>is</i> a woman.” +</p> +<p>“It was Lawson—you say? Meeder Lawson—the +Rancho Seco foreman? I thought—why, I +thought it was you!” +</p> +<p>“I’m thankin’ you, ma’am,” he said, ironically. +“But if you’ll just stick your head out of that window, +you’ll see it was Lawson, right enough. He’s layin’ +right below the window.” +</p> +<p>She did as bidden, and she saw Lawson lying on the +ground beneath the window, flat on his back, his face +turned upward with the radiant moonlight shining full +upon his wide-open, staring eyes. +</p> +<p>Barbara glanced swiftly, and then drew back into +the room, shuddering. +</p> +<p>Harlan stood, silently regarding her, while she +walked again to the bed and sat upon it, staring out +into the flood of moonlight, her face ghastly, her +hands hanging limply at her sides. +</p> +<p>She had killed a man. And though there was justification +for the deed, she could not fight down the +shivering horror that had seized her, the overpowering +and terrible knowledge that she had taken human life. +</p> +<p>She sat on the edge of the bed for a long time, and +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span> +Harlan said no word to her, standing motionless, his +arms folded, one hand slowly caressing his chin, as he +watched her. +</p> +<p>After a time, drawing a long, shuddering breath, +she looked up at him. +</p> +<p>“How did you know—what made you come—here?” +she asked. +</p> +<p>“I wasn’t reckonin’ to sleep tonight—havin’ +thoughts—about things,” he said. “I was puttin’ +in a heap of my time settin’ in the doorway of the +bunkhouse, wonderin’ what had made you so scared +of me. While I was tryin’ to figure it out I saw Lawson +comin’. There was somethin’ in his actions which +didn’t jibe with my ideas of square dealin’, an’ so I +kept lookin’ at him. An’ when I saw him prowlin’ +around, tryin’ to open doors an’ windows, why, I just +naturally trailed him. An’ I found the window he +opened. I reckon that’s all.” +</p> +<p>She got up, swaying a little, a wan smile on her +face that reflected her astonishment and wonder over +the way she had jumbled things. For this man—the +man she had feared when she had left him standing +outside the door some hours before—had been eager +to protect her from the other, who had attacked her. +He had been waiting, watching. +</p> +<p>Moreover, there was in Harlan’s eyes as he stood +in the room a considerate, deferential gleam that told +her more than words could have conveyed to her—a +something that convinced her that he was not the type +of man she had thought him. +</p> +<p>The knowledge filled her with a strange delight. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span> +There was relief in her eyes, and her voice was almost +steady when she again spoke to him: +</p> +<p>“Harlan,” she said, “did father really send you +here? Did he make you promise to come?” +</p> +<p>“I reckon he did, ma’am,” he said. +</p> +<p>For an instant she looked fairly at him, intently +searching his eyes for indications of untruthfulness. +Then she drew a long breath of conviction. +</p> +<p>“I believe you,” she said. +</p> +<p>Harlan swept his hat from his head. He bowed, +and there was an odd leap in his voice: +</p> +<p>“That tickles me a heap, ma’am. I don’t know +when I’ve heard anything that pleased me more.” +</p> +<p>He backed away from her until he reached the doorway. +And she saw his eyes—wide and eloquent—even +in the subdued light of the doorway. +</p> +<p>“I’d go to sleep now, ma’am, if I was you. You +need it a heap. It’s been a long day for you—an’ +things ain’t gone just right. I don’t reckon there’ll be +anybody botherin’ you any more tonight.” +</p> +<p>“And you?” she asked, “won’t you try to get some +sleep, too?” +</p> +<p>He laughed, telling her that he would “ketch a +wink or two.” Then he turned and went down the +stairs—she could hear him as he opened a lower +door and went out. +</p> +<p>Looking out of the window an instant later, she +saw him taking Lawson’s body away. And still later, +hearing a sound outside, she stole to the window again. +</p> +<p>Below, seated on the threshold of the door that led +into the room she had entered when she had crossed +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span> +the <i>patio</i>, she saw Harlan. He was smoking a cigarette, +leaning against the door jamb in an attitude of +complete relaxation. +</p> +<p>There was something in his manner that comforted +her—a calm confidence, a slow ease of movement as +he fingered his cigarette that indicated perfect tranquility—an +atmosphere of peace that could not have +surrounded him had he meditated any evil whatever. +</p> +<p>She knew, now, that she had misjudged him. For +he had made no attempt to take advantage of her loneliness +and helplessness. And whatever his reputation—whatever +the crimes he had committed against the +laws—he had been a gentleman in his attitude toward +her. That feature of his conduct dominated her +thoughts as she stretched out on the bed; it was her +last coherent thought as she went to sleep. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIII_HARLAN_TAKES_CHARGE' id='XIII_HARLAN_TAKES_CHARGE'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<h3>HARLAN TAKES CHARGE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Barbara could not have told why she had not +acted upon her determination to ride westward +to the Star ranch to acquaint John Haydon with the +predicament into which the events of the past few +hours had plunged her. She could not have explained +why she permitted the first day—after Harlan’s coming—to +pass without going to see Haydon, any more +than she could have explained why she permitted many +other days to pass in the same manner. +</p> +<p>She was almost convinced, though, that it was because +of the manner in which Harlan took charge of +the ranch—the capable and business-like way he had +of treating the men. +</p> +<p>For the outfit came in late in the afternoon following +the night which had marked the death of Lawson—the +straw-boss explaining that he had received explicit +orders from Lawson to “work” a grass level +several miles down the river. +</p> +<p>One other reason for Barbara’s failure to ride to the +Star—a reason that she did not permit to dwell prominently +in her thoughts—was resentment. +</p> +<p>She had permitted the first day to pass without +going to see Haydon. But when it had gone and +another day dawned without Haydon coming to see +<i>her</i>, she felt that he was deliberately absenting himself. +For certainly he must have heard what had happened, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span> +and if he thought as much of her as he had led her to +believe he would have come to her instantly. +</p> +<p>Had Haydon seen the defiant gleam of her eyes +when she gazed westward—in the direction of the +Star—he might have realized that each day he stayed +away from the Rancho Seco would make it that much +more difficult for him to explain. +</p> +<p>Barbara stayed indoors much of the time during +the first days of Harlan’s control of the ranch, but +from the windows she saw him—noted that the men +obeyed him promptly and without question. +</p> +<p>A sense of loss, of emptiness, still afflicted the girl, +and yet through it all there ran a thrill of satisfaction, +of assurance that the steady-eyed man who had saved +her from Deveny, and who had treated her like a +courtier of old on the night she had killed Lawson, +seemed to have her welfare in mind, seemed—despite +the reputation the people of the country had given +him—to have constituted himself her guardian, without +expectation of reward of the kind she had feared +he sought. +</p> +<p>Harlan’s method of assuming control of the Rancho +Seco had been direct and simple. When the twenty-seven +men of the outfit had straggled into the yard +surrounding the big corral—the chuck-wagon, bearing +the cook and his assistant, trailing a little behind, and +followed by the horses of the <i>remuda</i> with the wrangler +hurling vitriolic language in the rear—Harlan +was standing beside Purgatory near the corral fence in +front of one of the bunkhouses. +</p> +<p>He had paid—apparently—no attention to the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span> +men as they dismounted, unsaddled, and turned their +horses into the corral, and he did not even look at the +belligerent-eyed cook whose sardonic glance roved over +him. +</p> +<p>But the men of the outfit watched him out of the +corners of their eyes; as they passed him to go to the +bunkhouses, they shot inquiring, speculating glances at +one another, full of curiosity, not unmixed with astonishment +over his continued silence. +</p> +<p>It was when, drawn by the wonder that consumed +them, they gathered in a group near the door of one +of the bunkhouses, that Harlan moved toward them. +</p> +<p>For he had noted that they had become grouped, +and that into the atmosphere had come a tension. +</p> +<p>Harlan’s actions had been governed by design. His +continued silence had been strategy of a subtle order. +It had attracted the attention of the men, it had intrigued +their interest. +</p> +<p>If he had spoken to them while they had been moving +about on their different errands, telling them that +henceforth he was to manage the Rancho Seco, they +would have given him scant attention. Also, he would +not have been able to study their faces as he had +studied them while they had been watching him, and +he would not have gained the knowledge of their characters +that he now possessed. +</p> +<p>Besides, a humorous malice possessed Harlan—he +wanted to view them collectively when he gave them +his news, to note the various ways in which they would +receive it. +</p> +<p>Absolute silence greeted Harlan’s forward movement. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span> +He could hear the labored breathing of some +of the men—men of violent temper who sensed +trouble—and his grin grew broad as he halted within +a dozen feet of the group. +</p> +<p>“Boys,” he said, slowly, “you’ve got a new boss. +It’s me. A day or so ago, crossin’ from Pardo, I run +into a ruckus at Sentinel Rock. Lane Morgan was the +center of the ruckus—an’ he got perforated—plenty. +But before he cashed in he got a gleam of downright +sense an’ told me he’d been lookin’ for me, to make +me manager of the Rancho Seco. +</p> +<p>“I’m reckonin’ to be manager—beginnin’ now. If +there’s any of you men that ain’t admirin’ to do the +jumpin’ when I yap orders to you, you’re doin’ your +gassin’ right now. Them that’s pinin’ to work under +me is sure of a square deal, beginnin’ now, and continuin’ +henceforth. I reckon that’s all.” +</p> +<p>Into Harlan’s eyes as he talked had come that vacuous +light that had been in them when he had faced +Deveny’s men in Lamo—the light that was always in +his eyes whenever he faced more than one man, with +trouble imminent. +</p> +<p>He saw the face of every man in the group—while +seeming not to be looking at any of them. He noted +the various shades of expression that came into their +faces as they digested his words, he saw how some of +them watched him with sober interest and how others +permitted themselves a sneer of incredulity or dislike. +</p> +<p>He noted that a tall, slender, swarthy man on the +extreme left of the group watched him with a malevolent +gaze, his eyes flaming hate; he saw a black-haired, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span> +hook-nosed fellow near the center of the group +watching him with a grin of cold contempt. +</p> +<p>It seemed to Harlan that a fair proportion of the +men were willing to acknowledge his authority—for +they were frankly studying him, ready to greet him as +their employer. Many others, however, were as +frankly hostile. +</p> +<p>After Harlan ceased speaking there came a short +silence, during which many of the men looked at one +another inquiringly. +</p> +<p>It was a moment during which, had a leader appeared +to take the initiative for those who intended +to dissent from Harlan’s rule, the outfit might have +been divided. +</p> +<p>Evidently the tall, swarthy man divined that the +time to dissent had come, for he cleared his throat, and +grinned felinely. +</p> +<p>Before he could speak, however, a short man with +keen eyes that, since the instant they had rested upon +Harlan, had been glowing with something that might +have been defined as mingled astonishment and delight +thinly concealed by a veneer of humor—said distinctly: +</p> +<p>“You crossed over from Pardo—you say?” +</p> +<p>Harlan nodded, and a pin-point of recognition +glowed in his eyes as he looked at the man. +</p> +<p>The other laughed, lowly. “Seems I know you,” +he said. “You’re ‘Drag’ Harlan!” +</p> +<p>A tremor ran through the group. There was a concerted +stiffening of bodies, a general sigh from lungs +in process of deflation. And then the group stood +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span> +silent, every man watching Harlan with that intent +curiosity that comes with one’s first glimpse of a noted +character, introduced without expectation. +</p> +<p>Harlan noted that a change had come over the men. +Those whose faces had betrayed their inclination to accept +his authority had taken—without exception—a +glum, disappointed expression. On the other hand, +those who had formerly betrayed hostility, were now +grinning with satisfaction. +</p> +<p>A tremor of malicious amusement, expressed visibly +by a flicker of his eyelids, was Harlan’s only emotion +over the change that had come in the men of the +group. He could now have selected those of the men +who—as Lane Morgan had said—could not be +trusted, and he could have pointed out those who had +been loyal to Morgan, and who would be loyal to +Barbara and himself. +</p> +<p>Among the former were the tall, swarthy man on +the extreme left, and the hook-nosed fellow near the +center. There were perhaps ten of the latter, and it +was plain to Harlan that the short man who had +spoken was their leader. +</p> +<p>“‘Drag’ Harlan—eh?” +</p> +<p>This was the tall, swarthy man. The malevolence +had gone from his eyes, he was grinning broadly, +though there was respect of a fawning character in his +manner as he stepped out from the group and halted +within a few feet of Harlan. +</p> +<p>“Me an’ my friends wasn’t none tickled to find that +we was goin’ to have a new manager. We was sort of +expectin’ Miss Barbara to do the runnin’ herself. But +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span> +if <i>you</i> say you’re runnin’ things, that makes it a whole +lot different. We ain’t buckin’ ‘Drag’ Harlan’s +game.” +</p> +<p>“Thank you,” grinned Harlan. “I saw you reportin’ +to Miss Morgan. You’re straw-boss, I reckon.” +</p> +<p>“You’ve hit it. I’m Stroud—Lafe Stroud.” +</p> +<p>“You’ll keep on bein’ straw-boss,” said Harlan, +shortly. “I’m appointin’ a foreman.” +</p> +<p>“Where’s Lawson?” +</p> +<p>It was Stroud who spoke. There was a shadow of +disappointment in his eyes. +</p> +<p>“Lawson won’t be needin’ a title any more,” said +Harlan, narrowing his eyes at the other. “He needs +plantin’. Soon as we get set some of you boys can go +over an’ take care of him. You’ll find him in the +harness shop. He busted down the door of Miss Barbara’s +room last night, an’ she made a colander out +of him.” +</p> +<p>Harlan ignored the effect of his news on the men, +fixing his gaze on the short man who had spoken first, +and who was now standing silent, in an attitude that +hinted of dejection. +</p> +<p>“You’ll be foreman, Linton,” he stated shortly. +</p> +<p>Linton, who had been glumly listening, was so +startled by the sudden descent upon his shoulders of +the mantle of authority that he straightened with a +snap and grabbed wildly at his hat—which dropped +from his head despite his effort to clutch it, revealing +a mop of fiery red hair. When he straightened, after +recovering the hat, his freckled face was crimson with +embarrassment and astonishment. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span></p> +<p>“I’m obliged to you,” he mumbled. +</p> +<p>That had ended it. The following morning Linton +came to Harlan for orders, and a little later the entire +outfit, headed by Stroud, and trailed by the chuck-wagon +and the horses of the <i>remuda</i>, started southward +to a distant section of the big level, leaving Linton +and Harlan at the ranchhouse. +</p> +<p>And as the outfit faded into the southern distance, +Harlan, walking near the larger of the two bunkhouses, +came upon Linton. +</p> +<p>Harlan grinned when he saw the other. +</p> +<p>“You didn’t go with the outfit, Red?” he said. +“Seems a foreman ought to be mighty eager to be with +his men on their first trip after he’s appointed.” +</p> +<p>Linton’s face was pale, his gaze was direct. +</p> +<p>“Look here, Harlan,” he said, steadily. “I’ve +knowed you a long time, an’ I know that you’re a +damn’ sight straighter than a lot of men which has got +reputations better than yourn. But there’s some things +want explainin’. I’ve sort of took a shine to that little +girl in there. There’s things brewin’ which is goin’ +to make it mighty bad for her. It wasn’t so bad while +old Morgan was here, but now he’s gone, an’ she’s got +to play it a lone hand. +</p> +<p>“You git riled an’ sling your gun on me if you want +to. I know I wouldn’t have a chance. But just the +same, I’m tellin’ you. You know that more’n half that +outfit you’ve put me at the head of is Deveny’s men—sneakin’, +thievin’, murderin’ outlaws?” +</p> +<p>“You wantin’ to quit, Red?” said Harlan, smoothly. +</p> +<p>“Quit! Hell’s fire! I’m hangin’ on to the finish. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span> +But I’m findin’ out where you stand. What you +meanin’ to do with Barbara Morgan?” +</p> +<p>Harlan grinned. “I answered that question when I +appointed you foreman, Red. But I reckon I made a +mistake—I ought to have appointed a man who knows +what his think-box is for.” +</p> +<p>Linton flushed, and peered intently at the other. +</p> +<p>“Meanin’ that you’re backin’ Barbara in this here +deal?” he demanded. +</p> +<p>“A real thoughtful man would have tumbled to it +quicker,” was Harlan’s soft, ironical reply. +</p> +<p>For an instant Linton’s gaze was intense with +searching, probing inquiry. And Harlan’s steady eyes +were agleam with a light that was so quietly honest +that it made Linton gasp: +</p> +<p>“Damn me! You mean it! You’re playin’ ’em +straight, face up. That talk of yourn about Lane +Morgan makin’ you manager was straight goods. I +know Dolver an’ Laskar an’ the guy they call ‘Chief’ +plugged Morgan—for I heard Stroud an’ some more +of them talkin’ about it. An’ I heard that you got +Dolver an’ Laskar, an’ kept Deveny from grabbin’ off +Barbara Morgan, over in Lamo. But I thought you +was playin’ for Barbara, too—an’ I wasn’t figurin’ on +lettin’ you.” +</p> +<p>Harlan laughed lowly. +</p> +<p>“Things don’t always shape up the way a man +thinks they will, Red. I started for Lamo, figurin’ to +salivate Dolver an’ the other guy who killed Davey +Langan. I got Dolver at Sentinel Rock, an’ I figured +I’d be likely to run into the other guy somewheres—mebbe +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span> +findin’ him in Deveny’s gang. But runnin’ into +Lane Morgan sort of changed the deal. An’ now I’m +postponin’ a lot of things until Barbara Morgan is +runnin’ free, with no coyotes from the Deveny crowd +tryin’ to rope her.” +</p> +<p>Linton’s eyes were glowing, he crowded close to +Harlan, so close that his body touched Harlan’s, +and he stood thus for an instant, breathing fast. Then, +noting the unwavering, genial gleam in Harlan’s eyes—a +visible sign of Harlan’s knowledge of his deep +emotion—Linton seized one of the other’s hands and +gripped it tightly. +</p> +<p>“Damn your hide,” he said, lowly, “you had me +goin’. I’m dead set on seein’ that girl git a square +deal, an’ when I saw you makin’ a play for them +damned outlaws that are in the outfit, I sure figured +there’d be hell a-poppin’ around the Rancho Seco. +You sure had me flabbergasted when you named me +foreman, for I couldn’t anticipate your trail none. +</p> +<p>“But I reckon I’m wised up, now. You’re goin’ to +run a whizzer in on ’em—playin’ ’em for suckers. +An’ I’m your right-hand man—stickin’ with you until +hell runs long on icebergs!” +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIV_SHADOWS' id='XIV_SHADOWS'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<h3>SHADOWS</h3> +</div> + +<p>A desire to ride once more in the peaceful sunshine +of the land she loved was one of the first +indications that Barbara was recovering from the shock +occasioned by her father’s death. For two or three +days she had not stirred from her room, except to go +downstairs to cook her meals. She had spent much of +her time sitting at a window nursing her sorrow. +</p> +<p>But on this morning she got out of bed feeling more +composed than usual, with several new emotions struggling +for the mastery. One of those emotions was +that of intolerance. +</p> +<p>Harlan’s assumption of authority enraged her. He +had come to the Rancho Seco with no credentials other +than his mere word that her father had forced him +to promise to “take hold” of “things.” And she intended, +this very morning, to send Harlan away, and +to assume control of the ranch herself. +</p> +<p>This determination held until after she had breakfasted, +and then she stood for a long time in the +kitchen door, looking out into the brilliant sunshine, +afflicted with a strange indecision. +</p> +<p>Harlan <i>had</i> helped to fill the void created by her +father’s death—that was certain. There had been +something satisfying in his presence at the ranch; it +had seemed to mean an assurance for her safety; she +had felt almost as fully protected as when her father +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span> +had been with her. It angered her to see him moving +about the place as though he had a perfect right to be +there, but at the same time she felt comfortably certain +that as long as he was around no harm could come +to her. +</p> +<p>Her emotions were so contradictory that she could +not reach a decision regarding the action she should +take and she bit her lips with vexation as she stood in +the doorway. +</p> +<p>Later, her cheeks a little flushed with the realization +that she was surrendering to an emotion that she could +not understand—but which, she decided guiltily, her +face crimson, had its inception in a conviction that she +would regret seeing Harlan ride away, to return no +more—she went to the corral, roped her pony, threw +saddle and bridle on it, mounted the animal, and rode +away—westward. +</p> +<p>She had not traveled more than half a mile when +she heard the rapid beating of hoofs behind her. +Glancing swiftly backward, she saw Purgatory coming, +Harlan in the saddle, smoking a cigarette. +</p> +<p>Her pulses leaped, unaccountably, and the crimson +flush again stained her cheeks; but she sat rigid in the +saddle, and looked straight ahead, pretending she had +not discovered the presence of horse and rider behind +her. +</p> +<p>She rode another half mile before the flush died out +of her cheeks. And then, responding to a swift indignation, +she brought Billy to a halt, wheeled him, and +sat motionless in the saddle, her face pale, her eyes +flashing. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span></p> +<p>With apparent unconcern Harlan rode toward her. +The big black horse did not change his pace, nor did +Harlan change expression. It seemed to the girl that +in both horse and rider were a steadfastness of purpose +that nothing could change. And despite her indignation, +she felt a thrill of admiration for both man and +horse. +</p> +<p>Yet her eyes were still flashing ominously when Harlan +rode to within a dozen paces of her and brought +the big black to a halt. +</p> +<p>There was an expression of grave respect on Harlan’s +face; but she saw a lurking devil in his eyes—a +gleam of steady, quizzical humor—that made her +yearn to use her quirt on him. For by that gleam she +knew he had purposely followed her; that he expected +her to be angry with him for doing so. And the gleam +also told her that he had determined to bear with her +anger. +</p> +<p>“Well?” she inquired, icily. +</p> +<p>“Good mornin’, ma’am.” He bowed to her, sweeping +his broad-brimmed hat from his head with, it +seemed to her, an ironical flourish. +</p> +<p>“Is there something you want to speak to me +about?” she asked, her chin elevated, disdain in her +eyes. She assured herself that when he glanced at her +as he was doing at this instant, she positively hated +him. She wondered why she had tolerated his +presence. +</p> +<p>“I wasn’t havin’ any thoughts about speakin’ to you, +ma’am. Kind of a nice mornin’ for a ride, ain’t it?” +</p> +<p>“If one rides alone,” she returned, significantly. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span></p> +<p>“I enjoy ridin’ a whole lot better when I’ve got +company,” he stated, gravely, with equal significance. +</p> +<p>“Meaning that you have made up your mind to ride +with me, I suppose?” she said coldly. +</p> +<p>“You’ve hit it, ma’am.” +</p> +<p>“Well,” she declared, her voice quivering with passion; +“I don’t want you to ride with me. You came +here and usurped whatever power and authority there +is; and you are running the Rancho Seco as though it +belongs to you. But you shan’t ride with me—I don’t +want you to!” +</p> +<p>Had she been standing she must have stamped one +foot on the ground, so vehement was her manner. And +the flashing scorn of her eyes should have been enough +to discourage most men. +</p> +<p>But not Harlan. His eyelids flickered with some +emotion; and his eyes—she noted now, even though +she could have killed him for his maddening insistence—were +blue, and rimmed by heavy lashes that sun +and sand had bleached until the natural brown of them +threatened to become a light tan. +</p> +<p>She studied him, even while hating him for she saw +the force of him—felt it. And though she was thinking +spiteful things of him, she found that she was +forming a new impression of him—of his character, +his appearance, and of the motives that controlled +him. +</p> +<p>And she thought she knew why men avoided having +trouble with him. She told herself that if she were a +man and she were facing him with violence in her +heart, she would consider seriously before she betrayed +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span> +it to him. For in his eyes, in the lips, in the thrust of +his chin—even in the atmosphere that surrounded him +at this instant, was a threat, an unspoken promise, lingering +and dormant, of complete readiness—almost +eagerness, she was convinced—for violence. +</p> +<p>She drew a sharp breath as she watched him. And +when she saw his lips curving into a slight smile—wholesome, +though grave; with a hint of boyish amusement +in them—she got another quick impression of +his character, new and startling and illuminating. +</p> +<p>For behind the hard, unyielding exterior that he +presented to men; back of the promise and the threat +of violence, was the impulsiveness and the gentleness +that would have ruled him had not the stern necessity +of self-preservation forced him to conceal them. +</p> +<p>The smile disarmed her. It <i>did</i> seem ludicrous—that +she should try to force this man to do anything he +did not want to do. And she had known that he would +not obey her, and ride back to the ranchhouse; she +was convinced that she must either go back or suffer +him to follow her as he pleased. +</p> +<p>And she was determined not to give up her ride. +She was determined to be very haughty about it, +though; but when she wheeled Billy, to head him again +into the western distance, her eyes twinkled her surrender, +and her lips trembled on the verge of a defiant +smile. +</p> +<p>Then Billy felt the quirt on his flank; he snorted +with astonishment and disgust, and charged forward, +tossing his head intolerantly. +</p> +<p>Looking sidelong, after Billy had traveled two or +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span> +three hundred yards, Barbara observed that the big +black horse was not more than half a dozen steps behind. +And curiously, Barbara again experienced that +comfortable assurance of protection, and of satisfaction +over the nearness of Harlan. +</p> +<p>Moved by an entirely unaccountable impulse, she +drew the reins slightly on Billy, slowing him, almost +imperceptibly, so that both horses had traveled more +than a quarter of a mile before the distance between +them lessened noticeably. +</p> +<p>And then, with an impatience that caused her cheeks +to glow, Barbara noted that Purgatory had slowed +also, Harlan seemingly accommodating the animal’s +pace to her own. It was plain to see that Harlan did +not intend to assume that she had relented. +</p> +<p>For another quarter of a mile the distance remained +the same, and the silence was unbroken except by the +rhythmical beating of hoofs through the rustling, +matted mesquite. +</p> +<p>Then Barbara, yielding to an impulse of righteous +anger, brought on by Harlan’s obvious intention to +remain at a respectful distance, deliberately brought +Billy to a walk and waited until Harlan rode beside +her. +</p> +<p>“You don’t need to be a brute—even if I did tell +you to go back to the ranchhouse!” +</p> +<p>“Meanin’ what, ma’am? Why, I don’t remember +to have done anything. I was doin’ a heap of thinkin’ +just now—if that’s what you mean.” +</p> +<p>“Thinking mean things of me—I suppose—for +what I said to you.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span></p> +<p>He had been thinking of her—seriously. And his +thoughts were far from fickle as he watched her now, +riding within a few feet of him, her profile toward him, +her head having a rigid set, her chin held high, her +lips tight-pressed, and her hair drooping in graceful +coils over her ears, and bulging in alluring disorder at +the nape of her neck. +</p> +<p>He was thinking that he had braved, to answer a +mere whim, greater dangers than he would be likely +to meet in defending her from the wolf-pack which +circumstances had set upon her. He was thinking that +heretofore his life had been lived without regard to +order or system—that he had led a will-o’-the-wisp +existence, never knowing that such women as she +graced the world. He was thinking of what might +have happened to her had not Davey Langan been +killed, and if he had not started out to avenge him. +</p> +<p>Into his thoughts at this minute flashed a mental +picture that paled his face and brought his lips into +straight, hard lines—a picture of Barbara at the +mercy of Deveny. +</p> +<p>With a quick turn he brought Purgatory around in +front of Billy, blocking the animal’s further progress +westward. The girl started at the rapid movement, +and watched him fearfully, dreading—she knew not +what. +</p> +<p>But his smile—grim and mirthless though it was—partially +reassured her, and she sat silent, looking at +him as he spoke, rapidly, earnestly. +</p> +<p>“I was thinkin’ of you; an’ I wasn’t thinkin’ mean +things—about you. I was thinkin’ of Deveny—an’ +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span> +of what your dad told me over there by Sentinel Rock. +</p> +<p>“Your dad told me that you was in danger—that +Deveny an’ Strom Rogers an’ some more of them had +their eyes turned on you. Your dad made me promise +that I’d come here an’ look out for you—an’ I mean +to do it. That’s why I went to Lamo when I had +no call to go there an’ that’s why I brought Deveny +to a show-down in front of you. +</p> +<p>“There’s somethin’ goin’ on around here that ain’t +showin’ on the surface—somethin’ that’s hidden an’ +sneakin’. You heard some of them guys in Lamo +gassin’ about the ‘Chief’ bein’ one of the three that +sent your dad over the Divide. +</p> +<p>“Well, your dad told me that, too—that there was +three of them pitched onto him. It was the fellow +they call Chief that shot your dad while he was sleepin’—when +it was too dark for your dad to see his face. +Your dad made me promise to hunt that guy up an’ +square things for him. That’s what I’m here for. +Anyway, it’s one reason I’m here. The other reason +is that I’m goin’ to see that you get a square deal from +them guys. +</p> +<p>“An’ you won’t get a square deal ridin’ out alone, +like this—especially when you head toward Sunset +Trail, where Deveny an’ his gang hang out. An’ I’m +settin’ down hard on you ridin’ that way. I’m keepin’ +you from runnin’ any chances.” +</p> +<p>Silently Barbara had watched Harlan’s face while +he had been talking. There was no doubt that he was +in earnest, and there was likewise no doubt that he was +concerned for her safety. But why? It seemed absurd +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span> +that Harlan, an outlaw himself, should protect +her from other outlaws. Yet in Lamo he had done +just that. +</p> +<p>Behind his actions, his expressed concern for her, +must be a motive. What was it? Was it possible +that he was doing this thing unselfishly; that the promise +her father had exacted from him had changed him; +that in his heart at this instant dwelt those finer impulses +which must be dormant in all men, however +bad? +</p> +<p>The light of that great inquiry was in her eyes; they +searched his face for subtlety and craft and cunning—for +something that would give her a clue to his +thoughts. And when she could find in his expression +only a grave concern she pulled Billy around and +started him back toward the ranchhouse. +</p> +<p>They had not ridden more than a hundred yards +before she stole a glance at Harlan. +</p> +<p>He was now riding beside her, looking straight +ahead, his face expressionless. Had he betrayed the +slightest sign of triumph she would have changed her +mind about going back to the ranchhouse with him. +</p> +<p>As it was, she felt a pulse of rage over her readiness +in yielding to his orders. Yet the rage was +softened by a lurking, stealthy joy she got out of his +masterfulness. +</p> +<p>“I presume I may ride in another direction—east, +for instance—or north, or south?” +</p> +<p>He apparently took no notice of the mockery in her +voice. +</p> +<p>“You’ll not be ridin’ alone, anywhere,” he declared. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span></p> +<p>“Oh!” she returned, raising her chin and looking +at him with a cold scorn that, she thought, would embarrass +him; “I am to have a guardian.” +</p> +<p>He looked straight back to her, steadily, seemingly +unaffected by the hostility of her gaze. +</p> +<p>“It amounts to that. But mebbe I wouldn’t put it +just that way. Somebody’s got to look out for you—to +see that you don’t go to rushin’ into trouble. There +was trouble over in Lamo—if you’ll remember.” +</p> +<p>And now he smiled gravely at her, and her face +reddened over the memory of the incident. She had +been eager enough, then, to seek his protection; she +had trusted him. +</p> +<p>“That wasn’t your fault,” he went on gently. +“You didn’t know then, mebbe, just what kind of a +guy Deveny is. But you know now, an’ it <i>would</i> be +your fault if you run into him again.” +</p> +<p>He saw how she took it—how her color came and +went, and how her eyes drooped from his. He smiled +soberly. +</p> +<p>“Looks to me that you’ve got to pin your faith to a +mighty small chance, ma’am.” +</p> +<p>“What chance?” She looked at him in startled +wonderment, for it had not occurred to her that she +faced any real danger, despite the threatening attitude +of Deveny, and her isolation. For the great, peaceful +world, and the swimming sunlight were full of the +promise of the triumph of right and virtue; and the +sturdy self-reliance of youth was in her heart. +</p> +<p>“What chance?” she repeated, watching him keenly. +</p> +<p>“The chance that me an’ Red Linton will be able +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span> +to get things into shape to look out for you.” He +was gravely serious. +</p> +<p>“It must seem a mighty slim chance to you—me +comin’ here with a reputation that ain’t any too good, +an’ Linton, with his red head an’ his freckles. Seems +like a woman would go all wrong, pinnin’ her faith to +red hair an’ freckles an’ a hell-raisin’ outlaw. But +there’s been worse combinations, ma’am—if I do say +it myself. An’ me an’ Red is figurin’ to come through, +no matter what you think of us.” +</p> +<p>“Red Linton?” she said. “That is the little, short, +red-haired man you put in Lawson’s place, isn’t it? I +have never noticed him—particularly. It seems that +I have always thought him rather unimportant.” +</p> +<p>Harlan grinned. “That’s a trick Red’s got—seemin’ +unimportant. Red spends a heap of his time +not sayin’ anything, an’ hangin’ around lookin’ like +he’s been misplaced. But when there’s any trouble, +you’ll find Red like the banty rooster that’s figurin’ +to rule the roost. +</p> +<p>“I knowed him over in Pardo, ma’am—he rode +for the T Down for two or three seasons.” +</p> +<p>“You are anticipating trouble—with Deveny?” +she asked, a tremor in her voice. +</p> +<p>“There ain’t any use of tryin’ to hide it, ma’am. +Mebbe your dad thought you’d be better off by him +not mentionin’ it to you. But I’ve got a different idea. +Anyone—man or woman—knows a heap more about +how to go about things if they’re sort of able to anticipate +trouble. Your dad told me things was in a mixup +over here with Deveny an’ some more of his kind; an’ +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span> +I ain’t aimin’ to let you go ramblin’ around in the dark. +</p> +<p>“About half the Rancho Seco men belong to Deveny’s +gang, Linton says. That’s why I put Linton in +Lawson’s place; an’ that’s why I’m askin’ you to stick +pretty close to the Rancho Seco, an’ requestin’ you not +to go rummagin’ around the country.” +</p> +<p>She rode on silently, her face pale, digesting this +disquieting news. She remembered now that her +father <i>had</i> seemed rather worried at times, and that +upon several occasions he had hinted that he was distrustful +of some of the Rancho Seco men. But as Harlan +had said, he had never taken her completely into +his confidence—no doubt because he had not wanted +her to worry. That was very like her father—always +making life easy for her. +</p> +<p>However, covertly watching Harlan, she was conscious +of an emotion that the latter did not suspect. +The emotion was confidence—not in Harlan, for, +though she had seen that he, apparently, was eager to +become her champion, she could not forget that he, +too, was an outlaw, with no proof that he had been +sent to the Rancho Seco by her father; with nothing +but his actions to convince her that his motives were +founded upon consideration for her welfare. +</p> +<p>She thought of John Haydon as she rode beside +Harlan; and it was confidence in him that was expressed +in her glances at Harlan; she was convinced +that she did not have to depend entirely upon Harlan. +And when, as they neared the ranchhouse, and she saw +a big gray horse standing near the entrance to the +<i>patio</i>, her face reddened and her eyes grew brilliant +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span> +with a light that drew a cold smile to Harlan’s face. +</p> +<p>“That will be John Haydon’s horse, I reckon,” he +said slowly. +</p> +<p>“Why,” she returned, startled; “how did you +know?” +</p> +<p>He rode on, not replying. When they reached the +ranchhouse, Harlan loped Purgatory toward one of +the bunkhouses, in front of which he saw Red Linton +standing. Barbara directed Billy to the <i>patio</i> entrance, +and dismounted, her face flushed, to meet a man who +came out of the open gateway to greet her, his face +wreathed in a delighted smile. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XV_LINKED' id='XV_LINKED'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> +<h3>LINKED</h3> +</div> + +<p>“So you came at last?” +</p> +<p>Barbara had some difficulty in keeping resentment +prominent in her voice as she faced John Haydon, +for other emotions were clamoring within her—joy +because Haydon <i>had</i> come, even though tardily; +self-reproach because she saw in Haydon’s eyes a glowing +anxiety and sympathy that looked as though they +were of recent birth. +</p> +<p>There was repressed excitement in Haydon’s manner; +it was as though he had only just heard of the +girl’s affliction and had ridden hard to come to her. +</p> +<p>She was sure of the sincerity in his voice when he +grasped her hands tightly and said: +</p> +<p>“At last, Barbara! I heard it only this morning, +and I have nearly killed my horse getting over here! +Look at him!” +</p> +<p>The gray horse certainly did have the appearance of +having been ridden hard. He stood, his legs braced, +his head drooping, his muzzle and chest flecked with +foam. Barbara murmured pityingly as she stroked +the beast’s neck; and there was quick forgiveness in +her eyes when she again looked at Haydon. +</p> +<p>Haydon was big—fully as tall as Harlan, and +broader. His shoulders bulged the blue flannel shirt +he wore; and it was drawn into folds at his slim +waist, where a cartridge-studded belt encircled him, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span> +sagging at the right hip with the weight of a heavy +pistol. +</p> +<p>He wore a plain gray silk handkerchief at his +throat; it sagged at the front, revealing a muscular development +that had excited the envious admiration of +men. His hair was coal-black, wavy and abundant—though +he wore it short—with design, it seemed, for +he must have known that it gave him an alert, virile +appearance. +</p> +<p>His face, despite the tan upon it, and the little wrinkles +brought by the sun and wind, had a clear, healthy +color, and his eyes black as his hair, had a keen glint +behind which lurked humor of a quality not to be determined +at a glance—it was changeable, fleeting, +mysterious. +</p> +<p>Barbara was silent. The steady courage that had +sustained her until this instant threatened to fail her +in the presence of this big, sympathetic man who +seemed, to her, to embody that romance for which she +had always longed. She looked at him, her lips trembling +with emotion. +</p> +<p>Until now she had had no confidant—no one she +could be sure of. And so, with Haydon standing close +to her, though not too close—for he had never been +able to achieve that intimacy for which he had yearned—she +told him what had happened, including details +of her father’s death, as related to her by Harlan; +finishing by describing the incident with Deveny in +Lamo (at which Haydon muttered a threat) and the +subsequent coming of Harlan to the Rancho Seco, together +with the story of his assumption of authority. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span></p> +<p>When she concluded Haydon laid a sympathetic +hand on her shoulder. +</p> +<p>“It’s too bad, Barbara. And on top of it all, Lawson +had to play the beast, too, eh? Why didn’t you +send someone to me?” +</p> +<p>“There was no one to send.” Her voice threatened +to break, despite the brave gleam that flashed through +the moisture in her eyes. “Lawson had sent the men +away; and when they came in Harlan took charge of +them. And—besides,” she admitted, dropping her +gaze, “I—I thought you ought to—I thought you +would——” +</p> +<p>He shook her, reprovingly, laughing deeply as he +led her through the gateway into the <i>patio</i>, where they +sat on a bench for a long time, talking, while the aspect +of the <i>patio</i> began to change, becoming again a place +of cheerfulness flooded with the soft, radiant light of +returning happiness—reflected in her eyes; while the +sunlight streaming down into the enclosure took on a +brightness that made the girl’s eyes glisten; while the +drab and empty days since her father’s death began to +slip back into the limbo of memory—the sting and +the sorrow of them removed. So does the heart of +youth respond to the nearness of romance. +</p> +<p>They had been talking for half an hour when Barbara +remembered that Haydon had not expressed a +desire to meet Harlan. +</p> +<p>Haydon’s face lost a little of its color as he replied +to her suggestion that they find the man. +</p> +<p>But he laughed, rather mirthlessly, she thought. +</p> +<p>“I intend to see him, Barbara—but alone. There +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span> +are several things of importance that I want to say to +him—chiefly concerning his conduct toward you.” +</p> +<p>He got up. Barbara rose also, and walked with +him, outside the gate, where he got on his horse, smiling +down at her. +</p> +<p>“Harlan was right about your riding out alone. I’d +stay as close to the ranchhouse as possible. There’s +no telling what Deveny might try to do. But don’t +worry. If it wasn’t so soon after—after what has +happened—I would—” He smiled, and Barbara +knew he meant what he had said to her many times—about +there being a parson in Lazette, a hundred miles +or so northeastward—and of his eagerness to be present +with her while the parson “tied the knot.” His +manner had always been jocose, and yet she knew of +the earnestness behind it. +</p> +<p>Still, she had not yielded to his importunities, because +she had not been quite sure that she wanted him. +Nor was she certain now, though she liked him better +at this moment than she had ever liked him before. +</p> +<p>She shook her head negatively, answering his smile; +and watched him as he rode around a corner of the +ranchhouse toward the corral where, no doubt, he +would find Harlan. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>Harlan had ridden directly to the bunkhouse door +and dismounted. Red Linton said nothing until Harlan +seated himself on a bench just outside the bunkhouse +door. Then Linton grinned at him. +</p> +<p>“There’s a geezer come a-wooin’,” he said. +</p> +<p>Harlan glared at the red-haired man—a truculent, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span> +savage glare that made Linton stretch his lips until +the corners threatened to retreat to his ears. Then +Linton assumed a deprecatory manner. +</p> +<p>“They ain’t no chance for <i>him</i>, I reckon. He’s +been burnin’ up the breeze between here an’ the Star +for more’n a year—an’ she ain’t as much as kissed +him, I’d swear!” +</p> +<p>Harlan did not answer. +</p> +<p>“You saw him?” questioned Linton. +</p> +<p>“Shut your rank mouth.” +</p> +<p>Linton chuckled. “I didn’t know you’d been hit +that bad. Howsomever, if you <i>have</i> been, why, there’s +no sense of me wastin’ time gassin’ to you. They +ain’t nothin’ will cure that complaint but petticoats an’ +smiles—the which is mighty dangerous an’ uncertain. +I knowed a man once——” +</p> +<p>Harlan got up and walked to the bunkhouse. And +Linton, grinning, called loudly after him, pretending +astonishment. +</p> +<p>“Why, he’s gone. Disappeared complete. An’ me +tryin’ to jam some sense into his head.” +</p> +<p>Grinning, Linton sauntered away, vanishing within +the blacksmith-shop. +</p> +<p>He had hardly disappeared when Haydon appeared +from around a corner of the ranchhouse, at about the +instant Harlan, sensing the departure of Linton, came +to the door, frowning. +</p> +<p>The frown still narrowed Harlan’s eyes when they +rested upon the horseman; and his brows were drawn +together with unmistakable truculence when Haydon +dismounted near the corral fence. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span></p> +<p>Haydon’s manner had undergone a change. When +in the presence of Barbara he had been confident, nonchalant. +When he dismounted from his horse and +walked toward Harlan there was about him an atmosphere +that suggested carefulness. Before Haydon had +taken half a dozen steps Harlan was aware that the +man knew him—knew of his reputation—and feared +him. +</p> +<p>Respect was in Haydon’s eyes, in the droop of his +shoulders, in his hesitating step. And into Harlan’s +eyes came a gleam of that contempt which had always +seized him when in the presence of men who feared +him. +</p> +<p>And yet, had not Harlan possessed the faculty of +reading character at a glance; had he not had that uncanny +instinct of divining the thoughts of men who +meditated violence, he could not have known that +Haydon feared him. +</p> +<p>For Haydon’s fear was not abject. It was that +emotion which counsels caution, which warns of a +worthy antagonist, which respects force that is elemental +and destroying. +</p> +<p>Haydon smiled as he halted within a few paces of +Harlan and turned the palms of his hands outward. +</p> +<p>“You’re ‘Drag’ Harlan, of Pardo,” he said. +</p> +<p>Harlan nodded. +</p> +<p>“My name’s Haydon. I own the Star—about fifteen +miles west—on Sunset Trail. I happen to be a +friend of Miss Morgan’s, and I’d like to talk with you +about the Rancho Seco.” +</p> +<p>“Get goin’.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span></p> +<p>Haydon’s smile grew less expansive. +</p> +<p>“It’s a rather difficult subject to discuss. It rather +seems to be none of my affair. But you will understand, +being interested in Barbara’s future, and in the +welfare of the ranch, why I am presuming to question +you. What do you intend to do with the ranch?” +</p> +<p>“Run it.” +</p> +<p>“Of course,” smiled Haydon. “I mean, of course, +to refer to the financial end of it. Miss Morgan will +handle the money, I suppose.” +</p> +<p>“You got orders from Miss Barbara to gas to me +about the ranch?” +</p> +<p>“Well, no, I can’t say that I have. But I have a +natural desire to know.” +</p> +<p>“I’ll be tellin’ her what I’m goin’ to do.” +</p> +<p>Haydon smiled faintly. Twice, during the silence +that followed Harlan’s reply, Haydon shifted his gaze +from Harlan’s face to the ground between himself and +the other, and then back again. It was plain to Haydon +that he could proceed no farther in that direction +without incurring the wrath that slumbered in Harlan’s +heart, revealed by his narrowing eyes. +</p> +<p>In Harlan’s heart was a bitter, savage passion. +Hatred for this man, which had been aroused by Barbara’s +reference to him, and intensified by his visit to +the girl, had been made malignant by his appearance +now in the rôle of inquisitor. +</p> +<p>Jealousy, Harlan would not have admitted; yet the +conviction that Haydon was handsome, and that +women would like him—that no doubt Barbara already +liked him—brought a cold rage to Harlan. He +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span> +stood, during the momentary silence, his lips curving +with contempt, his eyes glinting with a passion that was +unmistakable to Haydon. +</p> +<p>He stepped down from the doorway and walked +slowly to Haydon, coming to a halt within a yard of +him. His hands were hanging at his sides, his chin had +gone a little forward; and in his manner was the threat +that had brought a paralysis of fear to more than one +man. +</p> +<p>Yet, except for a slow stiffening of his muscles, Haydon +betrayed no fear. There was a slight smile on his +lips; his eyes met Harlan’s steadily and unblinkingly. +In them was a glint of that mysterious humor which +other men had seen in them. +</p> +<p>“I know you’re lightning on the draw, Harlan,” he +said, his faint smile fading a trifle. “I wouldn’t have +a chance with you; I’m not a gun-fighter. For that +reason I don’t want any disagreement with you. And +I’ve heard enough about you to know that you don’t +shoot unless the other fellow is out to ‘get’ you. +</p> +<p>“We won’t have any trouble. Be fair. As the +man who will ultimately take charge of the Rancho +Seco—since Miss Barbara has been good enough to +encourage me—I would like to know some things. +I’ve heard that Lane Morgan was killed at Sentinel +Rock, and that you were with him when he died—and +just before. Did he give you authority to take charge +of the Rancho Seco?” +</p> +<p>“He told me to take hold.” +</p> +<p>“A written order?” +</p> +<p>“His word.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span></p> +<p>“He said nothing else; there were no papers on +him—nothing of value?” +</p> +<p>Neither man had permitted his eyes to waver from +the other’s since Harlan had advanced; and they now +stood, with only the few feet of space between them, +looking steadily at each other. +</p> +<p>Harlan saw in Haydon’s eyes a furtive, stealthy +gleam as of cupidity glossed over with a pretense of +frank curiosity. He sensed greed in Haydon’s gaze, +and knowledge of a mysterious quality. +</p> +<p>Haydon knew something about Lane Morgan’s errand +to Pardo; he knew why the man had started for +Pardo, and what had been on his person at the time of +his death. +</p> +<p>Harlan was convinced of that; and the light in his +eyes as he looked into Haydon’s reflected the distrust +and the contempt he had for the man. +</p> +<p>“What do you think Morgan had in his clothes?” +he questioned suddenly. +</p> +<p>A slow flush of color stole into Haydon’s cheeks, +then receded, leaving him a trifle pale. He laughed, +with a pretense of mockery. +</p> +<p>“You ought to know,” he said, a snarl in his voice. +“You must have searched him.” +</p> +<p>Harlan grinned with feline mirthlessness. And he +stepped back a little, knowledge and satisfaction in his +eyes. +</p> +<p>For he had “looked Haydon over,” following Morgan’s +instructions. He had purposely permitted Haydon +to question him, expecting that during the exchange +of talk the man would say something that +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span> +would corroborate the opinion that Harlan had instantly +formed, that Haydon was not to be trusted. +</p> +<p>And Haydon’s snarl; the cupidity in his eyes, and +his ill-veiled eagerness had convinced Harlan. +</p> +<p>Harlan did not resent Haydon’s manner; he was +too pleased over his discovery that Haydon possessed +traits of character that unfitted him for an alliance +with Barbara. And it would be his business to bring +those traits out, so that Barbara could see them unmistakably. +</p> +<p>He laughed lowly, dropping his gaze to Haydon’s +belt; to his right hand, which hung limply near his +pistol holster; and to the woolen shirt, with the silk +handkerchief at the throat sagging picturesquely. +</p> +<p>His gaze roved over Haydon—insolently, contemptuously; +his lips twitching with the grim humor +that had seized him. And Haydon stood, not moving +a muscle, undergoing the scrutiny with rigid body, with +eyes that had become wide with a queer sensation of +dread wonder that was stealing over him; and with a +pallor that was slowly becoming ghastly. +</p> +<p>For he had no doubt that at last he had unwittingly +aroused the demon in Harlan, and that violence, which +he had wished to avoid, was imminent. +</p> +<p>But Harlan’s roving gaze, as he backed slightly +away from Haydon, came to the breast-pocket of the +man’s shirt. His gaze centered there definitely, his +eyes narrowing, his muscles leaping a little. +</p> +<p>For out of the pocket stretched a gold chain, broken, +its upper end—where it entered the buttonhole of the +shirt—fastened to the buttonhole with a rawhide +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span> +thong, as though the gold section were not long enough +to reach. +</p> +<p>And the gold section of the chain was of the peculiar +pattern of the section that Harlan had picked up on +the desert near Sentinel Rock. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVI_DEEP_WATER' id='XVI_DEEP_WATER'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +<h3>DEEP WATER</h3> +</div> + +<p>Despite his conviction that he stood in the presence +of the mysterious “Chief” of whom he had +heard much, Harlan’s expression did not change. +There was a new interest added to it, and a deeper +glow in his eyes. But he gave no outward evidence of +surprise. +</p> +<p>“I reckon I searched him,” he said, answering Haydon’s +charge. “If I found anything on him I’m turnin’ +it over to Barbara Morgan—or hangin’ onto it. +That’s my business.” +</p> +<p>Haydon laughed, for Harlan’s voice had broken the +tension that had come with the interval of threatening +silence. +</p> +<p>Since he could not induce Harlan to divulge anything +of interest there was nothing to do but to withdraw +as gracefully as possible. And he backed away, +smiling, saying placatively: +</p> +<p>“No offense intended, Harlan. I was merely curious +on Barbara’s account.” He mounted his horse, +urged it along the corral fence, and sent back a +smiling: +</p> +<p>“So-long.” +</p> +<p>Motionless, still standing where he had stood when +Haydon climbed on his horse, Harlan watched while +the man rode the short distance to the house. At the +corner around which he had appeared some minutes +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span> +before, Haydon brought his horse to a halt, waved a +hand—at Barbara, Harlan supposed—and then rode +on, heading westward toward Sunset Trail. +</p> +<p>Harlan watched him until he had penetrated far into +the big valley; then he turned, slowly, and sought +Red Linton—finding him in the blacksmith-shop. +</p> +<p>Later in the day—after Harlan and Linton had +talked long, standing in the door of the blacksmith-shop—Linton +mounted his horse and rode to where +Harlan stood. +</p> +<p>Linton was prepared for a long ride. Folded in +the slicker that was strapped to the cantle of his saddle +was food; he carried his rifle in the saddle sheath, and +a water-bag bulged above the horse’s withers. +</p> +<p>“You won’t find all the T Down boys yearnin’ to +bust into this ruckus,” Harlan said as he stood near +Linton’s horse as Linton grinned down at him; “but +there’ll be some. Put it right up to them that it ain’t +goin’ to be no pussy-kitten job, an’ that it’s likely some +of them won’t ever see the T Down again. But to +offset that, you can tell ’em that if we make good, the +Rancho Seco will owe them a heap—an’ they’ll get +what’s comin’ to them.” +</p> +<p>He watched while Linton rode eastward over the +big level; then he grinned and walked to the ranchhouse, +going around the front and standing in the wide +gateway where he saw Barbara sitting on a bench +in the <i>patio</i>, staring straight ahead, meditatively, unaware +that he was standing in the gateway, watching +her. +</p> +<p>Harlan watched the girl for a long time—until she +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span> +turned and saw him. Then she blushed and stood up, +looking at him in slight wonderment as he came toward +her and stood within a few feet of her. +</p> +<p>On Harlan’s face was a slow, genial grin. +</p> +<p>“Sunnin’ yourself, eh?” he said. “Well, it’s a +mighty nice day—not too hot. Have you knowed +him long?” +</p> +<p>The startling irrelevance of the question caused +Barbara to gaze sharply at Harlan, and when their +eyes met she noted that his were twinkling with a light +that she could not fathom. She hated him when she +could not understand him. +</p> +<p>“Mr. Haydon, do you mean?” she questioned, a +sudden coldness in her voice. +</p> +<p>Harlan nodded. +</p> +<p>“A little more than a year, I think. It was just +after I returned from school, at Denver.” +</p> +<p>He watched her, saying lowly: +</p> +<p>“So it was Denver. I’d been wonderin’. I knowed +it must have been some place. Schoolin’ is a thing +that I never had time to monkey with—I reckon my +folks didn’t believe a heap in ’em.” +</p> +<p>“You’ve lived in the West all your life—you were +born in the West, I suppose?” +</p> +<p>He looked keenly at her. “I expect you knowed +that without askin’. I’ve been wonderin’ if it would +have made any difference.” +</p> +<p>“How?” +</p> +<p>“In me. Do you think an education makes a man +act different—gives him different ideas about his actions—in +his dealin’s with women, for instance?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span></p> +<p>“I expect it does. Education should make a man +more considerate of women—it is refining.” +</p> +<p>“Then you reckon a man that ain’t had any education +is coarse, an’ don’t know how to treat a woman?” +</p> +<p>“I didn’t say that; I said education <i>should</i> make a +man treat women that way.” +</p> +<p>“But it don’t always?” +</p> +<p>“I think not. I have known men—well educated +men—who failed to treat women as they should be +treated.” +</p> +<p>“Then that ain’t what you might call a hard-an’-fast +rule—it don’t always work. An’ there’s hope for +any man who ain’t had schoolin’—if he’s wantin’ to be +a man.” +</p> +<p>“Certainly.” +</p> +<p>“But an educated man can’t claim ignorance when +he aims to mistreat a woman. That’s how it figures +up, ain’t it?” +</p> +<p>She laughed. “It would seem to point to that conclusion.” +</p> +<p>“So you’ve knowed Haydon about a year? I reckon +he’s educated?” +</p> +<p>“Yes.” She watched him closely, wondering at his +meaning—why he had brought Haydon’s name into +the discussion. She was marveling at the subtle light +in his eyes. +</p> +<p>“Your father liked Haydon—he told me Haydon +was the only square man in the country—besides himself +an’ Sheriff Gage.” +</p> +<p>“Father liked Haydon. I’m beginning to believe +you really <i>did</i> have a talk with father before he died!” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span></p> +<p>He smiled. “Goin’ back to Haydon. I had a talk +with him a little while ago. I sort of took a shine to +him.” He drew from a pocket the section of gold +chain he had found on the desert, holding it out to her. +</p> +<p>“Here’s a piece of Haydon’s watch chain,” he said +slowly, watching her face. “The next time Haydon +comes to see you, give it to him, tellin’ him I found it. +It’s likely he’ll ask you where I found it. But you can +say I wasn’t mentionin’.” +</p> +<p>He turned, looking back over his shoulder at her as +he walked toward the gate. +</p> +<p>She stood, holding the glittering links in the palm +of one hand, doubt and suspicion in her eyes. +</p> +<p>“Why,” she called after him; “he was just here, +and you say you talked with him! Why didn’t you +give it to him?” +</p> +<p>“Forgot it, ma’am. An’ I reckon you’ll be seein’ +him before I do.” +</p> +<p>Then he strode out through the gate, leaving her to +speculate upon the mystery of his words and his odd +action in leaving the chain with her when he could +have personally returned it to Haydon. +</p> +<p>Harlan, however, was grinning as he returned to +the bunkhouse. For he wanted Barbara to see Haydon’s +face when the section of chain was returned to +him, to gain whatever illumination she could from the +incident. He did not care to tell her—yet—that +Haydon had killed her father; but he did desire to +create in her mind a doubt of Haydon, so that she +would hesitate to confide to him everything that happened +at the Rancho Seco. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span></p> +<p>For himself, he wanted to intimate delicately to +Haydon his knowledge of what had really occurred at +Sentinel Rock; it was a message to the man conveying +a significance that Haydon could not mistake. It +meant that for some reason, known only to himself, +Harlan did not intend to tell what he knew. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVII_FORGING_A_LETTER' id='XVII_FORGING_A_LETTER'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +<h3>FORGING A LETTER</h3> +</div> + +<p>The impulse which had moved Harlan to send +Red Linton to the T Down ranch to enlist the +services of some of his old friends had resulted from a +conviction that he could not depend upon those men +of the Rancho Seco outfit who had seemed to him, to +be unfriendly to Stroud, the straw-boss. He knew +nothing about them, and their loyalty to Barbara Morgan +might be of a quality that would not endure +through the sort of trouble that seemed to be imminent. +</p> +<p>The T Down men—those who would come—would +stand with him no matter what happened—they +would do his will without question. +</p> +<p>There was no doubt in Harlan’s mind that John +Haydon was the mysterious “Chief”—the man who +had sent into Lane Morgan’s breast the bullet that had +ultimately killed him; and there was no doubt that +some powerful, secret force was at work in the country, +and that the force was directing its attention to +the Rancho Seco and the defenseless girl who was at +the nominal head of it. For some reason the secret +force had killed her father, had isolated the ranch, had +encompassed it with enemies, and was working slowly +and surely to enmesh the girl herself. +</p> +<p>Harlan was convinced that one of the motives behind +the subtle aggressions of the men was a yearning +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span> +for the gold that Morgan had left—in fact the presence +of Dolver and Laskar at Sentinel Rock—and +Morgan’s word to him about the gold—provided +sufficient evidence on that score. +</p> +<p>They had watched Morgan; they suspected he was +taking gold to Pardo to have it assayed, and they had +killed him in the hope of finding something on his person +which would reveal to them where he had hidden +the rest of it. +</p> +<p>One other motive was that of the eternal, ages-old +passion of a man for woman. Evidence of that passion +had been revealed to Harlan at Lamo, by the attack +on Barbara by Deveny’s hireling—Higgins; by +the subtle advances of John Haydon. It seemed to +Harlan that all of these men had been—and were—equally +determined to possess the girl. +</p> +<p>And yet back of it all—behind that which had been +rendered visible by the actions of the man and by Harlan’s +own deductions—was something else—something +stealthy and hidden; a secret threat of dire things +to come—a lingering promise of trickery. +</p> +<p>Standing at one of the gates of the corral upon the +third morning following Linton’s departure, Harlan +considered this phase of the situation. He felt the +hidden threat of something sinister that lurked in the +atmosphere. +</p> +<p>It was all around him. It seemed to lie secreted in +the yawning space that engulfed the Rancho Seco—south, +north, and east. From the haze that stretched +into the unending distance westward it seemed to come, +bearing its whispered promise. The solemn hills that +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span> +flanked the wide stretches of Sunset Valley seemed to +hint of it—somberly. +</p> +<p>Mystery was in the serene calm that seemed to +encompass the big basin; from the far reaches westward, +in the misty veil that seemed to hang from the +far-flung shafts of sunlight that penetrated the fleecy +clouds, came the sinister threat—the whole section +seemed to pulse with it. +</p> +<p>And yet Harlan knew there could be no mystery +except the mysteries of men. Nature was the same +here as in any other section of the world, and her +secrets were not more profound than usual. +</p> +<p>He grinned mirthlessly at the wonderful basin, noting +that the Rancho Seco buildings seemed to lie on a +direct line with its center; that the faint trail that ran +through the basin—the trail men traveled—came on +in its undulating way straight toward the Rancho Seco +ranchhouse, seemed to bring the mystery of the big +basin with it; seemed to be a link that connected the +Rancho Seco with the promise of trouble. +</p> +<p>That impression might have engaged the serious +thoughts of some men. It widened the smile on Harlan’s +face. For he knew there was no threat in the +beauty of the valley; that it did not hide its secrets +from the prying eyes of men. Whatever secret the +valley held was in the minds of men—the minds of +Deveny and the mysterious “Chief,” and their followers. +</p> +<p>Harlan had not absented himself from the ranchhouse +since the departure of Linton. He had lounged +in the vicinity of the buildings during the day—and +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span> +Barbara had seen him many times from the windows; +and he had spent his nights watching the ranchhouse, +half expecting another attack on Barbara. +</p> +<p>The girl had seen him at night, too; and she had +smiled at the picture he made with the moonlight shining +upon him—or standing in some shadow—somber, +motionless, undoubtedly guarding her. +</p> +<p>She saw him this morning, too, as he stood beside +the corral gate, and there was a glow in her eyes that, +had he seen it, might have thrilled him with its gratitude. +</p> +<p>She came out of a rear door after a while, and Harlan +was still standing at the gate. +</p> +<p>He watched her as she came toward him—it was +the first time she had ventured in that direction since +the return from Lamo with him—noting that she +seemed to be in better spirits—that she was smiling. +</p> +<p>“You looked lonesome,” she said, as she halted near +him. “Did Linton join the outfit?” +</p> +<p>“It’s likely; he went three days ago.” +</p> +<p>“I knew he had gone; I saw you several times, and +you were always alone. And,” she added, looking +keenly at him; “I saw you several times, at night. +Don’t you ever sleep?” +</p> +<p>“I reckon I’m a sort of restless cuss.” +</p> +<p>Her face took on serious lines. +</p> +<p>“Look here, Harlan,” she said, reprovingly, “you +are keeping something back. You have been watching +the ranchhouse at night—and during the day. You +are guarding me. Why is it? Do you think I am +going to run away?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span></p> +<p>“From me?” he queried; “I was hopin’ you +wouldn’t.” +</p> +<p>She stiffened with exasperation, for she felt the insincerity +in his manner—caught the humorous note in +his voice. +</p> +<p>“You are treating me as you would treat a child,” +she declared; “and I won’t have it. Are you watching +me because you fear there might be another—Lawson?” +</p> +<p>“There might be.” +</p> +<p>“Nonsense! There isn’t another man in the section +would dare what Lawson dared!” +</p> +<p>“Gentlemen—eh?” he said, tauntingly. “Well, +I’ve nosed around quite considerable, an’ I don’t remember +to have ever run into a place where there was +fewer <i>men</i> than in this neck of the woods.” +</p> +<p>“There are plenty of gentlemen. Do you think +John Haydon——” +</p> +<p>Harlan grinned faintly. “He’s been fannin’ it right +along for half an hour,” he said, with seeming irrelevance. +</p> +<p>“Who?” she asked, with a swift, uncomprehending +glance at him. +</p> +<p>“Your gentleman,” he said slowly. +</p> +<p>She followed the direction of his gaze, and saw, on +the trail that led downward from a little table-land to +the level that stretched toward the ranchhouse, a horseman, +coming rapidly toward them. +</p> +<p>“It’s Mr. Haydon!” she ejaculated, her voice leaping. +</p> +<p>“So it is,” said Harlan, dryly. He looked keenly +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span> +at her, noting the flush on her face, the brightness of +her eyes. “You ain’t forgettin’ to give him that piece +of chain.” +</p> +<p>“Why,” she said, drawing the glittering links from +a pocket of her skirt; “I have it here. You may return +it to him.” +</p> +<p>“Me an’ Haydon ain’t on speakin’ terms,” he +smiled. “He wouldn’t appreciate it none, if I give it +to him.” +</p> +<p>“Why—” she began, only to pause and look at him +with a sudden comprehension in her eyes. For into +Harlan’s face had come an expression that, she +thought, she could analyze. It was jealousy. That +was why he was reluctant to return the chain to Haydon. +</p> +<p>The situation was so positively puerile, she thought, +that she almost felt like laughing. She would have +laughed had it not been that she knew of Harlan’s unfailing +vigilance—and that she felt differently toward +him now than she had felt during the first days of +their acquaintance. His steadfast vigilance, she decided, +must have been responsible for the change, together +with the steady consideration he revealed for +her. +</p> +<p>At any rate, something about him had affected her. +She felt more gentle toward him; more inclined to believe +in him; and there had been times during the past +few days when she had been astonished at the subtle, +warm sensation that had stolen over her whenever she +saw him or whenever she thought of him. +</p> +<p>Something of that warmth toward him was in her +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span> +eyes now as she watched him and she decided that she +should humor his whim; that she should perform the +action that he was reluctant to perform. +</p> +<p>She smiled, with the wisdom of a woman to whom a +secret had been unwittingly revealed. +</p> +<p>“You don’t like Haydon?” +</p> +<p>“Him an’ me ain’t goin’ to be bosom friends.” +</p> +<p>“Why don’t you like him?” she asked banteringly. +</p> +<p>She thought his grin was brazen. “Why don’t you +like me?” +</p> +<p>“I don’t know,” she said coldly. But her face reddened +a little. +</p> +<p>“Well,” he laughed; “that’s why I don’t like Haydon.” +</p> +<p>Haydon had crossed the big level, and was close to +the ranchhouse. +</p> +<p>The girl had determined to remain where she was, +to return the piece of chain to Haydon in the presence +of Harlan—in order to learn what she could of the +depth of Harlan’s dislike for Haydon when in the +presence of the latter. And so a silence came between +them as they watched Haydon ride toward them. +</p> +<p>When Haydon rode close to them he halted his +horse and sat in the saddle, an expression of cold inquiry +on his face. His smile at Miss Barbara was a +trifle forced; his glance at Harlan had a fair measure +of frank dislike and suspicion in it. +</p> +<p>Harlan deliberately turned his back toward Barbara +and Haydon when the latter dismounted; walked a +little distance, and pretended to be interested in a snubbing +post in the corral. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span></p> +<p>Yet he cast furtive glances toward the two, and +when he saw the girl reaching into a pocket for the +section of chain he had given her, he slowly sauntered +forward, and was within hearing distance when Barbara +spoke to Haydon. +</p> +<p>“I was to give you this,” she said—and she extended +a hand toward Haydon, the chain dangling +from her fingers. +</p> +<p>Harlan saw Haydon’s muscles leap and become +tense. He saw the man’s color go, saw his cheeks +whiten; observed that his eyes widened and gleamed +with mingled astonishment and alarm. +</p> +<p>He regained control of himself instantly, however, +but Harlan had seen enough to strengthen his convictions, +and he grinned as Haydon flashed a sharp glance +at him. +</p> +<p>Barbara, too, had noted the strange light in Haydon’s +eyes; she had seen that Haydon had seemed +about to shrink from the chain when she held it out to +him. She looked from Haydon to Harlan inquiringly +and when her glance again returned to Haydon he +was smiling. +</p> +<p>However, he had not taken the chain from her +hand. +</p> +<p>“Is it yours?” she asked. +</p> +<p>“Yes—mine,” he answered, hesitatingly. “Where +did you find it?” +</p> +<p>“Mr. Harlan found it.” Barbara noted Haydon’s +quick start, the searching glance he gave Harlan—who +was now leaning on a rail of the corral fence, +seemingly uninterested. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span></p> +<p>Haydon laughed, a little hoarsely, it seemed to +Barbara, and more loudly than the occasion seemed to +demand. She thought, though, that the laugh might +have been a jeer for Harlan’s action in turning the +chain over to her instead of returning it directly to +the owner. +</p> +<p>She did not catch the searching inquiry of Haydon’s +glance at Harlan, nor did she see Harlan’s odd smile +at Haydon, and the slow wink that accompanied it. +</p> +<p>But the wink and the smile conveyed to Haydon the +intelligence that Harlan knew the story connected with +the loss of the chain, and that he had not communicated +it to the girl. They also expressed to Haydon +the message that Harlan and Haydon were kindred +souls—the smile and the wink told Haydon that this +man who knew his secret was secretly applauding him, +even while inwardly laughing at him for his fear that +the secret would be betrayed. +</p> +<p>Harlan’s voice broke a short silence. +</p> +<p>“Found it right about here—the other day. It +must have laid there a long time, for it took a heap +of polishin’ to brighten it up.” Again he closed an eye +at Haydon, and the latter grinned broadly. +</p> +<p>Barbara silently endured a pang of disappointment. +She had caught Harlan’s wink. The man had betrayed +jealousy only a few minutes ago, and he had +refused personally to return the chain to Haydon. +And yet he stood there now, smiling and winking at +the other, evidently with the desire to ingratiate himself. +Sycophant, weakling, or fool—which was he? +She shuddered with disgust, deliberately turned her +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span> +back to Harlan, and began to walk toward the ranchhouse, +Haydon following. +</p> +<p>And Harlan, standing at the fence, leaned an elbow +on one of the rails and watched the two, an enigmatic +smile on his face. +</p> +<p>For he had succeeded in opening a gate which disclosed +a trail that would lead him straight to the +mystery, a breath of which had been borne to him that +morning upon the slight breeze that had swept down +to him from the mighty valley out of which Haydon +had ridden. +</p> +<p>Between him and Haydon a bond had been established, +fashioned from the links of the section of chain. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVIII_HARLAN_RIDES_ALONE' id='XVIII_HARLAN_RIDES_ALONE'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +<h3>HARLAN RIDES ALONE</h3> +</div> + +<p>Upon the morning of the fourth day following +Haydon’s visit to the Rancho Seco, a dust cloud +developed on the northwestern horizon. Harlan observed +the cloud; he had been watching for it since +dawn, when he had emerged from the stable door, +where he had been looking after Purgatory. +</p> +<p>From the ranchhouse Barbara also saw the cloud, +and she ran upstairs to one of the north windows. +There, with her face pressed against the glass, she +watched the cloud grow in size, observed that it was +dotted with the forms of horsemen; saw at last that +the horsemen were headed straight for the Rancho +Seco. Then, wondering, anxious, eager, she descended +the stairs and ran out to where Harlan was standing, +speaking breathlessly: +</p> +<p>“What does it mean? Who are they?” +</p> +<p>“It’ll be Red Linton an’ some T Down boys.” +</p> +<p>“‘T Down’?” +</p> +<p>“Pardo men. From where I used to work. I sent +Linton for them. If I’m going to run a ranch I aim to +run it with men I can depend on.” +</p> +<p>She had hardly spoken to him in the four days that +had elapsed since Haydon’s last visit, for the disgust +she had felt that day had endured. But there was +something new in his manner now—a briskness, a +business-like air that made her look sharply at him. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span></p> +<p>He smiled at her, and in the smile was a snapping +humor that puzzled her. +</p> +<p>She stood, watching for a while—until the group +of horsemen became clearly defined—and then, with +a sudden fear that the men might be outlaws of the +same type as Harlan—possibly he had sent for them +because they were—she returned to the ranchhouse +and watched from one of the windows. +</p> +<p>When the T Down men rode up to the corral gate +they dismounted and surrounded Harlan. There were +ten of them—rugged-looking fellows of various ages, +bepistoled, begrimed with dust, and articulate with profane +expressions of delight. +</p> +<p>“Hell’s a-poppin’, Red says!” yelled one. “He +says there’s geezers here which is pinin’ for yore gore. +Turn me loose on ’em—oh, turn me loose!” +</p> +<p>The men, tired, dusty, and hungry, swarmed into +one of the bunkhouses immediately after they had +turned their horses into the corral and cared for their +saddles. +</p> +<p>The men were in good spirits, despite their long +ride; and for half an hour after they descended upon +the bunkhouse the air pulsed with their talk and their +laughter, as they washed their dust-stained faces from +the tin washbasin on the bench outside the door, and +combed their hair with a comb attached to a rawhide +thong that swung from the wall above the basin. +</p> +<p>They had been informed by Red Linton regarding +the situation that had developed at the Rancho Seco—fully +informed before they had begun their trip +westward—Linton scrupulously and faithfully presenting +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span> +to them the dangers that confronted them. And +though some of them were still curious, and sought a +word with Harlan in confirmation, they seemed to be +satisfied to trust to Harlan’s judgment. Their faith +was of the kind that needs but little verbal reassurance. +</p> +<p>That they admired the man who had sent for them +there was little doubt; for they watched him with +glowing eyes as he talked with them, revealing their +pride that they had been selected. Hardy, clear-eyed, +serenely unafraid, they instantly adapted themselves to +the new “job,” and before their first meal was finished +they were thoroughly at home. +</p> +<p>Shortly afterward—while the men were lounging +about inside—Harlan drew Linton outside. +</p> +<p>“That’s the bunch I would have picked if I had gone +myself,” complimented Harlan. “I’m thankin’ you a +heap.” +</p> +<p>He whispered to Linton the story of Haydon’s last +visit and for the first time Linton heard about the section +of chain which convicted Haydon of the murder +of Lane Morgan. Linton’s eyes gleamed. +</p> +<p>“I’ve always sort of suspected the son-of-a-gun!” +he declared. “An’ him makin’ love to Barbara! The +sneakin’ coyote! An’ so you’re goin’ to see him? I’d +be a whole lot careful.” +</p> +<p>Harlan’s smile was grave. “I’m reckonin’ to be. +I’d have gone before this, but I was waitin’ for you +boys. Nobody is sayin’ anything to anybody. You’re +stickin’ close to the Rancho Seco, not lettin’ Barbara +out of your sight. That’s what I wanted you an’ the +other guys for. I’m playin’ the rest of it a lone hand.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span></p> +<p>Leaving Linton standing near the bunkhouse, he +went to the stable, where he threw saddle and bridle on +Purgatory. Then he mounted, waved a hand at Linton, +who was watching him, and rode to the ranchhouse. +At the northwest corner—around which Haydon +had ridden on the occasion of his last visit—he +brought Purgatory to a halt, for he saw Barbara just +emerging from the <i>patio</i> gate. +</p> +<p>She halted in the opening when she observed him; +making a picture that was vivid in his memory for +many days afterward—for her eyes were alight with +wonder, her cheeks were flushed, and she was breathing +fast. +</p> +<p>For she had watched from a window the coming of +the T Down men; she had noted the conference between +Harlan and Linton; and she had seen Harlan +waving a hand at the red-haired man, seemingly in +farewell. She stood now, afflicted with a strange regret, +suddenly aware that she would feel the absence of +the man who sat on his horse before her—for she +divined that he was going. +</p> +<p>“I’m sayin’ so-long to you, ma’am,” smiled Harlan. +</p> +<p>“Oh!” she said, aware of the flatness of her tone. +“Are you going away?” +</p> +<p>“I’m figurin’ to go. I ain’t used to hangin’ around +one place very long. But I’m comin’ back some day. +Red Linton an’ the boys will be seein’ that things +go smooth with you. You can depend on Red, and +all the boys. They’re Simon-pure, dyed-in-the-wool, +eighteen-carat men.” And now he grinned, gravely. +“Remember this, Barbara: A man will do things when +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span> +he’s handlin’ a gold chain—things that he wouldn’t +do if there didn’t happen to be any chain.” +</p> +<p>He doffed his hat and slapped Purgatory sharply, +heading the animal westward, toward the yawning +mouth of the big basin that stretched its mighty length +into the mystery of distance. +</p> +<p>But his words left her with a conviction that she had +again misjudged him, and that when he had appeared +to fawn on Haydon he had been merely acting, merely +pretending. She watched him, regretfully, longingly, +assailed by emotions that she could not understand—until +he and Purgatory grew small in the gulf of distance; +until horse and rider were swallowed in the +glowing haze. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIX_HARLAN_JOINS_THE_GANG' id='XIX_HARLAN_JOINS_THE_GANG'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> +<h3>HARLAN JOINS THE GANG</h3> +</div> + +<p>At the edge of the big level, where it merged +into the floor of the basin, Harlan drew Purgatory +to a halt. For an instant he sat in the saddle +scrutinizing a section of buffalo grass that fringed a +clump of willows near the almost dry bed of the river +that doubled slightly as it came from the basin. Something +in the appearance of the grass had attracted his +attention—it was matted, as though something had +lain or rolled in it. +</p> +<p>He rode closer, cautiously, for the little trees formed +a covert behind which any one of several dangers +might lie concealed—and looked down at the grass. +As he examined the place his lips twisted into a grim +smile, and his eyes grew bright with comprehension. +</p> +<p>He rode around the clump of trees, making sure +it was not occupied; then he dismounted. +</p> +<p>Someone had been concealed in the covert for many +days—a man. For he saw the imprints of heels, and +indentations where spurs had gashed the earth. The +marks were all fresh—recently made. While he +watched he saw some blades of the long grass slowly +rise—as though, relieved from some pressure that had +been upon them, they were eager to regain an upright +position. He also saw scraps of food—jerked beef +and biscuit—scattered here and there. +</p> +<p>He frowned, convinced that for days a man had +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span> +occupied the covert, watching the Rancho Seco; convinced +also, that the mystery he had sensed some days +ago had been man-made, as he had felt. The man +who had been there had been a sentinel, a spy, sent by +Deveny or Haydon to observe his movements, and to +report them, of course, to one or the other of the two +outlaws. +</p> +<p>Harlan remounted Purgatory. His caution had not +been wasted, and his vigilance in guarding the ranchhouse +must have been irritating to the man who had +been watching. +</p> +<p>He urged Purgatory on again—heading him westward, +as before. And when he reached the crest of a +slight rise in the valley—from where he could see the +trail as it twisted and undulated around hills and into +depressions—he saw, far up the valley—and yet not +so far, either—not more than two miles—a horseman, +riding slowly—away from him. +</p> +<p>The horseman was the spy, of course. Harlan had +no doubt that if he lingered in the vicinity of the covert +long enough he would discover the place where the +horse had been concealed. But that was not important, +now that he had discovered enough to satisfy +himself that there had been a spy—and so he rode on, +smiling faintly, knowing that the rider was headed +into the valley—possibly to the outlaw rendezvous +to appraise Deveny and the others of his coming. +</p> +<p>The trail was clearly defined, and there were places +where it ran over broad levels of grass where he presented +a good target to men who might be eager to +send a shot at him. There were other spots where the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span> +trail led into timber clumps and through tangles of +brush where an ambuscade might be planned in perfect +safety by an enemy; and there were the bastioned cliffs +that towered above the trail at intervals, offering admirable +hinding-places for any man with hostile intentions. +</p> +<p>Harlan, however, rode steadily, outwardly unconcerned; +inwardly convinced that no attempt would be +made to ambush him. For Haydon has passed that +way on his return to the Star, and Harlan had no +doubt that since the incident of the smile and the wink, +Haydon had passed word that he was not to be +molested. +</p> +<p>Haydon would be curious—as he had been curious +at the Rancho Seco—to learn the significance of the +smile and the wink. Haydon would want to discover +just how much Harlan knew about the murder of Lane +Morgan; and he would want to know what Harlan +knew of the gold that Morgan had secreted. And so +Harlan rode on, watching the country through which +he passed, but feeling assured there would be no shot +to greet him from one of the many natural vantage-points +he encountered. +</p> +<p>He rode for an hour, not making very good time, +for it was a new trail, and he was examining the country +intently as he passed, fixing it in his memory for future +convenience, perhaps—no one ever knew just when it +might be necessary to use one’s knowledge—when he +reached a low ridge which crossed the valley. +</p> +<p>Here he halted Purgatory and gazed about him. +</p> +<p>Before him stretched a green grass level, about two +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span> +miles long, running the entire width of the valley. It +was dotted with mesquite, sage, and here and there +the thorny blade of a cactus rose. Some cattle were +grazing on the level; they were several miles south, +and he could see some horsemen near them. +</p> +<p>He decided he must be close to the Star; and he +urged Purgatory on again, down upon the level, toward +some timber that grew at the farther edge of the +level. Just as he slipped down the slope of the ridge, +he saw, far ahead of him, the horseman he had seen +when he had entered the valley. The horseman was +on the crest of a bald hill—low, and small—but +Harlan caught a glimpse of him as he crossed it, riding +fast. +</p> +<p>Harlan smiled again, and rode on his way, resuming +his scrutiny of the country. +</p> +<p>The valley was mighty, magnificent; it deserved all +the praise Barbara Morgan had heaped upon it. +From the low mountain range on the north to the +taller mountains southward, it was a virgin paradise +in which reigned a peace so profound that it brought +a reverent awe into the soul of the beholder. +</p> +<p>It thrilled Harlan despite the certain blasé, matter-of-fact +attitude he had for all of nature’s phenomena; +he found himself admiring the majestic buttes that +fringed it; there was a glint of appreciation in his eyes +for the colossal bigness of it—for the gigantic, sweeping +curves which seemed to make of it an oblong bowl, +a cosmic hollow, boundless, hinting of the infinite +power of its builder. +</p> +<p>The trail that ran through it, drawled to threadlike +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span> +proportions by the mightiness of the space through +which it ran, was, for the greater part of the distance +traveled by Harlan, a mere scratch upon a low rock +ridge. And as he rode he could look down upon the +floor of the valley, green and inviting. +</p> +<p>When he entered the timber at the edge of the grass +level, he was conscious of a stealthy sound behind him. +He turned quickly in the saddle, to see a man standing +at the edge of some brush that fringed the trail. +</p> +<p>The man was big, a heavy black beard covered his +chin and portions of his cheeks; his hat was drawn +well down over his forehead, partially shielding his +eyes. +</p> +<p>A rifle in his hands was held loosely, and though it +appeared that the man did not intend to use the +weapon immediately, Harlan could see that his right +forefinger was touching the trigger, and that the +muzzle of the weapon was suggestively toward him. +</p> +<p>For the past few miles of his ride Harlan had been +expecting an apparition of this sort to appear, and so +he now gave no sign of surprise. Instead, he slowly +raised both hands until they were on a level with his +shoulders—and, still twisted about in the saddle, he +grinned faintly at the man. +</p> +<p>“From now on I’m to have company, eh?” he said. +</p> +<p>The man smirked grimly at him. +</p> +<p>“You’ve hit it,” he answered. “You’re Harlan, +ain’t you? ‘Drag’ Harlan, the Pardo two-gun man?” +</p> +<p>The man’s eyes were glowing with interest—critical, +almost cynical, and they roved over Harlan with +a probing intensity that left no doubt in Harlan’s mind +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span> +that the man had heard of him and was examining him +with intent to discover what sort of a character he was. +</p> +<p>Apparently satisfied—and also plainly impressed +with what he saw, the man grinned—this time almost +genially—and answered Harlan’s affirmative nod +with: +</p> +<p>“Well, Haydon is expectin’ you. You c’n let your +paws down—takin’ a heap of care not to go to foolin’ +with your guns. I ain’t takin’ them; Haydon didn’t +say anything about it. You’re ridin’ that trail that +forks off to the left.” +</p> +<p>Harlan lowered his hands, resting them on the pommel +of his saddle, and rode on, taking, as advised, a +narrow trail that diverged from the other a short distance +from where he had met the man. As he struck +the other trail he heard the man coming behind him—on +a horse. +</p> +<p>There were no further words. Harlan kept to the +trail, riding slowly; the man behind him following at a +short distance. +</p> +<p>In this manner they rode for perhaps a mile. Then +the timber grew sparse, and Purgatory and his rider at +last emerged upon a level that extended about a hundred +feet and then sloped down abruptly to another +level, through which flowed a narrow stream of water, +shallow and clear. +</p> +<p>Close to the bank of the stream was an adobe ranchhouse, +and surrounding it were several other buildings. +At a slight distance from the house was a corral in +which were several horses. In front of a bunkhouse +were several men who, when they saw Harlan and the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span> +other man coming, faced toward them and stood, motionless, +watching. +</p> +<p>The men maintained silence as Harlan rode to the +ranchhouse and sat in the saddle, awaiting the pleasure +of his escort. He saw the latter grin at the other men +as he passed them; and he grinned at Harlan as he +brought his horse to a halt near Purgatory and dismounted. +</p> +<p>“I reckon you’re to git off an’ visit,” he said; “Haydon +is inside.” As he dismounted and trailed the reins +over the head of his beast he cast a sharp, critical eye +over Purgatory. +</p> +<p>“There’s a heap of hoss in that black, eh?” +</p> +<p>“Plenty.” Harlan got down and ran a hand over +Purgatory’s neck, while trailing the reins over his +head. “Man-killer,” he warned. “Don’t touch him. +He ain’t been rode by nobody but me, an’ he won’t +stand for nobody foolin’ around him.” +</p> +<p>Harlan had raised his voice until he was sure the +men in front of the bunkhouse heard him; then he +grinned genially at them all and followed the black-bearded +man into the ranchhouse. +</p> +<p>An instant later, in a big room which had the appearance +of an office, Harlan was confronting Haydon. +</p> +<p>The latter was sitting in a chair at a desk, and when +Harlan entered Haydon got up and grinned at him, +shallowly, without mirth. +</p> +<p>“So you got here,” he said; “I’ve been expecting +you.” +</p> +<p>“I’ve been notin’ that. That guy you left at the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span> +edge of the level to keep an eye on the Rancho Seco +didn’t cover his tracks. I run onto them—an’ I saw +him hittin’ the breeze—comin’ here. I reckon nobody +is surprised.” Harlan grinned widely. +</p> +<p>“So you noticed that,” said Haydon, answering +Harlan’s grin. “Well, I don’t mind admitting that +we’ve kept an eye on you. You’ve had me guessing.” +</p> +<p>Haydon’s manner was that of the man who is careful +not to say too much, his constraint was of the quality +that hints of a desire to become confidential—a +smooth, bland courtesy; a flattering voice—encouraging, +suggesting frankness. +</p> +<p>Harlan’s manner was that of a certain reckless carelessness. +He seemed to be perfectly at ease, confident, +deliberate, and unwatchful. He knew Haydon was an +outlaw; that the men who had been grouped in front +of the bunkhouse were members of Haydon’s band; he +knew the man who had escorted him to the Star had +been deliberately stationed in the timber to watch for +him. And he had no doubt that other outlaws had +lain concealed along the trail to observe his movements. +</p> +<p>He knew, too, that he had placed himself in a precarious +predicament—that his life was in danger, and +that he must be exceedingly careful. +</p> +<p>Yet outwardly he was cool, composed. With Haydon’s +eyes upon him he drew a chair to a point near +the desk, seated himself in it, drew out paper and tobacco, +and rolled a cigarette. Lighting it, he puffed +slowly, watching while Haydon dropped into the chair +he had vacated at Harlan’s appearance. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span></p> +<p>When Haydon dropped into his chair he grinned +admiringly at Harlan. +</p> +<p>“You’re a cool one, Harlan,” he said; “I’ve got to +say that for you. But there’s no use in four-flushing. +You’ve come here to tell me something about the +chain. Where did you find it?” +</p> +<p>“At Sentinel Rock—not far from where you +plugged Lane Morgan.” +</p> +<p>“You’re assuming that I shot Morgan?” charged +Haydon. +</p> +<p>“Morgan was assumin’, too, I reckon,” grinned +Harlan. “He told me it was you who shot him—he +saw your face by the flash of your gun. An’ he told +me where to look for the chain—him not knowin’ it +was a chain—but somethin’.” +</p> +<p>Haydon’s eyes gleamed with a cold rage—which +he concealed by passing a hand over his forehead, veiling +his eyes from Harlan. His lips were wreathed in +a smile. +</p> +<p>“Why didn’t you tell me that the other day—the +first time I met you?” +</p> +<p>Harlan laughed. “I was havin’ notions then—notions +that I’d be playin’ her a lone hand.” +</p> +<p>“And now?” Haydon’s eyes were steady with cold +inquiry. +</p> +<p>“I’ve got other notions. I’m acceptin’ Deveny’s invitation +to throw in with you.” +</p> +<p>Haydon was silent for an instant, and during the +silence his gaze met Harlan’s fairly. By the humorous +gleam in Harlan’s eyes Haydon divined that the man +could not be misled—that he knew something of the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span> +situation in the valley, and that he had come here with +the deliberate intention of joining the outlaw band. +</p> +<p>There was, as Haydon had intimated, little use for +an attempt at equivocation or pretense. It was a situation +that must be faced squarely by both himself and +Harlan. Harlan’s reputation, and his action in keeping +secret from Barbara Morgan the identity of her +father’s murderer, indicated sincerity on the man’s +part. And since Harlan knew him to be the murderer +of Morgan it would be absurd for Haydon to pretend +that he had no connection with Deveny’s band. He +could not fool this man. +</p> +<p>Yet a jealous hatred of Harlan was thinly concealed +by the steady smile with which he regarded his visitor. +He had felt the antagonism of Harlan that day when +he had talked with him at the bunkhouse door; Harlan’s +manner that day had convinced him that Harlan +was jealous of his attentions to Barbara Morgan. +Also, there was in his heart a professional jealousy—jealousy +of Harlan’s reputation. +</p> +<p>For this man who sat in his chair so calmly, with +danger encompassing him, was greater than he. Haydon +knew it. Had there been any doubt in his mind on +that score it must have been removed by a memory of +the manner in which his men had received the news +that Harlan had left the Rancho Seco and was on his +way up the valley. +</p> +<p>The rider Harlan had seen had come in with that +news—and Haydon had been standing with the group +at the bunkhouse when the man arrived. And he had +not failed to note the nervous glances of some of the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span> +men, and the restless eagerness, not unmixed with +anxiety, with which they watched the trail. +</p> +<p>And now, facing Harlan, he felt the man’s greatness—his +especial fitness for the career he had adopted. +Harlan was the ideal outlaw. He was cool, deep, +subtle. He was indomitable; he felt no fear; his will +was inflexible, adamant. Haydon felt it. The fear he +had experienced at his first meeting with Harlan had +endured until this minute—it was strong as ever. +</p> +<p>Yet he admired the man; and knew that since he +had come to the valley he must be considered an important +factor. Haydon could not flatly tell him to +get out of the valley; he could not order him away +from the Rancho Seco. Harlan was in control there—for +the rider who had come in with the news that +Harlan had set out for the valley had also apprised +Haydon of the coming, to the Rancho Seco, of the +men of the T Down outfit. +</p> +<p>The rider had not been able to tell Haydon who +the men were, of course; but it made little difference. +They were friends of Harlan’s, for they had come +from the direction of the desert—from Pardo. +</p> +<p>It was plain to Haydon that Harlan had come to +the valley to stay. It was equally plain that he must +be either propitiated or antagonized. He felt that +Harlan was giving him his choice. +</p> +<p>“What do you want—if you throw in with us?” +Haydon asked, following the trend of his own +thoughts. +</p> +<p>“That’s straight talk,” said Harlan. “I’m givin’ +you a straight answer. If I join your bunch I join on +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span> +the same footing with you an’ Deveny—nothin’ less. +We split everything three ways—the other boys takin’ +their regular share after we take ours. I bring my boys +in under the rules you’ve got that govern the others. I +run the Rancho Seco—no one interferin’. When I +rustle up that gold old Morgan hid, we split it three +ways. Barbara Morgan goes with the ranch—no one +interferin’.” +</p> +<p>Color surged into Haydon’s face. +</p> +<p>“You don’t want much, do you?” he sneered. +</p> +<p>“I want what’s comin’ to me—what I’m goin’ to +take, if I come in. That’s my proposition. You can +take it or leave it.” +</p> +<p>Haydon was silent for an instant, studying Harlan’s +face. What he saw there brought a frown to his own. +</p> +<p>“Harlan,” he said softly, “some of the boys feel a +little resentful over the way you sent Dolver and Laskar +out. There are several friends of those two men +outside now. Suppose I should call them in and tell +them that the bars are down on you—eh?” +</p> +<p>If Haydon expected his threat to intimidate Harlan, +he was mistaken. Harlan sat, motionless, watching +the outlaw chief steadily. And into his eyes came a +glitter of that cold contempt which Haydon had seen +in them on the day he had faced Harlan near the +bunkhouse at the Rancho Seco. +</p> +<p>“You’re doin’ the honors, Haydon,” he said. “If +you’re that kind of a coyote I don’t want to deal with +you. If you think you want to pass up a share of that +hundred thousand, start yappin’ to them boys. It’s +likely there’s some of them hangin’ around, close. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span> +Mebbe you’ve got some of them peekin’ around corners +at me now. I ain’t runnin’ from no trouble that +comes my way. Get goin’ if you’re yearnin’ to requisition +the mourners.” +</p> +<p>Rage over the threat was now plain in his eyes, for +they were aflame with a cold fire as he got up from +his chair and stood, crouching a little, his hands lingering +near the butts of his guns. +</p> +<p>Haydon did not move, but his face grew pallid and +he smiled nervously, with shallow mirth. +</p> +<p>“You are not in a joking mood today, Harlan?” he +said. +</p> +<p>“There’s jokes, <i>an’</i> jokes, Haydon. I’ve come here +in good faith. I’ve been in camps like this before—in +Kelso’s, Dave Rance’s, Blondy Larkin’s, an’ some +others. Them men are outlaws—like you an’ me; an’ +they’ve done things that make them greater than you +an’ me—in our line. But I’ve visited them, free an’ +easy—goin’ an’ comin’ whenever I pleased. An’ no +man threatenin’ me. +</p> +<p>“Your manners is irritatin’ to me—I’m tellin’ you +so. I’m through! You’re takin’ me out, now—back +to the Rancho Seco. You’re ridin’ behind me—minus +your guns, your mouth shut tighter than you ever shut +it before. An’ if there’s any shootin’ you’ll know it—plenty!” +</p> +<p>Harlan had brought matters to a crisis—suddenly, +in a flash. The time for pretense had gone. Haydon +could accept Harlan upon the terms he had mentioned, +or he could take up the man’s challenge with all it implied—bitter +warfare between the two factions, which +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span> +would be unprofitable to both, and especially to Haydon. +</p> +<p>It was for Haydon to decide; and he sat for some +seconds motionless in the chair, before he spoke. +</p> +<p>Then he got up—taking care to keep his right hand +at a respectable distance from the butt of his pistol, +and smilingly held out his hand. +</p> +<p>“It goes your way, Harlan—we take you in on +your terms. I beg your pardon for saying what I did. +That was just to try you out. I’ve heard a lot about +you, and I wanted to see if you were in earnest—if +you really wanted to come in. I’m satisfied.” +</p> +<p>They shook hands; their gaze meeting as they stood +close together. The gaze endured for an instant; and +then Haydon’s fell. The handshake lasted for several +seconds, and it was curious to see how Haydon’s eyes, +after they had become veiled from Harlan’s by the +drooping lids, glowed with a malignant triumph and +cunning. +</p> +<p>It was also curious to note that something of the +same passion was revealed in Harlan’s eyes as they +rested on the partially closed lids of the other—for +there was triumph there, too—and comprehension, +and craft of a kind that might have disturbed Haydon, +had he seen it. +</p> +<p>Then their hands parted, mutually, and Haydon +grinned smoothly and with apparent cordiality at Harlan. +He grasped Harlan by an elbow and urged him +toward the door through which the latter had entered. +</p> +<p>“I’ll give you a knockdown to the boys, now—those +that are here,” he said. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span></p> +<p>An hour later—after Haydon and the dozen men +to whom he had introduced Harlan had watched Harlan +ride eastward through the valley toward the Rancho +Seco—Haydon rode westward, accompanied by +several of the men. +</p> +<p>They rode for many miles into the heart of the big +basin, coming at last to a gorge that wound a serpentine +way southward, through some concealing hills, +into a smaller basin. A heavy timber clump grew at +the mouth of the gorge, hiding it from view from the +trail that ran through the valley. Some rank underbrush +that fringed the timber gave the mouth of the +gorge the appearance of a shallow cave, and a wall of +rock, forming a ragged arch over the entrance, +heightened the impression. At first glance the place +seemed to be impenetrable. +</p> +<p>But the horsemen filed through easily enough, and +the underbrush closed behind them, so that, had they +been seen, the watcher might have been startled by +their sudden disappearance. +</p> +<p>Near the center of the little basin stood a huge +cabin, built of adobe, with a flat roof. In a small +corral were a number of cattle. Grazing upon the +grass, with which the place was carpeted, were many +horses; and lounging in the grass near the cabin, and +upon some benches that ranged its walls, were perhaps +a dozen men, heavily armed. +</p> +<p>Several of the men grinned as the newcomers rode +in and dismounted, and one or two spoke a short greeting +to Haydon, calling him “Chief.” +</p> +<p>Haydon did not linger to talk with the men, though; +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span> +he dismounted and entered the cabin, where, an instant +later, he was talking with Deveny. +</p> +<p>Haydon’s eyes were still triumphant—glowing with +a malignant satisfaction. +</p> +<p>“He’s wise—and dead tickled to join,” he told +Deveny, referring to Harlan. “And I took him in on +his own terms. We’ll play him along, making him +believe he’s regular and right, until we get what we +want. Then we’ll down him!” +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>At about the time Haydon was talking with Deveny, +Harlan was dismounting at the Rancho Seco corral. +</p> +<p>The T Down men were variously engaged—some +of them in the corral; others in the stable, and still +others in the blacksmith-shop—all attending to their +new duties—and only Red Linton was at the corral +gate to greet Harlan. +</p> +<p>Triumph was in Harlan’s eyes as he grinned at Linton. +</p> +<p>“I’m a Simon-pure outlaw now, Red,” he stated. +“Haydon didn’t hesitate none. He’s a sneakin’, +schemin’ devil, an’ he hates me like poison. But he +took me in, reckonin’ to play me for a sucker. Looks +like things might be interestin’.” He grinned. “I’m +yearnin’ for grub, Red.” +</p> +<p>Later, while Harlan was seated at a table in the +cook shanty, he became aware of a shadow at the +door; and he wheeled, to see Barbara Morgan looking +in at him, her face flushed, a glow in her eyes that was +entirely comprehensible to Harlan. +</p> +<p>She was glad he had returned—any man with half +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span> +Harlan’s wisdom could have told that! And color of +a kind not caused by the wind and sun suffused Harlan’s +face. +</p> +<p>She had seen him from one of the kitchen windows, +and curiosity—and an impatience that would not permit +of delay—had brought her to search for him. +</p> +<p>“Why,” she said, “I—I thought—didn’t you say +that you were going away?” +</p> +<p>“Didn’t I go?” he grinned. +</p> +<p>“For a day,” she taunted, her voice leaping. +</p> +<p>“A day,” he said gravely; “why, it was longer than +that, wasn’t it? Seems that I ain’t seen you for years +an’ years!” +</p> +<p>He got up, his hunger forgotten. But when he +reached the door he saw her running toward the ranchhouse, +not even looking back. He stood watching her +until she opened a door and vanished. Then he +grinned and returned to his neglected food, saying +aloud, after the manner of men who spend much time +in open places: “I’ll sure take care of her, Morgan.” +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XX_LEFTHANDED' id='XX_LEFTHANDED'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> +<h3>LEFT-HANDED</h3> +</div> + +<p>Harlan’s statement to Haydon, to the effect +that he had visited the camps of Kelso, Rance, +Larkin, and other outlaws had been strictly accurate. +At one time or another each of those outlaw leaders +had sent for Harlan, to endeavor to prevail upon him +to cast his lot with them—so common was the report +that Harlan was of their type. +</p> +<p>And he had been able—as he had told Haydon—to +go among them with impunity—unmolested, respected. +And even after he had refused to join they +had extended him the courtesy of faith—not even +swearing him to secrecy. And he had vindicated their +faith by keeping silent regarding them. +</p> +<p>Knowing, however, that the ethics of men of the +type of Kelso, Rance, Larkin, and others provided a +safe conduct for any man of their kind that came +among them, Harlan had felt contempt for Haydon +for his threat. And yet Harlan’s rage on that occasion +had been largely surface; it had been displayed for +effect—to force an instant decision from Haydon. +</p> +<p>Harlan was aware that his only hope of protecting +Barbara Morgan from Haydon and Deveny was in an +offensive war. He could not expect to wage such a +war by remaining idly at the Rancho Seco, to await the +inevitable aggressions of the outlaws, for he did not +know when they would strike, nor how. It was certain +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span> +they would strike, and it was as certain they would +strike when he least expected them to. +</p> +<p>Therefore he had determined to join them, depending +upon his reputation to allay any suspicion they +might have regarding his motives. Haydon had taken +him into the band, but Harlan had been convinced that +Haydon distrusted him. He had seen distrust in Haydon’s +eyes; and he had known, when Haydon dropped +his gaze at the instant they had shaken hands, that the +man meditated duplicity. +</p> +<p>Yet Harlan was determined to appear ignorant that +Haydon meditated trickery. He intended to go among +the men and deliberately to ignore the threatened dangers—more, +to conduct himself in such a manner that +Haydon would not suspect that he knew of any danger. +</p> +<p>It had been a slight incident that had suggested the +plan to him—merely a glance at Strom Rogers, while +the latter, in Lamo, had been watching Deveny. +</p> +<p>Harlan had seen hatred in Rogers’ face, and contempt +and jealousy; and he knew that where such passion +existed it could be made to grow and flourish by +suggestion and by example. +</p> +<p>And he was determined to furnish the example. +</p> +<p>He knew something of the passions of men of the +type which constituted the band headed by Deveny and +Haydon; he knew how their passions might be played +upon; he was aware of their respect and admiration +for men of notorious reputation, with records for evil +deeds and rapid “gunslinging.” +</p> +<p>He had seen how Strom Rogers had watched him—with +awed respect; he had seen approval in Rogers’ +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span> +eyes when they had exchanged glances in Lamo; and +he had heard men in the group in front of the sheriff’s +office speaking of him in awed whispers. +</p> +<p>He had never been affected by that sort of adulation—in +Lamo or in the days that preceded his visit +to the town. But he was not unmindful of the advantage +such adulation would give him in his campaign +for control of the outlaw camp. And that was what +he had determined to achieve. +</p> +<p>Three times in as many days he rode up the valley +to the Star, each time talking with Haydon—then +leaving the latter to go out and lounge around among +the men, listening to their talk, but taking little part in +it. He did not speak until he was spoken to, and thus +he challenged their interest, and they began to make +advances to him. +</p> +<p>Their social structure was flimsy and thin, their fellowship +as spontaneous as it was insincere; and within +a few days the edge had worn off the strangeness that +had surrounded Harlan, and he had been accepted +with hardly a ripple of excitement. +</p> +<p>And yet no man among them had achieved intimacy +with Harlan. There was a cold constraint in his manner +that held them off, figuratively, barring them from +becoming familiar with him. Several of them tried +familiarity, and were astonished to discover that they +had somehow failed—though they had been repelled +so cleverly that they could not resent it. +</p> +<p>Harlan had established a barrier without them +being aware of how he had done it—the barrier of +authority and respect, behind which he stood, an engaging, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span> +saturnine, interesting, awe-compelling figure. +</p> +<p>At the end of a week the men of the Star outfit +were addressing him as “boss;” listening to him with +respect when he spoke, striving for his attention, and +trying to win from him one of those rare smiles with +which he honored those among them whose personalities +interested him. +</p> +<p>At the end of two weeks half of the Star outfit was +eager to obey any order he issued, while the remainder +betrayed some slight hesitation—which, however, +vanished when Harlan turned his steady gaze upon +them. +</p> +<p>Behind their acceptance of him, though—back of +their seeming willingness to admit him to their peculiar +fellowship—was a reservation. Harlan felt it, saw +it in their eyes, and noted it in their manner toward +him. They had heard about him; they knew something +of his record; reports of his cleverness with a +weapon had come to them. And they were curious. +</p> +<p>There was speculation in the glances they threw at +him; there was some suspicion, cynicism, skepticism, +and not a little doubt. It seemed to Harlan that +though they had accepted him they were impatiently +awaiting a practical demonstration of those qualities +that had made him famous in the country. They +wanted to be “shown.” +</p> +<p>Their wild, unruly passions and lurid imaginations +were the urges that drove them—that shaped their +conduct toward their fellows. Some of them were +rapid gunslingers—in the picturesque idioms of their +speech—and there was not a man among them who +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span> +did not take pride in his ability to “work” his gun. +They had accepted Harlan, but it was obvious that +among them were some that doubted the veracity of +rumor—some who felt that Harlan had been overrated. +</p> +<p>It did not take Harlan long to discover who those +doubting spirits were. He saw them watching him—always +with curling lip and truculent eye; he heard +references to his ability from them—scraps of conversation +in which such terms and phrases as “a false +alarm, mebbe,” “he don’t look it,” “wears ’em for +show, I reckon,” were used. He had learned the +names of the men; there were three of them, known +merely as “Lanky,” “Poggs,” and “Latimer.” +</p> +<p>Their raids upon the cattle in the basin took place +at night; and their other depredations occurred at that +time also. Harlan did not fail to hear of them, for +their successes figured prominently in their daytime +conversations; and he had watched the herd of cattle +in the Star corrals grow in size until the enclosure +grew too small to hold them comfortably. He had +noted, too, the cleverness with which the men obliterated +the brands on the stolen cattle—or refashioned +them until proof of their identity was obscure. +</p> +<p>He had taken no part in any of the raids, though +he had passed a few nights at the Star, directing, with +the help of Strom Rogers, the altering of the brands +and the other work attending the disguising of the +cattle. +</p> +<p>Haydon he had seen but a few times, and Deveny +not at all. He learned from Rogers that Haydon +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span> +spent most of his time upon mysterious missions which +took him to Lamo, to Lazette, and to Las Vegas; and +that Deveny operated from a place that Rogers referred +to as the “Cache,” several miles up the valley. +</p> +<p>Latimer, a tawny giant of a man with a long, +hooked nose, and thin, cruel lips, interested Harlan. +He watched the man when the other was not conscious +of his glances, noting the bigness of him, his slow, +panther-like movements; the glowing, savage truculence +of his eyes; the hard, bitter droop of his lips +under the yellow mustache he wore. He felt the threat +of the man when the latter looked at him—it was personal, +intense—seeming to have motive behind it. It +aroused in Harlan a responsive passion. +</p> +<p>One day, seated on a bench in front of the long +bunkhouse near the Star ranchhouse, Harlan was +watching some of the men who were playing cards +near him. They were lounging in the grass, laughingly +pitting their skill against one another, while another +group, in front of the stable, was diligently repairing +saddles. +</p> +<p>Apart from the two groups were Lanky, Poggs, and +Latimer. They were standing near the corral fence, +about a hundred feet from where Harlan sat. The +subject of their talk was unpleasant, for their faces +reflected the venomous passions that inspired it. +</p> +<p>Latimer had been watching Harlan—his gaze +boldly hostile and full of a hate that was unmistakable. +</p> +<p>And Harlan had not been unaware of Latimer’s +gaze; he had noted the wolfish gleam in the other’s +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span> +eyes—and because he was interested in Latimer, he +watched him covertly. +</p> +<p>But Harlan had betrayed no sign that he knew Latimer +was watching him; and when he saw Strom Rogers +coming toward him from the stable, he grinned at him +and made room for him when the latter headed for +the bench upon which Harlan was sitting. +</p> +<p>“Lazy day,” offered Rogers as he dropped on the +bench beside Harlan; “not a heap doin’.” He did +not look at Harlan, but leaned forward, took up a +cinch buckle that had been lying in the sand at his feet, +and turned it idly over and over in his hands, apparently +intent on its construction. +</p> +<p>With his head down, so that even the card-players +could not see his lips move, he whispered to Harlan: +</p> +<p>“Don’t let ’em see you know I’m talkin’! They’re +framin’ up on you!” +</p> +<p>Harlan grinned, shielding his lips with a hand that +he passed casually over them. +</p> +<p>“Meanin’ Latimer—an’ his friends?” he said. +</p> +<p>“Yep. Latimer’s jealous of you. Been jealous. +Thinks he can match your gunplay—itchin’ for +trouble—bound to have it out with you. We was at +the Cache last night, an’ I heard him an’ Deveny +yappin’ about it. Deveny’s back of him—he’s sore +about the way you handed it to him in Lamo. Keep +your eyes peeled; they’re pullin’ it off pretty soon. +Latimer’s doin’ the shootin’—he’s tryin’ to work himself +up to it. Be careful.” +</p> +<p>“I’m thankin’ you.” Harlan leaned back, crossed +his legs, and stared off into space, the light in his eyes +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span> +becoming vacuous. He seemed not to be interested +in Latimer and the other two, but in reality he saw +them distinctly. But they had their backs to him now, +and were slowly sauntering toward the stable door. +</p> +<p>“So Deveny ain’t admirin’ me none?” he said to +Rogers. +</p> +<p>“Not scarcely. No more than a gopher is admirin’ +a side-winder.” +</p> +<p>“Latimer,” said Harlan, “don’t like my style of +beauty either. I’ve been noticin’ it. He’s a mighty interestin’ +man. If I wasn’t dead sure he ain’t the kind +of a guy which goes around shootin’ folks in the back, +I’d say he pretty near fits the description I got of the +man who helped Dolver salivate my side-kicker, Davey +Langan, over in Pardo—a couple of months ago.” +</p> +<p>Rogers’ side glance was pregnant with a grim, unsmiling +humor. +</p> +<p>“So you’ve picked him out? I’ve been wonderin’ +how long it would take you.” +</p> +<p>The emotion that passed over Harlan was not visible. +It might have been detected, however, by the +slight leap in his voice. +</p> +<p>“You an’ Latimer is bosom friends, I reckon?” +</p> +<p>“Shucks!” +</p> +<p>Rogers’ glance met Harlan’s for a fleeting instant. +</p> +<p>“This gang needs cleanin’ up,” said Rogers. He +got up, and stood in front of Harlan, holding out the +cinch buckle, as though offering it to the other. For +both men had seen that Latimer had left his friends at +the stable door and was coming slowly toward the +bunkhouse. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span></p> +<p>“You’ll have to be slick,” warned Rogers. “He’s +comin’. I’ll be moseyin’ out of the way.” +</p> +<p>He moved slowly from the bench, passed the group +of card-players, and walked to the ranchhouse, where +he hung the cinch buckle on a nail driven into the wall +of the building. Then he slowly turned, facing the +bench upon which Harlan still sat, and toward which +Latimer was walking. +</p> +<p>It was evident that all of the men in the vicinity +were aware of the threatened clash, for their manner, +upon the approach of Latimer, indicated as much. +</p> +<p>For weeks they had been eager to test the traditional +quickness of Harlan with the weapons that +swung at his hips—those weapons had been a constant +irritation to some of them, and an object of speculation +to all. And when the night before some of them +had heard the whispered word that Latimer—with +Deveny’s sanction—indeed with Deveny’s encouragement—was +determined to clash with Harlan, they +had realized that the moment for which they had +yearned was at hand. +</p> +<p>For they had seen in Harlan’s eyes—and had felt +in the atmosphere that surrounded the man—the certainty +that he would not refuse the clash with Latimer. +The only question in their minds concerning Harlan +was that of his speed and accuracy. And so when they +saw Latimer coming they ceased playing cards and sat, +interestedly watching—alert to note how Latimer +would bring about the clash, and how Harlan would +meet it. +</p> +<p>Latimer had nerved himself for the ordeal by talking +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span> +with his friends. The will to kill Harlan had been +in his heart for a long time, but he needed to reinforce +it with an artificial rage. And, dwelling, with his +friends, upon the irritating fact that Harlan had come +among them to usurp authority to which he had no +visible claim, he had succeeded in working his rage to a +frenzy that took little account of consequences. +</p> +<p>Yet Latimer would not have been able to reach that +frenzy had he not been convinced that he was Harlan’s +master with the six-shooter. He really believed that +Harlan had been overrated. He believed that because +he wanted to believe it, and because his contempt for +the man had bred that conviction in his heart. +</p> +<p>Also, he thought he knew why Harlan had come to +the Star—why he had joined the outlaw camp. And +the night before, he had communicated that suspicion +to Deveny. It was because Harlan knew he had been +with Dolver when Davey Langan had been killed. +Latimer thought he had seen a slight relief in Deveny’s +eyes when he had told the latter that, but he +could not be sure, and it was not important. +</p> +<p>The important thing was that he must kill Harlan—and +he meant to do it. He would kill him fairly, if +possible, thereby enhancing his reputation—but he +was certain to kill him, no matter what the method. +</p> +<p>That conviction blazed in his eyes as he came to a +halt within a dozen paces of where Harlan was sitting. +He had worked himself to such a pitch of rage that it +gripped him like some strong fever—bloating his +face, tensing his muscles, bulging his eyes. +</p> +<p>Harlan had watched him; and his gaze was on the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span> +other now with a steady, unwavering alertness that +advertised his knowledge of what was impending. But +he sat, motionless, rigid, waiting Latimer’s first hostile +movement. +</p> +<p>Harlan had turned a very little when Latimer had +begun his walk toward the bench; his right side was +slightly toward the man, the leg partially extended; +while the left leg was doubled under the bench—seemingly +to give him leverage should he decide to +rise. +</p> +<p>But he gave no indication of meditating such a +move. It was plain to the watchers that if he attempted +it Latimer would draw his gun and begin to +shoot. +</p> +<p>Latimer was convinced also that Harlan would not +attempt to rise. He had Harlan at a disadvantage, +and he laughed loudly, sardonically, contemptuously +as he stood, his right hand hovering close to his pistol +holster, his eyes aflame with hate and passion. +</p> +<p>“Keep a-settin’, you buzzard’s whelp!” he sneered; +“keep a-settin’! Latimer’s out to git you. You know +it—eh? You’ve knowed it right along—pretendin’ +not to. ‘Drag’ Harlan—bah! Gunslinger with a +record—an’ caught a-settin’. Caught with the goods +on, sneakin’ in here, tryin’ to ketch a man unawares. +</p> +<p>“Bah! Don’t I know what you’re here for? It’s +me! You blowed Dolver apart for killin’ that damned, +slick-eyed pardner of yourn—Davey Langan. Do +you want to know who sent Langan out? I’m tellin’ +you—it was me! Me—me!” +</p> +<p>He fairly yelled the last words, and stiffened, holding +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span> +the fingers of his right hand clawlike, above the +butt of the holstered pistol. +</p> +<p>And when he saw that Harlan did not move; that +he sat there rigid, his eyes unblinking and expressionless; +his right hand hanging limply at his side, near the +partially extended leg; his left hand resting upon the +thigh of the doubled leg—he stepped closer, watching +Harlan’s right hand. +</p> +<p>For a space—while one might have counted ten—neither +man moved a muscle. Something in Harlan’s +manner sent into Latimer’s frenzied brain the message +that all was not what it seemed—that Harlan was +meditating some astonishing action. Ten seconds is +not long, as times goes, but during that slight interval +the taut nerves of Latimer’s were twanged with a torturing +doubt that began to creep over him. +</p> +<p>Would Harlan never make that move? That question +was dinned insistently into Latimer’s ears. He +began to believe that Harlan did not intend to draw. +</p> +<p>And then—— +</p> +<p>“Ah!” +</p> +<p>It was Latimer’s lungs that breathed the ejaculation. +</p> +<p>For Harlan’s right hand had moved slightly upward, +toward the pistol at his right hip. It went only +a few inches; it was still far below the holster when +Latimer’s clawlike fingers descended to the butt of his +own weapon. The thought that he would beat Harlan +in a fair draw was in his mind—that he would +beat him despite the confusion of the hesitating motion +with which Harlan got his gun out. +</p> +<p>Something was happening, though—something odd +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span> +and unexplainable. For though Latimer had seemed +to have plenty of time, he was conscious that Harlan’s +gun was belching fire and death at him. He saw the +smoke streaks, felt the bullets striking him, searing +their way through him, choking him, weakening his +knees. +</p> +<p>He went down, his eyes wide with incredulity, filling +with hideous self-derision when he saw that the pistol +which had sent his death to him was not in Harlan’s +right hand at all, but in his left. +</p> +<p>Harlan got up slowly as Latimer stretched out in +the dust at his feet—casting one swift glance at the +fallen man to satisfy himself that for <i>him</i> the incident +was ended. Then, with the gaze of every man in the +outfit upon him, he strode toward the stable, where +Lanky and Poggs were standing, having witnessed the +death of their confederate. +</p> +<p>They stiffened to immobility as they watched Harlan’s +approach, knowing that for them the incident was +not closed—their guilt plain in their faces. +</p> +<p>And when Harlan halted in front of them they +stood, not moving a muscle, their eyes searching Harlan’s +face for signs that they too, were to receive a +demonstration of the man’s uncanny cleverness. +</p> +<p>“You was backin’ Latimer’s play,” said Harlan, +shortly. “I’m aimin’ to play the string out. Pull—or +I’ll blow you apart!” +</p> +<p>Poggs and Lanky did not “pull.” They stood +there, ghastly color stealing into their faces, their eyes +wide with the knowledge that death would be the penalty +of a hostile movement. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span></p> +<p>Harlan’s pistol was again in its holster, and yet they +had no desire to provoke the man to draw it. The +furtive gleam in the eyes of both revealed the hope +that gripped them—that some of the watchers would +interfere. +</p> +<p>But not a man moved. Most of them had been +stunned by the rapidity of Harlan’s action—by the +deftness with which he had brought his left hand into +use. They had received the practical demonstration +for which they all had longed, and each man’s manner +plainly revealed his decision to take no part in what +was transpiring. +</p> +<p>They remained in their places while Harlan—understanding +that Poggs and Lanky would not accept +his invitation—spoke gruffly to them: +</p> +<p>“This camp ain’t got any room for skunks that go +to framin’ up on any of the boys. Today you done it +to me—tomorrow you’d try to pull it off on some +other guy. +</p> +<p>“You’re travelin’—pronto. You’re gettin’ your +cayuses. Then you’re hittin’ the breeze away from +here—an’ not comin’ back. That lets you out. +Mosey!” +</p> +<p>He stood watchful, alert, while the men roped their +horses, got their “war-bags,” from the bunkhouse, +mounted, and rode away without looking back. Then +he walked over to the bench where he had been sitting +when Rogers had warned him of the plan to kill him; +ordered several of the men to take Latimer’s body +away, and then resumed his place on the bench, where +he rolled a cigarette. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span></p> +<p>Later, when the men who had gone with Latimer’s +body returned to the vicinity of the ranchhouse, Harlan +was still sitting on the bench. +</p> +<p>No man said a word to him, but he saw a new respect +in the eyes of all of them—even in Rogers’ gaze—which +had not strayed from him for an instant during +the trouble. +</p> +<p>And a little later, when Rogers walked to the bench +and sat beside him, the other men had resumed their +various pastimes as though nothing had happened. +</p> +<p>Again Rogers whispered to him, lowly, admiringly: +</p> +<p>“This camp is yours, man, whenever you say the +word!” +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXI_THE_BLACKBEARDED_MAN' id='XXI_THE_BLACKBEARDED_MAN'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> +<h3>THE BLACK-BEARDED MAN</h3> +</div> + +<p>It was Strom Rogers who indicated to the outlaws +at the Star that henceforth Harlan was to exercise +authority of a kind that had formerly been vested in +Haydon and Deveny. +</p> +<p>The corral was packed to suffocation with cattle, +threatening the health of the animals; Deveny had +sent no word from the Cache regarding the disposal +of the stock, and Haydon’s whereabouts were unknown. +</p> +<p>Rogers had moved stock on his own initiative in +former days—for he had been an able assistant to +both leaders. And Rogers could have moved the stock +out of the corral and to the point far south where the +outlaws had always sold them. +</p> +<p>But there was malice in Rogers’ heart toward the +two outlaw leaders, and a perverse devil lurked in +him. For many months he had worshiped Barbara +Morgan from a distance, vaguely aware that his passion +for her could never be realized. But there was +a spark of honesty and justice in Rogers despite his +profession, and a sincere admiration for the girl that +admitted of no thought of evil toward her. +</p> +<p>He had almost betrayed his resentment to Deveny +when in Lamo, on the day of the coming of Harlan, +Deveny had boldly announced his intentions toward +the girl; and it had been a dread of clashing with Deveny +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span> +that had kept him from interfering. The will to +protect the girl had been in Rogers’ mind, but he +lacked the physical courage to risk his life for her. +</p> +<p>This man who had boldly entered the outlaw camp, +after first defying Deveny in Lamo, had made a stirring +appeal to the good in Rogers; and he foresaw +that trouble, in which Harlan had a chance to emerge +victorious, was certain. And he had decided to align +himself with the Pardo gunman. +</p> +<p>Therefore, on this morning, when it was certain +that the cattle in the corral must be moved, he deliberately +refused to exercise his prerogative. Instead, he +waited until after breakfast—when the men were congregated +outside the bunkhouse door—when he was +certain they would all hear him. +</p> +<p>Harlan had come out, too. He had not visited the +Rancho Seco for more than a week, fearing that his +absence might jeopardize the advantage he had gained +over the men through the killing of Latimer. +</p> +<p>With the attention of all the men centered upon +him, Rogers walked close to Harlan, speaking loudly: +</p> +<p>“Them cattle ought to hit the trail, Harlan. It’s +up to you—you’re the boss. Do we move ’em—an’ +where?” +</p> +<p>A comprehensive light gleamed in Harlan’s eyes. +</p> +<p>“They move,” he said shortly. “Drive them where +you’ve been drivin’ them.” +</p> +<p>As though he had been giving orders to the outlaws +all his life, he briskly mentioned the names of the men +who were to form the trail herd. +</p> +<p>Not a man dissented. Those whose names were +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span> +called quickly detached themselves from the group, +and sought the horse corral; where they roped their +horses and began to make preparations to obey Harlan’s +order. And later, when the cattle were driven +out of the corral, and the trail herd crew straggled behind +them over the level that led southward, the men +were grinning. +</p> +<p>For Harlan had told them that their share of the +spoils resulting from the sale of the cattle was to be +materially increased. He had likewise told them that +they might spend an extra day in “town” before their +return. +</p> +<p>Only one man besides Harlan remained at the Star +after the herd vanished into the southern distance. +That man was the black-bearded fellow who had escorted +Harlan to the ranchhouse on the occasion of his +first visit—Lafe Woodward. +</p> +<p>This man’s admiration for Harlan had never been +concealed. He had stayed as close to Harlan as possible; +and from his manner Harlan had divined that +the man was eager to ingratiate himself. +</p> +<p>Woodward stood near Harlan as the herd and the +men vanished. He had grinned widely when, just +before the outfit had departed, he had heard Rogers +whisper to Harlan: +</p> +<p>“You’ve made yourself solid with the bunch, for +sure, by offerin’ ’em a bigger divvy. They’ve been +grumblin’ about it for a long time. They’re all sore +at Haydon an’ Deveny for bein’ greedy. But you’re +sure cookin’ up a heap of trouble with Haydon an’ +Deveny!” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span></p> +<p>Harlan grinned with grim mirthlessness. It had +been his first opportunity to stir up dissension and +strife in the outlaw camp, and he had taken instant advantage +of it. He had created factional feeling, and +he was prepared to accept the consequences. +</p> +<p>And, later in the day, when he saw Haydon ride in, +dismount and cast a surprised glance at the empty +corral, he knew that the moment for which he had +planned, had come. +</p> +<p>Woodward was nowhere in sight; and Harlan, who +had been in the blacksmith-shop, made himself visible +to Haydon by stepping outside. +</p> +<p>Haydon called to him, sharply; and Harlan walked +slowly to where the outlaw chief stood, a saturnine +grin on his face, his eyes alight with a cold humor that +might have been illuminating to Haydon had he taken +the trouble to look into them. +</p> +<p>Haydon was laboring under some strong passion. +He was suppressing it with an effort, but it showed in +his tensed muscles and in his flushed face. +</p> +<p>“Where are the cattle?” he demanded, his voice +a trifle hoarse. +</p> +<p>“They’re headed for Willow Wells—where you’ve +been sellin’ them.” +</p> +<p>“By whose orders?” Haydon’s voice was choked +with passion. +</p> +<p>“Mine,” drawled Harlan. Harlan might have explained +that the stock had been suffering in the crowded +enclosure, thus assuaging Haydon’s wrath. But he +gave no explanation—that would have been a revelation +of eagerness to escape blame and the possible +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span> +consequences of his act. Instead of explaining he +looked steadily into Haydon’s eyes, his own cold and +unblinking. +</p> +<p>He saw Haydon’s wrath flare up—it was in the +heightened color that spread upward above the collar +of his shirt; he saw the man’s terrific effort at self-control; +and his look grew bitter with insolence. +</p> +<p>“What’s botherin’ you?” he said. +</p> +<p>“The cattle—damn it!” shouted Haydon. “What +in hell do you mean by sending them away without +orders?” +</p> +<p>“I’m havin’ my say, Haydon. We agreed to split +everything three ways. Authority to give orders goes +with that. That was the agreement. A man’s got +to be either a captain or a private, an’ I’ve never +played second to any man. I ain’t beginnin’ now.” +</p> +<p>“Why, damn you!” gasped Haydon. His eyes +were aglare with a terrible rage and hate; he stepped +backward a little, bending his right arm, spreading the +fingers. +</p> +<p>Harlan had made no move, but the light in his eyes +betrayed his complete readiness for the trouble that +Haydon plainly meditated. +</p> +<p>“Yes,” he said, slowly, drawling his words, a little! +“It’s come to that, I reckon. You’ve got to flash your +gun now, or take it back. No man cusses me an’ gets +away with it. Get goin’!” +</p> +<p>Haydon stood, swaying from side to side, in the +grip of a mighty indecision. The fingers of his right +hand spread wider; the hand descended to a point +nearer to his pistol holster. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span></p> +<p>There it poised, the fingers hooked, like the talons +of some giant bird about to clutch a victim. +</p> +<p>Had Haydon faced a man with less courage; had +Harlan’s iron control lacked that quality which permitted +him to give an enemy that small chance for life +which he always gave them, death might have reigned +at the Star again. Haydon owed his life to that hesitation +which had made Harlan famous. +</p> +<p>And as the strained, tense seconds passed with both +men holding the positions they had assumed, it seemed +Haydon was slowly beginning to realize that Harlan +was reluctant, was deliberately giving him a chance. +</p> +<p>A change came over Haydon. The clawlike fingers +began to straighten; imperceptibly at first, and then +with a spasmodic motion that flexed the muscles in +little jerks. The hand became limp; it dropped slowly +to his side—down beyond the pistol holster. Then it +came up, and the man swept it over his eyes, as though +to brush away a vision that frightened him. +</p> +<p>His face grew pale, he shuddered; and at last he +stood, swaying a little, his mouth open with wonder +for the phenomenal thing that had happened to him. +</p> +<p>Harlan’s voice, cold and expressionless, startled +him: +</p> +<p>“You wasn’t meanin’ to cuss me?” +</p> +<p>“No!” The denial was blurted forth. Haydon +grinned, faintly, with hideous embarrassment; the +knowledge that he had been beaten, and that he owed +his life to Harlan, was plain in his eyes. +</p> +<p>He laughed, uncertainly, as he made an effort to +stiffen his lagging muscles. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span></p> +<p>“I was a bit flustered, Harlan; I talked rather recklessly, +I admit. You see, I’ve been used to giving orders +myself. I was riled for a minute.” +</p> +<p>“That goes!” said Harlan, shortly. His voice had +changed. The slow drawl had gone, and a snapping, +authoritative sharpness had replaced it. +</p> +<p>Haydon gazed at him with a new wonder. He +sensed in Harlan’s manner the consciousness of power, +the determination to command. At a stroke, it seemed, +Harlan had wrenched from him the right to rule. He +felt himself being relegated to a subordinate position; +he felt at this minute the ruthless force of the man who +stood before him; he felt oddly impotent and helpless, +and he listened to Harlan with a queer feeling of wonder +for the absence of the rage that should have +gripped him. +</p> +<p>“I’m runnin’ things from now on,” Harlan said. +“I ain’t interferin’ with the Star. But I’m runnin’ +things for the boys. I told Rogers to drive the cattle +to Willow’s Wells—an’ to sell them. I’ve promised +the boys a bigger divvy. They get it. I’ve told them +to take a day off, in town, after they turn the cattle +over. +</p> +<p>“There’s got to be a new deal. The boys are fussed +up—claimin’ they ain’t gettin’ their share. I’m seein’ +that they do. You can’t run a camp like this an’ not +treat the boys right.” +</p> +<p>The wonder that had been aroused in Haydon grew +as Harlan talked; it increased in intensity until, when +Harlan’s voice died away, it developed into suspicion. +</p> +<p>That was what Harlan had come to the Star for! +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span> +He wanted to run the camp, to direct the activities of +the outlaws in the valley. Power! Authority! Those +were the things Harlan craved for. +</p> +<p>Haydon saw it all, now. He saw that Harlan +wanted to dominate—everything. He wanted to rule +the outlaw camp; he wanted to run the Rancho Seco; +he intended to get possession of the gold that Morgan +had left, and he wanted Barbara Morgan. +</p> +<p>The rage that had held Haydon in its clutch when +he had called Harlan to him was reviving. Haydon’s +face was still white, but the fury in his eyes—slowly +growing—was not to be mistaken. +</p> +<p>Harlan saw it, and his lips straightened. He had +expected Haydon would rage over what he had determined +to tell him; and he was not surprised. He had +deliberately goaded the man into his present fury. He +had determined to kill him, and he had been disappointed +when he had seen Haydon lose his courage +when the crisis arrived. And now his deliberate and +premeditated plan was to bear fruit. +</p> +<p>Harlan was reluctant to kill, but there seemed to be +no other way. Haydon was a murderer. He had +killed Lane Morgan; he was an outlaw whose rule had +oppressed the valley for many months. If Harlan +could have devised some plan that would make it possible +for him to attain his end without killing anybody, +he would have eagerly adopted it. +</p> +<p>But in this country force must be fought with force. +It was a grim game, and the rules were inflexible—kill +or be killed. +</p> +<p>His own life would be safe in this section so long +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span> +as he guarded it. Eternal vigilance and the will to +take life when his own was threatened was a principle +which custom had established. If he expected to save +the girl at the Rancho Seco he could not temper his +actions with mercy. And he knew that if he was to +succeed in his design to disrupt the outlaw gang he +would have to remove the man who stood before him, +working himself into a new frenzy. There seemed to +be no other way. +</p> +<p>But Haydon seemed to have control of himself, +now, despite the frenzied glare of his eyes. He was +outwardly cool; his movements were deliberate—he +had conquered his fear of Harlan, it seemed. +</p> +<p>He laughed, harshly. +</p> +<p>“Harlan,” he said; “you had me going—talking +that way. By Heaven! you almost convinced me that +I’d <i>let</i> you run things here. I was beginning to believe +I’d lost my nerve. But see here!” +</p> +<p>He held out his right hand toward Harlan—it was +steady, rigid, not a nerve in it quivered. +</p> +<p>“You’re fast with your guns, but you can’t run any +whizzer in on me—you can’t intimidate me. You +killed Latimer the other day; and you’ve got the boys +with you. But you can’t run things here. Have all +the boys gone?” +</p> +<p>“Woodward’s here.” +</p> +<p>Harlan spoke lowly; his eyes were keenly watchful. +This flare-up on Haydon’s part was merely a phase of +his confused mental condition. He saw that Haydon +did not mean to use his gun—that he intended to ignore +it, no doubt planning to regain his authority when +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span> +the men of the outfit returned—when he might enlist +the support of some of them. +</p> +<p>“Woodward’s here—eh?” laughed Haydon. He +raised his voice, shouting for the man. And Harlan +saw Woodward come from behind an outbuilding, +look toward the ranchhouse, and then walk slowly +toward them. +</p> +<p>Woodward halted when within several paces of the +two, and looked from one to the other curiously, his +eyes narrowed with speculation. +</p> +<p>“Woodward,” directed Haydon; “hit the breeze +after the outfit and tell them to drive those cattle back +here!” +</p> +<p>Harlan grinned. “Woodward,” he said, gently; +“you climb on your cayuse an’ do as Haydon tells you. +Haydon is figurin’ on cashin’ in when you do.” +</p> +<p>Haydon blustered. “What do you mean?” +</p> +<p>“I mean that if Woodward goes after the boys I’m +goin’ to blow you apart. I’m givin’ the orders around +here!” +</p> +<p>Watching Haydon, Harlan saw that he was not exhibiting +rage, but intense interest. He was not looking +at Harlan, but at Woodward. And, turning +swiftly, his guns both leaping into his hands with the +movement—for he had a swift suspicion that Woodward +might be standing with Haydon against him—he +saw that Woodward had fallen into a crouch; that +the man’s right hand was hovering over his pistol holster, +and that his eyes were gleaming with a light that +could mean only the one thing—murder. +</p> +<p>Backing slowly away from both Haydon and Woodward, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span> +Harlan watched them, his guns ready for instant +action should he catch any sign that would indicate +trickery toward himself. +</p> +<p>He saw no such signs. It became plain to him that +Woodward had no eyes for anyone but Haydon, and +that Haydon’s attention was fixed upon Woodward +with an intentness that meant he had divined that +Woodward’s peculiar manner had a definite, personal +meaning. +</p> +<p>Woodward continued to advance on Haydon. He +was waving his left hand as though giving Harlan a +silent order to get out of his way, while his gaze was +centered upon Haydon with an unspoken promise of +violence, fascinating to behold. +</p> +<p>It seemed to have fascinated Haydon. Harlan saw +him shrink back, the bluster gone out of him, his face +the color of ashes. He kept stepping back, until he +brought up against the rear wall of the ranchhouse; +and there he stood, watching Woodward, his eyes +bulging with dread wonder. +</p> +<p>Harlan saw his lips move; heard his voice, hoarse +and throaty: +</p> +<p>“It’s a frame-up—a frame-up. Both of you are +out to get me!” +</p> +<p>“Frame-up!” +</p> +<p>This was Woodward. He was a sinister figure, +with his black beard seeming to bristle with passion, his +eyes flaming with it; all his muscles tensed and quivering, +and his right hand, with clawlike fingers, poised +above the butt of his pistol. +</p> +<p>“Frame-up!” he repeated, laughing hoarsely between +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span> +his teeth. “Hell’s fire! Do you think it takes +two men to ‘get’ you—you miserable whelp? +</p> +<p>“I’ve been waitin’ for this day—waitin’ for it, +waitin’ to get you alone—waitin’ for the boys to go +so’s I could tell you somethin’. +</p> +<p>“You know what it is. You ain’t guessin’, eh? +Listen while I tell you somethin’. The day ‘Drag’ +Harlan got in Lamo he brought news that Lane Morgan +had been killed out in the desert. I heard the +boys sayin’ you had a hand in it. But I thought that +was just talk. I didn’t believe you was that kind of a +skunk. I waited. +</p> +<p>“Then you sent me over to the edge of the level, +near the Rancho Seco—where Harlan found that +flattened grass when he rode over here. You told me +to watch Harlan and Barbara Morgan. You said +you thought Harlan would try some sneak game with +her. +</p> +<p>“You can gamble I watched. I saw Harlan standin’ +guard over her; I saw him follow that sneak Lawson. +I heard the shot that killed Lawson, an’ I saw +Harlan tote him downstairs, an’ then set on the door-sill +all night, guardin’ Barbara Morgan. +</p> +<p>“The sneakin’ game was played by you, Haydon. +When I saw Harlan headin’ toward the valley the day +he come here, I lit out ahead of him. And when he +got to the timber over there I brought him in. +</p> +<p>“An’ I heard you talk that day. I heard him sayin’ +that you killed Lane Morgan. He said my dad told +him you fired the shot that killed him.” +</p> +<p>Harlan started and leaned forward, amazed. But +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span> +Haydon swayed, and then steadied himself with an +effort, and stared at Woodward with bulging, incredulous +eyes. +</p> +<p>“Your <i>dad</i>?” he almost shrieked; “Lane Morgan +was your father?” +</p> +<p>Woodward’s grin was wolfish. He took two or +three steps toward Haydon—panther-like steps that +betrayed the lust that was upon him. +</p> +<p>“I’m Billy Morgan,” he said, his teeth showing in +a merciless grin; “Barbara’s brother. Flash your gun, +Haydon; I’m goin’ to kill you!” +</p> +<p>Haydon clawed for his pistol, missing the butt in +his eagerness, and striving wildly to draw it. It +snagged on a rawhide thong that supported the holster +and his fingers were loosening in the partial grip when +Billy Morgan shot him. +</p> +<p>He flattened against the wall of the ranchhouse for +an instant, staring wildly around him; then his head +sagged forward and he slid down the wall of the +ranchhouse into the deep dust that was mounded +near it. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXII_A_DEAD_MAN_WALKS' id='XXII_A_DEAD_MAN_WALKS'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2> +<h3>A DEAD MAN WALKS</h3> +</div> + +<p>Harlan had paid strict attention to Lane Morgan’s +words at Sentinel Rock, and he remembered +that Morgan had told him that his son, whom +he had called “Bill,” had left the Rancho Seco on +some mission for the governor. Evidently it had not +occurred to Morgan that his son’s mission had taken +him only to the valley in which reigned those outlaws +Morgan had reviled. +</p> +<p>But it was plain to Harlan that “Billy” was here—he +had said so himself, and he had given proof that +he had been watchful and alert to Barbara’s interests. +And now was explained young Morgan’s interest in +himself. The thought that during all the days he had +spent at the Rancho Seco, his movements had been +watched by the man who had just killed Haydon, +brought a glow of ironic humor to Harlan’s eyes. +</p> +<p>During a long interval, through which Billy Morgan +stood over Haydon, watching him with a cold +savagery, Harlan kept at a respectable distance, also +watching. +</p> +<p>He saw that for Haydon the incident had been +fatal. The man’s body did not move after it slipped +to the ground beside the ranchhouse wall. Yet Morgan +watched until he was certain; then he slowly +wheeled and looked at Harlan. +</p> +<p>“That settles him—damn him!” he said, with a +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span> +breathlessness that told of the intense strain he had +been laboring under. +</p> +<p>Still Harlan did not speak; and his guns were in +their holsters when Morgan walked close to him, grinning +wanly. +</p> +<p>“I had to do it. There’s no use tryin’ to depend +on the law in this country. You’ve seen that, yourself.” +</p> +<p>“I’ve noticed it,” grinned Harlan. “You’re feelin’ +bad over it. I wouldn’t. If it had been my dad he +killed I couldn’t have done any different. I reckon +any man with blood in him would feel that way about +a coyote like that killin’ his father. If men don’t feel +that way, why do they drag murderers to courts—where +they have courts—an’ ask the law to kill them. +That’s just shovin’ the responsibility onto some other +guy. +</p> +<p>“I’ve handed several guys their pass-out checks, an’ +I ain’t regrettin’ one of them. There wasn’t one of +them that didn’t have it comin’ to him. They was +lookin’ for it, mostly, an’ had to have it. I’ve heard +of guys that had killed a man feelin’ squeamish over it—with +ghosts visitin’ them at night; an’ sufferin’ a lot +of mental torture. I reckon any man would feel that +way if he’d killed an inoffensive man—or a good man, +or one that hadn’t been tryin’ to murder him.” He +grinned again. “Why, I’m preachin’!” +</p> +<p>And now into his gaze as he looked at Morgan, +came cold reproach. +</p> +<p>“You wasn’t figurin’ to let Barbara play it a lone +hand?” he said. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span></p> +<p>“Hell’s fire—no!” denied Morgan, his eyes blazing. +“I’ve been watchin’ the Rancho Seco—as I told +Haydon. I saw Barbara set out for Lamo. There +was no one followin’ her, an’ so I thought she’d be all +right. That mixup at Lamo slipped me. But I seen +you an’ Barbara come back, an’ I heard the boys +talkin’ about what happened at Lamo. I’d heard of +you, too; an’ when I seen you come back with Barbara +I watched you. An’ I seen you was square, so I trusted +you a heap. +</p> +<p>“An’ I had a talk with Sheriff Gage about you, an’ +he told me my dad had sent to Pardo for you, through +Dave Hallowell, the marshal of Pardo. Gage said +you was out to clean up Deveny an’ Haydon, an’ so I +knowed I could depend on you.” +</p> +<p>“Barbara don’t know you’re hangin’ around here—she +ain’t known it?” +</p> +<p>“Shucks, I reckon not,” grinned Morgan. “I didn’t +come here for six months after I left the Rancho Seco—until +I growed a beard. Barbara’s been within a +dozen feet of me, an’ never knowed me. I’ve been +thinkin’ of telling her, but I seen Haydon was sweet +on her, an’ I didn’t dare tell her. Women ain’t reliable. +She’d have showed it some way, an’ then +there’d have been hell to pay.” +</p> +<p>“An’ I’ve been pridin’ myself on takin’ care of Barbara,” +said Harlan. “I feel a heap embarrassed an’ +useless—just like I’d been fooled.” +</p> +<p>“You’ve done a thing I couldn’t do,” confessed +Morgan; “you’ve busted Haydon’s gang wide open. +If you hadn’t showed up there’d have been nothin’ +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span> +done. There’s some of the boys that ain’t outlaws—boys +that are with me, havin’ sneaked into the gang to +help me out. But we wan’t makin’ no headway to +speak of.” +</p> +<p>Harlan looked at Haydon. “That guy was educated,” +he said. “What was his game? I’ve felt all +along that there was somethin’ big back of him—that +he wasn’t here just to steal cattle an’ rob folks, an’ +such.” +</p> +<p>“You ain’t heard,” smiled Morgan. “Of course +you wouldn’t—unless Gage had gassed to you. +</p> +<p>“There’s a gang of big men in Frisco, an’ in the +East, figurin’ to run a railroad through the basin. A +year or so ago there was secret talk of it in the capital. +It leaked out that the railroad guys was intendin’ to +run their road through the basin. They was goin’ to +build a town right where the Rancho Seco lays; an’ +they was plannin’ to irrigate a lot of the land around +there. The governor says it was to be big—an’ likely +it’ll be big, when they get around to it. +</p> +<p>“But them things go slow, an’ a gang of cheap +crooks got wise to it. They sent Haydon down here, +to scare the folks in the basin into sellin’ out for a +song. They’ve scared one man out—a Pole from the +west end. But the others have stuck. Looks like they +was figurin’ on grabbin’ the Rancho Seco without payin’ +<i>anything</i> for it—Haydon intendin’, I reckon, to +put dad an’ me out of the way an’ marry Barbara. +Then he could have cut the ranch up into town lots an’ +made a mint of coin.” +</p> +<p>“An’ Deveny?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span></p> +<p>“Deveny’s a wolf. Haydon brought him here from +Arizona—where he’d terrorized a whole county, runnin’ +it regardless. He figured to cash in, I reckon, +but he’s been grabbin’ up everything he could lay his +hands on, on the way.” +</p> +<p>“You’ll be tellin’ Barbara, now?” suggested Harlan. +</p> +<p>“You’re shoutin’!” said Morgan, his eyes glowing. +“I’m hittin’ the breeze to the Rancho Seco for fair.” +He looked at Haydon, and his eyes took on a new +expression. “I was almost forgettin’ what the governor +sent me here for,” he added. “The governor +was wantin’ to know who is behind Haydon an’ Deveny, +an’ I’m rummagin’ around in Haydon’s office to +find out. Goin’?” he invited. +</p> +<p>Both looked down at Haydon as they passed him, +and an instant later they were entering a door of the +ranchhouse. +</p> +<p>They had hardly disappeared when Haydon’s head +moved slightly. +</p> +<p>His eyes were open; he glanced at the door of the +ranchhouse through which Harlan and Morgan had +entered. Then he raised his head, dragged himself to +an elbow—upon which he rested momentarily, his +face betraying the bitter malignance and triumph that +had seized him. +</p> +<p>He had realized that Morgan had meant to kill +him, even before Morgan had revealed his identity, +and his backward movement, which had brought him +against the wall of the ranchhouse had been made with +design. He had felt that even if he should succeed in +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span> +beating Morgan, Harlan would have taken up the +quarrel, for he knew that Harlan also had designs on +his life. And with a cupidity aroused over the desperate +predicament in which he found himself, he had +decided to take a forlorn chance. +</p> +<p>Morgan’s bullet had struck him, but by a convulsive +side movement at the instant Morgan’s gun roared +Haydon had escaped a fatal wound, and the bullet had +entered his left side above the heart, paralyzing one of +the big muscles of the shoulder. +</p> +<p>His left arm was limp and useless, and dragged in +the dust as he squirmed around and gained his feet. +There was no window in the wall of the ranchhouse +on that side; and he backed away, staggering a little, +for he had lost much blood. He kept the blank wall +before him as he backed away from the house; and +when he reached his horse he was a long time getting +into the saddle. But he accomplished it at last; and +sent the horse slowly up the slope and into the timber +out of which Harlan had ridden with the black-bearded +man on the day of his first visit to the Star. +</p> +<p>Back where the trail converged with the main trail +that ran directly up the valley, Haydon, reeling in the +saddle, sent his horse at a faster pace, heading it toward +the Cache where he was certain he would find +Deveny. And as he rode the triumph in his eyes grew. +For he had heard every word of the conversation between +Harlan and Morgan, and he hoped to get to the +Cache before the two men discovered the trick he had +played upon them—before they could escape. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXIII_DEVENY_SECEDES' id='XXIII_DEVENY_SECEDES'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> +<h3>DEVENY SECEDES</h3> +</div> + +<p>Since the day he had heard that Harlan had appeared +at the Star and had been taken into the +outlaw band by Haydon, Deveny had exhibited fits of +a sullen moroseness that had kept his closest friends +from seeking his companionship. Those friends were +few, for Deveny’s attitude toward his men had always +been that of the ruthless tyrant; he had treated them +with an aloofness that had in it a contempt which they +could not ignore. More—he was merciless, and had +a furious temper which found its outlet in physical violence. +</p> +<p>Deveny was a fast man with the big Colt that swung +at his hip, a deadly marksman, and he needed but little +provocation to exhibit his skill. For that reason his +men kept the distance Deveny had established between +them—never attempting familiarity with him. +</p> +<p>Deveny had heard from a Star man the story of +Harlan’s coming to the Star and when a day or so +later Haydon rode into the Cache, Deveny was in a +state of furious resentment. +</p> +<p>There had been harsh words between Haydon and +Deveny; the men of the Cache had no difficulty in comprehending +that Deveny’s rage was bitter. +</p> +<p>Not even when Haydon told him that his acceptance +of Harlan had been forced by circumstances, and that +he was tricking Harlan into a state of fancied security +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span> +in which he could the more easily bring confusion upon +him did Deveny agree. +</p> +<p>“You’re a damned fool, Haydon!” he told the +other, his face black with passion. “That guy is slick +as greased lightning—and faster. And he don’t mean +any good to the camp. He’s out for himself.” +</p> +<p>Deveny did not intimate that his dislike of Harlan +had been caused by the latter’s interference with his +plans the day he had held Barbara Morgan a prisoner +in the room above the Eating-House in Lamo; but +Haydon, who had heard the details of the affair from +one of his men, smiled knowingly. +</p> +<p>It was not Haydon’s plan to let Deveny know he +knew of the affair, or that he cared about it if he had +heard. And so he did not mention it. +</p> +<p>But in his heart was a rage that made his thoughts +venomous; though he concealed his emotions behind +the bland, smooth smile of good-natured tolerance. +</p> +<p>“I’ll handle him, Deveny,” he said as he took leave +of the other. “He’ll get his when he isn’t expecting +it.” +</p> +<p>Deveny, however, had no faith in Haydon’s ability +to “handle” Harlan. He had seen in the man’s eyes +that day in Lamo something that had troubled him—an +indomitability that seemed to indicate that the man +would do whatever he set out to do. +</p> +<p>But Deveny did not ride to the Star to see Harlan; +he was reluctant to stir outside the Cache, and for +many days, while Harlan was attaining supremacy at +the Star, and while Haydon was absent on a mysterious +mission, Deveny kept close to the Cache, nursing +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span> +his resentment against Haydon, and deepening—with +fancied situations—his hatred for Harlan. +</p> +<p>It did not surprise Deveny when a Star man rode into +the Cache one day and told him that Harlan had +killed Latimer in a gunfight, and that Harlan was +slowly but surely gaining a following among the men. +The information did not surprise Deveny; but it sent +his mind into a chaos of conjecture and speculation, +out of which at last a conviction came—that Harlan +was seeking control of the outlaw band; that Haydon’s +days as a leader were almost over, so far as he +was concerned. For if Haydon insisted on taking +Harlan into the secret councils of the camp he—Deveny—was +going to operate independently. +</p> +<p>The more his thoughts dwelt upon that feature the +more attractive it seemed to him. Independence of +Haydon meant that he could do as he pleased without +the necessity of consulting anybody. He could rustle +whatever cattle he wanted—getting them where he +could without following Haydon’s plans—which had +always seemed rather nonsensical, embracing as they +did the scheme of railroad building and town sites; +and he could do as he pleased with Barbara Morgan, +not having to consider Haydon at all. +</p> +<p>It was that last consideration that finally decided +Deveny. He was an outlaw—not a politician; he +robbed for gain, and not for the doubtful benefits that +might be got out of the building of a town. And when +he looked with desire upon a woman he didn’t care to +share her with another man—not even Haydon. +</p> +<p>For two or three days after the conviction seized +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span> +Deveny, he pondered over his chances, and when he +reached a decision he acted with the volcanic energy +that had characterized his depredations in the basin. +</p> +<p>On the morning of the day upon which Haydon returned +to the Star to find the cattle gone and Harlan +in control, Deveny appeared to a dozen Cache men +who were variously engaged near the corral, ordering +them to saddle their horses. +</p> +<p>Later, Deveny and his men rode southward across +a low plateau that connected the buttes near the entrance +to the Cache with the low hills that rimmed the +basin. They traveled fast, and when they reached the +rimming hills they veered eastward upon a broad sand +plain. +</p> +<p>There was a grin on Deveny’s face now—a grin +which expressed craft, duplicity, and bestial desire. +And as he rode at the head of his men he drew mental +pictures that broadened his grin and brought into his +eyes an abysmal gleam. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXIV_KIDNAPPED' id='XXIV_KIDNAPPED'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> +<h3>KIDNAPPED</h3> +</div> + +<p>Barbara Morgan had yielded to the fever +of impatience which had afflicted her during the +latter days of Harlan’s absence from the Rancho Seco. +She had been impatient ever since she had been forced +to stay close to the house by Harlan’s orders; but she +had fought it off until now, for she had been interested +in Harlan, and had felt a deep wonder over his probable +actions regarding her future. +</p> +<p>She had known, of course, that real danger from +Deveny existed, for the incident in Lamo had convinced +her of that, but she felt that Harlan’s fears for +her were rather extravagant—it was rather improbable +that Deveny would come boldly to the Rancho +Seco and attempt to carry her away by force. +</p> +<p>The clear, brilliant sunshine of the country dispelled +so grotesque a thought; the peaceful hills seemed to +smile their denial; and the broad level near the entrance +to the basin sent a calm message of reassurance +to her. +</p> +<p>She had known Red Linton for a long time—for he +had been with her father for nearly two seasons—and +she had respected him for what he had seemed to be, +a quiet, rather humorous man who did his work well, +though without flourishes. He had never figured +prominently in her thoughts, however, until the day +Harlan had appointed him foreman of the Rancho +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span> +Seco, and then her attention had been attracted to him +because he had seemed interested in her. +</p> +<p>And she had noted that Linton’s interest in her +seemed to grow after Harlan’s departure. He had +talked with her several times, and she had questioned +him about Harlan’s whereabouts. But Linton had not +seemed to know; at least, if he did know, he kept his +knowledge strictly to himself, not even intimating that +he knew where Harlan had gone. +</p> +<p>Another thing she noted was that Linton seemed to +have her under surveillance. Whenever she left the +house—even for a short ride eastward—where Harlan +had told her she might ride without danger—she +discovered that Linton immediately mounted his horse, +to linger somewhere in sight. +</p> +<p>The knowledge that she was watched began to irritate +her and this morning she had got up with a determination +to ride without company. With that end in +view she had kept Billy all night in the patio; and +when rather late in the morning she saw Linton riding +eastward, she hurriedly threw saddle and bridle on the +horse and rode westward, toward the big basin. +</p> +<p>She kept the house between her and the point where +she had seen Linton—until a turn northward became +inevitable; and then she urged Billy to a faster pace, +in an endeavor to cross the wide plain that reached +to the entrance to the basin before Linton could see +her. +</p> +<p>Many times during the days before the coming of +Deveny and Haydon to the valley she had ridden +there; it had been a place in which reigned a mighty +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span> +silence which she had loved, which had thrilled her. +During those other days she was in the habit of riding +to a point several miles up the valley—between the +little basin where the Star was now and the Rancho +Seco. +</p> +<p>The trail led upward in a slow, gradual slope to that +point—a rugged promontory that jutted out from a +mesa that rose above the floor of the valley. The +mesa was fringed at the southern edge with stunt oak +and nondescript brush. But there were breaks in the +fringe which permitted her to ride close to the edge +of the mesa; and from there she could look many miles +up the valley—and across it, where the solemn hills +rimmed the southern horizon, to a trail—called the +South Trail by cattlemen in the valley, to distinguish +it from the main trail leading through the mighty hollow +in which she rode. +</p> +<p>When she reached the mesa she headed Billy directly +for the break on the promontory. Dismounting, she +stretched her legs to disperse the saddle weariness; then +she found a huge rock which had been the seat from +which she had viewed the wondrous landscape in the +past. +</p> +<p>The reverent awe with which she had always viewed +the valley was as strong in her today as it had ever +been—stronger, in fact, because she had not seen the +place for some time, and because in her heart there +now dwelt a sadness that had not been there in those +other days—at least since her mother had died. +</p> +<p>She was high above the floor of the valley; and she +could see the main trail below her weaving around low +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span> +mounds and sinking into depressions; disappearing into +timber groves, reappearing farther on, disappearing +again, and again reappearing until it grew blurred and +indistinct in her vision. +</p> +<p>In the marvelous clarity of the atmosphere this +morning every beauteous feature of the valley was +disclosed to her inspection. The early morning haze +had lifted, and the few fleecy clouds that floated in +the blue bowl of sky were motionless, their majestic +billows glowing in the sun. She saw a Mexican eagle +swoop over the cloud, sailing on slow wing high above +it, and growing so distant in her vision that he became +a mere speck moving in the limitless expanse of space. +</p> +<p>It was a colossal landscape, and its creator had +neglected no detail. And it was harmonious, from the +emerald green that carpeted the floor of the valley +near the gleaming river to the gigantic shoulders of +the rugged hills that lifted their huge, bastioned walls +into the blue of the sky. Some tall rock spires that +thrust their peaks skyward far over on the southern +side of the valley had always interested her; they +seemed to be sentinels that guarded the place, hinting +of an ages-old mystery that seemed to reign all about +them. +</p> +<p>But there was mystery in everything in the valley, +she felt; for it lay before her, spreading, slumbrous, +basking in the brilliant sunlight—seeming to wait, +as it seemed to have waited from the dawn of the +first day, for man to wonder over it. +</p> +<p>She saw the Mexican eagle again after a while. It +was making a wide circle beyond the rock spires, floating +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span> +lazily above them in long, graceful swoops that +were so lacking in effort that she longed to be up there +with him—to ride the air with him, to feel the exhilaration +he must feel. +</p> +<p>As she looked, however, she caught a faint blur on +the southern horizon of the big picture—a yellowish-black +cloud that hugged the horizon and traveled +rapidly eastward. It was some time before she +realized that what she saw was a dust cloud, and there +were men in it—horsemen. +</p> +<p>She got up from the rock, her face slowly whitening. +And into her heart came a presentiment that +those men in the dust cloud were abroad upon an +errand of evil. +</p> +<p>No doubt the presentiment was caused from the +dread and fear she had lived under for days—the +consciousness that Deveny was in the valley, and +a recollection of the warnings that Harlan had given +her. And she knew the horsemen could not be Rancho +Seco men—for they had gone southward from the +ranch, and there was no grass range where the horsemen +were riding. Also, the men were riding eastward, +toward the Rancho Seco. +</p> +<p>Trembling a little with apprehension, she mounted +Billy and sent him down the slope to the floor of the +valley. The descent was hazardous, and Billy did +not make good time, but when he reached the level +at the foot of the slope he stretched his neck and fell +into a steady, rapid pace that took him down the valley +swiftly. +</p> +<p>As the girl rode, the presentiment of evil increased, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span> +and she grew nervous with a conviction that she +would not be able to reach the Rancho Seco much in +advance of the men. For she could see them more +clearly now, because they were in the valley, traveling +a shelving trail that sloped down from the hills toward +the level that stretched to the ranchhouse. +</p> +<p>It was several miles from where she rode to the +point where the horsemen were riding, and she was +traversing a long ridge which must have revealed her +to the men if they looked toward her. +</p> +<p>She had thought—after she had left the promontory—of +concealing herself somewhere in the valley, +to wait until she discovered who the men were and +what their errand was; but she had a fear that if the +men were Deveny’s outlaws they might return up the +valley and accidentally come upon her. Also, she had +yielded to the homing instinct which is strong in all +living beings, for at home was safety that could not +be found elsewhere. +</p> +<p>The South Trail, she knew, converged with the +valley trail at the edge of the level. If she could +reach that point a few minutes before the horsemen +reached it she would rely on Billy to maintain his +lead. Billy would have to maintain it! +</p> +<p>Leaning far over Billy’s mane she urged him on, +coaxing him, flattering him, calling to him in terms +of endearment. And the loyal little animal did his +best, running as he had never run before. +</p> +<p>Barbara though, watching the horsemen with eyes +into which there had come a glow of doubt, began +to realize that Billy was losing the race. Also, by +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span> +the time she had gone four or five miles, she discovered +that the men had seen her. For the trails were growing +close together now—not more than half a mile +of slightly broken country stretched between them, and +she could see the men waving their hats; could hear +their voices above the whir and clatter of Billy’s +passing. +</p> +<p>Still, she was determined to win, and Billy’s flanks +felt the sting of the quirt that, hitherto, had swung +from Barbara’s wrist. +</p> +<p>Billy revealed a marvelous burst of speed. But it +did not last, and the horsemen, after hanging for an +instant abreast of Billy, began to forge ahead. +</p> +<p>The courageous little animal had almost reached +the covert that Harlan had discovered the day he had +visited the Star the first time, and was nobly answering +the stern urge of the quirt when another horseman +suddenly appeared on the trail directly ahead of the +girl, seemingly having ridden out of the covert. +</p> +<p>The trail was narrow, and Billy could not swerve +around the new rider. So, sensing the danger of a +collision he stiffened his legs, making a sliding halt that +carried him a dozen feet, leaving him upon his +haunches with Barbara frantically trying to keep to +the saddle. +</p> +<p>Then Billy’s forehoofs came down; he grunted, +heaved a tremendous sigh and stood, his legs braced, +awaiting orders. +</p> +<p>No order came. For no words escaped Barbara’s +lips. She sat in the saddle, her face ashen, terror +clutching her. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span></p> +<p>For the horseman who had ridden out of the covert +was Stroud, the Rancho Seco straw-boss. He was +grinning, and in his eyes was a gloating triumph that +she could not mistake. +</p> +<p>“Lucky I took a notion to come in this mornin’,” +he said. “I just got here. I seen you hittin’ the +breeze for fair while you was quite a piece up the +basin; an’ I seen Deveny an’ the boys a-fannin’ it, too. +An’ I says to myself: ‘Stroud, here’s Deveny racin’ +to see Miss Barbara, an’ her actin’ like she don’t want +to see him. But I’ll fix it so she does.’” +</p> +<p>The girl touched Billy with the quirt, and the little +animal lunged forward, close to Stroud’s horse. As +the two beasts came close together Barbara struck at +Stroud with the quirt, hoping to disconcert him so that +she could send Billy past him. +</p> +<p>Stroud ducked and shot a hand out, seized the quirt +and wrenched it from her hand. She screamed as the +hairloop scraped the flesh of her wrist. And then +she heard a thundering clatter of hoofs and saw Deveny +and his men appear from beyond the covert and +race toward her. +</p> +<p>Deveny spoke no word. But as he rode toward +her she saw the gleam in his eyes, and she silently +fought Stroud, who had grasped her and was pulling +her toward him. +</p> +<p>It seemed to her that Deveny must have misunderstood +Stroud’s action, for it was clear to her—even +in the stress and confusion of the moment—that +Deveny thought Stroud had attacked her through +motives that were strictly personal. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span></p> +<p>Anyway, before Stroud could speak Deveny’s pistol +glittered. And malignantly, his eyes blazing with a +jealous, evil light, he shot Stroud—twice. +</p> +<p>He sat in the saddle, his lips twitching into a sneer +as he watched the straw-boss tumble from his horse +and fall limply into the grass. Then with a smile +that was hideous with a triumphant passion, he spurred +his horse to Billy’s side, pulled the girl from the saddle, +and sent his horse up the valley, motioning his men +to follow. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXV_AMBUSHED' id='XXV_AMBUSHED'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2> +<h3>AMBUSHED</h3> +</div> + +<p>Red Linton had ridden eastward to examine +the grass of the range in that direction, for it +had been some days since he had sent Stroud to the +southern range, and since the cattle had been there +for some time before that Linton felt they should be +driven to fresh grass. +</p> +<p>And yet, perhaps, Linton’s search for good grass +should not have taken him so far from the ranchhouse, +for he remembered his promise to Harlan that +he would not let Barbara out of his sight. But Barbara +had made no objection to his guardianship of +her, so far, and he had longed for a ride. +</p> +<p>He worried a little, though, and felt guilty of something +very like treason to Harlan; and at last, not +being able to ride farther with the thoughts that +fought with his desires, he wheeled his horse and sent +it scampering back toward the ranchhouse. +</p> +<p>When he reached the ranchhouse he saw none of +the men, for he had set them at tasks inside the buildings; +and he rode down to the ranchhouse, resolved +to have a talk with the girl. +</p> +<p>When he rode around the near corner he saw that +the <i>patio</i> gate was open. His horse leaped with the +stern word he spoke to it, bringing him swiftly to the +gate, where he dismounted and threw open a door +that led into the house. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span></p> +<p>He called to Barbara, and receiving no answer, he +ran from room to room, not hesitating until he had +explored them all. +</p> +<p>Emerging from the house, he mounted his horse +and sent him westward, while he scanned the big level +around him for sight of the girl. +</p> +<p>She had always ridden into the valley in former +days, he remembered—and during the days of his +guardianship she had more than once threatened to +ride there. And he had no doubt she had gone there +now, out of perverseness, just to irritate him. +</p> +<p>He held his horse to a rapid pace as he crossed the +level, and he was still a mile distant from the covert +where Barbara had met Stroud when he saw a group +of horsemen traveling rapidly up the valley. +</p> +<p>Linton rode on, his anxiety acute, a grave suspicion +afflicting him. And when, after he had ridden a little +farther, he saw Barbara’s horse trotting slowly toward +him, the stirrups swinging and flopping emptily against +the saddle skirts, he drew a deep breath and brought +his own horse to a halt, while he sat motionless in +the saddle, tortured by bitter thoughts. +</p> +<p>He had no doubt that what Harlan feared would +happen, had happened—that Deveny had come for +Barbara. And Deveny had found her, through <i>his</i> +dereliction. He had relaxed his vigilance for only a +short time, and during that time Deveny had come. +</p> +<p>Linton looked back toward the Rancho Seco. The +distance to the ranchhouse seemed to be interminable. +He looked again up the valley, and saw that the horsemen +were growing indistinct. Within a few minutes, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span> +so rapid was their pace, they would vanish altogether. +</p> +<p>Linton thought of going back to the ranchhouse +for the other men—that was why he had looked in +that direction. But if he wished to keep the horsemen +in sight he would not have time to get the other +men. Before he could get the men and return to +where he now stood Deveny would have taken the +girl to that mysterious and unknown rendezvous in +the hills in which his band had always concealed themselves, +and Barbara would be lost. +</p> +<p>Linton’s lips straightened. He was to blame. +</p> +<p>He knew the danger that would attend the action +of following Deveny’s men up the valley. Other men +had attempted to trail them, and they had been found +murdered, often with warnings upon them. +</p> +<p>But Linton hesitated only momentarily. With a +grim smile for his chances of emerging unscathed from +the valley, he urged his horse up the trail, riding hard. +</p> +<p>Several miles he had traveled, keeping the horsemen +in sight, and he was beginning to believe that he would +succeed where others had failed, when, passing through +a clump of timber he detected movement in some brush +at a little distance back. +</p> +<p>Divining that Deveny had seen him and had sent a +man into the timber to ambush him, Linton threw himself +flat on the horse’s mane. He felt a bullet sing +past him, coming from the right, and he got his pistol +out and was swinging its muzzle toward the point from +which the bullet had come when a gun roared at his +left. +</p> +<p>He felt a hot, searing pain in his side, and he +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span> +reeled in the saddle from the shock. Instantly another +bullet struck him, coming from the right. His +pistol dropped from his weakening fingers, he toppled +sidewise and tumbled limply into the dust. +</p> +<p>Shortly afterward, seemingly while he was in a state +of coma, he heard hoofbeats, rapidly growing distant. +</p> +<p>He knew they were Deveny’s men and he yielded +to a vague wonder as to why they had not made sure +of their work. +</p> +<p>Doggedly, and with long and bitter effort, Linton +began to turn himself so that he could get up. The +pain from his wounds was excruciating, so that each +muscular effort brought a retching groan from him. +Yet he kept moving, twisting himself around until he +got on his knees. From that position he tried a number +of times to get to his feet, but he failed each time. +</p> +<p>At last, though, with the help of a boulder that lay +beside the trail, he got his feet under him and stood +for an instant, staggering weakly. Then he began +to move forward to his horse. When he managed +at last to clutch the saddle skirt he was reeling, his +knees bending under him. However, he managed to +get one leg over the saddle, taking a long time to do +it; and eventually he was in the seat. +</p> +<p>He spent another long interval lashing himself to +the saddle with the rope that he carried at the pommel; +and then headed the horse toward the Rancho +Seco. +</p> +<p>He began to ride, urging the horse to what seemed +to him a rapid pace. But he had not gone very far +when he sagged against the pommel, lifelessly. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXVI_ROGERS_TAKES_A_HAND' id='XXVI_ROGERS_TAKES_A_HAND'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> +<h3>ROGERS TAKES A HAND</h3> +</div> + +<p>The trail herd had made good progress through +the valley, and Rogers, aided by the Star men, +had kept them going. The men feared no interference +with the work, for they had terrorized the ranchers +in the valley until the latter well knew the futility +of retaliatory measures. Still, a certain furtive quickness +of movement had always characterized the operations +of the outlaws—the instinct to move secretly, if +possible, and to strike swiftly when they struck was +always strong in them. +</p> +<p>Besides, the drive to Willow’s Wells was not a long +one, and the cattle could stand a fast pace. So it was +not long after the herd had left the Star until it +straggled up a defile in the hills and out upon the level +where Deveny’s men had to ride to take the south +trail to the Rancho Seco. +</p> +<p>The level extended southward for a distance of +several miles to a grass range that the Star men knew +well—for there had been times when they had grazed +cattle there, making camp on their frequent trips to +the Wells. +</p> +<p>A range of low, flat hills marked the northern limits +of the grazing section; and Rogers and his men trailed +the cattle through the hills while the morning was +still young. +</p> +<p>The herd was through the hills, and Rogers, twisting +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span> +in the saddle, was taking a last look over the +plain to make certain there had been no prying eyes +watching the movements of himself and the men, when +he saw, far to the west, a group of horsemen just coming +into view at the edge of the plain—seemingly +having ridden out of the big valley. +</p> +<p>Rogers wheeled his horse and watched the horsemen +as they traveled eastward, making good time. +He called to a man, named Colver, who was riding +close to him. +</p> +<p>“Them’s Deveny’s men—from the Cache. What +in blazes are they up to? Somethin’s in the wind, +Colver—they’re ridin’ like the devil was after them +an’ burnin’ the breeze for fair!” +</p> +<p>Rogers sent his horse scampering to the crest of +one of the hills where, concealed behind some brush, +he watched the progress of Deveny’s men eastward. +</p> +<p>When they passed the point on the plain where they +would have to veer northward if they intended to visit +the Star, he breathed with relief. For he had almost +yielded to a conviction that Deveny <i>was</i> headed for +the Star. +</p> +<p>But after the horsemen passed the point that led to +the Star trail, a new anxiety seized Rogers—and a +passion that sent the blood to his face swept over him. +</p> +<p>His eyes were glowing with an excitement that he +could not repress when he turned to Colver. +</p> +<p>“Somethin’s up!” he snapped. “Deveny’s been +sullen as hell for a good many days—ever since Harlan +came to the Star. One of the boys was tellin’ me +he heard Deveny an’ Haydon havin’ it out over at +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span> +the Cache. If there’s goin’ to be a ruckus I’m goin’ +to be in on it!” +</p> +<p>He leaped his horse off the hill, racing him down +into the grass plain after the other men. When he +reached them he yelled sharply, and they spurred +quickly to him, anticipating from his manner that +danger threatened. +</p> +<p>“I’ve got a hunch that hell’s a-goin’ to pop right +sudden, boys,” he told them. “An’ we’re goin’ away +from it. If there’s any trouble we want to be in on it. +Deveny’s up to somethin’. You-all know about the +agreement made between Haydon an’ Harlan—that +Harlan was to run the Rancho Seco without interference. +Deveny’s headed that way, an’ Haydon ain’t +around. It’s up to us boys to keep our eyes open. +</p> +<p>“Harlan’s at the Star. He won’t be knowin’ that +Deveny is headin’ for the Rancho Seco. Harlan’s +white, boys; he’s done more for us guys since he’s +been at the Star than Haydon or Deveny ever done +for us. He’s promised us things that Haydon an’ +Deveny would never do. He’s a white man, an’ I’m +for him. An’ I’m for takin’ orders from him from +now on. Who’s with me?” +</p> +<p>“You’re shoutin’!” declared Colver. +</p> +<p>“It’s time for a new deal,” muttered another. +</p> +<p>“You’re doin’ the yappin’,” grimly announced a +big man who was close to Rogers; “we’re followin’ +your lead.” +</p> +<p>“I’m jumpin’ for the Star then!” declared Rogers; +“to put Harlan wise to where Deveny’s headed for. +We’re leavin’ the herd here until we find out what’s +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span> +goin’ on. Half of you guys beat it to the Rancho +Seco—trailin’ Deveny an’ his boys, to find out what +they’re doin’. You’re herd-ridin’ them if they go to +monkeyin’ with the Rancho Seco. Slope!” +</p> +<p>Rogers had hardly ceased speaking when the outfit +was on the move. There were eleven men, including +Rogers; and they sent their horses leaping over the +crest of the hill nearest them—dividing, as they +reached the level on the other side with seemingly no +previous arrangement, into two groups—one group +going northeastward, toward the South Trail, and the +other fading into the space that yawned between it and +the point where the trail to the Star led downward into +the big basin. +</p> +<hr class='tb' /> + +<p>Haydon, holding hard to the pommel of the saddle, +urging his horse along the trail that led up the valley, +looked back whenever he reached a rise, his eyes +searching the space behind him for the dread apparition +that he expected momentarily. +</p> +<p>He knew that it would not be long before Morgan +and Harlan would emerge from the ranchhouse to discover +that he had escaped; and he knew, too, that they +would suspect that he had gone to the Cache. +</p> +<p>He expected they would delay riding after him, +however, until they searched for him in some of the +buildings, and that delay, he hoped, would give him +time to reach the Cache. +</p> +<p>He was handicapped by his useless arm—for it +made riding awkward, and the numbness was stealing +down his side, toward his leg. He paid little attention +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span> +to the pain; indeed, he entirely forgot it in his +frenzied eagerness to reach the Cache. +</p> +<p>More prominent in his brain at this minute than +any other emotion was a dread of Billy Morgan. He +had yielded to terror when Morgan had revealed his +identity; but the terror he had felt then had not been +nearly so paralyzing as that which was now upon him. +</p> +<p>His eyes were bulging as he rode; his lips were +slavering, and he shuddered and cringed as he leaned +over his horse’s mane, urging him to greater effort—even +though there were times when his lurches almost +threw him out of the saddle. +</p> +<p>For his previous terror had been somewhat tempered +with a doubt of Morgan’s veracity. Even when he +had seen Morgan reaching for his pistol he had felt +the doubt—had felt that Morgan was not Morgan at +all, but Woodward, perpetrating a grotesque joke. +To be sure, when he had seen that Morgan really intended +to kill him, he had been convinced that the +man was in deadly earnest. It had been then that +he had desperately twisted himself so that Morgan’s +bullet had not touched a vital spot. +</p> +<p>But now his terror had grown; it was a thing that +had got into his soul—for he had had time to meditate +over what Morgan’s vengeance meant to him. +</p> +<p>It meant that Morgan would kill him, if he caught +him; that the life he treasured would be taken from +him; that the magnificent body which he had always +so greatly admired would be shattered and broken. +The mental picture he drew further increased his +terror, and he began to mutter incoherent blasphemies +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span> +as he raced his horse at a breakneck pace toward the +Cache. +</p> +<p>But when he had ridden several miles and knew +from the appearance of the valley that he was nearing +the Cache and that he would reach it in safety, there +came a change in him. +</p> +<p>He grew calmer; he began to feel a rage that sent +the blood racing through his veins again. He looked +back over the trail as often as formerly, but it was +with a new expression—malevolent hatred. And +when he finally reached the entrance to the Cache and +rode through it, heading toward the building in which, +he expected, he would find Deveny, the malevolence +in his expression was mingled with triumph and +cunning. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXVII_A_DUAL_TRAGEDY' id='XXVII_A_DUAL_TRAGEDY'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> +<h3>A DUAL TRAGEDY</h3> +</div> + +<p>Harlan and Morgan had made a thorough +search of Haydon’s desk in the latter’s office +in the ranchhouse, and they had found letters addressed +to Haydon—received at various towns in the vicinity +and proving Morgan’s charges against him. And +upon several of the letters were names that provided +damaging evidence of the connection of influential men +with the scheme to gain unlawful possession of much +land in the basin. +</p> +<p>“This cinches it!” declared Morgan as he carefully +placed the letters into a pocket when he and Harlan +emerged from the ranchhouse. “I reckon we’ve got +proof now. An’ the governor’ll be plumb tickled.” +</p> +<p>They stepped down from the doorway and turned +the corner of the house. Instantly they noted the +disappearance of Haydon’s body. But they did not +search among the other buildings for Haydon—as +he had expected them to do. For they saw that his +horse was also missing. +</p> +<p>Morgan ran for the corral, saying no word, his +lips set in grim, vengeful lines. He had been a fool +for not making sure that he had killed Haydon, but +he would not make that mistake again. The gleam +in his eyes revealed that. +</p> +<p>Harlan, too, divined what had happened. Purgatory +was in the stable—which was farther from the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span> +ranchhouse than the corral. And though Harlan +moved swiftly Morgan was already on his horse and +racing toward the timber when Purgatory emerged +from the stable, saddled and bridled. +</p> +<p>Harlan noted that Morgan had not stopped to +saddle his horse, and that omission revealed the man’s +intense desire for haste. Harlan, however, headed +Purgatory into the timber, but he was more than half +a mile behind Morgan when he reached the main trail. +</p> +<p>He saw Morgan riding the trail that led up the +valley, and he set out after him, giving the big black +horse the rein. He divined that Morgan suspected +Haydon had ridden in that direction; and while Harlan +had never seen the Cache, he had heard the Star +men speak of it, and he had noticed that when setting +out for it they had always traveled the trail Morgan +was traveling. Therefore, it was evident that Morgan +thought Haydon had gone to the Cache. In that +case he depended upon Deveny to assist him—if Morgan +followed; and Harlan was determined to see the +incident through. +</p> +<p>He sent Purgatory ahead at a good pace, but he +noted soon that Morgan was increasing the distance +between them. He began to urge Purgatory forward, +and gradually the distance between the two riders +grew shorter. +</p> +<p>Both were traveling rapidly, however, and it seemed +to Harlan that they had not gone more than three +or four miles when—watching Morgan closely, he +saw him ride pell-mell into some timber that—apparently—fringed +the front of a cave. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span></p> +<p>It was some time before Harlan reached the timber, +and when he did he could not immediately discover +the spot into which Morgan had ridden. When +he did discover it he rode Purgatory through, and +found himself in a narrow gorge. +</p> +<p>He raced Purgatory through the gorge, and out of +it to the sloping side of a little basin. +</p> +<p>He saw a house near the center of the basin—and +Morgan riding close to it. +</p> +<p>The distance to the house was not great—not more +than a quarter of a mile, it seemed; and Harlan felt +some wonder that Morgan—who had been quite a +little in advance of him—had not reached the house +sooner. That mystery was explained to him almost +instantly, though, when he saw that Morgan’s horse +was walking, going forward with a pronounced limp. +Evidently Morgan had met with an accident. +</p> +<p>Harlan was riding across the floor of the little basin, +watching Morgan and wondering at the seeming +absence of Deveny’s men, when he saw a smoke streak +issue from one of the windows of the house, saw Morgan +reel in the saddle, and slide to the ground. +</p> +<p>But before Harlan could reach the spot where Morgan +had fallen, the man staggered to his feet and was +running toward the house, swaying as he went. +</p> +<p>Harlan heard a muffled report as he sent Purgatory +scampering after Morgan. He saw Morgan reel +again, and he knew someone in the house was using a +rifle. +</p> +<p>There was another report as Morgan lurched +through an open doorway of the house. Then Harlan +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span> +knew Morgan was using his gun, for its roaring +crash mingled with the whiplike crack of a rifle. +</p> +<p>The firing had ceased when Harlan slipped off +Purgatory at the open door; and both his guns were +out as he leaped over the threshold. +</p> +<p>He halted, though, standing rigid, his guns slowly +swagging in his hands, their muzzles drooping. +</p> +<p>For on the floor of the room—flat on his back +near a corner—was Haydon. He was dead—there +was no doubt of that. +</p> +<p>Nor was there any doubt that the bullets Haydon +had sent had finished Morgan. He was lying on his +right side, his right arm under him, extended; the palm +of the hand upward, the fingers limply holding the +pistol he had used, some smoke curling lazily from the +muzzle. +</p> +<p>Harlan knelt beside Morgan, examining him for +signs of life. He got up a little later and stood for +some time looking down at the man, thinking of Barbara. +Twice had tragedy cast its sinister shadow over +her. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXVIII_CONVERGING_TRAILS' id='XXVIII_CONVERGING_TRAILS'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> +<h3>CONVERGING TRAILS</h3> +</div> + +<p>An hour or so later, Harlan, having finished his +labors in a clearing at the edge of the level near +the gorge, climbed slowly on Purgatory and sent him +back down the valley trail toward the Star. +</p> +<p>From the first his sympathies for Barbara had been +deep, beginning on the evening Lane Morgan had +mentioned her in his presence—when the man seemed +to see her in that strange, awesome moment before his +death—when he had seemed to hold out his arms to +her. Later, at Lamo, when Harlan had held the girl +in his arms, he felt that at that instant he must have +experienced much the same protective impulse that +Morgan would have felt, had the experience occurred +to him. Harlan had been slightly cynical until that +minute; but since then he had known that his rage +against the outlaws was deeply personal. +</p> +<p>That rage, though, had centered most heavily upon +Deveny. He had hated Haydon, too—from the +first. In the beginning it had been a jealous hatred, +aroused over the conviction that Barbara loved the +man. But later—when he had discovered that Haydon +was the mysterious “Chief,” that he was the real +murderer of Lane Morgan, and that behind his professed +love for the girl was meditated trickery—his +hatred had become a passion in which Barbara did +not figure. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span></p> +<p>His hatred for Haydon, though, could not be compared +with the passionate contempt and loathing he +felt for Deveny. The man had attempted, in Lamo, +a thing that Harlan had always abhorred, and the +memory of that time was still vivid in Harlan’s brain. +</p> +<p>Into Harlan’s heart as he rode toward the Star +flamed that ancient loathing, paling his face and bringing +a gleam to his eyes that had been in them often +of late—a lust for the lives of the men whose evil +deeds and sinister influence had kept Barbara a virtual +prisoner at the Rancho Seco. +</p> +<p>He rode the valley trail slowly, his thoughts upon +Barbara, his lips straightening when he thought of +how he would have to return to the Rancho Seco, some +day, to tell her of her brother’s death. Twice had +tragedy visited her, and again he would be the messenger +to bring her the grim news. +</p> +<p>When he reached the Star he rode up to the corral +fence and dismounted. He stood for a long time at +the fence, his elbows on one of the rails, his thoughts +dwelling upon Barbara. Pity for her whitened his face, +set his lips in rigid lines. +</p> +<p>She had been in danger, but it seemed to him that +it would soon be over. For Haydon would bother +the girl no more, and as soon as he could meet Deveny +he would remove another menace to Barbara’s life +and happiness. +</p> +<p>He had no regrets for the men he had killed; they +deserved what he had given them. As he had told +Morgan, he had considered himself merely an instrument +of the law of right and justice—which law +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span> +was based upon the very principle that governed men +in civilized communities. +</p> +<p>He was facing south, and he raised his head after +a few minutes, for upon the slight breeze was borne to +him the rapid drumming of hoofs. As he looked up +he saw, far out toward the southern edge of the valley, +a dust cloud, moving swiftly toward him. +</p> +<p>At first he suspected that the men in the group belonged +to Deveny, and he drew out his pistols, one +after the other, and examined them—for he decided—if +Deveny was among the men—to settle for good +the question of power and authority that Haydon had +raised. +</p> +<p>When the men came closer, though, swooping +toward the ranchhouse like feathers before a hurricane, +he saw that Rogers was among them. +</p> +<p>Then, as the men came toward him down along +the corral fence, Harlan saw that Rogers’ eyes were +wide with excitement. And he stood, his face darkening, +as Rogers told him what he had seen, and +voiced his suspicions. +</p> +<p>“We’re with you, Harlan,” declared Rogers, sweeping +a hand toward the men; “an’ them other boys +which have trailed Deveny, are with you. We’re out +to ‘get’ Deveny if you say the word; and that thief, +Haydon, too.” +</p> +<p>Harlan did not answer. He grinned at the men, +though, and at Rogers—acknowledging his gratitude +for their decision to be “with” him; then he turned, +leaped on Purgatory, and sent the big beast thundering +toward the timber that led to the main trail. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span></p> +<p>Their voices silent, their horses falling quickly into +the pace set by the big black, Rogers and the other +men followed. +</p> +<p>The other half of Rogers’ men, headed by Colver, +were several miles behind Deveny’s horsemen when +they reached the South Trail. They gained very little +on the other men, though, for Deveny and his men +were just then racing Barbara to the point where the +trails converged, having seen her. But during +Deveny’s halt at the covert, where he had shot Stroud, +Colver’s men gained, and they were not more than +two or three miles from the covert when Deveny’s +men left it. +</p> +<p>From the shelving trail, ever sweeping toward the +trail in the valley, Colver had noted the halt at the +covert, though he had not seen Barbara, nor Stroud. +He had seen, of course, that Deveny had not gone to +the Rancho Seco, that for some reason or other he +had swerved, taking the trail up the valley. +</p> +<p>Colver was puzzled, but he remembered Rogers’ +orders, and when he and his men reached the covert, +they halted. They came upon Stroud, lying near some +bushes, and they saw his horse, grazing on the tall +grass near by. They had reached the covert too late +to see Barbara’s pony; and when they remounted, after +taking a look at Stroud, they caught a glimpse of a +lone horseman racing up the valley in the direction +taken by Deveny and his men. +</p> +<p>The lone horseman was Red Linton, though Colver +did not know it, for the South Trail dipped into the +basin miles before it emerged to the level at the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span> +point of convergence with the other trail, and Colver +had not seen Linton when he had passed. +</p> +<p>Colver and his men fled up the valley, following the +trail taken by Deveny and the lone horseman, and +when they had gone two or three miles they saw a +rider coming toward them. They raced toward him, +for they saw he was in trouble; that he had lashed +himself to the pommel of the saddle, and that he was +leaning far over it, limp and inert. +</p> +<p>Linton was not unconscious, but he was very near +it; so near that he seemed to dream that men were +around him and that voices were directed at him. +</p> +<p>Into his mind as he straightened and looked at the +men finally came the conviction that this was not a +dream; and after an instant of intense effort, during +which he fixed his gaze on Colver, he recognized the +other. +</p> +<p>He laughed, grimly, mockingly: +</p> +<p>“Front an’ rear—eh?” he said. “You got me, +goin’ an’ comin’. Well, go to it—I deserve it, for +lettin’ Barbara out of my sight. If you don’t kill me, +Harlan will. But if you guys are <i>men</i>, you won’t let +Deveny——” +</p> +<p>“Deveny’s got Barbara Morgan?” +</p> +<p>This was Colver. Something in his voice straightened +Linton further, and he steadied himself in the +saddle and looked fairly at the man. +</p> +<p>“Deveny’s got her. An’ they got me—chasin’ +’em. I was headin’ back to the Rancho Seco, to get +the T Down boys—all Harlan’s friends—to wipe +Deveny out. If you guys are <i>men</i>——” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span></p> +<p>Sheer will could no longer support Linton’s failing +muscles—and he again collapsed over the pommel. +</p> +<p>For an instant only did Colver hesitate. Then he +turned to a lean rider who bestrode a tall, rangy horse. +He spoke sharply to the rider: +</p> +<p>“Hit the breeze to the Rancho Seco, an’ get them +T Down boys. Fan it, damn you!” +</p> +<p>The rider was off with the word, leaping his horse +down the trail with dizzying speed. Then Colver +loosed the rope that held Linton to the saddle, and +with the help of the other men lifted the man down +and stretched him in a plot of grass beside the trail, +where they worked over him until they saw, far out +on the level toward the Rancho Seco, a number of +horsemen coming, seemingly abreast, as though they +were racing, each man trying his best to outstrip the +others. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXIX_WORLD_S_END' id='XXIX_WORLD_S_END'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> +<h3>WORLD’S END</h3> +</div> + +<p>Barbara Morgan had fought Deveny until +she became exhausted. Thereafter she lay +quiet, breathing fast, yielding to the nameless terror +that held her in its icy clutch. +</p> +<p>The appearance of Deveny so soon after the end +of the heartbreaking ride down the trail had brought +into her heart a sense of the futility of resistance—and +yet she had resisted, involuntarily, instinctively. +Yet resistance had merely served to increase the +exhaustion that had come upon her. +</p> +<p>She had not known—until she lay passive in +Deveny’s arms—how taut her nerves had been, nor +how the physical ordeal had drained her strength. +</p> +<p>She felt the strain, now, but consideration for her +body was overwhelmed by what she saw in Deveny’s +eyes as she lay watching him. +</p> +<p>There were a dozen men with Deveny—she had +seen them, counted them when they had been racing +down the shelving trail on the other side of the valley. +And she knew they were following Deveny, for she +could hear the thudding of hoofs behind. +</p> +<p>Deveny’s big arms were around her; she could feel +the rippling of his muscles as he swayed from side to +side, balancing himself in the saddle. He was not +using the reins; he was giving his attention to her, +letting the horse follow his own inclinations. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span></p> +<p>Yet she noted that the animal held to the trail, that +he traveled steadily, requiring no word from his rider. +</p> +<p>Once, after they had ridden some distance up the +valley, Barbara heard a man behind them call +Deveny’s attention to some horsemen who were riding +the shelving trail that Deveny and his men had +taken on their way to the level; and she heard Deveny +laugh. +</p> +<p>“Some of the Star gang, I reckon. Mebbe Haydon, +goin’ to the Rancho Seco, to see his girl.” He +grinned down into Barbara’s face, his own alight with +a triumph that made a shiver run over her. +</p> +<p>Later—only a few minutes, it seemed—she heard +a man call to Deveny again, telling him that a lone +rider was “fannin’ it” up the valley. +</p> +<p>“Looks like that guy, Linton,” said the man. +</p> +<p>“Two of you drop back and lay for him!” ordered +Deveny. “Make it sure!” he added, after a short +pause. +</p> +<p>Barbara yielded to a quick horror. She fought +with Deveny, trying in vain to free her arms—which +he held tightly to her sides with his own. She gave +it up at last, and lay, looking up into his face, her +eyes blazing with impotent rage and repugnance. +</p> +<p>“You mean to kill him?” she charged. +</p> +<p>“Sure,” he laughed; “there’s no one interfering +with what’s going on now.” +</p> +<p>Overcome with nausea over the conviction that +Deveny’s order meant death to Red Linton, Barbara +lay slack in Deveny’s arms for a long time. A premonitory +silence had settled over the valley; she heard +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span> +the dull thud of hoofs behind her, regular and swift, +the creaking of the saddle leather as the animal under +her loped forward. +</p> +<p>There was no other sound. For the men behind +her were strangely silent, and even Deveny seemed +to be listening. +</p> +<p>After what seemed to be a long interval, she heard +a shot, and then almost instantly, another. She shuddered, +closing her eyes, for she knew they had killed +Linton. And she had blamed Linton for guarding +her from—from the very thing that had happened +to her. And Linton had given his life for her! +</p> +<p>How long she had her eyes closed she did not know. +The time could not have been more than a few minutes +though, for she heard a voice behind her saying +to Deveny: +</p> +<p>“They got him.” +</p> +<p>Then she looked up, to see Deveny grinning at her. +</p> +<p>“I reckon that’s all,” he said. “We’re headin’ for +the Cache—my hang-out. If you’d have been good +over in Lamo, the day that damned Harlan came, this +wouldn’t have happened. I’d sent for a parson, an’ +I intended to give you a square deal. But now it’s +different. Then I was scared of running foul of Haydon—I +didn’t want to make trouble. But I’m running +my own game now—Haydon and me have +agreed to call it quits. Me not liking the idea of Haydon +adopting Harlan.” +</p> +<p>She stared up at him, her eyes widening. +</p> +<p>“You and Haydon were—what do you mean?” +she asked, her heart seeming to be a dead weight in +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span> +her breast, heavy with suspicion over the dread significance +in his voice and words. She watched him, +breathlessly. +</p> +<p>“I’m meaning that Haydon and me were running +things in the valley—that we were partners, splitting +equal. But I’m playing a lone hand now.” +</p> +<p>He seemed to enjoy her astonishment—the light +in her eyes which showed that comprehension, +freighted with hopelessness, was stealing over her. +</p> +<p>He grinned hugely as he watched her face. +</p> +<p>“Haydon is the guy we called ‘Chief,’” he said, +enjoying her further amazement and noting the sudden +paleness that swept over her face. “He’s the guy +who killed your father at Sentinel Rock. He was +after you, meaning to make a fool of you. Hurts—does +it?” he jeered, when he saw her eyes glow with a +rage that he could understand. “I’ve heard of that +chain deal—Haydon was telling me. When he shot +your father he lost a bit of chain. Harlan found it +and gave it back to him, with you looking on. I +reckon that’s why him and Harlan hit it off together +so well—Harlan knowing he killed your father and +not telling you about it.” +</p> +<p>The long shudder that shook the girl betrayed +something of the terrible emotion under which she was +laboring; and when she finally opened her eyes to gaze +again into Deveny’s, they were filled with a haunting +hopelessness—a complete surrender to the sinister circumstances +which seemed to have surrounded her from +the beginning. +</p> +<p>“Harlan,” she said weakly, as though upon him +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_262' name='page_262'></a>262</span> +she had pinned her last hope; “Harlan has joined you +after all—he is against me—too?” +</p> +<p>“Him and Haydon are after the Rancho Seco. +Harlan’s been playing with Haydon right along.” +</p> +<p>Barbara said nothing more. She was incapable of +coherent thought or of definite action—or even of +knowledge of her surroundings. +</p> +<p>For it seemed to her that Deveny had spoken truthfully. +She had seen the incident of the broken chain; +she had seen Harlan’s hypocritical grin upon that occasion—how +he had seemed to be eager to ingratiate +himself with Haydon. +</p> +<p>All were against her—everybody. Everybody, it +seemed, but Red Linton. And they had killed Linton. +</p> +<p>She seemed to be drifting off into a place which was +peopled with demons that schemed and planned for +her honor and her life; and not one of them who +planned and schemed against her gave the slightest +indication of mercy or manliness. The world became +chaotic with swirling objects—then a blank, aching +void into which she drifted, feeling nothing, seeing +nothing. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXX_THE_ULTIMATE_TREACHERY' id='XXX_THE_ULTIMATE_TREACHERY'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_263' name='page_263'></a>263</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXX</h2> +<h3>THE ULTIMATE TREACHERY</h3> +</div> + +<p>When Barbara regained consciousness she was +lying in some long, dusty grass beside the trail +where she seemed to have been thrown, or where she +had fallen. For she was lying on her right side, her +right arm doubled under her, and she felt a pain in her +shoulder which must have been where she had struck +when she had fallen. +</p> +<p>She twisted around and sat up, bewildered, almost +succumbing to the hideous terror which instantly +gripped her when she remembered what had happened. +</p> +<p>Deveny’s horse stood near her, nipping the tips of +the grass that grew at her feet. Beyond the animal—a +little to her right, and perhaps fifty feet from her—were +other horses, with riders. +</p> +<p>As she staggered to her feet she recognized the +men who had been with Deveny. They were on their +horses—all facing away from her. Facing Deveny’s +men were all the T Down boys—she recognized them +instantly. Pistols glittered in their hands; they seemed +to be in the grip of some strong passion, which +wreathed their faces into grim, bitter lines. +</p> +<p>Near the T Down men—flanking them—were +other men. Among them she saw faces she knew—Colver, +Strom Rogers, and others. +</p> +<p>There must have been twenty-five or thirty men, +altogether, and they were all on a little level beside +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_264' name='page_264'></a>264</span> +the trail. It seemed to Barbara that they all appeared +to have forgotten her; seemed not to know that she +was in the vicinity. +</p> +<p>She saw Deveny standing on the little level. His +profile was toward her; there was a wild, savage glare +in his eyes. +</p> +<p>Not more than a dozen feet from him was Harlan. +</p> +<p>She saw Harlan’s face from the side also. There +was a grin on his lips—bitter, mirthless, terrible. +</p> +<p>She stood for what seemed to her a long time, watching +all of them; her heart throbbing with a dread heaviness +that threatened to choke her; her body in a state +of icy paralysis. +</p> +<p>She thought she knew what had happened, for it +seemed to her that everything in the world—all the +passions and the desires of men—centered upon her. +She felt that there were two factions—one headed +by Deveny, and the other by Harlan, representing +Haydon—and that they were about to fight for her. +The T Down men seemed to be standing with Harlan—as, +of course, they would, since he had sent for them +to come to the Rancho Seco. +</p> +<p>Oddly, though, they apparently seemed to pay no +attention to her; not one of them looked at her. +</p> +<p>If they were to fight it made no difference to her +which faction won, for her fate would be the same, if +she stayed. +</p> +<p>She did not know what put the thought into her +mind, but as she stood there watching the men she +repeated mentally over and over the words: “If I +stay.” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_265' name='page_265'></a>265</span></p> +<p>Why should she stay? She answered the question +by stealing toward Deveny’s horse. When she +reached the animal she paused, glancing apprehensively +at the men, her breathing suspended—hoping, dreading, +her nerves and muscles taut. It seemed they must +see her. +</p> +<p>Not a man moved as she climbed upon the back of +the horse; it seemed to her as she urged the animal +gently and slowly away from the men that they heard +nothing and saw nothing but Harlan and Deveny, and +that Harlan and Deveny saw nothing but each other. +</p> +<p>She sent the horse away, walking him for a dozen +yards or more, until he crossed the little level and sank +into a shallow depression in the trail. Still looking +back, she saw that none of the men had changed +position—that they seemed to be more intent upon +Harlan and Deveny. And she could hear Harlan’s +voice, now, low, husky. +</p> +<p>She urged the horse into a lope; and when she had +ridden perhaps a hundred yards, the conviction that +she would escape grew strong in her. Once out of the +valley she would ride straight to Lamo, to ask Sheriff +Gage to protect her. +</p> +<p>She rode faster as she widened the distance that +separated her from the men; and soon the horse was +covering the trail rapidly; and she leaned forward in +the saddle, praying that the men might not see her. +</p> +<p>She had gone several miles when she noticed a dark +object beside the trail ahead of her. She drew the +horse down and approached the spot cautiously. And +when she saw that the object was a man, her thoughts +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_266' name='page_266'></a>266</span> +flew to the shot she had heard, and to Deveny’s +words: +</p> +<p>“Make sure of it.” +</p> +<p>It <i>was</i> Linton, she saw, as she halted the horse near +the object she had seen. He was lying on his right +side, resting his weight on an elbow, as though trying +to rise. +</p> +<p>In an instant she was out of the saddle and at his +side, raising his head. +</p> +<p>He looked at her, smiled, and said weakly: +</p> +<p>“You got away, eh? I reckon they met Harlan. +I was hopin’ they would. Did they?” +</p> +<p>“Yes,” she answered quickly. She had seen that +Linton was badly wounded, and she knew that she +must give up hope of getting to Lamo in order to give +him the care he needed. +</p> +<p>So without speaking further, though with an effort +that required the last ounce of her strength, she lifted +Linton, he helping a little, and led him toward her +horse. Somehow, with Linton doing all he could, she +got him into the saddle, climbed up behind him, and +sent the horse toward the Rancho Seco. +</p> +<p>Back at the little level where the men were grouped +there was a tension that seemed to charge the atmosphere +with tragedy. Deveny’s men sat silent in +their saddles, watching their leader and Harlan with +sullen, savage eyes. The T Down men, facing them, +were equally sullen. Guns in hand, they alertly +watched the men who were with Deveny, plainly determined +that there should be no interference from them +in the tragedy that seemed imminent. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_267' name='page_267'></a>267</span></p> +<p>Rogers and his men, and the riders who had come +with Colver, were also watching the Deveny group. +All of these held weapons, too; and Rogers, who had +dismounted, was standing beside his horse, a rifle resting +on the saddle seat, his cheek snuggling the stock, +the muzzle trained on Deveny. +</p> +<p>Harlan, Rogers, and the others, racing down the +valley, had met Deveny and his men coming up. And +when Deveny had recognized Harlan and the others +he had quickly dismounted, bearing his unconscious +burden. Because he felt that trouble would result +from the meeting, Deveny had thrown Barbara from +him. +</p> +<p>He had instantly forgotten the girl. For when +Harlan came up Deveny saw a gleam in his eyes that +sent his brain to throbbing with those unmistakable +impulses of fear which had seized him the day, in +Lamo, when Harlan had faced him. +</p> +<p>There had been a moment of silence when the two +groups met; a stiffening of muscles and the heavy, +strained breathing that, in men, tells of mental preparation +for violence, swift and deadly. +</p> +<p>It had been Harlan who had prevented concerted +action—action that would have brought about a battle +in which all would have figured. His guns came out +before the thought of trouble could definitely form in +the brains of the Deveny men; and he had held them—the +men in the saddles, Deveny standing—until the +T Down men, whom he had seen from a distance, coming +toward him, could arrive. +</p> +<p>Then, still menacing the Deveny men with weapons, +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_268' name='page_268'></a>268</span> +he had dismounted to face Deveny—where he had +been when Barbara Morgan had recovered consciousness. +</p> +<p>And while the girl had been stealing away he had +been talking to Deveny, though loud enough for all of +them to hear. +</p> +<p>There was about Harlan as this moment a threat +that brought awe into the hearts of Deveny’s men—a +cold, savage alertness that told them, unmistakably, +that the man’s rage was at a pitch where the slightest +movement by any of them would precipitate that action +for which, plainly, Harlan longed. +</p> +<p>“So you got Barbara Morgan?” he said as he stood +close to Deveny. There was a taunt in his voice, and +an irony that made Deveny squirm with fury. +</p> +<p>And yet Deveny fought hard for composure. He +could see in Harlan’s manner something akin to what +he had seen that day, in Lamo, when Harlan had +baited him. His manner was the same, yet somehow +it was not the same. There was this difference: +</p> +<p>In Lamo, Harlan had betrayed the threat of +violence that Deveny had felt. But he had seemed to +be composed, saturnine—willing to wait. It had +seemed, then, that he wanted trouble, but he would +not force it. +</p> +<p>Now, he plainly intended to bring a clash quickly. +The determination was in his eyes, in the set of his +head, and in his straight, stiff lips. +</p> +<p>He seemed to have forgotten the other men; his +gaze was on Deveny with a boring intensity that sent +a chill of stealthy dread over the outlaw. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_269' name='page_269'></a>269</span></p> +<p>Deveny had faced many men in whose hearts lurked +the lust to kill; he had shot down men who had faced +him with that lust in their eyes—and he knew the passion +when he saw it. +</p> +<p>He saw it now, in Harlan’s eyes—they were wanton—in +them was concentrated all the hate and contempt +that Harlan felt for him. But back of it all +was that iron self-control that Deveny had seen in the +man when he had faced him in Lamo. +</p> +<p>Deveny had avoided Harlan since that day. He +had known why—and he knew at this minute. It +was because he was afraid of Harlan—he feared him +as a coward fears the death that confronts him. The +sensation was premonitory. Nor was it that. It <i>had</i> +been premonitory—it was now a conviction. In the +time, in Lamo, when he had faced Harlan some prescience +had warned him that before him was the man +whom the fates had selected to bring death to him. +</p> +<p>He had felt it during all the days of Harlan’s +presence in the section; he had felt it, and he had +avoided the man. He felt it now, and his breathing +grew fast and difficult—his chest laboring as he +shrilled breath into his lungs. +</p> +<p>He knew what was coming; he knew that presently +Harlan’s passion would reach the point where action +would be imperative; that presently would come that +slow, halting movement of Harlan’s hands toward his +gun—which gun? He would witness, with himself +as one of the chief actors, the hesitating movement +which had brought fame of a dread kind to the man +who stood before him. +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_270' name='page_270'></a>270</span></p> +<p>Could he beat Harlan to the “draw?” Could he? +That question was dinned into his ears and into his +consciousness by his brain and his heart. He heard +nothing of what was going on around him; he did not +hear Harlan’s voice, though he saw the man’s lips +moving. He did not see any of the men who stood +near, nor did he see his men, sitting in their saddles, +watching him. +</p> +<p>He saw nothing but Harlan; felt nothing except the +blood that throbbed in his temples; was conscious of +nothing but the question that filled his heart, his brain, +and his soul—could he beat Harlan to the “draw?” +</p> +<p>Presently, when he saw, with astonishment, that +Harlan was slowly backing away from him, crouching +a little, he divined vaguely that the moment had come. +And now, curiously, he heard Harlan’s voice—low, +distinct, even. What an iceberg the man was! +</p> +<p>“Haydon’s dead,” he heard Harlan saying—and +he stared at Harlan, finding it difficult to comprehend. +“Lafe Woodward killed him,” Harlan went +on “killed him at the Cache. Now get this straight—all +of you.” It seemed strange to Deveny that +Harlan seemed to be speaking to the men, while +watching him, only. +</p> +<p>“Woodward was killed, too. His real name was +Bill Morgan. He was Lane Morgan’s son. Bill +Morgan was sent here by the governor, to get evidence +against Haydon. He got it. I took it from his +pockets when I planted him—an’ it’s goin’ straight +to the governor. +</p> +<p>“You guys are through here—” again he seemed +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_271' name='page_271'></a>271</span> +to speak to all the men. “Morgan told me he had +some men with the Cache gang. They’re to ride out +an’ join my boys—the T Down outfit.” +</p> +<p>Deveny was conscious that several men detached +themselves from the group of riders he had brought +with him, and rode to where the T Down men were +standing. Then Harlan spoke again: +</p> +<p>“Now, she shapes up like this. If there’s any of +the Star gang wantin’ to go straight, they can throw in +with the T Down boys, too. If there’s some that +figure on pullin’ their freight out of the valley—an’ +stayin’ out—they can hit the breeze right now—drivin’ +that Star herd to Willow’s Wells, sellin’ them, +an’ dividin’ the money. Whoever is takin’ up that +proposition is startin’ right now!” +</p> +<p>About half the Star men began to move; heading +up the valley. There was a momentary pause, and +then those that were left of Deveny’s men moved +uneasily. +</p> +<p>“Does that go for us guys too?” +</p> +<p>“It’s wide open,” announced Harlan, cold humor +seeming to creep into his voice. “It’s your chance +to get out of this deal without gettin’ what’s comin’ +to you.” +</p> +<p>There was a rush and clatter as Deveny’s men +joined the men of the Star, who were already on the +move. And then there followed a long silence, during +which Deveny glanced up the valley and saw the +men riding away. +</p> +<p>He turned again, to face Harlan, with the consciousness +that he stood alone. The T Down men, half of +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_272' name='page_272'></a>272</span> +the Star men, and a large proportion of the Cache +men were standing with Harlan. Deveny saw Colver +and Rogers among those who had aligned themselves +with Harlan. +</p> +<p>No invitation to withdraw had been extended to +Deveny. The knowledge strengthened his conviction +that Harlan intended to kill him. And yet, now, facing +Harlan, he knew that he would never take up +the slender thread of chance that was offered him—to +draw his gun, kill Harlan and resume his authority +over the men who were left. +</p> +<p>The possibility, dangling at the other end of the +slender thread of chance, did not allure him. For he +knew he could not draw the pistol at his hip with Harlan’s +gaze upon him—that would be suicide. +</p> +<p>“Deveny!” +</p> +<p>Harlan’s voice, snapping with menace roused him, +straightened him, brought an ashen pallor to his face. +</p> +<p>“It’s your turn, Deveny. You stay here. Flash +your gun!” +</p> +<p>Here it was—the dreaded moment. Deveny saw +the men around him stiffen rigidly; he heard their +slow-drawn breaths. The thought to draw his gun +was strong in him, and he fought hard to force his +recreant muscles to do the will of his mind. For an +instant he stood, his right hand poised above the holster +of his pistol, the elbow crooked, ready to +straighten. +</p> +<p>And then, with the steady, coldly flaming eyes of +Harlan upon him, Harlan’s right hand extended +slightly, the fingers spread a little as though he was +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_273' name='page_273'></a>273</span> +about to offer his hand to the other. Deveny became +aware that he was doing an astonishing thing. He +was raising his right hand! +</p> +<p>Already it was at his shoulder. And as he marveled, +it went higher, finally coming to a level with his +head, where it stopped. He had publicly advertised +his refusal to settle his differences with Harlan with +the pistol. +</p> +<p>“Yellow!” +</p> +<p>It was Harlan’s voice. “You won’t fight an’ you +won’t run. Well, we’ll keep you, savin’ you for the +governor. I reckon he’ll be glad to see you.” +</p> +<p>Harlan turned, sheathing his pistol, and began to +walk toward his horse, his back toward Deveny. +</p> +<p>Then Deveny acted. His eyes flaming hate, he +drew his pistol with a flashing movement, his face +hideous with malignant passion. +</p> +<p>He sent one bullet into Harlan’s back and two more +as Harlan tumbled forward, sinking to his knees from +the shock. But Deveny’s two last bullets went wild, +tearing up the grass of the level as the gun loosened in +his hand. +</p> +<p>For Rogers’ rifle was spitting fire and smoke with +venomous rapidity, and Deveny was sinking, his knees +doubling under him, his body shuddering with the impact +of each bullet. +</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXXI_PEACE_AND_A_SUNSET' id='XXXI_PEACE_AND_A_SUNSET'></a> +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_274' name='page_274'></a>274</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> +<h3>PEACE—AND A SUNSET</h3> +</div> + +<p>Red Linton had recovered—there was no +doubt of that. For Linton, though a trifle pale, +was vigorous. Vigor was in the look of him as he +stood, a slow grin on his face, beside Barbara Morgan +at the entrance of the <i>patio</i> of the Rancho Seco ranchhouse. +</p> +<p>Barbara was sitting on a bench that ranged the +front wall of the building. She was arrayed in a +dress of some soft, fluffy material, in which she made +a picture that brought a breathless longing into Linton’s +heart—a longing which made him feel strangely +tender and sympathetic. +</p> +<p>But Barbara was not smiling. There was a wistfulness +in her eyes that made Linton gulp with jealous +thoughts that came to him. +</p> +<p>“He don’t deserve it, the durned scalawag!” +</p> +<p>“Deserve what?” questioned Barbara. +</p> +<p>“You,” muttered Linton, with an embarrassed grin. +“Shucks, I wasn’t thinkin’ I was talkin’ out loud. +I’m sure gettin’ locoed.” +</p> +<p>“Who doesn’t deserve me?” asked Barbara. +</p> +<p>“Harlan!” declared Linton, with a subtle glance +at the girl. “He ain’t in no ways fit to be thinkin’ +serious thoughts about a girl like you.” +</p> +<p>“Has he been thinking serious thoughts?” Her +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_275' name='page_275'></a>275</span> +eyes dropped from Linton’s and the latter grinned +widely. +</p> +<p>“Thinkin’ them! He’s been talkin’ them. Talked +them all the time him an’ me was stretched out in the +big room, gettin’ over our scratches. That man is +plumb locoed. I couldn’t get him to talk nothin’ else. +When I told him about the governor sendin’ him congratulations, +an’ offerin’ to do somethin’ handsome +for him, he says: ‘You say she ain’t worryin’ none +about things? Red, do you think she’d hook up with +a guy like me—that’s got a bad reputation?’” +</p> +<p>Linton shot a side glance at Barbara and saw a +flush steal into her cheeks. He concealed a broad grin +with the palm of his hand and then said, gruffly: +</p> +<p>“I answers him as such a impertinent question ought +to be answered. Says I—‘Harlan, you’re a damned +fool!’—askin’ your pardon, ma’am. A girl like Barbara +Morgan ain’t goin’ to throw herself away on a no-good +outlaw. Not none! Why, ma’am, he’s an outlaw +at heart as well as by reputation. He’s clean bad—there +ain’t a bit of good in him. Didn’t he go to +Haydon deliberate? An’ didn’t he keep you in suspense +about what was goin’ on—not tellin’ you anything +until he had to? Shucks!” +</p> +<p>“But there was a method in that, Linton,” said +Barbara; “he told me he was afraid I’d unconsciously +betray him, and then he could not have done what he +did.” +</p> +<p>Linton grinned again—again concealing the grin. +</p> +<p>“You don’t mean to say that you believe the cuss +done the best he could?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_276' name='page_276'></a>276</span></p> +<p>“I think I do, Linton.” +</p> +<p>“Shucks. Women is odd that way, ain’t they? +You ain’t tellin’ me that you think he’s on the level—that +his reputation ain’t as bad as some folks make +believe it is, an’ that he’s <i>square</i>?” +</p> +<p>“I believe he’s square, Linton!” the girl answered, +firmly. +</p> +<p>Linton was silent for an instant, during which he +stood on one foot, looking westward where the sun +was swimming low above the big valley. +</p> +<p>“Ma’am,” he said lowly, breaking the silence: +“I’m damned if I ain’t beginnin’ to believe it, myself. +There’s some things that seem to prove it. +</p> +<p>“First, there’s him takin’ your part over in Lamo. +Then there’s him comin’ here with you, knowin’ you +was alone—an’ not botherin’ you. Then he guarded +you right steady, not lettin’ Haydon or Deveny run in +on you. Then he makes me foreman—which seems +to prove that he’s got sense. Then he goes up the +valley an’ helps your brother bust up the outlaw gang, +riskin’ his life a lot. +</p> +<p>“An’ all the time he knows where your dad hid that +gold. But he didn’t touch it until he got over that +scratch Deveny give him—or until he could take you +where it was hid an’ show you he hadn’t touched it. +Yes, ma’am,” he added with a hyprocritical grin—which +he did not permit the girl to see—“I’m beginnin’ +to believe the cuss is on the level.” +</p> +<p>“Oh, he <i>is</i>, Linton!” said Barbara, in a low, earnest +voice. +</p> +<p>Again there was a silence. Then—— +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_277' name='page_277'></a>277</span></p> +<p>“Do you think he’s a pretty good looker, ma’am?” +</p> +<p>“I think he is handsome!” Again the girl blushed. +</p> +<p>And again Linton grinned. He cleared his throat +before he again spoke: +</p> +<p>“Well,” he drawled; “mebbe I wouldn’t go that +far. Mostly I don’t care for a handsome man, anyway. +I wouldn’t say he’s ugly, an’ I won’t say he’s +handsome. I’d light on a spot about halfway between +them two extremes. I’d say he ain’t a bad looker. +That would be about right.” +</p> +<p>“He <i>is</i> handsome, Linton!” +</p> +<p>“Well, likely he is—to a woman. I’ve heard +that there’s <i>been</i> women which thought him a heap +good lookin’.” +</p> +<p>“Where, Linton?” she asked, quickly. +</p> +<p>“Why, in Pardo, ma’am. There was a biscuit +shooter in a eatin’-house there that was sure wild about +Harlan—she followed him around a heap.” +</p> +<p>“He didn’t have anything to do with her, Linton?” +she questioned, stiffening. +</p> +<p>“Shucks! Not him. Women never bothered him +none. He always fought shy of them—until now. +He’s changed a lot. I don’t understand him no more. +Keeps a-moonin’ regular about you. I’m gettin’ a heap +sick of hangin’ around him. Ain’t you?” +</p> +<p>“No!” +</p> +<p>“Well, that’s a heap odd, ma’am. I was thinkin’ +you didn’t like him a heap. Accordin’ to that, I +reckon you’d be right glad to see him—comin’ home +from Pardo—where’s he been to have that gold +assayed?” +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_278' name='page_278'></a>278</span></p> +<p>“He ought to be here before dark, Linton. And +I shall be glad to see him.” +</p> +<p>“Hopin’ the gold will assay good, I reckon?” +</p> +<p>“Hoping he will come back, safe.” +</p> +<p>“You don’t care about the gold?” +</p> +<p>“No.” +</p> +<p>“Only about him?” +</p> +<p>“Yes, Linton,” she said, gently. +</p> +<p>“Well, that’s odd, ma’am,” drawled Linton. +</p> +<p>“What is?” +</p> +<p>“That I feel the same way about the cuss.” +</p> +<p>She looked keenly at him, saw the dancing, wayward +gleam in his eyes, and gave him a reproachful glance. +</p> +<p>“You’ve been pumping me, Linton,” she charged. +</p> +<p>“Well,” he defended; “he’s my friend, ma’am; an’ +I was sure worried, thinkin’ you wouldn’t take him—if +he offered himself.” +</p> +<p>She smiled, wisely. +</p> +<p>“He did that long ago, Linton—right after he—well, +the day he got up, after the doctor told him he +could.” +</p> +<p>“That he could offer himself?” +</p> +<p>“That he could get up. Linton,” she said, severely; +“you want to know too much.” +</p> +<p>Linton did not answer. He took her by an arm, +raised her to her feet, and turned her face toward +the northeast—where a rider came, not more than +two or three miles distant. +</p> +<p>Linton left her to stand there, while he made his +way into one of the bunkhouses, where, with an appearance +of unconcern that he did not feel, he watched the +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_279' name='page_279'></a>279</span> +coming rider. And when he saw the rider head his +horse straight for the gate of the patio, Linton grinned +widely and sought some of the other men in the cook-house. +</p> +<p>The sun was between the two huge mountains at +the western end of the big valley when Harlan dismounted +at the <i>patio</i> gate and dropped, tired and +dusty, to the bench upon which Barbara sat. Had +Linton seen what occurred when Harlan dismounted +he would have ceased to speculate over certain phases +of the relations between the man and the girl. +</p> +<p>Barbara did not seem to mind the dust on Harlan’s +sleeve, nor did she feel it on his shoulder where +her head was nestling. +</p> +<p>For both were looking out into the big valley, where +the sun was sinking with a splendor that reminded them +of another day. +</p> +<p>“The gold isn’t worth mining,” said Harlan, +gently. “The assayer used names that didn’t mean +anything to me, but he told me enough in plain talk, +to prove that your dad wasted his time.” +</p> +<p>“I’m satisfied,” said the girl. +</p> +<p>“Me too,” smiled Harlan. “There’s somethin’ +better than gold.” +</p> +<p>“It’s peace—and happiness,” said Barbara, gently. +</p> +<p>“An’ a girl,” smiled Harlan. +</p> +<p>“And a man,” declared Barbara stoutly. +</p> +<p>“Well, then,” he conceded, “we won’t quarrel. +We’ll say it’s both.” +</p> +<p>And they sat, saying little, watching the colors of +the sunset flame over the mighty valley—stealing over +<span class='pagenum'><a id='page_280' name='page_280'></a>280</span> +the vast, silent space that spread between the two +mountain ranges. And the big valley smiled back at +them, softening the sadness that dwelt in the heart of +the girl, and holding out to both of them a promise of +good to come—telling them of a mystery that had +been solved, and of a menace removed. +</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 'DRAG' HARLAN***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 25779-h.txt or 25779-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/5/7/7/25779">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/7/7/25779</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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