CHAPTER XXXV
THE DEAD HEART
Vaguely, as of a sound coming from far distances, the crack of arevolver-shot penetrated to the girl's numbed brain. It did not surpriseher. Indeed, it roused only a feeling of the mildest curiosity in onewhose nerves had been strained almost to the breaking-point. When Lynch,with a hoarse cry, toppled back against her, she merely stepped quickly toone side, and an instant later she was on her knees beside Stratton.
"Buck!" she sobbed. "Oh, Buck!" clutching at him as if from some wild fearthat he would topple into the abyss.
Hands suddenly put her gently to one side, and some one dragged Strattonfrom his dangerous position and supported him against an upraised knee. Itwas Bud Jessup, and behind him loomed the figures of Sheriff Hardenbergand several of his men.
Mary's glance noted them briefly, incuriously, returning anxiously to theman beside her. His eyes were open now, and he was sucking in the air indeep, panting gulps.
"How yuh feelin'?" asked Bud briefly.
"All right--get my breath," mumbled Buck.
"Yuh hurt any place?" Jessup continued, after a brief pause.
"Not to speak of," returned Stratton in a stronger tone. "When I firstjumped for the cuss, I hit my head the devil of a crack, and--pretty nearwent out. But that don't matter--now."
His eyes sought the girl's and dwelt there, longingly, caressingly. Therewas tribute in their depths, appreciation, and something stronger, moreabiding which brought a faint flush into her tired face and made her heartbeat faster. Presently, when he staggered to his feet and took a step ortwo toward her, she felt no shame in meeting him half way. Quite asnaturally as his arm slipped around her shoulders, her lifted hands restedagainst the front of his flannel shirt, torn into ribbons and stained withgrime.
"For a little one," he murmured, looking down into her eyes, "you're somespunky fighter, believe me!"
She flushed deeper and her lids drooped. Of a sudden Sheriff Hardenbergspoke up briskly:
"That was a right nice shot, kid. You got him good."
He was standing beside the body sprawling on the ground, and the words hadscarcely left his lips when Lynch's eyes opened slowly.
"Yes--yuh got me," he mumbled.
Slowly his glance swept the circle of faces until it rested finally on theman and girl standing close together. For a long moment he stared at themsilently, his pale lips twitching. Then all at once a look of cunningsatisfaction swept the baffled fury from his smoldering eyes.
"Yuh got me," he repeated in a stronger voice. "Looks like yuh got her,too. Maybe yuh think you've gobbled up the ranch, likewise, an'--an'everything. That's where yuh get stung."
He fell to coughing suddenly, and for a few minutes his great body wasracked with violent paroxysms that brought a bright crimson stain to thesleeve he flung across his mouth. But all the while his eyes, full ofstrange venomous triumph, never once left Stratton's face.
"Yuh see," he choked out finally, "the ranch--ain't--hers."
He paused, speechless; and Mary, looking down on him, felt merely that hisbrain was wandering and found room in her heart to be a little sorry.
"Why ain't it hers?" demanded Bud with youthful impetuosity. "Her fatherleft it to her, an'--"
"It wasn't his to--to leave. He stole it." Lynch's voice was weaker, buthis eyes still glowed with hateful triumph. "He forged thedeed--from--from papers--Stratton left with him--when he went--to war." Hemoistened his dry lips with his tongue. "When Stratton was--killed--hedidn't leave--no kin--to make trouble, an' Thorne--took a chance."
His voice faltered, ceased. Mary stared at him dumbly, a slow, oppressivedread creeping into her heart. Little forgotten things flashed back intoher mind. Her father's financial reverses, his reticence about theacquisition of the Shoe-Bar, the strange hold Lynch had seemed to have onhim, rose up to torment her. Suddenly she glanced quickly at Buck forreassurance.
"It isn't so!" she cried. "It can't be. My father--"
Slowly the words died on her lips. There was love, tenderness, pity in theman's eyes, but no--denial!
"Ain't it, though?" Lynch spoke in a labored whisper; his eyes wereglazing. "Yuh thinks--I'm--loco. I--ain't. It's--gospel truth. Yuh findQuinlan, the--the witness. No, Quinlan's dead. It's--it's--Kaylor.Kaylor got--got-- What was I sayin'." He plucked feebly at hischap-belt. "I know. Kaylor got--a clean thousand for--for swearin'--thesignature--was--Stratton's. Yuh find Kaylor. Hardenberg ... thumbscrew... the truth...."
The low, uneven whisper merged into a murmur; then silence fell, brokenonly by the labored breathing of the dying man. Dazed, bewildered,conscious of a horrible conviction that he spoke the truth, Mary stoodfrozen, struggling against a wave of utter weariness and despair thatsurged over her. She felt the arm about her tighten, but for some strangereason the realization brought her little comfort.
Suddenly Hardenberg broke the silence. He had been watching the girl, andcould no longer bear the misery in her white, strained face.
"You think you've turned a smart trick, don't you?" he snapped with angryimpulsiveness. "As a matter of fact the ranch belongs to him already. Theman you've known as Green is Buck Stratton himself."
Lynch's lids flashed up. "Yuh--lie!" he murmured. "Stratton's--dead!"
"Nothing like it," retorted the sheriff. "The papers got it wrong. He wasonly badly wounded. This fellow here is Buck Stratton, and he can proveit."
A spasm quivered over Lynch's face. He tried to speak, but only a faintgurgle came from his blood-flecked lips. Too late Hardenberg, catching anangry glance from Buck, realized and regretted his impulsive indiscretion.For Mary Thorne, turning slowly like a person in a dream, stared into theface of the man beside her, lips quivering and eyes full of a greathorror.
"You!" she faltered, in a pitiful, small voice. "You--"
Stratton held her closer, a troubled tenderness sweeping the anger fromhis eyes.
"But--but, Mary--" he stammered--"what difference does--"
Suddenly her nerves snapped under the culminating strain of the past fewhours.
"Difference!" she cried hysterically. "Difference!" Her heart lay like acold, dead thing within her; she felt utterly miserable and alone."You--My father! Oh, God!"
She made a weak effort to escape from his embrace. Then, abruptly, herslim, girlish figure grew limp, her head fell back against Stratton'sshoulder, her eyes closed.
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