CHAPTER XXXVII
THE TRAP
For more than a month--or from a few days following the night on whichshe had seen her father talking with Dave Singleton--Ruth Hamlin hadbeen aware that her parent was acting strangely. There had been aninterval--directly after that night when he had told her about his talkwith Lawler, when Lawler had offered to help him to regain his placeamong men--that Hamlin had seemed to "go straight," as he had promised.During that interval he had taken her into his confidence many times, todiscuss with her the new prospects that the future seemed to offer, andto renew his assurances to her. It had seemed, then, that there was hopefor him.
Of late, though, a change had come over him. He no longer confided inher; his eyes were beginning to take on again the expression of guiltshe had seen in them in the old days; his glances at her were no longerdirect, but furtive, as though he feared she might learn something ofhis actions should she meet his gaze.
In the old days Ruth had passively endured the shame that Hamlin'scrimes had brought upon her. They had been so unexpected that they hadstunned her--they had been so miserably mean that she had not dared totake anyone into her confidence.
However, the days of passive endurance were over. Lawler knew, andLawler had helped her father. And now, she was certain, her father hadagain fallen.
She steeled herself against pity for him, determined that she would notstand idly by and watch him betray Lawler. She did not know what sheintended to do, or what she could do, to prevent the stealing of theCircle L cattle; but she determined to watch her father, hopeful thatshe might devise some way to prevent the thefts.
She had passed many sleepless nights, having become aware that herfather was habitually absenting himself after nightfall, but she hadnever been able to catch him in the act of leaving the cabin at thosetimes, though many nights she had purposely stayed awake.
Tonight she had gone to her room, to lie awake on the bed, fullydressed. She had left the oil-lamp burning, for Hamlin had been sittingat a table reading. She heard him get up after a while; saw the lightflicker and go out; heard her father cross the floor and go to his room.
There was a fire in the kitchen stove, for the weather during the dayhad been cold, and she could hear the embers crackling for more than anhour after her father went to his room. After that there followed abrief time when she heard nothing.
She drew a blanket over her, and its welcome warmth brought on adrowsiness to which she almost yielded. She was sure, however, that shewould not go to sleep, and she lay there, comfortably for, it seemedmerely a few minutes. And then a sound assailed her ears and she startedup, realizing that she had been asleep. For a chill had come into theair of the cabin, and she knew the fire had gone out.
She sat up, breathing fast, and ran to her father's room. The bed hadnot been slept in; and she emerged from the room, her face pallid withresolution.
Running to the outside door she swung it open and looked out. Far outupon the clear, moonlit sweep of plain stretching toward Willets, shesaw the shadowy figures of two horsemen.
Moving swiftly, she went to the corral, caught her pony, saddled it,threw on a bridle, mounted and rode after the two horsemen, urging thepony to its best efforts.
The speed at which the pony traveled did not equal the pace of theanimals ahead of her, however, and she steadily lost ground, though thenight was so clear that she did not lose sight of the figures in frontof her until they reached the shadows of Willets' buildings. She didlose them there, though, and when she rode down the dimly lighted streetshe could see no sign of them.
There was no one about, and she rode back and forth on the street,searching for Hamlin's horse, which would give her a clue to Hamlin'swhereabouts. And at last, peering into a vacant space between twobuildings she saw Hamlin's horse, and another, hitched to a rail near anoutside stairway.
She got off the pony, threw the reins over its head and ran around tothe front of the building, into the light of some oil-lamps that stabbedthe semi-gloom of the street.
The building was occupied by the Wolf Saloon. She knew that, and it wasthat knowledge that caused her to hesitate as she stood in front of it.But her father was in there, she was certain. She had recognized thehorse that had been hitched close to her father's as one that Singletonhad ridden to the Hamlin cabin on several of his visits, and the colddetermination that had seized her at last gave her courage to swing thefront door of the saloon open. She hesitated on the threshold, white,shaking with dread, almost afraid, now that she had come this far, toface the terrible men she knew she would find inside. The ill-fame ofthe place was notorious.
But while she hesitated, she heard her father's voice--a sound thatdrove her to instant action, for it was high-pitched, and carried a noteof anger.
She went inside, then, no longer thinking of herself; her heart a throbwith concern, courage of a high order sustaining her. She pushed theoutside door open, burst through the double-swing door that screened thebarroom from the street, and stood in the front of the room blinking atthe lights.
The room was full of men--she did not know how many. They made a greatblur in front of her; and it seemed to her that all their faces wereturned to her. She had a flashing view of a multitude of inquiring eyes;she noted the thick haze that hung over the room; her nostrils wereassailed by mingled odors that were nauseating. The flashing glanceshowed her the long bar, a cluster of lights overhead; card tables; alow ceiling, and a stairway leading from the barroom to a platform.
All sound had ceased with her entrance. She saw her father standing nearthe center of the room.
He was standing alone, in sinister isolation. Singleton was facing him,about a dozen feet distant. A few feet from Singleton stood anotherman--dark of face, with cruel lips, and eyes that held a wanton light. Alittle farther away--close to the bar--stood Gary Warden.
Her father seemed to be the only man in the room who had not seen her. Aterrible rage had gripped him; he seemed to have undergone a strangetransformation since she had seen him last; that manhood which she hadthought had departed from him appeared to have returned.
For he made a striking figure as he stood there. He was rigid, alert; heseemed to dominate every man that faced him, that stood within sound ofhis voice. He had been talking when Ruth entered; he was still talking,unaware of her presence.
His voice was pitched high, it carried a note of defiance; it wasvibrant with passion. Fascinated by the change in him, Ruth stoodmotionless, listening.
"So that's what you brought me here for?" he said, his voice shakingwith rage. He was looking at Singleton and the man who stood near thelatter. "You brought me here because you wanted to be sure there'd beenough of you to down me. Well, damn you--get goin!"
His voice rose to a screech of awful rage; and while it still resoundedthrough the room he dropped his right hand and dragged at the pistol athis hip.
It was done so swiftly that Ruth could make no movement to interfere.And yet as swiftly as her father's hand had dropped to the holster athis side, the dark-faced man who stood near Singleton anticipated themovement. His right hand moved like a streak of light. It went down,then up again with the same motion. The air rocked with a crashingreport, mingled with Ruth's scream of terror. And Hamlin's gun loosenedin his hand, his knees doubled and he tumbled headlong, to fall facedown at the feet of the dark-faced man who stood, sneering, someblue-white smoke curling upward in mocking laziness from the muzzle ofhis pistol.
Ruth had moved with the report of the pistol; she was at Hamlin's sidewhen he fell, grasping one of his arms; and she went down with him, toone knee, dazed from the suddenness of the thing; palzied with horror,the room reeling around her.
How long she knelt at her father's side she did not know. It seemed onlya second or two to her when she raised her head and looked around withdumb, agonized grief at the faces that seemed to fill the place. Thenshe heard Warden's voice; he spoke to the dark-faced man who had killedher father, and his voice was vibrant with a mocki
ng, Satanicsatisfaction.
"You've wanted her, Slade--take her!"
The dark-faced man grinned at her, bestially. She leaped to her feet atthe expression of his eyes, and started to run toward the door. Butterror shackled her feet; it seemed that some power was dragging at her,holding her back from the door. She had not taken more than half adozen steps when Slade was upon her.
His strength seemed to be prodigious, for despite her desperateresistance he lifted her from the floor, crushed her to him and startedfor the stairs. She screamed, begging the men in the room to help her.But through the haze she saw grinning faces turned to hers; heard loudlaughter and coarse oaths. And then came oblivion.
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