'Drag' Harlan
Page 11
CHAPTER XI
THE INTRUDER
After closing the door through which she had entered, Barbara Morganslipped the fastenings into place and stood, an ear pressed against thedoor, listening for sounds that would tell her Harlan had followed her.But beyond the door all was silence.
Breathing fast, yielding to the panic of fear that had seized her, overthe odd light she had seen in Harlan's eyes--a gleam, that to her, seemedto have been a reflection of some evil passion in the man's heart--sheran through the dark room she had entered, opened a door that led to the_patio_, and peered fearfully outward, as though she half expected to seeHarlan there.
But the court was deserted, apparently, though there were somber shadowsranging the enclosing walls that would afford concealment for Harlan, hadhe succeeded in gaining entrance. As she stepped out of the doorway shepeered intently around.
Then, further frightened by the brooding silence that seemed to envelopthe place, and tortured by tragic thoughts in which her father occupied aprominent position--almost crazed by the memory of what had happenedduring the preceding twenty-four hours--she fled across the _patio_swiftly, her terror growing with each step.
She knew the house thoroughly; she could have found her way in completedarkness; and when she reached the opposite side of the court she almostthrew herself at a door which, she knew, opened into the big room inwhich she and her father had usually passed their leisure.
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 ofhelplessness.
For this was the first time she had entered the house since the news ofher father's death had reached her; and she missed him, feeling morekeenly than ever the grief she had endured thus far with a certain stoiccalm; yielding to the tears that had been very close for hours.
She did not light the kerosene lamp that stood on a big center table inthe 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'sfavorite, knelt beside it, and sobbed convulsively.
Later, yielding to a dull apathy which had stolen over her, she made herway upstairs, to her room--which was directly over the front entrance tothe _patio_--and sank into a chair beside one of the windows.
She had locked her door after entering; and for the first time sincearriving at the Rancho Seco she felt comparatively safe.
Her thoughts were incoherent--a queer jumble of mental impulses whichseemed to lead her always back to the harrowing realization that she hadlost her father. That was the gigantic axis around which her whole mentalstructure revolved. It was staggering, stupefying, and her brain reeledunder it.
Other thoughts came, flickered like feeble lights, and went out--thoughtsof what had happened to her at Lamo; a dull wonder over Meeder Lawson'spresence 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 hadremained at the ranchhouse; and a sort of dumb, vague wonder over whather future would be.
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 eachtime he visited the Rancho Seco. Haydon would help her, she knew, and shewould go to him in the morning.
Her father had trusted Haydon, and she would trust him. Haydon was theone man in the section who seemed to have no fear of Deveny and hismen--many times he had told her that most of the stories told of Deveny'scrimes were untrue--that he had not committed all those that wereattributed to him.
Not that Haydon condoned those offenses upon which Deveny stood convictedby circumstantial evidence. Nor had Haydon ever sought to defend Deveny.On the other hand, Haydon's condemnation of the outlaw and his men hadbeen vigorous--almost too vigorous for Haydon's safety, she had heard herfather say.
It was when her thoughts dwelt upon Harlan that she was most puzzled--andimpressed. For though she was acquainted with the man's reputation--knowinghim to be an outlaw of the reckless, dare-devil type--she felt the force ofhim, the compelling originality of him--as he differed from the outlaw ofpopular conception--his odd personality, which seemed to be a mingling ofthe elements of character embracing both good and evil.
For though an outlaw himself, he had protected her from outlaws. And shehad seen in his eyes certain expressions that told her that he feltimpulses of sympathy and of tenderness. And his words to Deveny andothers had seemed to hint of a fairly high honorableness.
And though she had seen in his eyes a cold gleam that was convincingevidence of the presence of those ruthless passions which had made him anenemy of the law, she had also detected expressions in his eyes that toldplainly of genial humor, of gentleness, and of consideration for otherhumans.
But whatever she had seen in him, she felt his force--the terrible powerof him when aroused. It was in the atmosphere that surrounded him; it wasin the steady gleam of his eyes, in the poise of his head, and in thethrust of his jaw, all around him. She feared him, yet he fascinatedher--compelled her--seemed to insist that she consider him in her schemeof life.
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.
And that seemed to end it--she knew he _would_ stay; that he wasdetermined, and that nothing short of force would dissuade him. And whatforce could she bring against him? A man whose name, mentioned in thepresence of other men, made their faces blanch.
Deep in her heart, though, lurked a conviction that Harlan had not toldher everything that had happened at Sentinel Rock. She was afflicted witha suspicion that he was holding something back. She had seen that in hiseyes, too, she thought. It seemed to her that her father _might_ havetold him to come to the Rancho Seco, and to stay there. And for thatreason--because she suspected that Harlan had not told all he knew--shefelt that she ought not order him away. If only he had not looked at herwith that queer, insinuating smile!
She had sat at the window for, it seemed to her, many hours before shebecame aware that the moon had risen and was directly overhead, floodingthe ground in the vicinity of the ranchhouse with a soft, silverradiance.
She got up with a start, remembering that she had left Harlan standingoutside the door in the rear. She had almost forgotten that!
She went to a window that opened into the _patio_, and looked downward.Every nook and corner of the _patio_ was visible now; the dark, sombershadows had been driven away, and in the silvery flood that poured downfrom above the enclosure was brilliant, clearly defined--and deserted.
And yet as the girl looked, a presentiment of evil assailed her,whitening her cheeks and widening her eyes. The quiet peace andtranquillity of the _patio_ seemed to mock her; she felt that it held asinister promise, a threat of dire things to come.
The feeling was so strong that it drove her back from the window to thecenter of the room, where she stood, holding her breath, her handsclasped in front of her, the fingers twining stiffly. It seemed to herthat she was waiting--waiting for something to happen--something thatthreatened.
And when she heard a slight sound, seeming to arise from the room belowher, she caught her breath with a gasp of horror.
But she did not move. She stood there, with no breath issuing frombetween her lips, for many minutes, it seemed--waiting, dreading, a coldparalysis stealing over her.
And then again it came--an odd sound--slow, creaking, seeming to comealways nearer. It was not until she heard the sound directly outside herdoor that she realized that what she heard was a step on the stairs. Andthen, convinced that Harlan had gained entrance, she slipped noiselesslyacross the room to the front wall, where she took down a heavy pistolthat hung from a wooden peg.
With the huge weapon in hand she returned to a point near the center ofthe room, and with bated breath and glowing, determined eyes, faced thedoor.
And when, after a time, she heard the door cr
eak with a weight thatseemed to be against it--after she saw it give; heard the lock break, andsaw a man's form darken the opening as the door was flung wide--shepressed the trigger of the weapon once--twice--three times--in rapidsuccession.
She heard the man curse, saw him catch at his chest, and tumble headlongtoward her. And she fired again, thinking he was trying to grasp her.
She laughed hysterically when she saw him sink to the floor and stretchout with a queer inertness. Then, swaying, her brain reeling with thehorror of the thing, she managed to get to the bed at the other side ofthe room. When she reached it she collapsed gently, a long, convulsiveshudder running over her.