'Drag' Harlan

by Charles Alden Seltzer

  CHAPTER XIII

  HARLAN TAKES CHARGE

  Barbara could not have told why she had not acted upon her determinationto ride westward to the Star ranch to acquaint John Haydon with thepredicament into which the events of the past few hours had plunged her.She could not have explained why she permitted the first day--afterHarlan's coming--to pass without going to see Haydon, any more than shecould have explained why she permitted many other days to pass in thesame manner.

  She was almost convinced, though, that it was because of the manner inwhich Harlan took charge of the ranch--the capable and business-like wayhe had of treating the men.

  For the outfit came in late in the afternoon following the night whichhad marked the death of Lawson--the straw-boss explaining that he hadreceived explicit orders from Lawson to "work" a grass level severalmiles down the river.

  One other reason for Barbara's failure to ride to the Star--a reason thatshe did not permit to dwell prominently in her thoughts--was resentment.

  She had permitted the first day to pass without going to see Haydon. Butwhen it had gone and another day dawned without Haydon coming to see_her_, she felt that he was deliberately absenting himself. For certainlyhe must have heard what had happened, and if he thought as much of her ashe had led her to believe he would have come to her instantly.

  Had Haydon seen the defiant gleam of her eyes when she gazed westward--inthe direction of the Star--he might have realized that each day he stayedaway from the Rancho Seco would make it that much more difficult for himto explain.

  Barbara stayed indoors much of the time during the first days of Harlan'scontrol of the ranch, but from the windows she saw him--noted that themen obeyed him promptly and without question.

  A sense of loss, of emptiness, still afflicted the girl, and yet throughit all there ran a thrill of satisfaction, of assurance that thesteady-eyed man who had saved her from Deveny, and who had treated herlike a courtier of old on the night she had killed Lawson, seemed to haveher welfare in mind, seemed--despite the reputation the people of thecountry had given him--to have constituted himself her guardian, withoutexpectation of reward of the kind she had feared he sought.

  Harlan's method of assuming control of the Rancho Seco had been directand simple. When the twenty-seven men of the outfit had straggled intothe yard surrounding the big corral--the chuck-wagon, bearing the cookand his assistant, trailing a little behind, and followed by the horsesof the _remuda_ with the wrangler hurling vitriolic language in therear--Harlan was standing beside Purgatory near the corral fence in frontof one of the bunkhouses.

  He had paid--apparently--no attention to the men as they dismounted,unsaddled, and turned their horses into the corral, and he did not evenlook at the belligerent-eyed cook whose sardonic glance roved over him.

  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 withastonishment over his continued silence.

  It was when, drawn by the wonder that consumed them, they gathered in agroup near the door of one of the bunkhouses, that Harlan moved towardthem.

  For he had noted that they had become grouped, and that into theatmosphere had come a tension.

  Harlan's actions had been governed by design. His continued silence hadbeen strategy of a subtle order. It had attracted the attention of themen, it had intrigued their interest.

  If he had spoken to them while they had been moving about on theirdifferent errands, telling them that henceforth he was to manage theRancho Seco, they would have given him scant attention. Also, he wouldnot have been able to study their faces as he had studied them while theyhad been watching him, and he would not have gained the knowledge oftheir characters that he now possessed.

  Besides, a humorous malice possessed Harlan--he wanted to view themcollectively when he gave them his news, to note the various ways inwhich they would receive it.

  Absolute silence greeted Harlan's forward movement. He could hear thelabored breathing of some of the men--men of violent temper who sensedtrouble--and his grin grew broad as he halted within a dozen feet of thegroup.

  "Boys," he said, slowly, "you've got a new boss. It's me. A day or soago, crossin' from Pardo, I run into a ruckus at Sentinel Rock. LaneMorgan was the center of the ruckus--an' he got perforated--plenty. Butbefore he cashed in he got a gleam of downright sense an' told me he'dbeen lookin' for me, to make me manager of the Rancho Seco.

  "I'm reckonin' to be manager--beginnin' now. If there's any of you menthat ain't admirin' to do the jumpin' when I yap orders to you, you'redoin' your gassin' right now. Them that's pinin' to work under me is sureof a square deal, beginnin' now, and continuin' henceforth. I reckonthat's all."

  Into Harlan's eyes as he talked had come that vacuous light that had beenin them when he had faced Deveny's men in Lamo--the light that was alwaysin his eyes whenever he faced more than one man, with trouble imminent.

  He saw the face of every man in the group--while seeming not to belooking at any of them. He noted the various shades of expression thatcame into their faces as they digested his words, he saw how some of themwatched him with sober interest and how others permitted themselves asneer of incredulity or dislike.

  He noted that a tall, slender, swarthy man on the extreme left of thegroup watched him with a malevolent gaze, his eyes flaming hate; he saw ablack-haired, hook-nosed fellow near the center of the group watching himwith a grin of cold contempt.

  It seemed to Harlan that a fair proportion of the men were willing toacknowledge his authority--for they were frankly studying him, ready togreet him as their employer. Many others, however, were as franklyhostile.

  After Harlan ceased speaking there came a short silence, during whichmany of the men looked at one another inquiringly.

  It was a moment during which, had a leader appeared to take theinitiative for those who intended to dissent from Harlan's rule, theoutfit might have been divided.

  Evidently the tall, swarthy man divined that the time to dissent hadcome, for he cleared his throat, and grinned felinely.

  Before he could speak, however, a short man with keen eyes that, sincethe instant they had rested upon Harlan, had been glowing with somethingthat might have been defined as mingled astonishment and delight thinlyconcealed by a veneer of humor--said distinctly:

  "You crossed over from Pardo--you say?"

  Harlan nodded, and a pin-point of recognition glowed in his eyes as helooked at the man.

  The other laughed, lowly. "Seems I know you," he said. "You're 'Drag'Harlan!"

  A tremor ran through the group. There was a concerted stiffening ofbodies, a general sigh from lungs in process of deflation. And then thegroup stood silent, every man watching Harlan with that intent curiositythat comes with one's first glimpse of a noted character, introducedwithout expectation.

  Harlan noted that a change had come over the men. Those whose faces hadbetrayed their inclination to accept his authority had taken--withoutexception--a glum, disappointed expression. On the other hand, those whohad formerly betrayed hostility, were now grinning with satisfaction.

  A tremor of malicious amusement, expressed visibly by a flicker of hiseyelids, was Harlan's only emotion over the change that had come in themen of the group. He could now have selected those of the men who--asLane Morgan had said--could not be trusted, and he could have pointed outthose who had been loyal to Morgan, and who would be loyal to Barbara andhimself.

  Among the former were the tall, swarthy man on the extreme left, and thehook-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 theirleader.

  "'Drag' Harlan--eh?"

  This was the tall, swarthy man. The malevolence had gone from his eyes,he was grinning broadly, though there was respect of a fawning characterin his manner as he stepped out from the group and halted within a fewfeet of Harlan.

&
nbsp; "Me an' my friends wasn't none tickled to find that we was goin' to havea new manager. We was sort of expectin' Miss Barbara to do the runnin'herself. But if _you_ say you're runnin' things, that makes it a wholelot different. We ain't buckin' 'Drag' Harlan's game."

  "Thank you," grinned Harlan. "I saw you reportin' to Miss Morgan. You'restraw-boss, I reckon."

  "You've hit it. I'm Stroud--Lafe Stroud."

  "You'll keep on bein' straw-boss," said Harlan, shortly. "I'm appointin'a foreman."

  "Where's Lawson?"

  It was Stroud who spoke. There was a shadow of disappointment in hiseyes.

  "Lawson won't be needin' a title any more," said Harlan, narrowing hiseyes at the other. "He needs plantin'. Soon as we get set some of youboys can go over an' take care of him. You'll find him in the harnessshop. He busted down the door of Miss Barbara's room last night, an' shemade a colander out of him."

  Harlan ignored the effect of his news on the men, fixing his gaze on theshort man who had spoken first, and who was now standing silent, in anattitude that hinted of dejection.

  "You'll be foreman, Linton," he stated shortly.

  Linton, who had been glumly listening, was so startled by the suddendescent upon his shoulders of the mantle of authority that hestraightened with a snap and grabbed wildly at his hat--which droppedfrom his head despite his effort to clutch it, revealing a mop of fieryred hair. When he straightened, after recovering the hat, his freckledface was crimson with embarrassment and astonishment.

  "I'm obliged to you," he mumbled.

  That had ended it. The following morning Linton came to Harlan fororders, and a little later the entire outfit, headed by Stroud, andtrailed by the chuck-wagon and the horses of the _remuda_, startedsouthward to a distant section of the big level, leaving Linton andHarlan at the ranchhouse.

  And as the outfit faded into the southern distance, Harlan, walking nearthe larger of the two bunkhouses, came upon Linton.

  Harlan grinned when he saw the other.

  "You didn't go with the outfit, Red?" he said. "Seems a foreman ought tobe mighty eager to be with his men on their first trip after he'sappointed."

  Linton's face was pale, his gaze was direct.

  "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 hasgot reputations better than yourn. But there's some things wantexplainin'. 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. Itwasn't so bad while old Morgan was here, but now he's gone, an' she's gotto play it a lone hand.

  "You git riled an' sling your gun on me if you want to. I know I wouldn'thave a chance. But just the same, I'm tellin' you. You know that more'nhalf that outfit you've put me at the head of is Deveny's men--sneakin',thievin', murderin' outlaws?"

  "You wantin' to quit, Red?" said Harlan, smoothly.

  "Quit! Hell's fire! I'm hangin' on to the finish. But I'm findin' outwhere you stand. What you meanin' to do with Barbara Morgan?"

  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 whoknows what his think-box is for."

  Linton flushed, and peered intently at the other.

  "Meanin' that you're backin' Barbara in this here deal?" he demanded.

  "A real thoughtful man would have tumbled to it quicker," was Harlan'ssoft, ironical reply.

  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 quietlyhonest that it made Linton gasp:

  "Damn me! You mean it! You're playin' 'em straight, face up. That talk ofyourn about Lane Morgan makin' you manager was straight goods. I knowDolver an' Laskar an' the guy they call 'Chief' plugged Morgan--for Iheard Stroud an' some more of them talkin' about it. An' I heard that yougot Dolver an' Laskar, an' kept Deveny from grabbin' off Barbara Morgan,over in Lamo. But I thought you was playin' for Barbara, too--an' Iwasn't figurin' on lettin' you."

  Harlan laughed lowly.

  "Things don't always shape up the way a man thinks they will, Red. Istarted for Lamo, figurin' to salivate Dolver an' the other guy whokilled Davey Langan. I got Dolver at Sentinel Rock, an' I figured I'd belikely to run into the other guy somewheres--mebbe findin' him inDeveny'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."

  Linton's eyes were glowing, he crowded close to Harlan, so close that hisbody touched Harlan's, and he stood thus for an instant, breathing fast.Then, noting the unwavering, genial gleam in Harlan's eyes--a visiblesign of Harlan's knowledge of his deep emotion--Linton seized one of theother's hands and gripped it tightly.

  "Damn your hide," he said, lowly, "you had me goin'. I'm dead set onseein' that girl git a square deal, an' when I saw you makin' a play forthem damned outlaws that are in the outfit, I sure figured there'd behell a-poppin' around the Rancho Seco. You sure had me flabbergasted whenyou named me foreman, for I couldn't anticipate your trail none.

  "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' withyou until hell runs long on icebergs!"