CHAPTER XVI
DEEP WATER
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. Buthe gave no outward evidence of surprise.
"I reckon I searched him," he said, answering Haydon's charge. "If Ifound anything on him I'm turnin' it over to Barbara Morgan--or hangin'onto it. That's my business."
Haydon laughed, for Harlan's voice had broken the tension that had comewith the interval of threatening silence.
Since he could not induce Harlan to divulge anything of interest therewas nothing to do but to withdraw as gracefully as possible. And hebacked away, smiling, saying placatively:
"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 asmiling:
"So-long."
Motionless, still standing where he had stood when Haydon climbed on hishorse, Harlan watched while the man rode the short distance to the house.At the corner around which he had appeared some minutes before, Haydonbrought his horse to a halt, waved a hand--at Barbara, Harlansupposed--and then rode on, heading westward toward Sunset Trail.
Harlan watched him until he had penetrated far into the big valley; thenhe turned, slowly, and sought Red Linton--finding him in theblacksmith-shop.
Later in the day--after Harlan and Linton had talked long, standing inthe door of the blacksmith-shop--Linton mounted his horse and rode towhere Harlan stood.
Linton was prepared for a long ride. Folded in the slicker that wasstrapped to the cantle of his saddle was food; he carried his rifle inthe saddle sheath, and a water-bag bulged above the horse's withers.
"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 athim; "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 eversee the T Down again. But to offset that, you can tell 'em that if wemake good, the Rancho Seco will owe them a heap--an' they'll get what'scomin' to them."
He watched while Linton rode eastward over the big level; then he grinnedand walked to the ranchhouse, going around the front and standing in thewide gateway where he saw Barbara sitting on a bench in the _patio_,staring straight ahead, meditatively, unaware that he was standing in thegateway, watching her.
Harlan watched the girl for a long time--until she turned and saw him.Then she blushed and stood up, looking at him in slight wonderment as hecame toward her and stood within a few feet of her.
On Harlan's face was a slow, genial grin.
"Sunnin' yourself, eh?" he said. "Well, it's a mighty nice day--not toohot. Have you knowed him long?"
The startling irrelevance of the question caused Barbara to gaze sharplyat Harlan, and when their eyes met she noted that his were twinkling witha light that she could not fathom. She hated him when she could notunderstand him.
"Mr. Haydon, do you mean?" she questioned, a sudden coldness in hervoice.
Harlan nodded.
"A little more than a year, I think. It was just after I returned fromschool, at Denver."
He watched her, saying lowly:
"So it was Denver. I'd been wonderin'. I knowed it must have been someplace. Schoolin' is a thing that I never had time to monkey with--Ireckon my folks didn't believe a heap in 'em."
"You've lived in the West all your life--you were born in the West, Isuppose?"
He looked keenly at her. "I expect you knowed that without askin'. I'vebeen wonderin' if it would have made any difference."
"How?"
"In me. Do you think an education makes a man act different--gives himdifferent ideas about his actions--in his dealin's with women, forinstance?"
"I expect it does. Education should make a man more considerate ofwomen--it is refining."
"Then you reckon a man that ain't had any education is coarse, an' don'tknow how to treat a woman?"
"I didn't say that; I said education _should_ make a man treat women thatway."
"But it don't always?"
"I think not. I have known men--well educated men--who failed to treatwomen as they should be treated."
"Then that ain't what you might call a hard-an'-fast rule--it don'talways work. An' there's hope for any man who ain't had schoolin'--ifhe's wantin' to be a man."
"Certainly."
"But an educated man can't claim ignorance when he aims to mistreat awoman. That's how it figures up, ain't it?"
She laughed. "It would seem to point to that conclusion."
"So you've knowed Haydon about a year? I reckon he's educated?"
"Yes." She watched him closely, wondering at his meaning--why he hadbrought Haydon's name into the discussion. She was marveling at thesubtle light in his eyes.
"Your father liked Haydon--he told me Haydon was the only square man inthe country--besides himself an' Sheriff Gage."
"Father liked Haydon. I'm beginning to believe you really _did_ have atalk with father before he died!"
He smiled. "Goin' back to Haydon. I had a talk with him a little whileago. I sort of took a shine to him." He drew from a pocket the section ofgold chain he had found on the desert, holding it out to her.
"Here's a piece of Haydon's watch chain," he said slowly, watching herface. "The next time Haydon comes to see you, give it to him, tellin' himI found it. It's likely he'll ask you where I found it. But you can say Iwasn't mentionin'."
He turned, looking back over his shoulder at her as he walked toward thegate.
She stood, holding the glittering links in the palm of one hand, doubtand suspicion in her eyes.
"Why," she called after him; "he was just here, and you say you talkedwith him! Why didn't you give it to him?"
"Forgot it, ma'am. An' I reckon you'll be seein' him before I do."
Then he strode out through the gate, leaving her to speculate upon themystery of his words and his odd action in leaving the chain with herwhen he could have personally returned it to Haydon.
Harlan, however, was grinning as he returned to the bunkhouse. For hewanted Barbara to see Haydon's face when the section of chain wasreturned to him, to gain whatever illumination she could from theincident. He did not care to tell her--yet--that Haydon had killed herfather; but he did desire to create in her mind a doubt of Haydon, sothat she would hesitate to confide to him everything that happened at theRancho Seco.
For himself, he wanted to intimate delicately to Haydon his knowledge ofwhat had really occurred at Sentinel Rock; it was a message to the manconveying a significance that Haydon could not mistake. It meant that forsome reason, known only to himself, Harlan did not intend to tell what heknew.
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