CHAPTER XXX
THE ULTIMATE TREACHERY
When Barbara regained consciousness she was lying in some long, dustygrass beside the trail where she seemed to have been thrown, or where shehad fallen. For she was lying on her right side, her right arm doubledunder her, and she felt a pain in her shoulder which must have been whereshe had struck when she had fallen.
She twisted around and sat up, bewildered, almost succumbing to thehideous terror which instantly gripped her when she remembered what hadhappened.
Deveny's horse stood near her, nipping the tips of the grass that grew ather feet. Beyond the animal--a little to her right, and perhaps fiftyfeet from her--were other horses, with riders.
As she staggered to her feet she recognized the men who had been withDeveny. They were on their horses--all facing away from her. FacingDeveny's men were all the T Down boys--she recognized them instantly.Pistols glittered in their hands; they seemed to be in the grip of somestrong passion, which wreathed their faces into grim, bitter lines.
Near the T Down men--flanking them--were other men. Among them she sawfaces she knew--Colver, Strom Rogers, and others.
There must have been twenty-five or thirty men, altogether, and they wereall on a little level beside the trail. It seemed to Barbara that theyall appeared to have forgotten her; seemed not to know that she was inthe vicinity.
She saw Deveny standing on the little level. His profile was toward her;there was a wild, savage glare in his eyes.
Not more than a dozen feet from him was Harlan.
She saw Harlan's face from the side also. There was a grin on hislips--bitter, mirthless, terrible.
She stood for what seemed to her a long time, watching all of them; herheart throbbing with a dread heaviness that threatened to choke her; herbody in a state of icy paralysis.
She thought she knew what had happened, for it seemed to her thateverything in the world--all the passions and the desires ofmen--centered upon her. She felt that there were two factions--one headedby Deveny, and the other by Harlan, representing Haydon--and that theywere about to fight for her. The T Down men seemed to be standing withHarlan--as, of course, they would, since he had sent for them to come tothe Rancho Seco.
Oddly, though, they apparently seemed to pay no attention to her; not oneof them looked at her.
If they were to fight it made no difference to her which faction won, forher fate would be the same, if she stayed.
She did not know what put the thought into her mind, but as she stoodthere watching the men she repeated mentally over and over the words: "IfI stay."
Why should she stay? She answered the question by stealing towardDeveny's horse. When she reached the animal she paused, glancingapprehensively at the men, her breathing suspended--hoping, dreading, hernerves and muscles taut. It seemed they must see her.
Not a man moved as she climbed upon the back of the horse; it seemed toher as she urged the animal gently and slowly away from the men that theyheard nothing and saw nothing but Harlan and Deveny, and that Harlan andDeveny saw nothing but each other.
She sent the horse away, walking him for a dozen yards or more, until hecrossed the little level and sank into a shallow depression in the trail.Still looking back, she saw that none of the men had changedposition--that they seemed to be more intent upon Harlan and Deveny. Andshe could hear Harlan's voice, now, low, husky.
She urged the horse into a lope; and when she had ridden perhaps ahundred yards, the conviction that she would escape grew strong in her.Once out of the valley she would ride straight to Lamo, to ask SheriffGage to protect her.
She rode faster as she widened the distance that separated her from themen; and soon the horse was covering the trail rapidly; and she leanedforward in the saddle, praying that the men might not see her.
She had gone several miles when she noticed a dark object beside thetrail ahead of her. She drew the horse down and approached the spotcautiously. And when she saw that the object was a man, her thoughts flewto the shot she had heard, and to Deveny's words:
"Make sure of it."
It _was_ Linton, she saw, as she halted the horse near the object she hadseen. He was lying on his right side, resting his weight on an elbow, asthough trying to rise.
In an instant she was out of the saddle and at his side, raising hishead.
He looked at her, smiled, and said weakly:
"You got away, eh? I reckon they met Harlan. I was hopin' they would. Didthey?"
"Yes," she answered quickly. She had seen that Linton was badly wounded,and she knew that she must give up hope of getting to Lamo in order togive him the care he needed.
So without speaking further, though with an effort that required the lastounce of her strength, she lifted Linton, he helping a little, and ledhim toward her horse. Somehow, with Linton doing all he could, she gothim into the saddle, climbed up behind him, and sent the horse toward theRancho Seco.
Back at the little level where the men were grouped there was a tensionthat seemed to charge the atmosphere with tragedy. Deveny's men satsilent in their saddles, watching their leader and Harlan with sullen,savage eyes. The T Down men, facing them, were equally sullen. Guns inhand, they alertly watched the men who were with Deveny, plainlydetermined that there should be no interference from them in the tragedythat seemed imminent.
Rogers and his men, and the riders who had come with Colver, were alsowatching the Deveny group. All of these held weapons, too; and Rogers,who had dismounted, was standing beside his horse, a rifle resting on thesaddle seat, his cheek snuggling the stock, the muzzle trained on Deveny.
Harlan, Rogers, and the others, racing down the valley, had met Devenyand his men coming up. And when Deveny had recognized Harlan and theothers he had quickly dismounted, bearing his unconscious burden. Becausehe felt that trouble would result from the meeting, Deveny had thrownBarbara from him.
He had instantly forgotten the girl. For when Harlan came up Deveny saw agleam in his eyes that sent his brain to throbbing with thoseunmistakable impulses of fear which had seized him the day, in Lamo, whenHarlan had faced him.
There had been a moment of silence when the two groups met; a stiffeningof muscles and the heavy, strained breathing that, in men, tells ofmental preparation for violence, swift and deadly.
It had been Harlan who had prevented concerted action--action that wouldhave brought about a battle in which all would have figured. His gunscame out before the thought of trouble could definitely form in thebrains of the Deveny men; and he had held them--the men in the saddles,Deveny standing--until the T Down men, whom he had seen from a distance,coming toward him, could arrive.
Then, still menacing the Deveny men with weapons, he had dismounted toface Deveny--where he had been when Barbara Morgan had recoveredconsciousness.
And while the girl had been stealing away he had been talking to Deveny,though loud enough for all of them to hear.
There was about Harlan as this moment a threat that brought awe into thehearts of Deveny's men--a cold, savage alertness that told them,unmistakably, that the man's rage was at a pitch where the slightestmovement by any of them would precipitate that action for which, plainly,Harlan longed.
"So you got Barbara Morgan?" he said as he stood close to Deveny. Therewas a taunt in his voice, and an irony that made Deveny squirm with fury.
And yet Deveny fought hard for composure. He could see in Harlan's mannersomething akin to what he had seen that day, in Lamo, when Harlan hadbaited him. His manner was the same, yet somehow it was not the same.There was this difference:
In Lamo, Harlan had betrayed the threat of violence that Deveny had felt.But he had seemed to be composed, saturnine--willing to wait. It hadseemed, then, that he wanted trouble, but he would not force it.
Now, he plainly intended to bring a clash quickly. The determination wasin his eyes, in the set of his head, and in his straight, stiff lips.
He seemed to have forgotten the other men; his gaze was on Deveny with aboring
intensity that sent a chill of stealthy dread over the outlaw.
Deveny had faced many men in whose hearts lurked the lust to kill; he hadshot down men who had faced him with that lust in their eyes--and he knewthe passion when he saw it.
He saw it now, in Harlan's eyes--they were wanton--in them wasconcentrated all the hate and contempt that Harlan felt for him. But backof it all was that iron self-control that Deveny had seen in the man whenhe had faced him in Lamo.
Deveny had avoided Harlan since that day. He had known why--and he knewat this minute. It was because he was afraid of Harlan--he feared him asa coward fears the death that confronts him. The sensation waspremonitory. Nor was it that. It _had_ been premonitory--it was now aconviction. In the time, in Lamo, when he had faced Harlan someprescience had warned him that before him was the man whom the fates hadselected to bring death to him.
He had felt it during all the days of Harlan's presence in the section;he had felt it, and he had avoided the man. He felt it now, and hisbreathing grew fast and difficult--his chest laboring as he shrilledbreath into his lungs.
He knew what was coming; he knew that presently Harlan's passion wouldreach the point where action would be imperative; that presently wouldcome that slow, halting movement of Harlan's hands toward his gun--whichgun? He would witness, with himself as one of the chief actors, thehesitating movement which had brought fame of a dread kind to the man whostood before him.
Could he beat Harlan to the "draw?" Could he? That question was dinnedinto his ears and into his consciousness by his brain and his heart. Heheard nothing of what was going on around him; he did not hear Harlan'svoice, though he saw the man's lips moving. He did not see any of the menwho stood near, nor did he see his men, sitting in their saddles,watching him.
He saw nothing but Harlan; felt nothing except the blood that throbbed inhis temples; was conscious of nothing but the question that filled hisheart, his brain, and his soul--could he beat Harlan to the "draw?"
Presently, when he saw, with astonishment, that Harlan was slowly backingaway from him, crouching a little, he divined vaguely that the moment hadcome. And now, curiously, he heard Harlan's voice--low, distinct, even.What an iceberg the man was!
"Haydon's dead," he heard Harlan saying--and he stared at Harlan, findingit difficult to comprehend. "Lafe Woodward killed him," Harlan went on"killed him at the Cache. Now get this straight--all of you." It seemedstrange to Deveny that Harlan seemed to be speaking to the men, whilewatching him, only.
"Woodward was killed, too. His real name was Bill Morgan. He was LaneMorgan's son. Bill Morgan was sent here by the governor, to get evidenceagainst Haydon. He got it. I took it from his pockets when I plantedhim--an' it's goin' straight to the governor.
"You guys are through here--" again he seemed to speak to all the men."Morgan told me he had some men with the Cache gang. They're to ride outan' join my boys--the T Down outfit."
Deveny was conscious that several men detached themselves from the groupof riders he had brought with him, and rode to where the T Down men werestanding. Then Harlan spoke again:
"Now, she shapes up like this. If there's any of the Star gang wantin' togo straight, they can throw in with the T Down boys, too. If there's somethat figure on pullin' their freight out of the valley--an' stayin'out--they can hit the breeze right now--drivin' that Star herd toWillow's Wells, sellin' them, an' dividin' the money. Whoever is takin'up that proposition is startin' right now!"
About half the Star men began to move; heading up the valley. There was amomentary pause, and then those that were left of Deveny's men moveduneasily.
"Does that go for us guys too?"
"It's wide open," announced Harlan, cold humor seeming to creep into hisvoice. "It's your chance to get out of this deal without gettin' what'scomin' to you."
There was a rush and clatter as Deveny's men joined the men of the Star,who were already on the move. And then there followed a long silence,during which Deveny glanced up the valley and saw the men riding away.
He turned again, to face Harlan, with the consciousness that he stoodalone. The T Down men, half of the Star men, and a large proportion ofthe Cache men were standing with Harlan. Deveny saw Colver and Rogersamong those who had aligned themselves with Harlan.
No invitation to withdraw had been extended to Deveny. The knowledgestrengthened his conviction that Harlan intended to kill him. And yet,now, facing Harlan, he knew that he would never take up the slenderthread of chance that was offered him--to draw his gun, kill Harlan andresume his authority over the men who were left.
The possibility, dangling at the other end of the slender thread ofchance, did not allure him. For he knew he could not draw the pistol athis hip with Harlan's gaze upon him--that would be suicide.
"Deveny!"
Harlan's voice, snapping with menace roused him, straightened him,brought an ashen pallor to his face.
"It's your turn, Deveny. You stay here. Flash your gun!"
Here it was--the dreaded moment. Deveny saw the men around him stiffenrigidly; he heard their slow-drawn breaths. The thought to draw his gunwas strong in him, and he fought hard to force his recreant muscles to dothe will of his mind. For an instant he stood, his right hand poisedabove the holster of his pistol, the elbow crooked, ready to straighten.
And then, with the steady, coldly flaming eyes of Harlan upon him,Harlan's right hand extended slightly, the fingers spread a little asthough he was about to offer his hand to the other. Deveny became awarethat he was doing an astonishing thing. He was raising his right hand!
Already it was at his shoulder. And as he marveled, it went higher,finally coming to a level with his head, where it stopped. He hadpublicly advertised his refusal to settle his differences with Harlanwith the pistol.
"Yellow!"
It was Harlan's voice. "You won't fight an' you won't run. Well, we'llkeep you, savin' you for the governor. I reckon he'll be glad to seeyou."
Harlan turned, sheathing his pistol, and began to walk toward his horse,his back toward Deveny.
Then Deveny acted. His eyes flaming hate, he drew his pistol with aflashing movement, his face hideous with malignant passion.
He sent one bullet into Harlan's back and two more as Harlan tumbledforward, sinking to his knees from the shock. But Deveny's two lastbullets went wild, tearing up the grass of the level as the gun loosenedin his hand.
For Rogers' rifle was spitting fire and smoke with venomous rapidity, andDeveny was sinking, his knees doubling under him, his body shudderingwith the impact of each bullet.
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