"Ain't that yore grey, Bent?" asked one, pointing to the dead horse.
"Shore is. Missed him this mornin'--reckoned he'd dragged his picket-pin," the saloon-keeper replied.
"Old Forby's ghost has bin busy," said another. "That brand's bin re-cut, an' what's them blame notches mean, anyways?"
Bartholomew needed but one look. "It's Penton," he said. "How the devil--?"
Martin untied the endofthe rope, lowered the body to the ground, and bent over to examine it.
"Plugged through the forehead," he pronounced. "An' he had his gun out." He pointed to where the weapon lay in a patchofsand. Bart shot a furious look at Severn.
"This is yore work, damn yu!" he snarled. "Yu broke gaol to do it. Well, yu'll be takin' his place."
His rage was largely assumed; inwardly he experienced a feelingofrelief. Pennon knew too much, and also, would have wanted too much. Once Severn was settled with, his way was clear, for he did not doubt he could bring the girl to her senses, and Embley would do what was required or follow Severn. Once again Lufton called on the sheriff to perform his duty, and Tyler moved forward, only to shrink back when a gun was thrust in his face.
"I warn you all that the act you are about to commit is unlawful," the judge quavered.
Jeers answered him. The finding of Penton's body had put the finishing touch, bringing to the surface the blood lust that lies dormant in most men. Pulled from his horse, the prisoner was placed beneath the tree, the rope flung over the branch and gripped by three self-appointed executioners. Standing there, waiting for the word which would hurl him into eternity, Severn gazed indifferently at the ring of brutal faces. Behindthem he could see Larry, furious with despair, Bent, and someofthe more sober citizens. Bartholomew, Lufton and the sheriff were standing together, and a few yards away, leaning against a tree, was Snap Lunt, apparently taking no interest in the proceedings. But Severn was not deceived, and wondered what desperate scheme the gunman was devising; for he knew Snap, knew that he would face any odds and go down biting to the last.
A little breeze which tempered the heat of the sun and stirred the leaves to a gentle murmur, the pipingofthe birds, and the gurgling laughterofthe water as it tumbled over the stones in the creek-bed, combined to create a scene violently at variance with the tragedy about to be enacted.
Chapter XXII
SOON after the procession to Forby's had set out on its missionofvengeance, a visitor came riding into Hope. He was a short, rather corpulent man of about fifty, dressed in a dark coat, trousers folded neatly into the topsofhis high boots, a soft black hat, and carefully-tied cravat. He wore no weapons in sight. As he progressed along the forsaken street his amazement increased, and presently, seeing a slatternly woman at an open door, he pulled up and removed his hat, revealing a cropofiron- grey hair.
"Pardon me, ma'am, but the town seems somewhat deserted," he smiled.
"Aye, all the crazy fool men is gone to the hangin'," she told him. `Why, I had to whup my boy what's on'y eight, or he'd 'a' bin off too."
"The hanging?" repeated the visitor.
"Shore, yu know what a hangin' is, I reckon," she replied. "They tried a man this mornin' an' now they've gone to string him up. Fine-lookin' fella, too; not my idea of a bad 'un, but yu can't go by looks. They say he robbed the bank here an' murdered his boss."
"Then he deserves to swing," the stranger decided. "What was his name?"
"Severn he called hisself, but they claim he's Sudden, the famous outlaw," the woman said.
At this she saw the man straighten up in his saddle, and when he spoke again his voice had an edge.
"Where is the hanging to take place?"
"Over to Forby's. It ain't far, though why they want to go trapesin' about when there's trees a-plenty close here I dunno, but men'll allus snatch a chance to waste time."
The stranger dived into a pocket, produced a five-dollar bill and held it out. "I'll be obliged if your little boy will guide me there," he said. "I promise he shan't see any hanging."
The woman grabbed the money, and in response to her shrill call, a barefooted, tear-stained urchin appeared.
"Abe, yo're to show the gent the way to Forby's, but if I find yu've saw the hangin', I'll take the hide off'n yu," she warned.
The horseman stooped, lifted the child to the saddle in frontofhim, thanked the woman, and rode away.
"The shortest road, Abe," he said. "Get there in time and there's a dollar for you. If we're too late ..."
He did not finish the sentence, but the pleasant, genial tone had gone from his voice, and there was no warmth in the keen grey eyes.
Mad Martin, who had constituted himself master of ceremonies, placed his hands on his hips and contemplated the condemned man with mocking malice.
"This is where I even up, Severn," he hissed. "An' as for that dawg, I'm agoin' to cut him in strips with my quirt when yo're --gone."
"Mind he don't send yu after Penton, yu polecat," the cowpuncher retorted.
White with fury, Martin was about to give the signal to those at the rope, when someone shouted, "Who's this a-comin'?"
On the eastern sideofthe glade, through a break in the trees, three riders came in sight, spurring weary horses to a last gallop. Bartholomew gave one glance, muttered a curse, and shouted:
"Finish him off."
"At the first pull on that rope yu die, Bartholomew, an' the fellas holdin' it follow yu."
It was Snap Lunt's voice, vibrant with menace. Standing in a half crouch, his back protected by the tree-trunk, he had both guns levelled, one of them directly covering the Bar B man.
"Who are yu, an' what are yu hornin' in for?" the rancher roared.
"My name's Snap Lunt, an' I'm just seein' fair, that's all," the lintle man said quietly. "Yu can hang that fella just as easy in ten minits' time, when we know what these folk want. Mebbe they're just honin' to see the hangin'."
The name sent a quiverofexcitement through the crowd, and the men holding the rope dropped it; they were taking no chances with a marksmanofSnap's reputation for accuracy;moreover, two or them had been present at Severn's arrest, when the gunman had an attackof"nerves". Bartholomew, too, was nonplussed, and before he could thinkofany expedient, the newcomers had arrived.
"Thank God, we're in time!" Judge Embley gasped, as he flung himself from his panting animal and helped Phil to dismount.
The thirdofthe party, a smallish, one-eyed man, whom someofthose present remembered seeing once or twice in town, got down more leisurely, and stood surveying the scene indifferently. No one took much notice of him, all interest being centred on the girl and Embley. The latter walked straight to his fellow-jurist.
"What's the meaningofthis, Lufton?" he inquired. "Surely I don't find you assisting at a lynching?"
"Certainly not; I came here to prevent one," Lufton replied indignantly. "I have protested in vain."
"And Mr. Bartholomew, has he protested?" Embley asked witheringly.
Lufton flushed. "He has given me every assistance," he said stiffly.
"Even to tellin' his men to finish the prisoner off when he saw yu were comin'," Bent put in.
"Is that so?" Embley flashed.
"I didn't know it was yu," Bartholomew lied, with a savage look at the saloon-keeper. "I thought it was a rescue party from his ranch, an' didn't want trouble. Anyway, I don't see that yore arrival makes any difference; we're strong enough to do as we like, I guess."
"Better guess again, Bartholomew," Embley smiled. "Unless I'm mistaken there are folk coming now who'll have a word to say."
In fact, the distant drumofpounding hoofs was audible, and away off on the plain a compact bodyofhorsemen was approaching at full speed. The Bar B man's face darkened as he saw that this new factor was composedofabout a dozen men from the XT and Lazy M. An awkward bunch, but his supporters outnumbered them, and if it came to a pitched battle... He turned arrogantly to Embley as the punchers dashed up, pulled their sweating, foam-flecked ponies to a halt, and whooped with del
ight when they saw Severn standing there, a grinofwelcome on his lean face.
"Well, what d'yu reckon yu can do?" Bartholomew sneered. "Hope is under my jurisdiction; I can order the case to be reheard," Embley replied.
Lufton's face crimsoned. "It would be most unconventional to re-try a guilty man," he protested.
"It would be a damn sight more unconventional to hang an innocent one," snapped the other.
The principal actor in the drama, the condemned man, watched the proceedings unperturbed. He had removed the noose from his neck and was leaning carelessly against the tree which had so nearly been put to a more sinister use. With Embley there, he was content to await the issue. His friends, at a whispered word from Ridge, had kept their saddles and strung out in a half-circle, ready for instant action. Bartholomew's men, too, sullen and savage-looking, were also prepared. Only a spark was needed to start the conflagration.
"An' who's goin' to re-try the case, yu, the prisoner's pal, or Lufton?" Bartholomew asked jeeringly.
"That's a question I can perhaps settle for you, gentlemen," said a quiet voice, and the stout little man who had found the townofHope deserted, walked forward. So absorbed were the spectators, that his advent had not been noticed.
Embley spun round and his face lit up when he saw the speaker. "Bleke ! " he exclaimed. "I never in my life was so glad to see you. How in the name f--?"
The little stranger shrugged his shoulders and smiled whimsically. "Just happened along," he said.
He nodded to Lufton, whose unwholesome face was now the colourofcheese, and looked curiously at Black Bart.
"Mr. Bartholomewofthe Bar B, Governor," Embley introduced.
"I've heardofhim," Bleke said in a non-committal tone, and did not offer his hand.
The rancher's face paled under its tan, and his rage at this unexpected development nearly stifled him. But he had to control; all hopeofimposing his will by force had now gone, for hard and reckless as his outfit was, the men would not risk outlawry. He listened contemptuously while Lufton, concerned now only with his own safety, told the storyofthe trail. When he had finished, the Governor nodded comprehendingly.
"I can review the case, take any fresh evidence you may have, Embley, and order a new hearing if I deern it necessary," he decided. "I will do that now. It is not ften one is able to administer the law in such charming surroundings." He walked over to a fallen tree-trunk and sat down. "This will serve for the judicial bench, and the lady shall share it," he smiled. "I am afraid the restofyou will have to stand."
Wondering and wholly impressed by this quiet little man with the shrewd, dominating grey eyes, the citizens crowded round. There were scowling, sulky faces among them, but no one ventured a protest. The nearest approach to it came from Bart.
"Keep an eye on the prisoner--he ain't cleared yet," he audibly told his followers.
"As he returned to gaol voluntarily, I doubt if he will run away, Mr. Bartholomew," the Governor commented. "But he shall stand inside the ring on my left, and if you will take the opposite position, you will be able to watch him yourself."
The rancher scowled but complied. Severn noticed that Snap had contrived to secure a place just behind where he himself was standing.
The Governor turned to Lufton. "I should like to see the evidence the prisoner produced," he began.
He compared the writing in the account-book carefully with the two slips and then looked at Bartholomew.
"You think these are forgeries?"
"Don't think a-tall--I know they are," retorted the rancher. "Very clever ones," Bleke said dryly, and Lufton squirmed uncomfortably. "Let us have your story, Embley."
The Judge gave a brief but complete accountofhis abduction and subsequent interview with the owner of the Bar B, and then, at the requestofthe Governor, Phil told her experience. When she had ended, Bleke turned to Bartholomew.
"What influence had you over these outlaws?"
"The chiefof'em owed his life to me."
"And when you failed and returned to Hope, why didn't you organise a rescue?" asked the Governor.
"I gave a promise--that was the condition--an' I keep my word, even to such as them," Bart retorted.
"How did you get these bills?" was the next question.
"Never had 'em. Severn lied when he said he found 'em in my desk," the big man replied.
He was recovering his assurance, and his lips curled contemptuously. At a gesture from Embley, the man Patch stepped forward, and the lawyer said sharply :
"This is the Governor of the Territory. Take your hat off, fellow."
The witness shuffled his feet and looked embarrassed. "If His Excellency don't mind, I'd ruther not for a while," he replied huskily.
Bleke waved a hand impatiently. "It doesn't matter," he said. "Tell your tale and see that it's the truth, or I shall know how to deal with you."
Standing there, his hat slouched over his face and his thumbs hooked in his belt, the bandit shot a covern glance at Bartholomew, who was watching him uneasily. The rancher was feeling uncomfortable; he had taken little notice of the fellow when he had ridden in, but he now knew him for oneofthe White Masks.
"I'll start with the bank robbery, though that ain't the beginning," the witness said, his voice low, hoarse, but pitched so that all could hear. "I was one o' the two who went in; the man who held the horses is--dead." A spasmofsatisfaction flitted across Bart's face at the news. "I didn't fire the shot that downed Rapson."
"Who did?" Bleke asked.
The witness pointed. `Bartholomew," he answered.
Gaspsofamazement, mingled with burstsofderisive laughter, those of the accused being the loudest, followed the statement. "Why, yu darnn fool, less'n half an hour after the robbery I was in town organisin' a posse to search out the thieves," the Bar B man sneered.
"Yeah, a mile outa town yu left us, changed yore clothes an' hoss for others yu had cached, rode around through the brush an' come into Hope from the other side," Patch said, adding quietly, "I follered yu."
"It's a cursed lie, an' I'll twist yore--"
"Let the man tell his story; I'll listen to you afterwards, Bartholomew," the Governor intervened. He handed the alleged forgeries to Patch, and asked, "What do you knowofthose?"
"Bartholomew wrote 'em," was the unhesitating reply. "Ignacio had orders to wipe Severn out, an' got wiped out hisself."
"Ignacio's alive now," the Bar B man protested.
"I saw him shot," the witness went on stolidly. "He ambushed Severn an' got what he deserved. The abduction o' Miss Masters an' the plantin' o' the stolen bills at the Lazy M were done by Bartholomew's orders, an' Severn's money was taken to him. Bartholomew was The Mask."
The rancher laughed scornfully.
"Yu've taught this skunk--a confessed outlaw and thief--a pretty tale to save yore friend's hide, ain't yu, Embley?" he jeered.
The lawyer directed his answer to the Governor. "I did not know what this man was going to say," he explained. "He enabled us to escape, and insisted upon accompanying us, giving no reason."
Bleke nodded, his grey eyes cold and his features expressionless. For the time he was a judge, without friends or foes, there to weigh impartially the evidence put before him.
"What do you know about Masters?" he asked.
"A goodish bit," Panch replied. "I know that when he lost his wife it broke him up; he let go all holts an' went on the batter, drinkin' an' gamblin' with a mighty hard crowd. There come a day when the Desert Edge stage is held up an' the driver killed. Some here'll remember it."
A chorusofconfirmatory nods, grunts and "Yu betchas" greeted the statement.
"Well, that job was pulled off by the gang Masters was hellin' around with," Patch continued. "He come out of a drunken daze the rnornin' after it happened, an' was told that he'd not on'y took part in the robbery, but done the shootin', an' he was shown a paper to that effect, signed by one o' the others. Not bein' able to recollect where he was the day before, he believed it. The
fella that had the paper promised it'd never be used--said he got it as a protection for the rest. As yu know, the road-agents never were traced.
"The shock of it jolted Masters straight agin. He gave up racketin' about an' went back to his ranch, but he wasn't the same man; the memory o' that mad crime--for he didn't doubt he'd done it--preyed on his mind, an' then the devil that held that damnin' evidence began to prey on him, too."
He paused a moment. The silence was broken only by the birds and the stamping hoofsofrestless horses. The Bar B owner had lost his look of scornful unbelief, and there was fear in his eyes. He glanced furtively round, but he was hemmed in; there was nothing for it but to brazen things out. After all, they could have no prof; Masters was dead, and so were the others.
"At first it was only small sumsofmoney," the witness went on, "but they grew in size until at last Masters could raise no more. Then he had to give cattle, an' he began to see that nothin' less than his ranch an' his daughter would satisfy this human leech who, in the guiseofa friend, was suckin' him dry. He looked round for some way o' savin' what was left o' his property, an' the idea came to him that if he warn't there, the power o' the blackmailer would be gone. So he put a trustworthy man in charge o' the Lazy M, an' then--faded."
"And the nameofthis--blackmailer?" the Governor asked. Patch pointed again. "Bartholomew," he said quietly.
The rancher had known what was coming and was ready. He swept off his hat and bowed ironically to the Desert Edge lawyer.
"Embley, I gotta hand it yu, yo're a good romancer, an' yore pupil done it damn well," he said. "But talk is easy an' don't prove nothin'." He turned to the man who had so boldly accused him. "How comes it yu know such a helluva lot about Masters? Mebbe yu killed him yoreself."
The outlaw considered the matter for a moment and then said deliberately, "I s'pose I did, in a manner o' speakin'." A threatening murmur came from where the Lazy M outfit stood, and hearing it he flung up his head and laughed. "Aw right, boys," he cried, and the huskiness had gone from his voice, "don't get het up; I'm goin' to bring yore boss to life agin."
With a quick gesture he whipped off his hat, took the parch from his eye, and said, "Phil".
Sudden Law o The Lariat (1935) Page 19
