"'Lo, King, eavesdropping, eh?" she gibed. "Well, you know what they say about listeners."
Ignoring her, he spoke to his brother. "So yo're still around, huh?"
"Yu see me," Luce retorted. "Get yore guns back?"
The red surged into King's cheeks at the taunt. "Yu'll step in my way once too often, yu fool," he threatened. "For now, make yoreself scarce; I've got somewhat to say to this--lady."
The girl's eyes flashed at the sneer on the last word, but with the sweetest of smiles, she held out her hand to the younger man.
"So long, Luce, and the best of luck," she said. "Come and see me whenever you like." When he had gone, she turned to King and said lightly, "And what does your Majesty want with me?"
He was silent for a moment, his sullen gaze roving over her, absorbing the dark beauty, noting how her soft draperies, wafted by the wanton wind, outlined her perfect figure. She was a picture to stir the pulse of an anchorite, and King Burdette was not that. But she must have a lesson--women, like horses, had to be mastered. So he veiled the admiration in his bold eyes and said brusquely.
"What were yu sayin' to that pup?"
"So you didn't listen?" she countered.
"I was at the back o' the store, an' on'y come out in time to hear yu tellin' the town how brave yu are," he said heavily.
"If it requires courage not to sit up and beg at your order, I have it," she replied. "However, I don't mind informing you that I was trying to cheer up that poor boy, and also, I asked him to warn Green that your outfit is not particular how it squares an account."
"Yu dared?" King stormed.
"Oh, I'm brave--you said so yourself," she mocked. "It is almost my only virtue."
"What's yore interest in that damned cow-wrastler?" he rasped.
She smiled contentedly; he was jealous, and therefore victory was hers. "I like him," she said easily. "We have one quality in common--courage; he gave your hired killer more than an even break."
"I had nothin' to do with that--it was a private affair--I reckon they had met afore," King defended.
"Oh, yeah," she murmured.
"Yu don't believe me?" he queried.
Her eyes twinkled. "As if I could doubt you, George Washington Burdette," she reproached.
The man glared at her. "Lu Lavigne," he said thickly, "One day I shall twist that slim neck o' yores."
"That would be a pity--it has been admired," she smiled. "Now, I've a score of purchases to make. If Your Majesty has no further commands ..." She slanted her eyes at him and waited, demurely obedient.
Burdette was recovering his poise. "Yo're a provokin' little devil," he said. "Lemme come an' help with the shoppin'."
The girl elevated her hands in horror. "Mercy me! And what of my character?" she cried. "It would be all over the town that we were setting up housekeeping together."
"An' why not?" King said eagerly. "Come to the Circle B an'--"
"Take the peerless Miss Purdie's leavings, were you going to say?" she asked sweetly.
The change in his face astounded her; stark fury flamed from his eyes. Through his clenched teeth he hissed, "So the young skunk blabbed, did he? Well, that'll be all, for him. I'll..."
Terrified at the result of her shot in the dark, she hastened to repair the damage. "If you mean Luce, he said nothing to me of Miss Purdie and yourself," she urged. "It was a guess, King, just to tease you, and I'm sorry."
He scowled at her in savage doubt, but the dark eyes met his steadily, and he knew that, whatever her faults, Lu Lavigne was not a liar. He nodded, as though in answer to his own thought.
"I'm takin' yore word. If yu wanta do Luce a good turn, get him to punch the breeze; this place ain't big enough for both of us--an' me, I'm aimin' to stay. Shall I see yu to-night?"
"I can't prevent you. I shall be attending to my business of helping men to forget they are men," she said wearily, and turned away.
King Burdette strode up the street, his mind filled by two women. Honey-coloured hair and blue eyes warred with black hair and eyes until, with a sardonic grin, the man decided there was only one way out of the difficulty--he wanted, and would have, both. "What King Burdette goes after, he gets," he muttered darkly. As for that cursed cow-puncher and Luce, they were obstacles in his way, and must be dealt with. Whitey had failed, and even now that staggering fact seemed hardly credible. A lurid oath escaped his lips, and a small urchin trailing behind, trying to ape the great man's walk, garnered with glee the--to him--unmeaning words.
"Gee! I'll spring that one on Snubby," he promised himself. "Bet it'll make his eyebrows climb some."
The passing of Whitey and the manner of it aroused great excitement in the hunkhouse of the C P, and at once put the new foreman on a pinnacle. The prowess of the dead gunman was not mere hearsay, two of the notches on his guns having been acquired since his appearance in Windy, and it was commonly believed that only one man in the district would have any chance against him in an even break. This was King Burdette, and though the test had never been made, there were those who held him the faster of the two. At supper, on the night following the killing, the point was being discussed.
"King is fast all right, but yu gotta remember that Green let Whitey git his gun a'most clear before he started," Curly pointed out.
"A left-handed shot, an' he put the pill plumb atween the eyes," Moody contributed. "That's shootin'."
"Shorely is," Flatty agreed. "Hi, Bill, why didn't yu warn us that the noo foreman was a six-gun wizard? One of us mighta called him."
"He'd 'a' boxed yore ears," Yago grinned. "Shucks, Jim ain't so much; o' course, I'm not sayin' he's slow exactly . . ."
His deprecatory drawl was drowned by a volley of scathing expletives which brought a broad smile to his leathery countenance; his friend had made good, and the boys would follow him to hell and back again. The talk veered to other topics, and Moody began to relate a snake episode. Now snake stories in the West rank with fishing yarns in the East, and get much the same credence. This one proved no exception.
"I was 'bout half a mile from the line-house when I a'most rode on to a coupla big rattlers thrashin' about in the grass," Moody began. "The funny thing was that though they were fightin' they seemed to be tryin' to git away from one another. Pretty soon I savvied the trouble: they musta bin wrastlin' an' some way had got their tails tied together; o' course, the more they pulled the tighter the knot got, an' there they was, tuggin' an' strikin' like all possessed."
"An' yu got down, untied 'em, an' they lifted their hats, bowed politely, an' went off arm in arm," Curly suggested.
"I did not," the narrator replied. "I blowed the heads off'n them reptiles. If yu don't believe me, ask Strip; I showed 'em to him when we passed the place later. Ain't that so, Strip?"
Levens grinned widely as he said, "Yeah, but I figure yu shot them varmints first an' tied their tails afterwards."
A yell of derision greeted the statement and a rush was made for the tale-teller. In the midst of the ensuing hubbub Yago slipped away and went in search of his foreman. He found him sitting in front of his own quarters, smoking and gazing reflectively at the valley, over which the last rays of the sinking sun were shedding a golden radiance. Squatting beside him, he rolled a smoke, and for a time there was silence. Then, when the red disk had disappeared behind the shoulder of Old Stormy, and the purple shadows were deepening in the hollows, Yago said:
"It was a frame-up, Jim; the Burdettes meant to get yu."
The foreman's slitted eyes rested on him. "Yo're that bright to-night, Bill, I can't hardly bear to look at yu," he said with gentle sarcasm.
"Quit yore foolin'," his friend retorted. "They'll try again; yu gotta keep cases."
"I had a message from Luce sayin' just that," Sudden said.
"From Luce Burdette?" Bill cried amazedly.
"Through him, I oughta said. Actually, it was sent by Mrs. Lavigne."
Yago emitted a snort of disgust. "Hell's bells, Jim, don't yu get
cluttered up with a petticoat," he urged.
"I ain't no right to, anyway, till I've found them ferias," the foreman mused, his mind on the past.
Yago was silent for a while; he knew of the strange quest which had made a wanderer of his companion. Then he blurted out :"They say she's King Burdette's woman."
"Liars are plenty prevalent in places like this," Sudden told him, and smiled into the thickening gloom. "Alla-same, ol'-timer, she sent me the warnin'."
Even had Yago any reply to this, the appearance of Purdie and his daughter would have closed his mouth. The rancher nodded to both.
"Well, yu scotched one snake, Green, but there's others in the nest," he said. "Yu'll need to watch out."
"I'm aimin' to," the foreman smiled, "but yu'll have me all scared to death. Yu just said what Yago was rammin' home, an' before him, Luce Burdette."
"He warned yu? Whyfor, I wonder?" the rancher queried.
"But if he has quarrelled with his brothers, Dad," Nan suggested.
"Bah ! There's somethin' back o' that," the old man grunted.
The girl said no more. She had not dared to tell her father of the scene in the glade and the humiliation to which King Burdette had been subjected, and which--knowing the man--she was sure he would never forget or forgive. It was left to Green to reply.
"I still think yu've got Luce sized up wrong, Purdie," he said quietly, and Nan's heart warmed to him. True, he had shot down a fellow-being less than twenty-four hours ago, but she was Western bred, knew that the fight had been forced upon him, and that he had slain, in self-defence, a man who was not fit to live.
"Have it yore own way, but don't let him get behind yu," the rancher said harshly. "What did the marshal have to say?"
"Just that he didn't want me," the foreman smiled. "Too raw a deal even for him, huh?" Purdie sneered. "Yu'll have to keep an eye on Slype, an' so will Burdette, though he's bought an' paid for him; Slippery's the right name for that fella."
He said good-night, took the girl's arm, and went into the ranch-house.
"Tough ol' citizen, Chris," Yago commented. "My, but ain't he a good hater too? Mind, he'd be just as strong for a friend, but he don't regard young Luce thataway at present, an' I'll bet a month's pay he never will."
"Take yu," the foreman said. "So long, Bill. I'm for the hay.
Yago, left abruptly alone, stared at the closed door of the foreman's shack. "Now why in 'ell did he snatch at that wager?" he muttered in perplexity. "What's he know that I don't? I'm bettin' m'self I lose that bet, cuss him; he's as hard to follow as a flea with its specs on."
The man behind the door listened to the monologue with a smile of contentment. Life had no better gift than a staunch friend, and in Bill Yago he knew he had one who would "stay with him" to the dark doors of death itself. The old dangerous days in the West bred such comradeships, and men fought and died ignominiously because of them.
Chapter XII
ANOTHER week drifted by without any further act of aggression on the part of the Circle B. Sudden had figured that, for the sake of appearances, they would allow a little time to elapse before striking another blow. Whitey's attempt had been, as Purdie put it, somewhat of "a raw deal," and King Burdette knew that, despite his denials, he was commonly reputed to have set the killer on. Overbearing and intolerant though he might be, he was proud of his power in Windy, and did not wish to strain it unduly.
"Make the other fella put hisself in the wrong an' yu take the pot," was how he stated it to his brothers when they complained of inaction.
"Squattin' on our hunkers doin' nothin' don't rid us o' Green," Mart observed sourly.
"Get out yore li'l gun an' go abolish him," King advised. "Mebbe Whitey'll be pleased to see yu."
"Talk sense," snarled the other.
"Right," returned King. "I'll start by sayin' yu ain't neither o' yu got the brains of a rabbit, an' yu better leave the plannin' to me. When I want yu to do anythin' I'll let yu know. Get this into yore thick heads--I ain't asleep. Savvy?"
The proof of this came two days later. The C P foreman was riding along the rim of the deep canyon which formed the eastern boundary of the ranch on his way to the line-house. It was a blazing hot afternoon and he was in no hurry. Suddenly, from the other side of the chasm, came the sharp report of a rifle and a ballooning puff of smoke jetted out from a knob of rock at which he happened to be looking. He was conscious of a stunning shock which flung him out of the saddle, and knew no more.
When sense returned he discovered that he was lying in a grass-covered crevice on the brink of the canyon. His head throbbed with pain, and blood was trickling down his cheek. Gingerly he put up a hand; there was a nasty lump and the scalp was cut. How long he had been there he did not know, but from the position of the sun he judged that nearly an hour had passed. He decided to remain awhile; the hidden marksman might not be satisfied. He contrived a clumsy bandage for his hurt, and, cautiously parting the grasses, provided a peep-hole through which he could watch the spot from whence the shot had come. It seemed to be deserted, and he fell to speculating on what had happened.
"Fools for luck," he told himself. "I was shore invitin' it, paradin' along in the open thataway, an' I damn near got it too. That slug must 'a' hit the buckle of my hatband, an' if I'd been lookin' straight ahead I'd be climbin' the golden stairs right now. Wonder if it's the jasper who cut down on Strip? Wish he'd show hisself."
But the unknown declined to oblige, and after giving him a further chance, Sudden crept from his cover and shivered when he saw how nearly he had missed tumbling headlong to the bottom of the abyss. No shot saluted his appearance, and he concluded that the assassin had departed.
Both hat and horse were missing; the former he could do without, but the latter was a necessity, for he was still half-dazed, tottery on his feet, and his head ached intolerably. Moreover, he thirsted for the rifle under the fender of the saddle; to be set afoot and without a long-range weapon was a situation not to his liking. Nigger, he knew, would not go far after the first scare of the shot and unseating of his rider.
A clump of brush about fifty yards away seemed to be what he was looking for, and he painfully crawled towards it, keeping in the long grass as much as possible. He reached it safely, and from the security of the cover it afforded uttered a low whistle. Almost immediately came an answering whinny, and from a nearby hollow the big black emerged, head up, distended nostrils sniffing the air. Sudden repeated the signal and stepped out. With another whinny, Nigger trotted sedately up and rubbed a velvety muzzle against his master's shoulder.
"Glad to see me, huh, yu ebony rascal?" the puncher grinned, as he pulled the animal's ears. "Well, that goes double. Yu come almighty near losin' yore owner." He climbed painfully into the saddle, and, as the horse essayed a playful pitch, added, "Easy, damn yu; my blame' head feels like it was about ready to fall off."
In the blistering heat of the afternoon Windy's one street was well-nigh deserted. Two or three citizens lolled on the bench beneath the board awning outside "The Lucky Chance," and the marshal, slumped in a chair, decorated his own door a few yards distant. One of the loungers sent a spirt of tobacco juice at a post and watched the greedy rays of the sun lick up the moisture.
"Hell, ain't it hot--an' slow?" he grunted. "Wish suthin' would happen."
Came the quick thud of hammering hoofs, and one of the other men glanced up lazily. "Looks like yu got yore wish," he said. "They's a lunatic a-comin'."
Along the eastern trail a rider was approaching at breakneck speed; they could see the rise and fall of his arm as he plied the quirt to the flanks of a horse already doing its best.
"Year or so back you mighta guessed Injuns, but they've bin quiet a goodish while now," the last speaker continued.
"Shucks! It's Riley, o' the Circle B; reckon he's on'y thirsty."
By this time the panting pony had rocketed along the street and, in a shower of dust, had been pulled to a sudden stop in front of the marshal's quar
ters. The rider, a diminutive, bow-legged man with a hard, sly face, sprang down, and wiping his dust-caked lips with the back of his hand, cried,
"Hey, Slippery, come alive an' git busy."
The marshal tilted back his chair and surveyed the speaker sourly; he had to put up with hectoring from the Burdettes, but he was not going to stand it from their underlings, and he didn't like his nickname.
"What might be yore particular trouble?" he drawled. "Somebody bumped off King, by any chance?"
"If they had, the Circle B wouldn't be botherin' yu," was the blunt reply. "No, sir, but I got a notion the C P is shy a foreman, mebbe."
This statement brought the officer to attention and the loafers from their shelter. With an upraised hand Riley stilled the babble of questions.
"Here's the how of it," he said. "I'm crossin' yore range, marshal, on my way to town, hour or so back. I'm 'bout half a mile from Dark Canyon when I sees Green on the other side of it--can't mistake that black o' his. He's amblin' along casual-like, pointin' for the C P line-house, I figure. Naturally, I ain't interested, an' I'm just turnin' away when there's a shot from that tree-covered bump what sticks up like a wart to the east, an' I sees Green pitch out'n his saddle to the edge o' the canyon; his hoss bolts. Me, I hunt cover plenty rapid, guessin' the gent with the gun has more'n one ca'tridge.
"Nothin' happens for a spell. Green don't show up, an' havin' seen his lid sail into the canyon, I'm bettin' high he's went with it. The fella what did the shootin' must 'a'come to the same conclusion, for presently he busts from his hiding-place an' rides hell-bent for that splash o' pines east."
"Reckernize him?" the marshal asked.
"Too fur away, an' I on'y see his back," Riley replied, "but he was atop of a grey hoss, an' I'd say he was redheaded."
"How in hell?" began the officer.
"He warn't wearin' a hat," the Circle B man explained. "Left it behind or got it tied to his saddle-strings, I s'pose."
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