CHAPTER VI
WINIFRED JUDGES A MAN
There was a puzzled frown in her eyes, a faint flush tingeing her cheeksas, withdrawing her regard from Thornton's departure, she looked toTempleton and asked quickly:
"Why did he call Henry Pollard a rattlesnake?"
A faint smile for a moment threatened to drive the sternness away fromTempleton's lips. But it was gone in a quick tightening of the mouth,and he answered briefly.
"He didn't know that you knew Pollard."
"I don't know him," she reminded him coolly. "You will remember that Ihaven't seen him since I was six years old. I hardly know what he lookslike. But you haven't answered me; why did your imprudent giant call hima rattlesnake?"
"They have had business dealings together," he told her vaguely. "Maybethey have disagreed about something. Men out there are a little given tohard words, I think."
She sat silent, leaning forward, tapping at her boot with her quirt.Then quickly, just as the banker was opening his lips to speak of theother matter, she demanded:
"Why did you call him a fool for bringing the money here? It had to bebrought, hadn't it?"
"Yes! That's just it. It had to be brought and there is not a man in allof the cattle country here who does not know all about the terms of thecontract Thornton and Pollard made. Ten thousand down, five thousand inthree days from now, the other five thousand in six months. Why, rightnow I wouldn't attempt to carry five thousand dollars _in cash_ overthat wilderness trail if there were ten times the amount to come to meat the end of it! It's as mad as this thing you want to do."
"He did it."
"Yes," shortly. "He did it." He gathered up the loose money, pushed abutton set in the table, and upon the prompt appearance of the cashiersaid crisply, "Five thousand to apply on the Pollard-Thornton agreement.Put it in the big safe immediately."
"He looks as though he could take care of himself," the girl saidthoughtfully when the money had gone.
Templeton whirled about upon her, his eyes blazing.
"Take care of himself!" he scoffed. "What chance has a man to take careof himself when another man puts a rifle ball through his back? Whatchance had Bill Varney of the Twin Dry Diggings stage only three weeksago? Varney is dead and the money he was carrying is gone, that's thechance he had! What chance has any man had for the last six months if hecarried five hundred dollars on him and any one knew about it? Theychased off a dozen steers from Kemble's place not three days ago, youyourself know what happened at Drury's road house last night, and nowBuck Thornton rides through the same country with five thousand dollarson him!"
"He did it," she repeated again very softly, her eyes musing.
"And one of these days he's going to find out how simple a matter it isfor a gang like the gang operating in broad daylight in this country nowto separate a fool and his money! The Lord knows how a simple trick likecoming in three days ahead of time fooled them. It won't do it again."
"He is the type of man to succeed," she went on, still musingly.
Templeton shrugged.
"We have our own business on our hands," he said abruptly, looking athis watch. "The stage leaves in half an hour. Are you going to bereasonable?"
Then she stood up and smiled at him very brightly.
"The stage is going its way, Mr. Templeton. I am going mine."
Templeton flung down his pen with an access of irritation which broughta flicker of amusement into the bright grey eyes. But the banker's grimmouth did not relax; there was anger in the gesture with which heslammed a blotter down on the big yellow envelope on which his wet penhad fallen. After his carefully precise fashion he was reaching for afresh, clean envelope when the girl took the slightly soiled one fromhim.
"Thank you," she said, rising and smiling down at him. "But this will dojust as well. And now, if you'll wish me good luck..."
She went out followed by a look of much grave speculation.
Meanwhile Buck Thornton, leading his horse after him, crossed the dustystreet to the Last Chance saloon. At the watering trough he watered hishorse, and then, slackening the cinch a little, he went inside. In thefront part of the long, dreary room was the bar presided over by agentleman in overalls, shirt sleeves and very black hair plastered closeto his low forehead. At the rear was the lunch counter where twoChinamen were serving soup and stew and coffee to half a dozen men.Thornton, with one of his quick, sharp glances which missed nothing inthe room, went to the bar.
"Hello, Blackie," he said quietly.
The bartender, who in a leisure moment had been bending in deepabsorption over an illustrated pink sheet spread on the bar, looked upquickly. For a short second a little gleam as of surprise shone in hisshoe-button eyes. Then he put out his hand, shoving the pink sheetaside.
"Hello, Buck," he cried genially. "Where'd you blow in from?"
"Poison Hole," briefly. He spun a silver dollar on the bar and ignoredthe hand.
Blackie reached for bottle and glass, and putting them before the cowboybestowed upon him a shrewd, searching look.
"What's the news out your way, Buck?"
"Nothing." He tossed off his whiskey, took up his change and went on tothe lunch counter. Several men looked up at him; one or two nodded. Itwas evident that the new owner of the Poison Hole was something of astranger here. He called an order to the Chinaman at the stove, told himthat he'd be back in ten minutes and was in a hurry and went out to hishorse. The bartender watched him go but said nothing.
Within less than ten minutes Thornton had left his sorrel at the stable,seeing personally the animal had its grain, and had come back to thesaloon. Blackie, idle with his gazette unnoticed in front of him, sawhim come in this time.
"In town for a little high life, Buck?" he queried listlessly.
"No. Business." He passed on down toward the lunch counter, and thenswinging about suddenly came back. "Bank business," he added quietly. "Ijust paid my second instalment of five thousand dollars cash!"
For a moment he stood staring very steadily into the bartender's eyes,a great deal of significance in his look. Blackie returned his staresteadily.
"You're lucky, Buck," he offered colourlessly.
"Meaning to get the Poison Hole? Yes. It's the best cow range I eversaw."
"Meanin' to pack five thousan' aroun' in your tail pocket an' get awaywith it with this stick-up gang workin' the country."
Thornton shrugged his shoulders.
"There isn't any gang," he said, speaking as a man who knew. "It's oneman with a confederate here and there maybe to keep him here. Every jobthat has been pulled off yet was a one man job."
Blackie polished his bar and shook his head.
"Jed Macintosh got cleaned out night before last," he retorted. "He'dmade a clean-up right in here playin' stud. They got his wad before he'dgone to the end of the street. That was more than a one man job."
"Did Jed see more than one?" demanded Thornton sharply.
"No. Jed didn't see nothin', I guess. But we all seen the trail theirhorses made goin' through Jed's hayfield. There was three horses anyway."
With no answer to this Thornton turned away, washed at the faucet nearthe back door, and settled his tall form upon one of the high stools atthe counter. He ate hungrily, with no remark to the men upon right andleft of him. But he heard their scraps of talk, noting that the onetopic of conversation here in Dry Town was the work of the "stick-upparty" manifesting itself in such episodes as the robbery and murder ofBill Varney, stage driver, the theft of Kemble's cattle, the "cleanin'"of Jed Macintosh and, finally, the affair of last night at Poke Drury's.He listened with what seemed frank and only mild interest.
"It's a funny thing to me," one little dried-up old man with fiercemoustaches and very gentle eyes was saying, "what we got a sheriff for.This sort of gun play's been runnin' high for nigh on six months now,an' Cole Dalton ain't boarded anybody in his little ol' jail any worse'nhoboes an' drunks for so long it makes a feller wonder what a jail an' asheriff
is for."
"Give him time, Pop," laughed a young rancher at his side. "You know allthat's the matter with Cole Dalton is he's got his election on theRepublican ticket, an' you ain't never saw a man yet as wasn't aDemmycrat as you'd admit was any 'count. Give him time. Cole knows whathe's doin', an' when he does git his rope on Mr. Badman he ain't goin'to need no jail. Cole'll give him a firs' class funeral an' save thecounty a board bill."
Pop grunted, sniffed, and got to his feet to go to the door and watchthe stage pull out. At the rumble and creak of the great lumberingvehicle and the quick thud of the hoofs of the four running horsesseveral men left the lunch counter and followed him. Buck Thornton,finishing his own meal swiftly, went with the others.
Hap Smith took on fresh mail bags in front of the post-office, slammedback his brake, and with his long whip cracking like pistol shots overhis leaders' heads, drove on until he had passed the Last Chance. Andthen he came to a halt again, his coach rocking and rolling on its greatsprings, in front of the bank.
"Hi, there," he yelled mightily. "Git a move on, will you? I'm half aday late now."
Mr. Templeton himself appeared on the instant at the door, a smallstrong box in his hands. He tossed it up into the ready hands of thebull-necked, round-shouldered guard who sat at Hap Smith's side with arifle between his knees, the two passengers craned their necks with muchinterest, the guard bestowed the box under the seat, the driver loosenedhis reins, threw off his brake, and the stage rocked and rumbled downthe street, spattering mud on either hand, racing away upon the last legof its two hundred and fifty mile trip to the last town upon the farborder of the great state.
"And Templeton called me a fool!" mused the tall cattle man, a look ofvast contempt in his stern eyes.
He stood a little behind the other men, looking over their heads. Foronly a fleeting second had his glance rested upon the stage at the bank.Then he looked swiftly at the man in front of him. It was Blackie, thebartender. When Blackie turned abruptly Thornton looked squarely intothe black eyes, seeing there an unusually beady brightness, somethingof the hint of a quick frown upon the thin slick line of the eyebrows.
"Driver and guard will both be needing their shooting irons before theysee the border, Blackie," Thornton said quietly.
And then with a short, insolent laugh he returned for the hat he hadleft hanging upon a nail. Blackie, making no answer, followed, goingbehind his bar. A little dusky red had crept up into his shallow face,his eyes burned hard into Thornton's as the man from the Poison Holecame by him.
"When you goin' back to the range, Buck?" he asked sharply.
"I'm going to start as soon as I can roll a smoke and saddle a horse,"Thornton answered him, a little smile in his eyes. And then, as an afterthought, "I follow the stage road for about ten miles before I turn offon the trail. Wish I could stick with them clean through."
"What for?" demanded Blackie in the same sharp tone.
"Oh, just to see the fun," Thornton told him lightly. "So long,Blackie."
"You seem to be mighty sure something's goin' to be pulled off thistrip."
Thornton hung upon his heel, turning slowly.
"I am, Blackie," he said carelessly. And then, "Say, did you notice thetwo passengers in the stage?"
"No." He put a great deal of emphasis into the denial. "Who was it?"
"I thought you might have noticed. One of them was that crooked eyedjasper I saw you staking to free drinks the last time I was in town."
He stared straight into the smaller man's eyes, saw the colour deepen inhis cheeks, shrugged his big shoulders and went to the door. Several ofthe men who had come back into the room looked after him curiously, thenas though for explanation, into Blackie's narrowed eyes. The bartender'shand dropped swiftly out of sight under his bar. Thornton's back wasturned square upon him. And yet, as though he had seen the gesture andit had been full of significance to him, he whirled with a movement evenquicker than Blackie's had been, and standing loosely, his hands at hisside, looked coolly into the bright black eyes. For a moment no manmoved. Then Blackie, with a little sigh which sounded loudly in thequiet room, brought his hand back into sight, letting his fingers tapupon the bar. Thornton smiled, turned again and stepped quickly out ofthe door.
"As long as they don't get any closer to the Poison Hole it's none of myfuneral," he muttered to himself. "But if they do, I know one little manwho could do a powerful lot of squealing with the proper inducement!"
Not turning once he passed swiftly down the street toward the stable,his meditative eyes upon the rocking stage sweeping on to thesouth-east, already drawing close to the first of the wooded foothills.He waited ten minutes, watching his horse eating, and then saddled androde out toward the hills.
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