CHAPTER XIX
HARLAN JOINS THE GANG
At the edge of the big level, where it merged into the floor of thebasin, Harlan drew Purgatory to a halt. For an instant he sat in thesaddle scrutinizing a section of buffalo grass that fringed a clump ofwillows near the almost dry bed of the river that doubled slightly as itcame from the basin. Something in the appearance of the grass hadattracted his attention--it was matted, as though something had lain orrolled in it.
He rode closer, cautiously, for the little trees formed a covert behindwhich any one of several dangers might lie concealed--and looked down atthe grass. As he examined the place his lips twisted into a grim smile,and his eyes grew bright with comprehension.
He rode around the clump of trees, making sure it was not occupied; thenhe dismounted.
Someone had been concealed in the covert for many days--a man. For he sawthe imprints of heels, and indentations where spurs had gashed the earth.The marks were all fresh--recently made. While he watched he saw someblades of the long grass slowly rise--as though, relieved from somepressure that had been upon them, they were eager to regain an uprightposition. He also saw scraps of food--jerked beef and biscuit--scatteredhere and there.
He frowned, convinced that for days a man had occupied the covert,watching the Rancho Seco; convinced also, that the mystery he had sensedsome days ago had been man-made, as he had felt. The man who had beenthere had been a sentinel, a spy, sent by Deveny or Haydon to observe hismovements, and to report them, of course, to one or the other of the twooutlaws.
Harlan remounted Purgatory. His caution had not been wasted, and hisvigilance in guarding the ranchhouse must have been irritating to the manwho had been watching.
He urged Purgatory on again--heading him westward, as before. And when hereached the crest of a slight rise in the valley--from where he could seethe trail as it twisted and undulated around hills and into depressions--hesaw, far up the valley--and yet not so far, either--not more than twomiles--a horseman, riding slowly--away from him.
The horseman was the spy, of course. Harlan had no doubt that if helingered in the vicinity of the covert long enough he would discover theplace where the horse had been concealed. But that was not important, nowthat he had discovered enough to satisfy himself that there had been aspy--and so he rode on, smiling faintly, knowing that the rider washeaded into the valley--possibly to the outlaw rendezvous to appraiseDeveny and the others of his coming.
The trail was clearly defined, and there were places where it ran overbroad levels of grass where he presented a good target to men who mightbe eager to send a shot at him. There were other spots where the trailled into timber clumps and through tangles of brush where an ambuscademight be planned in perfect safety by an enemy; and there were thebastioned cliffs that towered above the trail at intervals, offeringadmirable hinding-places for any man with hostile intentions.
Harlan, however, rode steadily, outwardly unconcerned; inwardly convincedthat no attempt would be made to ambush him. For Haydon has passed thatway on his return to the Star, and Harlan had no doubt that since theincident of the smile and the wink, Haydon had passed word that he wasnot to be molested.
Haydon would be curious--as he had been curious at the Rancho Seco--tolearn the significance of the smile and the wink. Haydon would want todiscover just how much Harlan knew about the murder of Lane Morgan; andhe would want to know what Harlan knew of the gold that Morgan hadsecreted. And so Harlan rode on, watching the country through which hepassed, but feeling assured there would be no shot to greet him from oneof the many natural vantage-points he encountered.
He rode for an hour, not making very good time, for it was a new trail,and he was examining the country intently as he passed, fixing it in hismemory for future convenience, perhaps--no one ever knew just when itmight be necessary to use one's knowledge--when he reached a low ridgewhich crossed the valley.
Here he halted Purgatory and gazed about him.
Before him stretched a green grass level, about two miles long, runningthe entire width of the valley. It was dotted with mesquite, sage, andhere and there the thorny blade of a cactus rose. Some cattle weregrazing on the level; they were several miles south, and he could seesome horsemen near them.
He decided he must be close to the Star; and he urged Purgatory on again,down upon the level, toward some timber that grew at the farther edge ofthe level. Just as he slipped down the slope of the ridge, he saw, farahead of him, the horseman he had seen when he had entered the valley.The horseman was on the crest of a bald hill--low, and small--but Harlancaught a glimpse of him as he crossed it, riding fast.
Harlan smiled again, and rode on his way, resuming his scrutiny of thecountry.
The valley was mighty, magnificent; it deserved all the praise BarbaraMorgan had heaped upon it. From the low mountain range on the north tothe taller mountains southward, it was a virgin paradise in which reigneda peace so profound that it brought a reverent awe into the soul of thebeholder.
It thrilled Harlan despite the certain blase, matter-of-fact attitude hehad for all of nature's phenomena; he found himself admiring the majesticbuttes that fringed it; there was a glint of appreciation in his eyes forthe colossal bigness of it--for the gigantic, sweeping curves whichseemed to make of it an oblong bowl, a cosmic hollow, boundless, hintingof the infinite power of its builder.
The trail that ran through it, drawled to threadlike proportions by themightiness of the space through which it ran, was, for the greater partof the distance traveled by Harlan, a mere scratch upon a low rock ridge.And as he rode he could look down upon the floor of the valley, green andinviting.
When he entered the timber at the edge of the grass level, he wasconscious of a stealthy sound behind him. He turned quickly in thesaddle, to see a man standing at the edge of some brush that fringed thetrail.
The man was big, a heavy black beard covered his chin and portions of hischeeks; his hat was drawn well down over his forehead, partiallyshielding his eyes.
A rifle in his hands was held loosely, and though it appeared that theman did not intend to use the weapon immediately, Harlan could see thathis right forefinger was touching the trigger, and that the muzzle of theweapon was suggestively toward him.
For the past few miles of his ride Harlan had been expecting anapparition of this sort to appear, and so he now gave no sign ofsurprise. Instead, he slowly raised both hands until they were on a levelwith his shoulders--and, still twisted about in the saddle, he grinnedfaintly at the man.
"From now on I'm to have company, eh?" he said.
The man smirked grimly at him.
"You've hit it," he answered. "You're Harlan, ain't you? 'Drag' Harlan,the Pardo two-gun man?"
The man's eyes were glowing with interest--critical, almost cynical, andthey roved over Harlan with a probing intensity that left no doubt inHarlan's mind that the man had heard of him and was examining him withintent to discover what sort of a character he was.
Apparently satisfied--and also plainly impressed with what he saw, theman grinned--this time almost genially--and answered Harlan's affirmativenod with:
"Well, Haydon is expectin' you. You c'n let your paws down--takin' a heapof care not to go to foolin' with your guns. I ain't takin' them; Haydondidn't say anything about it. You're ridin' that trail that forks off tothe left."
Harlan lowered his hands, resting them on the pommel of his saddle, androde on, taking, as advised, a narrow trail that diverged from the othera short distance from where he had met the man. As he struck the othertrail he heard the man coming behind him--on a horse.
There were no further words. Harlan kept to the trail, riding slowly; theman behind him following at a short distance.
In this manner they rode for perhaps a mile. Then the timber grew sparse,and Purgatory and his rider at last emerged upon a level that extendedabout a hundred feet and then sloped down abruptly to another level,through which flowed a narrow stream of water, shallow and clear.
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p; Close to the bank of the stream was an adobe ranchhouse, and surroundingit were several other buildings. At a slight distance from the house wasa corral in which were several horses. In front of a bunkhouse wereseveral men who, when they saw Harlan and the other man coming, facedtoward them and stood, motionless, watching.
The men maintained silence as Harlan rode to the ranchhouse and sat inthe saddle, awaiting the pleasure of his escort. He saw the latter grinat the other men as he passed them; and he grinned at Harlan as hebrought his horse to a halt near Purgatory and dismounted.
"I reckon you're to git off an' visit," he said; "Haydon is inside." Ashe dismounted and trailed the reins over the head of his beast he cast asharp, critical eye over Purgatory.
"There's a heap of hoss in that black, eh?"
"Plenty." Harlan got down and ran a hand over Purgatory's neck, whiletrailing the reins over his head. "Man-killer," he warned. "Don't touchhim. He ain't been rode by nobody but me, an' he won't stand for nobodyfoolin' around him."
Harlan had raised his voice until he was sure the men in front of thebunkhouse heard him; then he grinned genially at them all and followedthe black-bearded man into the ranchhouse.
An instant later, in a big room which had the appearance of an office,Harlan was confronting Haydon.
The latter was sitting in a chair at a desk, and when Harlan enteredHaydon got up and grinned at him, shallowly, without mirth.
"So you got here," he said; "I've been expecting you."
"I've been notin' that. That guy you left at the edge of the level tokeep an eye on the Rancho Seco didn't cover his tracks. I run ontothem--an' I saw him hittin' the breeze--comin' here. I reckon nobody issurprised." Harlan grinned widely.
"So you noticed that," said Haydon, answering Harlan's grin. "Well, Idon't mind admitting that we've kept an eye on you. You've had meguessing."
Haydon's manner was that of the man who is careful not to say too much,his constraint was of the quality that hints of a desire to becomeconfidential--a smooth, bland courtesy; a flattering voice--encouraging,suggesting frankness.
Harlan's manner was that of a certain reckless carelessness. He seemed tobe perfectly at ease, confident, deliberate, and unwatchful. He knewHaydon was an outlaw; that the men who had been grouped in front of thebunkhouse were members of Haydon's band; he knew the man who had escortedhim to the Star had been deliberately stationed in the timber to watchfor him. And he had no doubt that other outlaws had lain concealed alongthe trail to observe his movements.
He knew, too, that he had placed himself in a precarious predicament--thathis life was in danger, and that he must be exceedingly careful.
Yet outwardly he was cool, composed. With Haydon's eyes upon him he drewa chair to a point near the desk, seated himself in it, drew out paperand tobacco, and rolled a cigarette. Lighting it, he puffed slowly,watching while Haydon dropped into the chair he had vacated at Harlan'sappearance.
When Haydon dropped into his chair he grinned admiringly at Harlan.
"You're a cool one, Harlan," he said; "I've got to say that for you. Butthere's no use in four-flushing. You've come here to tell me somethingabout the chain. Where did you find it?"
"At Sentinel Rock--not far from where you plugged Lane Morgan."
"You're assuming that I shot Morgan?" charged Haydon.
"Morgan was assumin', too, I reckon," grinned Harlan. "He told me it wasyou who shot him--he saw your face by the flash of your gun. An' he toldme where to look for the chain--him not knowin' it was a chain--butsomethin'."
Haydon's eyes gleamed with a cold rage--which he concealed by passing ahand over his forehead, veiling his eyes from Harlan. His lips werewreathed in a smile.
"Why didn't you tell me that the other day--the first time I met you?"
Harlan laughed. "I was havin' notions then--notions that I'd be playin'her a lone hand."
"And now?" Haydon's eyes were steady with cold inquiry.
"I've got other notions. I'm acceptin' Deveny's invitation to throw inwith you."
Haydon was silent for an instant, and during the silence his gaze metHarlan's fairly. By the humorous gleam in Harlan's eyes Haydon divinedthat the man could not be misled--that he knew something of the situationin the valley, and that he had come here with the deliberate intention ofjoining the outlaw band.
There was, as Haydon had intimated, little use for an attempt atequivocation or pretense. It was a situation that must be faced squarelyby both himself and Harlan. Harlan's reputation, and his action inkeeping secret from Barbara Morgan the identity of her father's murderer,indicated sincerity on the man's part. And since Harlan knew him to bethe murderer of Morgan it would be absurd for Haydon to pretend that hehad no connection with Deveny's band. He could not fool this man.
Yet a jealous hatred of Harlan was thinly concealed by the steady smilewith which he regarded his visitor. He had felt the antagonism of Harlanthat day when he had talked with him at the bunkhouse door; Harlan'smanner that day had convinced him that Harlan was jealous of hisattentions to Barbara Morgan. Also, there was in his heart a professionaljealousy--jealousy of Harlan's reputation.
For this man who sat in his chair so calmly, with danger encompassinghim, was greater than he. Haydon knew it. Had there been any doubt in hismind on that score it must have been removed by a memory of the manner inwhich his men had received the news that Harlan had left the Rancho Secoand was on his way up the valley.
The rider Harlan had seen had come in with that news--and Haydon had beenstanding with the group at the bunkhouse when the man arrived. And he hadnot failed to note the nervous glances of some of the men, and therestless eagerness, not unmixed with anxiety, with which they watched thetrail.
And now, facing Harlan, he felt the man's greatness--his especial fitnessfor the career he had adopted. Harlan was the ideal outlaw. He was cool,deep, subtle. He was indomitable; he felt no fear; his will wasinflexible, adamant. Haydon felt it. The fear he had experienced at hisfirst meeting with Harlan had endured until this minute--it was strong asever.
Yet he admired the man; and knew that since he had come to the valley hemust be considered an important factor. Haydon could not flatly tell himto get out of the valley; he could not order him away from the RanchoSeco. Harlan was in control there--for the rider who had come in with thenews that Harlan had set out for the valley had also apprised Haydon ofthe coming, to the Rancho Seco, of the men of the T Down outfit.
The rider had not been able to tell Haydon who the men were, of course;but it made little difference. They were friends of Harlan's, for theyhad come from the direction of the desert--from Pardo.
It was plain to Haydon that Harlan had come to the valley to stay. It wasequally plain that he must be either propitiated or antagonized. He feltthat Harlan was giving him his choice.
"What do you want--if you throw in with us?" Haydon asked, following thetrend of his own thoughts.
"That's straight talk," said Harlan. "I'm givin' you a straight answer.If I join your bunch I join on the same footing with you an'Deveny--nothin' less. We split everything three ways--the other boystakin' their regular share after we take ours. I bring my boys in underthe rules you've got that govern the others. I run the Rancho Seco--noone interferin'. When I rustle up that gold old Morgan hid, we split itthree ways. Barbara Morgan goes with the ranch--no one interferin'."
Color surged into Haydon's face.
"You don't want much, do you?" he sneered.
"I want what's comin' to me--what I'm goin' to take, if I come in. That'smy proposition. You can take it or leave it."
Haydon was silent for an instant, studying Harlan's face. What he sawthere brought a frown to his own.
"Harlan," he said softly, "some of the boys feel a little resentful overthe way you sent Dolver and Laskar out. There are several friends ofthose two men outside now. Suppose I should call them in and tell themthat the bars are down on you--eh?"
If Haydon expected his threat to intimidate Harlan, he was mistaken.
Harlan sat, motionless, watching the outlaw chief steadily. And into hiseyes came a glitter of that cold contempt which Haydon had seen in themon the day he had faced Harlan near the bunkhouse at the Rancho Seco.
"You're doin' the honors, Haydon," he said. "If you're that kind of acoyote I don't want to deal with you. If you think you want to pass up ashare of that hundred thousand, start yappin' to them boys. It's likelythere's some of them hangin' around, close. Mebbe you've got some of thempeekin' around corners at me now. I ain't runnin' from no trouble thatcomes my way. Get goin' if you're yearnin' to requisition the mourners."
Rage over the threat was now plain in his eyes, for they were aflame witha cold fire as he got up from his chair and stood, crouching a little,his hands lingering near the butts of his guns.
Haydon did not move, but his face grew pallid and he smiled nervously,with shallow mirth.
"You are not in a joking mood today, Harlan?" he said.
"There's jokes, _an'_ jokes, Haydon. I've come here in good faith. I'vebeen in camps like this before--in Kelso's, Dave Rance's, BlondyLarkin's, an' some others. Them men are outlaws--like you an' me; an'they've done things that make them greater than you an' me--in our line.But I've visited them, free an' easy--goin' an' comin' whenever Ipleased. An' no man threatenin' me.
"Your manners is irritatin' to me--I'm tellin' you so. I'm through!You're takin' me out, now--back to the Rancho Seco. You're ridin' behindme--minus your guns, your mouth shut tighter than you ever shut itbefore. An' if there's any shootin' you'll know it--plenty!"
Harlan had brought matters to a crisis--suddenly, in a flash. The timefor pretense had gone. Haydon could accept Harlan upon the terms he hadmentioned, or he could take up the man's challenge with all itimplied--bitter warfare between the two factions, which would beunprofitable to both, and especially to Haydon.
It was for Haydon to decide; and he sat for some seconds motionless inthe chair, before he spoke.
Then he got up--taking care to keep his right hand at a respectabledistance from the butt of his pistol, and smilingly held out his hand.
"It goes your way, Harlan--we take you in on your terms. I beg yourpardon for saying what I did. That was just to try you out. I've heard alot about you, and I wanted to see if you were in earnest--if you reallywanted to come in. I'm satisfied."
They shook hands; their gaze meeting as they stood close together. Thegaze endured for an instant; and then Haydon's fell. The handshake lastedfor several seconds, and it was curious to see how Haydon's eyes, afterthey had become veiled from Harlan's by the drooping lids, glowed with amalignant triumph and cunning.
It was also curious to note that something of the same passion wasrevealed in Harlan's eyes as they rested on the partially closed lids ofthe other--for there was triumph there, too--and comprehension, and craftof a kind that might have disturbed Haydon, had he seen it.
Then their hands parted, mutually, and Haydon grinned smoothly and withapparent cordiality at Harlan. He grasped Harlan by an elbow and urgedhim toward the door through which the latter had entered.
"I'll give you a knockdown to the boys, now--those that are here," hesaid.
An hour later--after Haydon and the dozen men to whom he had introducedHarlan had watched Harlan ride eastward through the valley toward theRancho Seco--Haydon rode westward, accompanied by several of the men.
They rode for many miles into the heart of the big basin, coming at lastto a gorge that wound a serpentine way southward, through some concealinghills, into a smaller basin. A heavy timber clump grew at the mouth ofthe gorge, hiding it from view from the trail that ran through thevalley. Some rank underbrush that fringed the timber gave the mouth ofthe gorge the appearance of a shallow cave, and a wall of rock, forming aragged arch over the entrance, heightened the impression. At first glancethe place seemed to be impenetrable.
But the horsemen filed through easily enough, and the underbrush closedbehind them, so that, had they been seen, the watcher might have beenstartled by their sudden disappearance.
Near the center of the little basin stood a huge cabin, built of adobe,with a flat roof. In a small corral were a number of cattle. Grazing uponthe grass, with which the place was carpeted, were many horses; andlounging in the grass near the cabin, and upon some benches that rangedits walls, were perhaps a dozen men, heavily armed.
Several of the men grinned as the newcomers rode in and dismounted, andone or two spoke a short greeting to Haydon, calling him "Chief."
Haydon did not linger to talk with the men, though; he dismounted andentered the cabin, where, an instant later, he was talking with Deveny.
Haydon's eyes were still triumphant--glowing with a malignantsatisfaction.
"He's wise--and dead tickled to join," he told Deveny, referring toHarlan. "And I took him in on his own terms. We'll play him along, makinghim believe he's regular and right, until we get what we want. Then we'lldown him!"
* * * * *
At about the time Haydon was talking with Deveny, Harlan was dismountingat the Rancho Seco corral.
The T Down men were variously engaged--some of them in the corral; othersin the stable, and still others in the blacksmith-shop--all attending totheir new duties--and only Red Linton was at the corral gate to greetHarlan.
Triumph was in Harlan's eyes as he grinned at Linton.
"I'm a Simon-pure outlaw now, Red," he stated. "Haydon didn't hesitatenone. He's a sneakin', schemin' devil, an' he hates me like poison. Buthe took me in, reckonin' to play me for a sucker. Looks like things mightbe interestin'." He grinned. "I'm yearnin' for grub, Red."
Later, while Harlan was seated at a table in the cook shanty, he becameaware of a shadow at the door; and he wheeled, to see Barbara Morganlooking in at him, her face flushed, a glow in her eyes that was entirelycomprehensible to Harlan.
She was glad he had returned--any man with half Harlan's wisdom couldhave told that! And color of a kind not caused by the wind and sunsuffused Harlan's face.
She had seen him from one of the kitchen windows, and curiosity--and animpatience that would not permit of delay--had brought her to search forhim.
"Why," she said, "I--I thought--didn't you say that you were going away?"
"Didn't I go?" he grinned.
"For a day," she taunted, her voice leaping.
"A day," he said gravely; "why, it was longer than that, wasn't it? Seemsthat I ain't seen you for years an' years!"
He got up, his hunger forgotten. But when he reached the door he saw herrunning toward the ranchhouse, not even looking back. He stood watchingher until she opened a door and vanished. Then he grinned and returned tohis neglected food, saying aloud, after the manner of men who spend muchtime in open places: "I'll sure take care of her, Morgan."
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