"Pity yu didn't show up a bit later," was his cruel comment.
"But, Daddy, if Luce wasn't guilty," Nan protested, and there was a tremor in her tone.
Purdie had not seen her cheeks pale, or noticed the little gasp of relief when she heard that the accused man had been delivered from danger; he grasped one fact only--a Burdette had escaped a fate he held to be richly deserved.
"He's earned it a'ready," he growled harshly, and both his hearers knew that he was thinking of his son.
The foreman shook his head. "Still can't agree with yu on that, Purdie. As for to-day's play, it was a plain frame-up, an' a clumsy one too, though it nearly came off; if that bullet had got me right, nothin' could 'a' saved Burdette. Now, ask yoreself a question: If Luce is in with his brothers, why should they try to get him stretched?"
"I dunno, but it might 'a' been him," was the obstinate reply.
"Not a chance," Sudden said. "Luce ain't such a fool as to leave his name an' address like that."
"Huh! Any fella who has just downed another in cold blood is liable to run off an' forget a hat," Purdie persisted. "An' if he had got yu, who'd ever find the spot he fired from? It was on'y by chance Riley was passin'."
"Was it?" the foreman asked dryly. "Riley rides for the Circle B, an' was comin' to town. What was he doin' so far off the reg'lar trail?"
"Yu suggest he did the shootin'?"
"No, but I'd say he was there to take the news in an' lead the posse to the place."
"Well, I ain't convinced," the rancher replied. "An' watch out for yoreself, Jim; the Burdettes ain't quitters, which is the on'y good thing I can say for 'em."
He went into the house, and the girl followed. The foreman caught a murmured "Thank you" as she passed him. He smiled as he reflected that Luce might be having a thin time just now, but there were compensations to come. His thoughts went to "The Plaza," but he jerked them savagely away and stalked to his own quarters.
Riley, for reasons of his own, did not return to the ranch, but he took care to keep clear of "The Plaza"; the boss of the Circle B had a nasty habit of venting his displeasure on the nearest object. Therefore, no other member of the outfit having been to town, King Burdette rode in that evening blissfully ignorant of what had happened. But he knew what he expected to hear, and his darkly handsome face wore an expression of satisfaction when he tied his horse to the hitch-rail in front of "The Plaza" and walked in. Lu Lavigne greeted him with her usual smile, and the customer to whom she was chatting promptly drifted away. King's keen eyes searched the girl's face for any sign of distress and found none; she appeared to be her own gay, impudent self. The hand which poured a drink for him was perfectly steady.
"Well, honeybird, what's the good news?" he smiled.
She bobbed a mocking curtsey. "The best I can offer Your Majesty is that the coward who tried to shoot Mister Green from ambush this afternoon failed, and another gang of cowards who would have hanged Luce for it, failed also."
She was laughing as she spoke, but her dark eyes watched him; she had not forgotten his cryptic reference to the bringing down of two birds with one stone. But King Burdette was an expert poker-player, and though the information had hit him like a blow, not a muscle of his face moved. Still smiling, he said drawlingly:
"So somebody took a shot at the estimable Green, huh? On'y shows that even a fella like Whitey may have friends, don't it?"
"Why should he fasten the crime on Luce?" she asked.
"Him being already under a cloud, it seems a pretty bright idea," he replied carelessly. "As regards Luce, I'm sorry . . ."
Lu Lavigne pushed out a slim white hand. "That pleases me, King," she said warmly.
"Sorry they didn't succeed in hangin' him, I was goin' to say," he finished harshly.
"But--after all--he's your brother," she protested.
"Don't think it," he said sharply. "When Luce left the Circle B he stepped right outa the family--he's no more to me than any bum who tramps the trail. If I'd been at the stringin'-up I wouldn't 'a' raised a finger to stop it."
She knew he meant it, and the vicious savagery of his attitude appalled, and yet, in some curious way, appealedto her. She too was a creature of extremes, of fire and ice, primitive in her passions, not to be bound by the humdrum conventions of civilization. King Burdette was a kindred spirit, and she was aware of it; though she condemned, she could not help being attracted.
"Look here, sweetness, to the devil with that young cur," he said. "I came to see yu."
She had an impish desire to plague him. "Really?" she doubted. "So Nan Purdie did dare to turn you down?"
At once she saw that she had struck home. For all his iron control, the raging fiend within the man showed in his evil eyes. And then he laughed.
"Shucks," he said. "Jealous huh? Yu needn't be. No milk an' water for me, honey; I like a dash o' somethin' stronger."
She allowed herself to be persuaded, and as he could be very entertaining when he chose, the pair of them were soon laughing merrily. Some of the men in the place shrugged significant shoulders.
"Callous devil," muttered one. "Yu'd never think they mighty near hanged his brother this afternoon."
"He wouldn't care if they had--seein' they've quarrelled," said another. "That's the Black Burdettes all over; the Ol' Man would 'a' shot any son that disobeyed him. Holy terror, he was; an' it wouldn't surprise me none if one o' the boys wiped him out."
"Hey, Simmy, yu owe me ten dollars. Ante up," chimed in a third in the party.
"What's the matter with yu? Didn't I say I'd pay yu to-morrow?" Simmy said indignantly.
"Shore, but if yo're goin' to talk like a fool, there won't be no to-morrow for yu, an' I can use that dinero," was the reply, with a meaning glance at the lounging figure at the bar.
But the Circle B man had no eyes for anyone but the beauty before him. He was aware that there were probably men present who hated him, but such a thought would add to his enjoyment rather than otherwise, for inaction on their part meant that they feared him, and fear, King Burdette held, was the ruling passion of life.
He left "The Plaza" early and went to "The Lucky Chance," where he found Riley, considerably the worse for liquor.
"I'm wantin' yu," King said shortly, and led the way out of the saloon to an empty space at the back of it. Then he turned on the man and said fiercely: "Why didn't yu come back to the ranch an' report to me?"
The cowboy blinked owlishly at him. "Well, the bottom sorta fell out o' things," he excused.
"Yu damned fool, all the more reason for lettin' me know," the other rapped back. "'Stead o' that, yu gotta get soaked."
"Yore han's have to ask yore permish to take a drink?" Riley asked impudently.
The boss of the Circle B looked at him for a moment, calmly measured his distance, and struck. Before the piston-like force of that blow the man went full-length to the ground. Ere he could rise or pull the gun at which he was clawing, King jumped forward, picked him up, shook him till his teeth rattled, and again flung him headlong.
"Now pull that gun an' go to hell," he snarled, slanting his own weapon on the sprawling form. "Argue with me, will yu, yu scum?"
Riley, making no effort to reach for his pistol, climbed slowly to an upright posture again. The man-handling had driven the drink out of him.
"Forget it, King," he said. "I'm sorry I sassed yu--reckon I must 'a' bin lit up. What yu want me to do?"
"Find yore bronc an' get back to the ranch for now," Burdette said. "An' keep yore trap shut, or ..."
He did not voice the threat, nor did he holster his pistol until the man had disappeared in the shadows. Then he returned to the front of the saloon, mounted his horse, and drove the animal mercilessly in the direction of the Circle B. By the time he reached it the poor brute's sides were deeply scored and the rider's spurs dripped blood. In the living-room he found Mart, his big body sprawled in a chair, a cigarette dangling from his lips, and a bottle of whisky beside him. He greeted his e
lder brother with a grin.
"Back early, huh?" he said, and then the scowl on King's face apprised him that something was wrong. "What's eatin' yu?"
"How far off was Green when yu fired?"
"Little over a hundred yards, I'd say."
"An' yu missed ! " King said contemptuously.
"Missed nothin'! I saw him tumble into the canyon; must 'a' broke his neck anyways."
"He didn't; yore bullet creased him, an' he fell into the long grass on the rim. He rides into town just as they're goin' to string up Luce, an' that lets him out; yu can't hang a man for murder when the victim is standin' by. I guess the C P outfit an' half o' Windy is laughin' at us right now."
The big man stared at him. "It ain't possible; I saw him drop," he argued.
King's gesture was not complimentary. "Mart," he said, "all the brains yu got would go into a nutshell, an' yu wouldn't have to take the kernel out neither."
"Well, it warn't my plan," the other grumbled.
"Nothin' wrong with that, but I thought yu could shoot," his brother sneered. "How close do yu have to be?"
The taunt sank in, as the speaker intended it should. Mart's heavy face was flushed, his lips in an ugly pout. "I'll get him," he said thickly. "I'll call him down."
King's laugh was not pleasant. "Mebbe Whitey was just unlucky," he said satirically.
"Not that way," Mart explained. "He's too good for me with a six-gun, but with these I..."
He flexed the fingers of his huge hands, clutching the empty air as though he had already the puncher's throat within them, while the biceps in the gorilla-like arms bulged beneath the blue flannel shirt. In brains and dexterity King was the master, but when it came to a question of brute force .....
"That's certainly an idea, but let it ride a spell," King said. "Mebbe there's a better trail out."
"Suits me," Mart said. "Yu on'y gotta say the word. Saw that Purdie gal in town s'mornin'. She's sprouted up into a mighty good-looker; I've a mind to..."
The elder man flashed round on him. "Lay a finger on her an' I'll fill yore fat carcase with lead," he said fiercely. "She ain't for yu."
Mart's eyes opened. "No call to get het up," he said mildly. "Yo're a reg'lar hawg though. What 'bout Lu Lavigne? That dame is liable to put a pill into yu if yu play tricks."
"I've got a use for Nan Purdie," King replied.
"Me too," Mart said coarsely, and laughed.
"Then yu better forget it; I meant what I said. Bein' my brother won't save yu," King rasped, and went out of the room.
"He'd do it too, damn him," Mart muttered. "Well, she's a pretty nice piece, but ... Wonder how in hell I missed that cussed cow-punch?"
Chapter XIV
THE C P foreman had mounted his horse and was pacing away from the corral when Yago came up.
"Which way yu headin', Jim?" he asked.
"Mind yore own damn business," Sudden grinned. "Aimin' to ride herd on me?"
"I ain't, but if yu don't show up, it'd be useful to know where to look," Bill told him.
"That's so," the foreman agreed soberly. "Never can tell in these stirrin' times. I'm pointin' south-west--ain't looked over that part o' the range yet."
"She's pretty wild--not much good for grazin'," Yago told him. "Dangerous country, I'd call it."
Sudden nodded and smiled; he knew his friend was warning him. Passing the ranch-house, he struck off to the right, climbing the lower slope of the mountain. At first he followed a faint trail, but presently left it and headed for a point he had already picked out--a clump of tall pines which rose above the surrounding timber. He noted that the feed was sparse and poor in quality; there were few cattle about. The pines proved to be further away than he had thought, masses of rock from the peak above and thickets of prickly pear making detours inevitable.
When at length he came in sight of it he was surprised to find a habitation. It was a tiny place, tucked in among the trees, and built of unbarked logs. A hole in one corner of the earthed roof served as a chimney, and from this a thin twist of smoke was ascending. From the small pole corral behind the hut a burro brayed, and Sudden's mount responded with a friendly whicker. Instantly a man showed himself in the open doorway, clutching a rifle, and peering suspiciously from beneath the brim of his hat.
"Hold on thar or I'll drill yer. What yer want?" he barked.
The puncher flung up a hand, palm outwards, to signify that his intentions were peaceful, and came steadily on. Evidently the man now recognized him, for he lowered his weapon and gave vent to a throaty chuckle.
"Yu, mister, is it?" he said. "Yu gotta s'cuse me--my danged eyesight ain't as good as it useter be. Rest yore saddle--I got some coffee boilin'."
It was the old prospector, California. The visitor got down, trailed his reins, and seated himself on a rude bench outside the shack door. In a few moments his host joined him, bearing two tin mugs of steaming, black beverage.
"I'm out o' milk, but there's more sweetenin' if yu want her," he apologized.
Sudden sampled the liquid and pronounced it excellent, which brought a satisfied grin to the old man's wrinkled features.
"Guess I c'n make coffee," he said. "Oughta be able to --musta made enough to float a fleet in my time."
"First look I've had at this part of our range," the foreman remarked. "Didn't know anyone was livin' up here. What yu got--a quarter-section?"
"No, I ain't a 'nester'--can't be bothered with land nohow," California explained. "Why, I'm liable to pull stakes an' drift any time. Purdie gimme leave to run up the shack an' scratch around. It's nice an' quiet up here."
The visitor smiled; he was listening to an incessant, rumbling roar, like that of heavy seas breaking on a shingly shore, but without the sucking swish of the backwash.
"Thunder?" he queried.
"Aye, li'l old Thunder River," the miner grinned. "Fella gits so useter that he don't notice it. Yu oughta hear her when snow flies on Stormy. I've sat for hours watchin' the water rippin', tearin', an' thrashing its way through the Sluice; she must be just lousy with gold."
"What makes yu think that?" Sudden asked.
"Don't think--I'm dead shore," California retorted. "Anyone as knows gold would be. Why, even some of them lunkheads down yonder"--he jerked a derisive thumb in the direction of Windy--"has got their suspicions. Lookee, yu can git `colour' most anywheres on the banks o' the river, an' there's patches of alluvial gold an' small `pockets' on the slopes o' the valley, but it's all surface stuff--go deep, an' yu git nothin' but a hole. Now, where's it come from? Didn't fall out'n the skies, I reckon. No, sir, its bin washed down, an' I figure that at one time mebbe a thousand years ago, before the stream had cut itself a channel to run in--this yer valley was periodically flooded an' the fine gold was deposited then. I ain't no scientist, but that's the way I dope her out."
"Sounds likely," the puncher admitted. "But if it's so, all yu gotta do is trace the source o' the river"
The prospector emitted a cackle. "Yo're pickin' a job, I knows of over two score--some of 'em underground springs," he said. " 'Sides, how'd yu know where the water picks up the dust? No, yu can't get at it thataway." His little eyes gleamed cunningly. "But she's here, on Ol' Stormy, just waitin' to be found."
"So right now we might be sittin' atop of a gold-mine," the foreman smiled.
"Yo're shoutin', though I reckon she's higher up," the old man returned seriously. "Somewheres around there's rock that's just rotten with gold." He read the incredulity in the listener's face. "Yu don't believe me?" he cried, and dived into the hut. In a moment he reappeared. "What d'yu make o' that?" he asked triumphantly.
"That" proved to be a piece of quartz about the size of a large egg, jagged and irregular in shape, which the miner almost reverently placed on the bench between them. The puncher picked it up, marvelling at the weight until he saw that the stone was thickly veined with yellow; even a novice would have known it for what men live, and die, to obtain.
"Hell's bells! she
's mighty near half gold," Sudden ejaculated.
The prospector chuckled delightedly at the effect he had produced. "yessir, just around," he agreed. "A ton o' rock like that would put even a spendin' fella beyond the reach o' poverty."
Then came the natural question: "Where'd yu find her?"
The crafty eyes twinkled. "It wouldn't help yu none if I told yu," California said, after a pause. "That's `float,'... An' there ain't a smidgin' o' rock like it where 'twas picked up. May have took hundreds o' years to git there or bin dropped by some fella. Think o' searchin'?"
Sudden laughed. "No, never did have the gold fever," he said.
"If yu had yu'd never lose it," the miner said. "Me, I bin scramblin' round Stormy for years--like to have busted my neck a score o' times. An' what for? It ain't the wealth, stranger; all the money in the world won't make me a day younger; it's just findin' it."
"An' yu have found it?" the foreman queried.
"Mebbe I have an' mebbe I ain't, was the non-committal answer. "Didn't expect me to say, did yer?"
Sudden shook his head. "Yu've talked too much as it is; if a whisper o' this got abroad in Windy ... Anyways, yu can reckon me dumb."
"Yo're dead right, Mister, an' I'm obliged," the old man said. "I'm a chatterin' of fool when I talk about gold." The puncher swung into his saddle again, and neither he nor the miner saw the shadow that slipped from the end of the shack, slid along the corral rails, and vanished in the brush at the back. Thus safely concealed, Riley, the Circle B rider, watched the visitor depart. His squinting eyes were popping with excitement. Told off by King Burdette to watch Green, he had hung about the C P and followed him to the prospector's hut, where he had arrived in time to hear the major portion of the conversation and see the "specimen."
"Sufferin' snakes!" he muttered. "What made the old fool open up to that fella? Wonder whether he told him anythin' 'fore I come up? Hell! Mebbe he's goin' there now. I gotta see; Cal will keep."
Hurriedly he went to where he had hidden his horse, mounted, and set out after the C P man. The necessity for keeping under cover made pace impossible, but his quarry was in no hurry, and presently he espied him. The foreman had dismounted again and was gazing on a scene which, even to the most surfeited sightseer, could not but be awe-inspiring. A giant gash in the side of the mountain, resembling the mark left by a mighty axe-blow, provided a passage for the river. Prickly pear, catclaw, and other shrubs fringed the rims of the chasm for the most part, but there were a few spaces where the very brink could be approached. In one of these Sudden was standing.
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