CHAPTER XII--LIFTING THE MASK
Elam Parsons awoke early in the morning following that on which MarionHarlan's visit to the Arrow occurred. He lay for a long time smiling atthe ceiling, with a feeling that something pleasurable was in store forhim, but not able to determine what that something was.
It was not long, however, before Parsons remembered.
When he had got out of bed the previous morning he had discovered theabsence of Marion and Martha. Also, he found that two of the horses weremissing--Marion's, and one of the others he had personally bought.
Parsons spent the day in Dawes. Shortly before dusk he got on his horseand rode homeward. Dismounting at the stable, he noted that the twoabsent horses had not come in. He grinned disagreeably and went into thehouse. He emerged almost instantly, for Marion and Martha had notreturned.
Later he saw them, Marion leading, coming up the slope that led to thelevel upon which the house stood.
Marion had retired early, and after she had gone to her room Parsons hadquestioned Martha.
Twice while getting into his clothes this morning Parsons chuckledaudibly. There was malicious amusement in the sound.
Once he caught himself saying aloud:
"I knew it would come, sooner or later. And she's picked out theclodhopper! This will tickle Carrington!"
Again he laughed--such a laugh as the good people of Westwood might haveused had they known what Parsons knew--that Marion Harlan had visited astranger at his ranchhouse--a lonely place, far from prying eyes.
Parsons hated the girl as heartily as he had hated her father. He hatedher because of her close resemblance to her parent; and he had hatedLarry Harlan ever since their first meeting.
Parsons likewise had no affection for Carrington. They had been businessassociates for many years, and their association had been profitable forboth; but there was none of that respect and admiration which marks manypartnerships.
On several occasions Carrington had betrayed greediness in the divisionof the spoils of their ventures. But Carrington was the strong man,ruthless and determined, and Parsons was forced to nurse his resentmentin silence. He meant some day, however, to repay Carrington, and he lostno opportunity to harass him. And yet it had been Parsons who hadbrought Carrington to Westwood two years before. He knew Carrington; heknew something of the big man's way with women, of his mercilesstreatment of them. And he had invited Carrington to Westwood, hopingthat the big man would add Marion Harlan to his list of victims.
So far, Carrington had made little progress. This fact, contrary toParsons' principles, had afforded the man secret enjoyment. He liked tosee Carrington squirm under disappointment. He anticipated much pleasurein watching Carrington's face when he should tell him where Marion hadbeen the day before.
He breakfasted alone--early--chuckling his joy. And shortly after heleft the table he was on a horse, riding toward Dawes.
He reached town about eight and went directly to Carrington's rooms inthe Castle.
Carrington had shaved and washed, and was sitting at a front window,coatless, his hair uncombed, when Parsons knocked on the door.
"You're back, eh?" said Parsons as he took a chair near the window."Danforth was telling me you went to see the governor. Did you fix it?"
Carrington grinned. "Taylor was to take the oath today. He won't takeit--at least, not the sort of oath he expected."
"It's lucky you knew the governor."
"H-m." The grim grunt indicated that, governor or no governor,Carrington would not be denied.
Parsons smirked. But Carrington detected an unusual quality in thesmirk--something more than satisfaction over the success of the visit tothe governor. There was malicious amusement in the smirk, andanticipation. Parsons' expressed satisfaction was not over what _had_happened, but over what was _going_ to happen.
Carrington knew Parsons, and therefore Carrington gave no sign of whathe had seen in Parsons' face. He talked of Dawes and of their ownprospects. But once, when Carrington mentioned Marion Harlan, quitecasually, he noted that Parsons' eyes widened.
But Parsons said nothing on the subject which had brought him until hehad talked for half an hour. Then, noting that his manner had arousedCarrington's interest, he said softly:
"This man, Taylor, seems destined to get in your way, doesn't he?"
"What do you mean?" demanded Carrington shortly.
"Do you remember telling me--on the train, with this man, Taylor,listening--that your story to Marion, of her father having been seen inthis locality, was a fairy tale--without foundation?"
At Carrington's nod Parsons continued:
"Well, it seems it was not a fairy tale, after all. For Larry Harlan wasin his section for two or three years!"
"Who told you that?" Carrington slid forward in his chair and waslooking hard at Parsons.
Parsons was enjoying the other's astonishment, and Parsons was not to behurried--he wanted to _taste_ the flavor of his news; it was as good tohis palate as a choice morsel of food to the palate of a disciple ofEpicurus.
"It came in a sort of roundabout way, I understand," said Parsons. "Itseems that during your absence Marion made a number of inquiries abouther father. Then a man named Ben Mullarky rode over to the house andtold her that Larry had been in this country--that he had worked for theArrow."
"That's Taylor's ranch," said Carrington. A deep scowl furrowed hisforehead; his lips extended in a sullen pout.
Parsons was enjoying him. "Taylor again, eh?" he said softly. "First, heappears on the train, where he gets an earful of something we don't wanthim to hear; then he is elected mayor, which is detrimental to ourinterests; then we discover that Larry Harlan worked for him. _You'll_be interested to know that Marion went right over to the Arrow--in fact,she spent part of Monday there, and practically _all_ of yesterday.More, Taylor has invited her to come whenever she wants to."
"She went alone?" demanded Carrington.
"With Martha, my negro housekeeper. But that--" Parsons made a gestureof derision and went on: "Martha says Taylor was there with her, andthat the two of them--with Martha asleep in the house--spent the entireafternoon on the porch, talking rather intimately."
To Parsons' surprise Carrington did not betray the perturbation Parsonsexpected. The scowl was still furrowing his forehead, his lips werestill in the sullen pout; but he said nothing, looking steadily atParsons.
At last his lips moved slightly; Parsons could see the clenched teethbetween them.
"Where's Larry Harlan now?"
Parsons related the story told him by Martha--which had been imparted tothe negro woman by Marion in confidence--that Larry Harlan had beenaccidentally killed, searching for a mine.
When Parsons finished Carrington got up. There was a grin on his face ashe stepped to where Parsons sat and placed his two hands heavily on theother's shoulders.
There was a grin on his face, but his eyes were agleam with a slumberingpassion that made Parsons catch his breath with a gasp. And his voice,low, and freighted with menace, caused Parsons to quake with terror.
"Parsons," he said, "I want you to understand this: I am going to be thelaw out here. I'll run things to suit myself. I'll have no half-heartedloyalty, and I'll destroy any man who opposes me! Those who are not withme to the last gasp are against me!" He laughed, and Parsons felt theman's hot breath on his face--so close was it to his own.
"I was born a thousand years too late, Parsons!" he went on. "I am arobber baron brought down to date--modernized. I believe that in meflows the blood of a pirate, a savage, or an ancient king; I have allthe instincts of a tribal chief whose principles are to rule or ruin!I'll have no law out here but my own desires; and hypocrisy--inothers--doesn't appeal to me!
"You've told me a tale that interested me, but in the telling of it youmade one mistake--you enjoyed the discomfiture you thought it would giveme. You tingled with malice. Just to show you that I'll not toleratedisloyalty from you--even in thought--I'm going to punish you."
> He dropped his big hands to Parsons' throat, shutting off the incipientscream that issued from between the man's lips. Parsons fought with allhis strength to escape the grip of the iron fingers at his throat,twisting and squirming frenziedly in the chair. But the fingerstightened their grip, and when the man's face began to turn blue-black,Carrington released him and looked down at his victim, laughingvibrantly.
The Ranchman Page 12