CHAPTER XX
LOVE AND A RIFLE
Ferguson did not visit Miss Radford the next morning--he had seenLeviatt and Tucson depart from the ranchhouse, had observed thedirection they took, and had followed them. For twenty miles he hadkept them in sight, watching them with a stern patience that hadbrought its reward.
They had ridden twenty miles straight down the river, when Ferguson,concealed behind a ridge, saw them suddenly disappear into a littlebasin. Then he rode around the ridge, circled the rim of hills thatsurrounded the basin, and dismounting from his pony, crept through ascrub oak thicket to a point where he could look directly down uponthem.
He was surprised into a subdued whistle. Below him in the basin was anadobe hut. He had been through this section of the country severaltimes but had never before stumbled upon the hut. This was notremarkable, for situated as it was, in this little basin, hidden fromsight by a serried line of hills and ridges among which no cowpuncherthought to travel--nor cared to--, the cabin was as safe from pryingeyes as it was possible for a human habitation to be.
There was a small corral near the cabin, in which there were severalsteers, half a dozen cows, and perhaps twenty calves. As Ferguson'seyes took in the latter detail, they glittered with triumph. Not eventhe wildest stretch of the imagination could produce twenty calves fromhalf a dozen cows.
But Ferguson did not need this evidence to convince him that the menwho occupied the cabin were rustlers. Honest men did not find itnecessary to live in a basin in the hills where they were shut in fromsight of the open country. Cattle thieves did not always find itnecessary to do so--unless they were men like these, who had no herdsof their own among which to conceal their ill-gotten beasts. He wasconvinced that these men were migratory thieves, who operated upon theherds nearest them, remained until they had accumulated a considerablenumber of cattle, and then drove the entire lot to some favored friendwho was not averse to running the risk of detection if through thatrisk he came into possession of easily earned money.
There were two of the men, beside Leviatt and Tucson--tall,rangy--looking their part. Ferguson watched them for half an hour, andthen, convinced that he would gain nothing more by remaining there, hestealthily backed down the hillside to where his pony stood, mounted,and rode toward the river.
Late in the afternoon he entered Bear Flat, urged his pony at a briskpace across it, and just before sundown drew rein in front of theRadford cabin. He dismounted and stepped to the edge of the porch, asmile of anticipation on his lips. The noise of his arrival broughtMary Radford to the door. She came out upon the porch, and he saw thather face was pale and her lips firmly set. Apparently something hadgone amiss with her and he halted, looking at her questioningly.
"What's up?" he asked.
"You ought to know," she returned quietly.
"I ain't good at guessin' riddles," he returned, grinning at her.
"There is no riddle," she answered, still quietly. She came forwarduntil she stood within two paces of him, her eyes meeting his squarely."When you left here last night did you meet Ben on the trail?" shecontinued steadily.
He started, reddening a little. "Why, yes," he returned, wondering ifBen had told her what had been said at that meeting; "was he tellin'you about it?"
"Yes," she returned evenly, "he has been telling me about it. Thatshould be sufficient for you. I am sorry that I ever met you. Youshould know why. If I were you I should not lose any time in gettingaway from here."
Her voice was listless, even flat, but there was a grim note in it thattold that she was keeping her composure with difficulty. He laughed,thinking that since he had made the new agreement with the Two Diamondmanager he had nothing to fear. "I reckon I ought to be scared," hereturned, "but I ain't. An' I don't consider that I'm losin' any time."
Her lips curved sarcastically. "You have said something like thatbefore," she told him, her eyes glittering scornfully. "You have agreat deal of faith in your ability to fool people. But you havemiscalculated this time.
"I know why you have come to the Two Diamond. I know what made youcome over here so much. Of course I am partly to blame. You havefooled me as you have fooled everyone." She stood suddenly erect, hereyes flashing. "If you planned to kill my brother, why did you nothave the manhood to meet him face to face?"
Ferguson flushed. Would it help his case to deny that he had thoughtof fooling her, that he never had any intention of shooting Ben? Hethought not. Leviatt had poisoned her mind against him. He smiledgrimly.
"Someone's been talkin'," he said quietly. "You'd be helpin' to makethis case clear if you'd tell who it was."
"Someone has talked," she replied; "someone who knows. Why didn't youtell me that you came here to kill Ben? That you were hired byStafford to do it?"
"Why, I didn't, ma'am," he protested, his face paling.
"You did!" She stamped one foot vehemently.
Ferguson's eyes drooped. "I came here to see if Ben was rustlin'cattle, ma'am," he confessed frankly. "But I wasn't intendin' to shoothim. Why, I've had lots of chances, an' I didn't do it. Ain't thatproof enough?"
"No," she returned, her voice thrilling with a sudden, bitter irony,"you didn't shoot him. That is, you didn't shoot him while he waslooking at you--when there was a chance that he might have given you asgood as you sent. No, you didn't shoot him then--you waited until hisback was turned. You--you coward!"
Ferguson's lips whitened. "You're talkin' extravagant, ma'am," he saidcoldly. "Somethin' is all mixed up. Has someone been shootin' Ben?"
She sneered, pinning him with a scornful, withering glance. "Iexpected that you would deny it," she returned. "That would befollowing out your policy of deception."
He leaned forward, his eyes wide with surprise. If she had not beenlaboring under the excitement of the incident she might have seen thathis surprise was genuine, but she was certain that it was merecraftiness--a craftiness that she had hitherto admired, but which nowawakened a fierce anger in her heart.
"When was he shot?" he questioned quietly.
"Last night," she answered scornfully. "Of course that is a surpriseto you too. An hour after you left he rode up to the cabin and fellfrom his horse at the edge of the porch. He had been shot twice--bothtimes in the back." She laughed--almost hysterically. "Oh, you knewenough not to take chances with him in spite of your bragging--in spiteof the reputation you have of being a 'two-gun' man!"
He winced under her words, his face whitening, his lips twitching, hishands clenched that he might not lose his composure. But in spite ofthe conflict that was going on within him at the moment he managed tokeep his voice quiet and even. It was admirable acting, she thought,her eyes burning with passion--despicable, contemptible acting.
"I reckon I ain't the snake you think I am, ma'am," he said, lookingsteadily at her. "But I'm admittin' that mebbe you've got cause tothink so. When I left Ben last night I shook hands with him, afterfixin' up the difference we'd had. Why, ma'am," he went on earnestly,"I'd just got through tellin' him about you an' me figgerin' to gethooked up. An' do you think I'd shoot him after that? Why, if I'dbeen wantin' to shoot him I reckon there was nothin' to stop me whilehe was standin' there. He'd never knowed what struck him. I'm tellin'you that I didn't know he was shot; that----"
She made a gesture of impatience. "I don't think I care to hear anymore," she said. "I heard the shots here on the porch. I suppose youwere so far away at that time that you couldn't hear them?"
He writhed again under the scorn in her voice. But he spoke again,earnestly. "I did hear some shootin'," he said, "after I'd gone on aways. But I reckoned it was Ben."
"What do you suppose he would be shooting at at that time of thenight?" she demanded.
"Why, I don't remember that I was doin' a heap of wonderin' at thattime about it," he returned hesitatingly. "Mebbe I thought he wasshootin' at a sage-hen, or a prairie-dog--or somethin'. I've oftentook a shot at somethin' lik
e that--when I've been alone that way." Hetook a step toward her, his whole lithe body alive and tingling withearnestness. "Why, ma'am, there's a big mistake somewheres. If Icould talk to Ben I'm sure I could explain----"
She drew her skirts close and stepped back toward the door. "There isnothing to explain--now," she said coldly. "Ben is doing nicely, andwhen he has fully recovered you will have a chance to explain tohim--if you are not afraid."
"Afraid?" he laughed grimly. "I expect, ma'am, that things look prettybad for me. They always do when someone's tryin' to make 'em. Ireckon there ain't any use of tryin' to straighten it out now--youwon't listen. But I'm tellin' you this: When everything comes outyou'll see that I didn't shoot your brother."
"Of course not," sneered the girl. "You did not shoot him. Stafforddid not hire you to do it. You didn't come here, pretending that youhad been bitten by a rattler, so that you might have a chance to wormyourself into my brother's favor--and then shoot him. You haven't beenhanging around Bear Flat all summer, pretending to look for stray TwoDiamond cattle. You haven't been trying to make a fool of me----" Hervoice trembled and her lips quivered suspiciously.
"Well, now," said Ferguson, deeply moved; "I'm awful sorry you'relookin' at things like you are. But I wasn't thinkin' to try an' makea fool of you. Things that I said to you I meant. I wouldn't saythings to a girl that I said to you if----"
She had suddenly stepped into the cabin and as suddenly reappearedholding the rifle that was kept always behind the door. She stoodrigid on the porch, her eyes blazing through the moisture in them.
"You go now!" she commanded hotly; "I've heard enough of your lies!Get away from this cabin! If I ever see you around here again I won'twait for Ben to shoot you!"
Ferguson hesitated, a deep red mounting over the scarf at his throat.Then his voice rose, tingling with regret. "There ain't any use of mesayin' anything now, ma'am," he said. "You wouldn't listen. I'm goin'away, of course, because you want me to. You didn't need to get thatgun if you wanted to hurt me--what you've said would have been enough."He bowed to her, not even looking at the rifle. "I'm goin' now," heconcluded. "But I'm comin' back. You'll know then whether I'm thesneak you've said I was."
He bowed again over the pony's mane and urged the animal around thecorner of the cabin, striking the trail that led through the flattoward the Two Diamond ranchhouse.
The Two-Gun Man Page 20