"Looks like I may've got him," he muttered.
Groping on the floor, he found the candle and lighted it. Navajo was lying on his side, his face buried in the bend of his left arm, his right arm hidden under his body. His gun lay some feet away. In the uncertain light he appeared to be dead. Sheathing his pistol, Sudden stooped to turn the body over. Instantly it came to life, the right hand darting upwards in a vicious stab. With a lightning snatch the cowboy clutched the wrist, wrenched it aside, and springing back, pulled and fired. Navajo, his face ferociously distorted in a murderous grin, sank back. This time there was no doubt.
Chilled to the bone by the narrowness of his escape, Sudden leant against the wall. Had he delayed an instant, or missed the deadly thrusting wrist, eight inches of steel would have ripped him open. He drew a long breath and wiped the cool moisture from his forehead. Then he looked at the dead man with an odd respect.
"Didn't figure yu had the savvy for a play like that," he mused. "Yu fooled me plenty an' a'most deserved to get away with it, though I'm just as pleased yu didn't."
He searched for and secured the stolen money, and then the sound of a galloping horse straightened him up, gun in hand. It was Sandy who thrust open the door.
"Jim, yu all right?" he called.
"yeah, an' it's lucky," Sudden reproved. "If any o' these other hombres had been on their feet instead what would 'a' happened to yu, bustin' in like that? Ain't yu got nothin' but sawdust in that red head?"
"Where's Carol?" the boy asked, disregarding the aspersion. "Outside--tied to a hoss," Sudden told him, adding grimly, "I've been too busy to turn her loose."
Sandy's eyes widened as he looked round. "Gosh, Jim, did yu get 'em all?"
"No, yu chump," Sudden replied, and told what he believed to have happened.
As they bent over Rogue, his eyelids flickered and his lips breathed a question.
"She's safe," Sudden assured him.
Sandy went out and found that Carol was conscious again. He untied and lifted her down. She asked about Rogue. "He's badly hurt," the boy told her.
"I must go to him" she said.
"It's--pretty terrible--in there," he demurred.
"It would have been more terrible--for me--if he hadn't come," she cried, and to that Sandy could say nothing.
A spark of life shone in the dying outlaw's tired eyes when she entered the cabin. Kneeling by his side she strove to thank him, sobs choking her.
"It don't matter," he said.
"Can't I do anything?" she asked hopelessly.
A little shake of the head, and then, doubtfully, "Once I had a lass who would be about yore age ..."
With swift comprehension, she bent over and pressed her lips to the furrowed brow of the man who had killed and robbed, yet given his life for her.
"It's too good--an end--fora--rogue," he murmured.
The ghost of a smile passed over his hard mouth and that was all. Sandy led the weeping girl out of the hut, clumsily trying to comfort. In her overwrought state she could think of one thing only.
"Sandy, he died for me," she cried. "I'll never forget that."
"If I didn't owe him so much I'd feel jealous," the boy said huskily.
Carol turned to him impulsively, thrilled by his tone. Her forthright nature scorned evasion.
"you needn't be," she said softly. "Oh, Sandy, when that woman told me you were hurt, I--nearly--died."
Sudden unnecessarily slammed the cabin door, propped a plank against it to keep out prowling coyotes, and came towards them.
"The boys will be over in the mornin'," he said.
Through the black velvet of the night they rode back to town. Sudden led the way, his thoughts dwelling on the dead outlaw. Though his meeting with the man had meant nothing but misfortune, he had liked him, and in some way he could not understand, was conscious of a sense of loss. The pair behind were riding close together, and Sudden smiled a Iittlebitterly at the reflection that he was soon to lose another friend. Had Rogue lived...
It was not until the morning that the rancher was sufficiently recovered to hear the full story of the previous night's happenings. Varying expressions chased each other across his rugged features as Carol told the tale, and when it was ended, he brought his fist down with a thump on the pillow beside him.
"By heaven, Jim, all the herd-money wouldn't pay what I owe yu," he said. "But yu'll be comin' back to the S E with me, an'--"
A shake of the head interrupted him. "I'm obliged," the cowboy replied, "but yore memory ain't workin'."
"Shucks! I got friends who can pull ropes," Eden said. Sudden's grin was sardonic. "I got enemies who can do the same an' mebbe my neck would be in the loop o' one," he pointed out. "No, seh, I'm shore fond o' Texas but I ain't honin' to end my days there--yet." His face sobered. "Besides, but for another man yu'd have nothin' to thank me for."
"I ain't allowin' that," Eden returned. Despite the amend Rogue had made, he found it difficult to think kindly of the outlaw. His gaze went to Sandy. "I'm told yu kept them rats from finishin' me off," he went on. "yu must 'a' had a change o' heart since the Colorado."
"Hold yore hosses, seh, an' take a squint at these," Sudden interposed, producing a pair of beaded moccasins. "Found 'em in Navajo's saddle-bag ; they fit those tracks I measured. An' there's this."
The rancher took the proffered slip of paper. "Baudry's fist an' signature," he muttered, and read the contents aloud : "'I have to-day bet Navajo one thousand dollars that my friend, Sam Eden, gets his herd through and comes safely back to the S E.' "
The document bore the date the drive started. With knitted brows Eden studied it ; then the sinister import dawned upon him.
"Why, he's offerin' the fella a thousand cold to put me outa business," he burst out.
"yu said it," Sudden agreed. "An' when he failed to turn the trick hisself he bribed Lasker."
The old man looked woodenly at Sandy. "That appears to let yu out," he said. "S'pose I'll have to take yore word."
This ungenerous surrender brought a reproachful "Daddy!" from his daughter, and an expression of angry scorn on the young man's face.
"I ain't offerin' it," he retorted. "Think what yu please."
Aunt Judy flung herself into the discussion with her usual impetuosity. "Sam Eden," she said sharply, "if I was yore daughter--even by adoption--I'd box yore stubborn ears." She slanted a bony finger at Sandy. "Do I have to tell yu who that boy is?"
A slow smile softened the rancher's face. "No, that's my scamp of a son, Andrew Eden," he replied, and the harshness was gone from his voice also.
"Your son, and you treated him so--unkindly?" Carol cried. "You could even think ..."
The rancher wriggled uneasily and then shook his head. "Don't reckon I ever really believed that, but I had to he shore," he excused. "An' I wanted to see if he would stand the iron. I didn't know the game, but I was willin' to play it his way, so I told Jeff an' Peg-leg to keep their traps closed--they savvied him too. How come yu to be with the Rogue, boy?"
"Got word he was rustlin' yore cattle," Sandy explained. "Later, I learned it was more serious an' when he sent Jim an' myself to join yore outfit it looked like a chance to put a crimp in his plans."
"Why pertend to be a stranger?" Eden asked.
Sandy looked embarrassed. "yu ain't rememberin' how we parted," he said.