`You heard 'bout th' ruckus in town, ma'am?' he blurted out, as he flung himself from the saddle.
`Yes,' she said. `Mister Cullin told me.'
`Cullin? Why he--was here then?' She did not notice the hesitation, due to the warning Smoky had delivered.
`Naturally,' she said, and very gravely. `It is a terrible affair; I am glad Mister Green escaped injury.'
`It'll take a damned good man to git Jim, by fair means,' Yorky replied pridefully.
`Ifhe'd done it, I'd 'a' got him--somehow.'
The hardening of the youthful face, firmed lips, and slitted vengeful eyes told that this was no vain brag. Then, ashamed of the emotion he had displayed, came the excuse, `Jim's been awful good to me, ma'am.'
`I understand,' she replied gently. `He's been awful good to me also. Someday, I hope he'll let me tell him so.'
`He'd ruther you didn't,' the boy said bluntly. `Sooner be cussed than thanked, durn him.'
`I'm afraid that's true,' she smiled. `Yorky, why did that wretched man want to kill Mister Drait? Was it because of some old score?'
`Guess not. If Lukor had knowed the Boss, he'd never 'a' mistaken Jim for him.'
`Why, of course,' she cried, and wondered at the sudden warm glow in her breast.
`He was hired for the job,' the boy went on. `An' got just what he deserved. As for the white-livered houn' who employed him....'
`It is hard to believe such monsters exist,' she said. `Do you think it might be Bardoe? They fought before.'
`Mebbe, but Smoky sez Bull would 'a' done the deed hisself an' saved his dollars.'
`I'm afraid of that man,' she confessed.
`You don't have to be, ma'am,' he told her. `We're all alookin' after you.'
`I know it,' she smiled. `I mustn't be foolish.'
When she had gone, Yorky relieved his feelings with a mild oath. Something was troubling her.
`Why didn't Nick come along here with th' outfit an' take hold for her?' he asked the world. `Stuck on showin' Midway he could hang on to Shadow Valley, I s'pose.'
Which was only part of the truth, and by no means the most important.
Chapter XVII
The extinction of a gunman as a topic of interest lasted less than two weeks, and the town resumed the uneven tenor of its way. By this time, Cullin's impatience reached its limit. He had paid several visits to the S P, only to realise that he was making no progress. The girl was friendly, but that was all, and he began to suspect more interest in Draft than she would admit; the thought made him furious. The removal of the nester was not enough; he must be discredited in her eyes. His plans were taking shape, and they carried him to the 8 B. As he rode up, two men came out, Gilman and Lamond.
`I heard you'd skipped,' he said. `Ridin' for Bull?'
`Gotta do somethin' for our chuck,' was how Beau described it. His head was still bandaged.
`A change for you,' Cullin replied. His humour generally contained a sting. `You come near not needin' any, I understand.' At that moment Pardoe came out; he had heard the voices. `What's the trouble?' he asked.
The Big C man saw that he had overplayed his hand. `Aw, forget it. Mebbe I ribbed 'em too hard; I was on'y joshin'.' It was an apology, of a kind, but two pairs of baleful eyes followed him as he disappeared into the house. His host pointed to a chair, and said, `Ain't you got more sense than to quarrel with men who might yet be useful?'
`They've bungled everythin' so far.'
`You ain't bin such a howlin' success. Drait's still in the Valley, firmer rooted than ever, an' with the town lookin' sideways at Camort....'
'Yo're tellin' me news,' Cullin said sarcastically.
`You act like you didn't know it,' Bull returned, in the same vein. `What do you want now, anyway?'
Cullin hesitated, purposely, and then, `I did have a proposition, but if yo're buryin' the hatchet with Drait, I'll be off.' `Please yoreself,' Bull shrugged. `But any hatchet I bury'll be in the beggar's skull.'
`He's had the devil's own luck.'
`An' friends he can trust. That's where you fall down, you've on'y got people you pay, an' don't trust. What was Lukor's price?'
`How should I know?'
`Like I said,' Bardoe sniggered. `Shall we mention a thousand bucks?' The rancher's slight start of surprise told the guess was a near one. `It would 'a' bin worth it, if--but there's allus an "if," Greg, ain't there?'
The visitor lit a cigar and rolled another across the table. Inwardly boiling, he forced himself to speak calmly. `S'pose you stop yappin' about what doesn't concern you an' listen to some-thin' that may.'
`Shoot.' Bull leaned back in his chair and expelled a screen of smoke, behind which he grinned in real enjoyment.
`I want some cattle lifted, an' it's goin' to be worth more than a thousand to you,' Cullin began. `It's the S P. Rustle a few, at short intervals, an' don't monkey with the brand. Keep 'em hidden some place, an' I'll pay ten a head when I take over.'
Bardoe pondered. `I don't savvy the game.'
`It ain't necessary you should.'
`That's what you think,' the other said curtly. `Find a bigger fool.'
Cullin swallowed the word `Impossible' and managed to say quietly, `I'm aimin' to bleed the S P white, give the owner a lesson, an' compel her to sell.'
`You bin after that range a good while. Too bad that cowboy routin' out the gal. Why don't you marry her?'
`That's another reason for carryin' out my plan; poverty is a fine reducer o' pride. Get on with it, Bull, an' when we're good an' ready, we'll take another whirl at that cussed nester.'
`It's a bet,' Bardoe said. `Sturm was one o' yore men, huh?'
`Yeah, you'll find the beasts bunched up--preparations for a round-up, likely. The outfit is bone-lazy 'cept one--Green's sidekick, Yorky; he's awake.'
`That damned young cub?' Bull exploded. `I've a score to settle with him. Awright, Greg; you've hired a man.'
When the visitor had departed, Bardoe indulged in a burst of laughter. `Bleedin' is a game two can play at, Mister Clever Cullin, but I'm with you part o' the way. Then mebbe it'll be you to git the lesson.'
The rustler's face was never pleasing; now it was hideous--a jeering mask of hatred.
The sun, slowly climbing into the blue vault above, was warming the keen, sage-scented air, which was yet cool enoughto make movement pleasurable. Away on the horizon the mountains were beginning to unwind their swathed wrappings of mist. It was a grand sight, but Drait's eyes were more often--unknown to her--on the girl by his side, noting the upright poise of her lissome body, the curve of her cheek, or the errant curl with which the light breeze was playing.
Mary too, was less attentive to the view. She was thinking of a ride with Cullin two days earlier. The contrast was marked. But she had to admit that he was more restful than the impetuous admirer from the Big C.
`Feed looks fine,' he remarked presently. `Not many cattle showin'.'
It was not long before they came across a score or more, and got near enough to look them over. `In good shape,' Drait conceded. `But there's some need brandin'.'
Mary looked annoyed. `That should have been attended to. I told Sturm he would find several about here.'
`How's he shapin'?'
She said the man was satisfactory, so far. They reached another small herd, containing more which had `missed the iron.' `I guess Gilman's fellas had an easy time,' Drait commented.
`They're still having it, apparently,' Mary said bitterly. It hurt her pride that this man, especially, should find subject for criticism when she had hoped for praise; Sturm must be made to understand he was there to obey orders.
`Know anythin' about yore fellas?'