Hardly had the vile epithet left his lips when the girl's hand swept across his cheek with a slap which rang out like a pistol-shot and drew an oath of pain and surprise from the recipient.
"You dirty beast!" she cried, her tone tense with passion. "Vamoose, or I'll send you out on a shutter."
For a few seconds the bloodshot, liquor-glazed eyes fought with the flaming black ones, and fell. In the girl's left hand, held steadily at her hip, was a tiny nickel-plated revolver--a toy, a man would have said--but it was sufficiently powerful to take life at such close range. Without another word the drunkard turned and staggered weavingly from the saloon. When Mrs. Lavigne returned to her place behind the bar her look at the puncher was defiant, as though she dared him to criticize her action.
"I won't stand for that sort of thing here," she said.
"Yu shore have nerve, ma'am," Sudden said, and meant it. His admiration brought the smile back to her lips.
"Pooh! He knew the boys would blow him to bits if he laid a finger on me," she pointed out.
"Fella in that state is liable to act without thinkin'," he said, and then, "For a tenderfoot, yu got that gun out pretty pronto."
"I was born and bred in the West," she explained, and when he smilingly suggested that she had lost a customer, shrugged her dainty shoulders.
"He'll be in to-morrow to beg my pardon," she told him confidently. "Liquor, if he takes enough of it, will make a fool of any man."
"An' yet yu sell it," he said, and was immediately sorry when he noted the tiny furrow between her brows.
"Someone else would if I didn't, and I have to live," she retorted, and then the even white teeth shut down on a single word, "Damnation!"
A newcomer had entered the saloon, a tall, dark man, carefully dressed in cowboy costume and wearing two guns. Though this was the first time he had seen him, Sudden knew this must be Kingley Burdette. With a condescending nod here and there, the fresh arrival strode to the bar and swept off his hat so elaborately as to make the gesture a mockery.
"Evenin' honeybird. Who's been rufflin' yore pretty plumage?" was his familiar greeting, and then, without waiting for a reply, "Gosh, but I'm thirsty."
"Ted will serve you," she said coldly, and beckoned to the bar-tender.
"He will not," Burdette answered. "A drink poured by yore fair hands will taste ten times nicer than one from Ted's paws, which, though doubtless useful, are far from ornamental."
"As you will," she said indifferently, and filled a glass.
"Here's how, carissima," he toasted. His eyes dwelt possessively upon her and then travelled to the cowpuncher?" "Yo're Green, I reckon; I wanted to see yu."
"Yo're King Burdette, I reckon; take a good look," Sudden mimicked, in the same insolent tone the other had used.
"I hear yo're huntin' a job," Burdette went on, and the sneer was very palpable.
"Someone's been stringin' yu--I ain't doin' no such thing," the puncher replied.
"Well, it don't matter, but Luce havin' cut adrift from the Circle B I could use another rider," King said carelessly. "When yu get tired a' washin' dirt yu might look me up."
Sudden smiled sardonically; the patronizing air both galled and amused him. He struck back. "Mebbe I will, but I warn yu I'm shy o' practice with a runnin' iron."
He saw the blood show redly in the sallow cheeks and the dark eyes narrow to pin-points. Burdette's voice now had an edge on it.
"Meanin'?"
"Just what I said. Dessay I could change a C P into a Circle B--it's an easy play. See yu later--mebbe."
He lifted his hat to Mrs. Lavigne, nodded casually to Burdette, and went out. The Circle B man stared after him, perplexed and scowling.
"Fresh fella, huh?" he growled. "What the hell was he drivin' at? An' where does the C P come in?"
"He's riding for Purdie," Lu Lavigne pointed out.
"The devil he is," King said, and his frown was darker. "Damn him, he was laughin' at me." He glanced up and found that the puncher was not the only one to take such a liberty; there was a demure twinkle in the girl's eyes; she was avenging herself for his insolence in the presence of a stranger.
"Tickles yu, does it?" he sneered. "Think yu got another admirer? Forget it. When he's been at the C Pa day or so an' met Nan Purdie he won't give yu a second thought. She's growed up, that kid, without anybody noticin', an' I'm tellin' yu, she's the prettiest bit o' stuff this side o' the Mississippi. Add too, with Kit outa the way that she'll get the C P, an' is good, an' yu can reckon up yore chances."
The colour flamed in her face at the coarse, insulting speech. She knew that he was payin' her back--that he meant to hurt--he was that kind of man. When possessed by passion he was ruthless, hard, ridden by the bitter temper he could usually control.
"You brute," she raged. "I hate you!"
"No, yu love me, little tiger-cat," he smiled, content that the lash of his tongue had stung her. "Though at the moment I do believe yu'd like to stick a knife in me. Now Nan Purdie would never think o' doin' that."
"Damn Nan Purdie, and you," she stormed. "She's welcome to you if she can swallow the murder of her brother."
King laughed lightly; he was in a good humour again now that he had made her angry. "An unfortunate incident," he said. "The Circle B has made its position clear by turnin' Luce adrift an' disownin' him. If Purdie forces trouble it'll be his own--funeral."
Though his lips smiled there was a sinister emphasis on the last word, and the girl's eyes sought his in an endeavour to read the truth, but learned nothing. Then, as he looked at her, his ill-temper seemed to vanish like a storm from a summer sky. Leaning across the bar, he whispered tenderly:
"Come, sweetness, we mustn't quarrel. I'm sorry I hurt yu, but it was yore own fault--yu didn't oughta waste those star-like eyes on no-'count punchers."
Lu Lavigne was used to these sudden changes; the warmth in the pleading voice, the devotion in the dark eyes, were no new things to her, and yet she allowed herself to be persuaded by them; jealousy is a potent advocate with a woman. But vanity demanded a small victory.
"You said--Nan Purdie--was prettier," she pouted.
"Shucks, Lu, I didn't mean that," the other protested. "Yu got me goin'. She's a good-looker, shore enough, but too pussy-kitten for my taste."
"Even with the C P thrown in?" she asked with a tremulous smile.
"Yeah, even then," he replied, and his voice became harsh again. "Listen to me, girl. If I want the C P ranch I'll take it, an' without any apron-strings tied to it. Sabe?"
He swallowed another drink, and refusing several invitations to join in a game, went out of the saloon. The eyes of the woman behind the bar followed him, and had he been able to read their expression rightly, he might not have felt quite so pleased with himself.
On leaving "The Plaza," Sudden went to the hotel, where he found Luce Burdette, moping alone in his room. The young man welcomed him eagerly; he was finding the part of a pariah a bitter one to play.
"I'm damn glad to see yu, Green," he said. "Ain't got no news, I s'pose?"
"I have, sort of, but let's hear yore's first," the visitor replied.
"I've nothin' fresh to tell yu," Luce returned despondently. "I've been all over the ground, an' it happened like yu said. Two fellas was firm' at Kit, an' one of 'em holds him while the other injuns round an' drills him from behind. Couldn't follow their tracks, they'd took care o' that. Found some .38 an' .44 shells where they cut down on him first, an' that's the sum total."
"Where'd yu happen to be yesterday afternoon.?"
"Right here in town."
"An' yore hoss is a grey an' ain't shy a nail on the off fore?"
"Silver is a grey, an' the on'y hoss I possess. Weldon shod him all over las' week."