"I'm right sorry, Green; I oughta remembered yu, but I shore can't place the other," he said.
"Some fellas would be satisfied with Nan Purdie's friendship alone," Sudden told him.
Burdette's face lighted up. "She still believes in me?" he asked. "How is she?"
"Well, I gotta admit she's lookin' a mite peaky," the C P man said, and grinned understandingly at the other's expression of his regret. "Yeah, yu look as grieved as if yu'd filled a straight flush," he bantered. "Now, yu cut out this runnin' away chatter. Yo're playin' in tough luck just now, but yu'll make the grade."
His confidence was infectious and, despite his despair, Luce found himself hoping again. There was a new decision in his voice when he said: "Yo're right, Green. I'll stay an' take my medicine."
The rays of the rising sun were invading the misty hollows of the foothills around the base of Old Stormy when a rider loped leisurely up the trail and pulled his mount to a stop in front of the C P ranch-house. At the sight of the girl lazily swinging in a hammock on the verandah a look of mingled admiration and satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. He swept off his broad-brimmed hat and bowed low over his horse's mane as she descended hastily but gracefully from her perch, staring at him in amazed surprise. Still holding his hat, he surveyed her slowly from head to foot, and something in his eyes sent the hot blood to her face and neck.
"My word, yu've growed up into a mighty han'some woman, Nan," he said, and there was a caress in his tone.
"Miss Purdie, please," Nan retorted, and then, "I presume you didn't ride up here to pay me compliments?"
King Burdette laughed. "No one couldn't blame me if I did--there's plenty excuse," he said. "Why, when yu were a little tad of a school-kid, yu used to think a lot o' me."
It was true, though she had never suspected that he knew. Years back, when she was in her early teens, this dashing, spectacular young rider had figured largely in her dreams, though the two families were by no means friendly. She had, as a young girl will, made a hero of him. But, as time went on, stories of King Burdette filtered through and dispelled her childish illusions. She came to know him for what he was, handsome undoubtedly, but utterly without principle. Yet, as he sat there easily in his saddle, his lazy eyes drinking in her beauty, she was conscious of his fascination, and fought against it. Her voice was studiously cold when she spoke :
"I'm still waiting to hear the object of your visit, Mister Burdette."
"Shucks! Come outa the ice-box, Nan," King laughed, and seeing that her face did not change, he added, "Oh, well, is yore dad around? I wanta see him."
"Really?" she said with mild sarcasm. "Has it occurred to you that he may not share that desire?"
Burdette smiled to himself. "Beauty, brains, an' spirit," he reflected. "I gotta hand it to yu, Luce, but she's for yore betters." Aloud he said, "Please tell him I'm here, Miss Purdie; if he's got any sense, he'll see me."
Apparently sure of the result, he got down, trailed his reins, and taking a seat on the verandah, began to roll a cigarette. Nan went in search of her father. When the ranch-owner appeared, alone, he found the unwelcome visitor smoking and surveying the landscape.
"Mornin', Purdie," he greeted. "Fine view yu got here."
"Mebbe, but I don't know as yu improve it," came the blunt answer. "What's yore errand?"
Before Burdette could reply, a thud of hoofs announced another arrival--the marshal. Getting down in front of the verandah, he nodded heavily to the pair.
"The C P is gettin' precious popular seemin'ly," Purdie said sarcastically. "What might yu be wantin', Slype?"
"Heard King was headed this way an' thought I'd better come along," the officer replied.
"Which of us was yu aimin' to protect?" asked the rancher sneeringly.
"It's my job to prevent trouble," Slype replied.
"Yu needn't to have bothered, Sam," Burdette said easily. "There won't be none--o' my makin'--but seein' yo're here, yu might as well listen to what I have to say to Purdie."
"Fly at it," the cattleman said curtly.
"Well, Purdie, I'm here to propose peace," Burdette began. "We're the two biggest outfits in Windy, an' if we start scrappin', the whole community'll suffer. Where's the sense in it?"
"My boy lies over there," the old man said grimly, waving a hand towards the valley. "Killed by a cowardly coyote who carries yore name."
"It ain't been proved, an' anyways, until he clears his-self, he's a stranger to the Burdettes," King pointed out. "I reckon that puts the attitude o' the Circle B pretty plain."
"Mart did that the other night in `The Lucky Chance' when he said Luce had done a good job," Purdie said incisively.
"Mart was drunk," King replied, adding meaningly, "An' he thought a lot o' Dad."
"The C P had nothin' to do with that," Purdie rasped.
"Yu say so, an' I'm tellin' yu the same about Kit," Burdette retorted. "If Luce bumped off yore boy it was a personal matter. What else yu got against the Circle B?"
At this moment Sudden stepped from the house on to the verandah and paused when he saw that his employer had visitors. Purdie presented his new foreman as such, and a little frown creased the brow of King Burdette.
"Yu didn't tell me yu was takin' charge here when I offered yu a job," he said.
"Did I have to?" the puncher asked coolly.
"What was yu sayin' this mornin' 'bout some steers yu found, Green?" the rancher cut in.
The foreman told of the re-branded cattle he had discovered hidden on the range, and the face of the Circle B man flamed as he heard the story.
"Yu accusin' me o' rustlin' yore cows?" he asked stormily. "What's the great idea?"
"Well, when the brands are healed the cattle could be sneaked over an' thrown into yore herds, or they could be found where they are, when it would look like we'd been stealin' from yu," Sudden pointed out. "On'y yore outfit would be interested in puttin' yore brand on our beasts."
"Bah! Chicken-feed," King sneered. He turned to the marshal. "Looks to me like a plain frame-up--tryin' to pin a rustlin' on the Circle B."
"Shore does," the officer agreed.
"See here, Purdie," King went on. "It's the first I've heard of this, but I'll look into it, an' if I find any o' my outfit have been usin' a straight iron I'll hand 'em over to yu, even if it's my own brothers. Can't say fairer than that. Now all this chatter ain't gettin' us nowhere. I'm offerin' yu my hand; will yu take it?"
The rancher's jaw was set, his eyes cold. "I'd sooner shake with a rattlesnake than a Burdette," he said harshly. "Fetch me the murderer o' my son, with a rope round his neck, an' mebbe I'll tell yu different."
Burdette looked at the marshal, and Sudden could have sworn there was satisfaction in the glance; the man had hoped for such a termination to the interview. He stood up, lifting his shoulders in a gesture of hopelessness.
"Yu heard that, Sam?" he said, and there was little of disappointment in his tone. "Good thing yu happened along; yu can bear witness that I did my utmost to dodge trouble, but this old fool wants war. Well, by God, he shall have it, an' that goes."
The exultation in the savage, sneering voice was plain enough now; the man had cast off all pretence.
Purdie too had risen, his hand not far from his gun. He laughed scornfully. "Yu can't bluff me, Burdette," he said. "Mebbe I'm what yu called me, but I ain't blind. Yu egg yore brother on to kill Kit, an' yu stand aside an' let him bear the blame; yu brand my cattle an' leave 'em where they'll be found so's I'll start somethin'. Then yu come here with lying offers o' peace which yu know damn well I don't listen to o' purpose to put me in wrong with the town."
"Lookit, Purdie..." the marshal protested.
"Shut yore trap," the old man told him, and to Burdette, "Get off my land, pronto, an' take yore tame dawg with yu."