All the nearest spectator could afterwards say was that, following a bang and spurt of flame from the puncher's left hip, he saw Whitey stagger, double up at the knees, and sink slowly down to lie grotesquely sprawled on the sanded floor, his weapon clattering beside him. "Never see Green go for his gun a-tall, but he musta done, o' course," he added. "An' fast? I'm tellin' yu, I believe he could make lightnin' hump itself."
The crash of the shot ended the tension. Forgetful of their games, the gamblers crowded round the bar, jostling one another to get a glimpse of the dead man. One of them picked up the dropped revolver and ran a finger along the nicks in the butt.
"Kept his tally--six of 'em," he remarked. "If there's the same number on the twin, he's sent twelve fellas to wait for him on the other side."
"He tried for one too many," was Weldon's comment. "Me, I'm sooperstitious thataway; when I've bumped off a dozen, I'm stoppin'."
The remark, despite the presence of death, raised a laugh. Men who made it their business to kill received small sympathy when they paid the penalty. In Western idiom, Whitey had "got what was comin' to him," and there was no more to be said.
Sudden went to the marshal, who was looking curiously at the body. "Yu know where I'm to be found if yu want me," he said.
"This hombre asked for it," the officer replied. "I ain't wantin' yu, but--others may," he added meaningly.
The cow-puncher shrugged his shoulders and went out. Gradually the players returned to their games, the corpse was removed, and the episode, for the time being, was ended. When, a little later, Mart Burdette came in, there was nothing to show that a man had but just died. Standing near the door, the newcomer looked the room over.
"Know where Whitey is?" he asked the blacksmith.
"Well, I dunno how long it takes to get to hell, but I guess he's there by now; he started half an hour back," was the grim reply.
Mart stared at him. "Yu mean he's--dead?" he asked incredulously.
"Shore I do," Weldon told him. "He's most awful dead, that Whitey fella."
The Circle B man's breath whistled as he drew it in. "How come?" he inquired.
"He got to domineerin' that stranger--the one what fetched in Kit Purdie," the smith explained.
"An' he beat him to it?" the other cried amazedly.
"Yu might call it that," Weldon grinned. He was enjoying himself--he did not like the Burdettes. "Green let him get his gun out an' then--well, Whitey sorta lost interest, as a fella will with a slug between his eyes."
Mart turned away, and his informant, with a sardonic smile, watched him go.
"He seems quite astonished--an' upset," he remarked to his neighbours. "Didn't know the Circle B was that fond o' their riders."
Mart went straight to where Slype was sitting. "I hear Green has shot Whitey. What yu goin' to do about it?" he asked truculently.
"Bury the body," the marshal said. "Whitey would have it, an' he drawed first."
Mart frowned. "Is that what I'm to tell King?"
"Shore an' yu can add that Whitey warn't good enough," Slippery said meaningly, and there was a gleam of satisfaction in his foxy eyes.
Burdette gulped a drink and went in search of his elder brother. He found him in "The Plaza," exchanging pleasantries with its fair owner. Drawing him aside, Mart told what he had learned and delivered the marshal's message. King's eyebrows grew black as he listened.
"Whitey's gun musta snagged," he suggested.
"Nary a snag," Mart assured him. "He had it out afore the other fella made a move, an' Whitey could pump lead quicker'n anyone I ever see, not exceptin' yu."
"If Green's as good as that we gotta try somethin' else," King said musingly.
"Get Luce to plug him from behind like he did Kit," Mart proposed jocularly.
To his surprise his brother took him seriously. "That's an idea," he said.
"Shucks, I was jokin'," the big man protested. "Why, him an' Green are friendly."
"An' yu are a chump, Mart," King grinned, slapping a genial hand on his shoulder. "It's a good thing the Bur-dette family has me to do the thinkin'."
With a smile on his face he went back to his philandering. He had staked, lost, and must stake again; that was all there was to it. But, next time, he would see to it that the deck was stacked.
"Honey," he said. "Do yu think it possible to bring down two birds with one stone?"
"It must be difficult unless the birds are close together," Lu Lavigne laughed.
"In the case I have in mind, they would be some distance apart, which shorely adds to the merit o' the performance." Burdette chuckled, and would tell her no more.
Chapter XI
MRS. LAVIGNE tripped daintily along the clumsy board sidewalk, not in the least unconscious of the admiration she aroused. The wide, floppy straw hat she wore shaded her face from the searching rays of the sun, but in no way concealed its attractiveness, and from every citizen she encountered came a smiling greeting or a respectful salutation, for the owner of "The Plaza" was not only a pretty woman but--among the sterner sex, at least--a popular one. So that it was a shock when a man she knew, head hunched and hatbrim pulled low, endeavoured to pass without a word. Impulsively she caught his arm.
"Luce Burdette!" she cried. "Which have you lost--your eyesight or your manners?"
The boy stopped instantly, dragging his hat from his head. "Folks ain't anxious to know me these days, Lu," he excused. "It mightn't do yu any good to be seen speakin' to me. King..."
She snapped her fingers. "That, for King. I choose my own friends," she said, and shrugged her shoulders. "For the rest, well, my reputation is beyond repair, you know," she laughed, albeit a trifle bitterly.
Her kind, quizzical eyes studied him, noted the newborn lines in the young face, and divined the deep-seated misery which possessed him.
"Yo're a good fella, Lu, an' if ever I hear a man say different I'll make him wish he'd been born dumb," Luce told her.
"Thank you, Luce, but you won't hear much from the men," she replied. The acid touch in her tone deepened. "It takes a woman to damn a woman."
"An' a man to damn a man," he said with a wry smile. "Well, it's shore good to know I got one friend, Lu, an' I'm thankin' yu."
"You have more than that, boy. I'm guessing there's another across the street right now and--I'm sorry I stopped you."
On the other side of the churned-up, dusty strip which separated the buildings Nan Purdie had just climbed to her saddle and was riding slowly away. To all appearances, she did not see Luce and his companion. Mrs. Lavigne's shrewd eyes read the young man's face.
"I don't think she saw you," she said, well aware that this was not the truth. "If you want to speak to her, don't mind me."
Luce shook his head. "Miss Purdie ain't got no use for a Burdette," he said, also meaning to mislead.
The lady laughed. "You are terribly young, Luce," she told him. "Some day you'll learn that a woman has a use for the Devil himself if she cares for him. There, I'm getting sentimental in my old age, and forgetting one of the reasons for stopping you. Tell your friend Green that a certain outfit is rather peeved at losing its star gun-fighter, and will take any chance to even the score."
"I'll give him the message, but if King knew yu sent it..."
"Oh, shucks," she responded. "Your big brother may have this town buffaloed, but I'm not scared of him."