"Well, honeybird, what's the good news?" he smiled.
She bobbed a mocking curtsey. "The best I can offer Your Majesty is that the coward who tried to shoot Mister Green from ambush this afternoon failed, and another gang of cowards who would have hanged Luce for it, failed also."
She was laughing as she spoke, but her dark eyes watched him; she had not forgotten his cryptic reference to the bringing down of two birds with one stone. But King Burdette was an expert poker-player, and though the information had hit him like a blow, not a muscle of his face moved. Still smiling, he said drawlingly:
"So somebody took a shot at the estimable Green, huh? On'y shows that even a fella like Whitey may have friends, don't it?"
"Why should he fasten the crime on Luce?" she asked.
"Him being already under a cloud, it seems a pretty bright idea," he replied carelessly. "As regards Luce, I'm sorry . . ."
Lu Lavigne pushed out a slim white hand. "That pleases me, King," she said warmly.
"Sorry they didn't succeed in hangin' him, I was goin' to say," he finished harshly.
"But--after all--he's your brother," she protested.
"Don't think it," he said sharply. "When Luce left the Circle B he stepped right outa the family--he's no more to me than any bum who tramps the trail. If I'd been at the stringin'-up I wouldn't 'a' raised a finger to stop it."
She knew he meant it, and the vicious savagery of his attitude appalled, and yet, in some curious way, appealedto her. She too was a creature of extremes, of fire and ice, primitive in her passions, not to be bound by the humdrum conventions of civilization. King Burdette was a kindred spirit, and she was aware of it; though she condemned, she could not help being attracted.
"Look here, sweetness, to the devil with that young cur," he said. "I came to see yu."
She had an impish desire to plague him. "Really?" she doubted. "So Nan Purdie did dare to turn you down?"
At once she saw that she had struck home. For all his iron control, the raging fiend within the man showed in his evil eyes. And then he laughed.
"Shucks," he said. "Jealous huh? Yu needn't be. No milk an' water for me, honey; I like a dash o' somethin' stronger."
She allowed herself to be persuaded, and as he could be very entertaining when he chose, the pair of them were soon laughing merrily. Some of the men in the place shrugged significant shoulders.
"Callous devil," muttered one. "Yu'd never think they mighty near hanged his brother this afternoon."
"He wouldn't care if they had--seein' they've quarrelled," said another. "That's the Black Burdettes all over; the Ol' Man would 'a' shot any son that disobeyed him. Holy terror, he was; an' it wouldn't surprise me none if one o' the boys wiped him out."
"Hey, Simmy, yu owe me ten dollars. Ante up," chimed in a third in the party.
"What's the matter with yu? Didn't I say I'd pay yu to-morrow?" Simmy said indignantly.
"Shore, but if yo're goin' to talk like a fool, there won't be no to-morrow for yu, an' I can use that dinero," was the reply, with a meaning glance at the lounging figure at the bar.
But the Circle B man had no eyes for anyone but the beauty before him. He was aware that there were probably men present who hated him, but such a thought would add to his enjoyment rather than otherwise, for inaction on their part meant that they feared him, and fear, King Burdette held, was the ruling passion of life.
He left "The Plaza" early and went to "The Lucky Chance," where he found Riley, considerably the worse for liquor.
"I'm wantin' yu," King said shortly, and led the way out of the saloon to an empty space at the back of it. Then he turned on the man and said fiercely: "Why didn't yu come back to the ranch an' report to me?"
The cowboy blinked owlishly at him. "Well, the bottom sorta fell out o' things," he excused.
"Yu damned fool, all the more reason for lettin' me know," the other rapped back. "'Stead o' that, yu gotta get soaked."
"Yore han's have to ask yore permish to take a drink?" Riley asked impudently.
The boss of the Circle B looked at him for a moment, calmly measured his distance, and struck. Before the piston-like force of that blow the man went full-length to the ground. Ere he could rise or pull the gun at which he was clawing, King jumped forward, picked him up, shook him till his teeth rattled, and again flung him headlong.
"Now pull that gun an' go to hell," he snarled, slanting his own weapon on the sprawling form. "Argue with me, will yu, yu scum?"
Riley, making no effort to reach for his pistol, climbed slowly to an upright posture again. The man-handling had driven the drink out of him.
"Forget it, King," he said. "I'm sorry I sassed yu--reckon I must 'a' bin lit up. What yu want me to do?"
"Find yore bronc an' get back to the ranch for now," Burdette said. "An' keep yore trap shut, or ..."
He did not voice the threat, nor did he holster his pistol until the man had disappeared in the shadows. Then he returned to the front of the saloon, mounted his horse, and drove the animal mercilessly in the direction of the Circle B. By the time he reached it the poor brute's sides were deeply scored and the rider's spurs dripped blood. In the living-room he found Mart, his big body sprawled in a chair, a cigarette dangling from his lips, and a bottle of whisky beside him. He greeted his elder brother with a grin.
"Back early, huh?" he said, and then the scowl on King's face apprised him that something was wrong. "What's eatin' yu?"
"How far off was Green when yu fired?"
"Little over a hundred yards, I'd say."
"An' yu missed ! " King said contemptuously.
"Missed nothin'! I saw him tumble into the canyon; must 'a' broke his neck anyways."
"He didn't; yore bullet creased him, an' he fell into the long grass on the rim. He rides into town just as they're goin' to string up Luce, an' that lets him out; yu can't hang a man for murder when the victim is standin' by. I guess the C P outfit an' half o' Windy is laughin' at us right now."
The big man stared at him. "It ain't possible; I saw him drop," he argued.
King's gesture was not complimentary. "Mart," he said, "all the brains yu got would go into a nutshell, an' yu wouldn't have to take the kernel out neither."
"Well, it warn't my plan," the other grumbled.
"Nothin' wrong with that, but I thought yu could shoot," his brother sneered. "How close do yu have to be?"
The taunt sank in, as the speaker intended it should. Mart's heavy face was flushed, his lips in an ugly pout. "I'll get him," he said thickly. "I'll call him down."
King's laugh was not pleasant. "Mebbe Whitey was just unlucky," he said satirically.
"Not that way," Mart explained. "He's too good for me with a six-gun, but with these I..."
He flexed the fingers of his huge hands, clutching the empty air as though he had already the puncher's throat within them, while the biceps in the gorilla-like arms bulged beneath the blue flannel shirt. In brains and dexterity King was the master, but when it came to a question of brute force .....
"That's certainly an idea, but let it ride a spell," King said. "Mebbe there's a better trail out."
"Suits me," Mart said. "Yu on'y gotta say the word. Saw that Purdie gal in town s'mornin'. She's sprouted up into a mighty good-looker; I've a mind to..."
The elder man flashed round on him. "Lay a finger on her an' I'll fill yore fat carcase with lead," he said fiercely. "She ain't for yu."