The marshal's pasty face turned livid. "I'll remember this, Purdie," he threatened.
"I'm advisin' yu to," the old man retorted. "Scratch gravel, yu scum."
Without another word the visitors whirled their mounts
and set off down the trail. Sudden watched them for a moment and then turned to his employer.
"I'm thankin' yu, seh," he said.
"Shucks, it ain't worth speakin' of, Jim," the rancher returned. "O' course I know yu didn't wipe out Mart, an' that marshal fella knows it too. It was me they were aimin' at, an' King Burdette is behind it; he owns Slype."
"I guess things is liable to liven up any moment now," the foreman offered.
Purdie looked at him in astonishment. "Yu ain't complainin' of a dull time, are yu?" he asked.
The puncher grinned widely. "I ain't noticed it," he admitted. "Allasame, King will lay the loss of his brother to our account, an' there'll be doin's."
Something of the same thought was in the mind of the marshal as he rode away from the C P. Incensed as he was at the humiliation he had met with, there was a certain satisfaction which he took care not to impart to his companion. Riley had no such feeling. He had surmised that Green must suspect him of the attempted drowning and had accepted the offer of a deputyship in the hope that it would protect him from the puncher's vengeance, but the latter's attitude had shattered his belief in the majesty of the law. For reasons of his own, he proceeded, after riding in silence for a while, to inflame his chief's anger.
"I take it Purdie ain't friendly to yu," he remarked.
The marshal looked at him suspiciously. "How ever did yu discover that?" he sneered. "Yu must be awful cute at readin' sign--good as an Injun."
"I was askin' a question," Riley replied. "I'll take it he ain't, an' that yu wouldn't be terrible grieved if some-thin' happened to him."
The marshal exploded. "Yo're damn right, I wouldn't," he said fiercely. "Yu can burn his ranch an' wipe out every rat in it an' I won't stir a finger, blast his soul! Fly at it."
"Didn't say I was aimin' to do anythin'--just wanted to know how yu felt 'bout it," the deputy explained. "Goin' to see King now?"
The marshal nodded sullenly, and for the rest of the ride had nothing to say. They found the boss of the Circle B awaiting them in the big front room; the scowl on his face deepened as he listened to Slype's account of their visit to the C P.
"So yu went to all that trouble to make a damn fool o' yoreself?" was his comment. "Did yu reckon Green would follow when yu whistled?"
"He's put hisself on the wrong side o' the law by resistin', an' so has Chris," the marshal protested.
King's gesture was one of impatience. "Who the hell cares about yu or yore law in Windy?" He tapped his gun-butt. "This is the on'y law that goes in these parts. If yu'd took a dozen men . .."
"An' where was I to find 'em?" Slype asked angrily. "After las' night's play the town's mighty near solid for him."
"Yu could 'a' found 'em here," Burdette replied. "No matter; I'm takin' hold from now on. All yu gotta do is not interfere whatever happens. Yu sabe?"
The marshal hesitated. "Yo're askin' a lot, King," he demurred.
"Damnation! I ain't askin' a thing--I'm givin' yu orders," King roared, his voice vibrant with menace. "Yu'll obey 'em too, or I'll tear that star off an' cram it down yore throat."
Either from anger or fear Slype's face paled at the threat. "That's no way to talk to yore friends, King," he ventured. "O' course, I know yu must be feelin' sore about Mart..."
"Mart was a fool an' paid for it--as fools usually do," the other cut in brutally. "Friends? I ain't got none. I'm King Burdette--a lone wolf, but my teeth are sharp, Slype, damned sharp, an' I'm goin' to bite."
He snarled out the last words as though he were indeed the animal he had named himself, poured a liberal drink from the bottle on the table, swallowed it at a gulp, and flung down into a chair. The marshal changed the subject.
"I was figurin' to hold the inquiry on Mart to-morrow mornin'; that suit yu?"
"Inquiry? What in hell for? He was hit in the back o' the head with a .45 slug, an' there ain't nothin' to show who fired it. Yu, like a half-wit, say it was Green, an' it suits me to have it thought so. Hold yore fool inquiry when yu please--I shan't be there."
He took no notice when they went out, sitting there chewing savagely at an unlighted cigar. Though his hard, self-centred soul was incapable of affection, his brother's end had roused a demon of rage within him; he regarded it as a blow at himself; and besides, Mart would have been useful.
"Damn them all ! I'll make this town smell hell," he swore.
Outside the ranch-house, Slype looked at his deputy and jerked a meaning thumb at the room they had just left.
"Fightin' drunk," he said. "Yu'd better stick around, Riley. See yu later."
Slumped in his saddle, the marshal rode slowly back to town. There was an expression of malicious content on his ferrety face despite the tongue-lashing he had been twice subjected to. But his muttered monologue showed that they still rankled :
"Purdie'll ride me on a rail, an' King'll cram my star down my throat if I don't come to heel, huh?" He laughed disdainfully, a hoarse cackle which had no mirth in it."Go on thinkin' that, yu clever fellas, till yu wake up an' find yu've played my game for me. Wipe each other out an' leave the field clear--for me; I won't interfere, Mister King Burdette, not any." He pondered for a moment over the prospect his mind had pictured. "Gotta find Cal, though --he's the trump card. Wonder where King has him cached?"
For Riley, in a burst of confidence, had told of the old prospector's abduction, though he did not know where he had been taken. King Burdette trusted no man overmuch, and once the captive was clear of the town, he had himself conducted him to the hiding-place, sending his men back to the ranch. Riley had searched, but so far without avail. He was beginning to regret that he had confided in the Circle B autocrat, and that was why he had told Slype. Possessed of a certain low cunning, he had guessed that the marshal--given the opportunity and a sufficient inducement--would not hesitate to double-cross Burdette, and he argued that Slype would be the easier of the two men to handle. In which, had he but known it, he was entirely mistaken.
* * *
The inquiry into the death of Mart Burdette provided no sensation. It took place in "The Lucky Chance" and was conducted by Slype, who combined the duties of coroner with those of marshal. He stated the facts baldly to a hastily-empanelled jury, adding that it was a plain case of murder, but that there. was
no evidence pointing to any particular person, at which the foreman of the C P, lounging in the doorway, smiled satirically; Slippery was playing his cards close. The Burdettes were not present, but at the burial--which took place an hour later--King and Sim rode behind the body. Their set, scowling faces showed no sign of grief; the Black Burdettes were not given to affection. They had followed their father to his last resting-place with the same dark indifference, and if they had sworn vengeance upon the slayer it was only to serve their own ends. When the ceremony was over they rode back to town and entered the hotel. With a word to the landlord, King led the way to an empty room and closed the door carefully behind them.
"Mart bein' in the discard it follows yu an' me gotta talk things over an' settle what we're goin' to do," was his opening remark. "Yu got any ideas?"
The face of the younger man was gloomy and vindictive; he had less command over his emotions and possibly some trace of feeling for his dead brother.
"First thing, I reckon, is to search out Green an' abolish him," he replied. "I've half a mind..."