"Yu ain't, or yu wouldn't talk like a fool," King cut in. "Mart figured thataway, an' where is he? 'Sides, Green didn't do it, though if folks choose to think he did I ain't objectin'. What I want to play for is a show-down." He dropped his voice, and spoke earnestly for some moments; Sim listened with growing unease.
"But that'll turn the whole town agin us," he expostulated.
"To hell with the town," his brother responded roughly. "It'll set the C P a-bilin', they'll attack us, an' we'll have a good excuse for wipin' 'em out. If, in the ruckus, Green an' Purdie get rubbed out, well, it ain't nobody's fault, an' we get the ranch."
"What about the girl--it'll belong to her, won't it?" Sim suggested.
"An' she'll belong to me--if she's lucky," King said coolly. "Ownin' both the ranches--to say nothin' o' the mine--I'm sayin' Windy will take notice when a Burdette talks."
Sim's eyes shone at the prospect; he had all the other'sgreed, if less of his courage. The audacity of the scheme dazzled him, and he had unbounded faith in the clever, unscrupulous man who had evolved it.
"Shore listens good, if we can swing it," he agreed. "Has Cal opened up yet?"
"No, damn him, but he can't hold out much longer," King replied, adding with sinister intensity, "I ain't begun to persuade him yet."
"Yu think he really has somethin' to say?"
"Shore, he has the goods this time."
"How yu figurin' to deal with Lu?"
The elder man laughed. "She'll do what she's told, like the rest of 'em round here," he said arrogantly. "I aim to be King in somethin' more than name, boy, an' don't yu forget it."
"Yu ain't no piker, an' that's a fact," Sim rejoined. "I'm with yu all the way, but I wish them skirts warn't mixed up in it; I've a hunch we'll trip over 'em."
King clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Yu needn't to worry 'bout that," he said. "Leave me to handle 'em; I know the trick of it."
They went downstairs, and the man who had been sitting with an ear glued to the wooden partition of the adjoining room straightened up and rolled a cigarette. It was Luce Burdette, and his face was a picture of perplexity. Though he had not been able to hear all the conversation, he had gathered that some sinister plot was projected which, unless frustrated, would bring dire misfortune upon Nan Purdie. How could he prevent it? He was himself a Bur-dette, an outcast from them, it was true, but shamed, suspected; no one would listen to him; even those who hated his family would doubt his story. To visit the C P was to invite a bullet. His only hope was in one man. Having watched his brothers ride down the street, he went in search of Green. He met him coming out of the store.
"'Lo, Luce, where yu been hidin' lately?" the foreman smiled.
"Don't have to hide," came the bitter reply. "Nobody sees me anyway. There's somethin' I guess yu oughta hear."
He told his tale, and Sudden's face grew grave. "I've knowed all along King's game was to make us jump first," he said. `But how's he goin' to do it? Ain't yu got a guess?"
The boy shook his head. "He lowered his voice when he told Sim that, but it's somethin' the town won't like."
"Don't tell us much--easy for a Burdette to do that," the foreman retorted. "So, like I reckoned, they have got Cal?"
Luce nodded. "I'm goin' to find out where he's hidden. I s'pose half the fellas here think I've murdered him."
"Mebbe, an' the other half are believin' Riley's yarn that I pushed the ol' chap in the river," Sudden grinned. "Shucks, what do we care? Me, I never did hanker for a halo anyway." He sobered again. "If yu can find Cal before he talks, get him some place where they can't grab him; that's goin' to put a crimp in their plans."
"I'm startin' right now," Luce told him, and as he turned away, added, "Take care o' Nan."
The foreman nodded, got into his saddle, and rode back to the C P. He had plenty to occupy his thoughts. King Burdette was about to strike, and he had no knowledge which would enable him to anticipate the blow. All he knew was that it would be directed at the ranch for which he was now virtually responsible. And the C P could look for little help from the citizens of Windy, few of whom would care to stand out openly against the gang of ruthless, quick-shooting ruffians who made up the Circle B outfit.
"Right or wrong, there's allus fellas who wanta be on the winnin' side," he cogitated. "Nig, ol' hoss, we're shorely goin' to be shy some sleep for a spell."
Chapter XVIII
LUCE, headed for the Circle B ranch, selected a route which took him towards the northern wall of the valley. His progress was slow, owing to the necessity for keeping under cover--he had no wish to be seen by any of the Burdette riders. So that the shadows were lengthening when he slipped over the rim-rock and plunged into the pines which masked the outer slope. The cool, quiet and aromatic tang of the trees, brought relief to both body and mind. It was almost dark in the wood, the sun's rays being powerless to penetrate the dense roof of foliage, and on the thick carpet of pine-needles the horse paced noiselessly.
He was no longer making for his old home, for, thinking the matter over as he rode, he had come to the conclusion that his brother would not risk taking the prospector there. Searching in his mind for a likely hiding-place, he had remembered the little hut in the pine forest, some four miles from the Circle B. His father had built it, but for what purpose he had never learned.
Constructed of untrimmed logs, it consisted of one room only; there was a small hole to admit light, and a door secured with a heavy padlock. As a boy the place had appealed to his curiosity, but for years he had not given it a thought. Conscious that he was nearing the spot, he dismounted, tied Silver in a clump of brush, and set out afoot, slipping like a shadow from trunk to trunk. The wisdom of this precaution was soon apparent. Outside the shack stood a big roan, and fumbling with the lock was the eldest Burdette. No sooner had he entered than the watcher ran lightly forward and crouched down at the back of the hut. He was in time to hear his brother's first words.
"Well, old fool; ready to talk yet?"
Nearly starved, his old bones cramped by his bonds and eyes aching for light--he was still blindfolded--California, in fact, had a great deal to say, but it was not quite what his visitor had come to hear. In his high, cracked voice the old man poured a stream of vituperation upon his unknown gaolers; evidently he had not entirely wasted the long hours of his captivity. In awestruck admiration Luce listened to the spate of outlandish oaths and scarifying insults. As he said afterwards, "I never thought the ol' fossil had that much venom in his system. It was like a stampede o' words, a-jostlin' an' a-tumblin' over one another, an' they was bilin' hot too."
King Burdette waited till the prisoner paused for breath and then said sarcastically, "Cussin' won't get yu nowhere. I want the location o' that mine." Getting no reply, he went on, "What's the use o' bein' obstinate? Yu'll get yore share."
California snorted. "Yeah, but my share'll be the wrong kind o' metal--a slug o' lead."
"Shucks, I'll play fair," the other urged.
"Yu can go plumb to hell; the gold's mine an' I'll have it--spite o' the Devil hisself," the old man said stubbornly, and when the visitor let out an oath of exasperation, he added, "Cussin' won't get yu nowhere."
The gibe exhausted Burdette's patience. "Yu damned ol' bone-rack, so yu won't tell, huh?" he stormed. "Well, yu don't eat again till yu do, an' if yu ain't ready to come clean to-morrow mornin' ..."
The unspoken threat only produced a hoarse chuckle.
"Laugh yore fill now," King went on. "Hangin' by yore thumbs, with a slow fire under yu, mebbe won't seem so humorsome."
California shook his head. "I ain't scared a mite," he said. "Yu dasn't do it. I'm old; treat me rough an', I passin my checks. Where'd yu be then? Nobody else knows where the gold is."