"We gotta search out Cal. Take a look at his shack--there's just a chance he's been dumb enough to go back. I'm for town, to see if I can get a line on him there. Yu'Il need to watch out; if them C P hombres catch yu snoopin' round yu'll likely stop lead."
"Can't afford to do that--the fam'ly is gettin' considerable thinned out," Sim said grimly. "Yu reckon one of 'em got Mart?"
"I dunno--yet," King replied darkly. "Somethin' queer about that."
The younger man nodded agreement, swung into his saddle, and began to pick his way through the pines in the direction of Old Stormy. King slammed the door of the hut, locked it, and set out for Windy. Though he had not betrayed the fact, his mind was in a ferment of fury over the escape of the prisoner, and the knowledge that Luce had brought it about added fuel to the fire of his wrath.
"Time that snake was stamped on," he muttered.
Sim's reference to Mart recalled another mysterious taking-off, that of his father. Though he had, as part of his policy, openly blamed the C P for the killing, he did not actually believe it. Much as he hated Purdie, he knew him to be a fair fighter who would face his man and scorn to take a mean advantage.
Curious glances greeted him as he rode along the street, his handsome features marred by a heavy frown. Local gossip held that King Burdette was taking the passing of his brother far too quietly, and was wondering when the fur would begin to fly. The marshal, peeping through his window, saw him pass, and grimaced at his broad back.
"King, huh?" he gibed. "Knave would suit yu better, though mebbe yu won't be no more'n a two-spot when it comes to a show-down."
The object of this malignant criticism dismounted at "The Lucky Chance" and went in. The place was empty, save for the proprietor, dozing behind the bar.
"Howdy, Magee. Hot, ain't it?" Burdette began. "Joinin' me?"
The saloon-keeper shook his head. "I've quit--waste o' good liquor; ye sweat it out 'fore ye know ye've had it."
The customer accepted the excuse--he knew it was but that--with a gesture of indifference. "Suit yoreseif," he said. "Better not spread the notion about though; it might be bad--for trade." He waited to let the covert threat sink in, and then, casually, "Any news o' that miner who was missin'?"
"Divil a whisper," the Irishman said. "It sticks in me moind they've made away wid him."
"Mebbe Riley was right," Burdette suggested slyly, anxious to make the other talk.
"Mebbe he was not," the saloon-keeper retorted. "I'd name that fella for a direct descindant o' Mister Ananias. Yago saw Cal after Green had gone, an' I've knowed Bill a consid'able whiles."
"Green's his friend," King persisted.
"His foreman, which ain't jist th' same thing," Magee corrected. "An' the pair av thim is straight as a string."
"Takin' sides with the C P, huh?" Burdette fleered.
"I am not, but I ain't takin' orders neither," Magee replied bluntly.
King's sallow face flushed at the open defiance, but he kept his temper. "No call to go on the prod, ol'-timer," he laughed. "yo're takin' one order anyways--I want another drink."
The saloon-keeper pushed forward the bottle, but he was not deceived by this display of good nature; he knew quite well that the Circle B man would not forget the incident. But he was not scared; running a Western saloon in the bad old days was no job for a weakling. Burdette stayed a few moments longer, chatting casually, and then made his way to "The Plaza." Here again customers were scarce, two miners wrangling over a game of seven-up representing the total. Lu Lavigne stretched a hand across the bar, sympathy in her dark eyes.
"King, I'm so sorry--about Mart," she said.
"Shucks, whatsa use? I ain't grievin'," he returned callously. "I'd like to meet the coyote what did it, though." His brooding brows came together. "Seen anythin' o' that fella Green lately?"
She shook her head. "you are not suspecting him, are you?"
Her apparent interest stung him. "Why not? He ain't no shinin' white angel, I'd say," he gibed.
"Don't be childish, King," she chided. "I don't think he'd shoot a man from behind."
Her defence of the puncher added to his anger, and he struck back. "S'pose yu know why yu haven't seen him?" he asked.
She knew he was meaning to hurt, divined the evil in his mind, and it roused her to retaliate. "I expect he's afraid of you, King," she murmured, but her twinkling eyes belied the statement.
The blow went home; she saw his jaw tighten and the fingers of his right hand bunch up; had she been a man he would have hit her. And then he laughed.
"Mebbe yo're right, but there's a better reason," he told her. "Green's too busy runnin' around after Nan Purdie to give yu a thought, my girl."
The effect of this assertion surprised him, for Mrs. Lavigne buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking convulsively. For an instant he was deceived--he thought she was weeping--and then she peeped at him between her fingers. Certainly the tears were there, but they were those of merriment.
"Oh, you men ! " she gasped. "King, you'll be the death of me one day."
The man glowed at her. "Yo're damn right I will, if yu play tricks on me," he growled. "Anythin' funny about Green shinin' up to Purdie's gal?"
"No," she replied. "The amusing part is that you should think it mattered to me."
The tone and look which accompanied the words convinced him that he had made a fool of himself, and, strangely enough, restored his good humour.
"Aw, well, take it I'm plain jealous," he said placatingly. "Yu know I think a lot o' yu, Lu."
"Oh, yeah," she teased, and with a smile, "What did you come to find out?"
"I came to see yu," he replied, and when she emphatically shook her sleek head, added, "I was certainly meanin' to ask if yu'd heard any tidin's o' California?"
"I haven't. Goldy Evans was in last night, and he thinks the old man is being kept prisoner somewhere." King's eyebrows went up. "Whatever for?"
"Goldy's idea is that Cal has struck it rich and is being held until he tells."
Though she spoke casually, the man was aware that she was watching him, and schooled his features to indifference; King Burdette had abundant self-control when he chose to exercise it. Inwardly he was wondering how a theory so near the truth had got abroad, and cursing Riley for a chatterbox. With a careless shrug he said:
"Pretty far-fetched notion. My guess would be that the buzzards has picked the old boy's bones by now. When yu goin' to pay that visit to the Circle B, Lu?"
She slanted a mischievous look at him. "Some day--when you're not there; I'll learn all your secrets then."
"Do that an' I'll have to keep yu there--a prisoner," he threatened. "Think yu'd like it?"
"I don't know--yet," she smiled, and then, as more customers came in, "Now I've got to be busy, if your Majesty will excuse me."
She bobbed an impudent curtsey and tripped away to serve the newcomers. King lingered a moment and then went out. Some of the men greeted him, but others took no notice, which brought the scowl back to his face. He was realizing that since the advent of Green the dominance of the Burdettes had seriously suffered. He cursed the citizens contemptuously, promising himself that he would whip them to heel when his hour of triumph arrived. Then he almost collided with Riley.
"Want yu," he said shortly. "What's this talk in the town of Cal strikin' it good an' bein' held till he opens up?"
"Ain't heard it," the man replied.
"Well, I have, an' they got the story pretty straight. Yu been yappin'?"
"Is it likely? My neck's long enough--I don't want it stretched none," the cowboy lied stolidly.
"Which it will be if this town learns the truth," King assured him. "Where is Cal?"
Riley stared at him. "How in hell should I know? Yu took him off yoreself."
"He's got away," Burdette informed him, and added a few particulars.