"Two-three times--allus by chance," Luce admitted, and then looked the old man squarely in the face. "See here, Purdie, I'm ownin' to bein' in love with yore daughter, an' that's why I couldn't pull on yu a piece back, but if yu think there's anythin' between us yo're insultin' her. I'd give my life to keep her from harm, but whether she cares for me I dunno; we never had no love-talk. She once said, in my hearin', that she could not marry a Burdette."
"She told yu that?"
"No, she said it to King; I was present. Things bein' as they are, yu may as well hear it all."
He went on to describe what had taken place at his last meeting with Nan in the glade, and the father's hard face grew grimmer and his fingers knotted into fists as he heard the story.
"She never let out a word," he muttered.
"Why should she?" Luce asked bitterly. "Warn't there trouble enough a'ready between yore family an' mine?"
"An' yore guess is that King has carried her off?" the foreman queried.
"Who else?" the boy retorted. "He alone knew of our friendship--must 'a' seen us there one time, an' he'd have some o' my writin' to copy. This must be the move he was talkin' about to Sim." A hot gust of rage shattered his control. "By heaven, if he hurts a hair of her head I'll kill him, brother though he may be."
Chris Purdie stood up. "Yu won't have to," he said, and his voice was cold, passionless, set with resolve. "If Nan is harmed I'll send King Burdette to hell myself. Jim, we'll go get the boys an' clean up the Circle B right now."
Luce shook his head. In the last few moments he seemed to have sloughed his youth, and when he spoke it was with the assurance of a man speaking to men.
"Yu can't do that, Purdie," he said.
The cattleman scowled at him. "What damn business is it o' yores?" he asked harshly.
"My name has been used to get yore girl into a trap," young Burdette replied steadily. "I aim to get her out of it, whether yu agree or not." The glare he received left him unmoved. "Yo're overlookin' the fact that if King holds Miss Purdie he has yu hog-tied. What's goin' to happen to her if yu move against him?"
The rancher's flushed face paled. "He dasn't harm her," he muttered.
"If yu think that yu don't know my brother," was the grim reply. "Yu gotta remember too that he has twenty men--trained fighters--an' he'll be expectin' yu."
"He's talkin' sense, Purdie," the foreman added. "While King has Miss Nan all the town can't help yu, an' to go up there in force would be just what he's hopin' for. Got any plan, Luce?"
"I know the Circle B," the young man pointed out. "Mebbe I can find out where she is an' steal her away. Once she's clear o' King's clutches"--he looked at the rancher--"Yu an' yore outfit can go ahead."
The old man sat thinking, chin sunk in his chest, his lined features drawn and grey; the blow had hit him hard. One hideous fact blotted out everything else--his daughter was at the mercy of one who laughed at the laws of God and man, and whose reputation regarding women was of the worst. Never until this moment had this dour frontier fighter known fear. Presently he looked up.
"If yu can bring Nan back I'll be willin' to believe there can be some good even in a Burdette," he said.
The boy's eyes brightened at this grudging admission. "I'll do it," he replied, and to the puncher, "By the way, I found Cal--they had him cached in the pines to the north o' the Circle B; they got nothin' out of him."
"Where is he now?" Sudden asked.
"I dunno," Luce told him. "Said he had a hide-out where he'd be safe." He smiled wryly. "Yu don't s'pose he'd trust me, do yu?"
"Yu done a good job," the foreman said hearteningly,and turned to his employer. "Better keep all this to ourselves; we don't want anythin' started that'll force King's hand till Luce has had his chance."
"I'll get her or they'll get me," young Burdette said firmly, and Sudden saw the rancher regarding the boy curiously; he was evidently getting a new angle on this member of a hated family.
Riding back to the ranch, the foreman essayed a word of comfort :
"No need to worry about Miss Nan--yet; she's King Burdette's best bet, an' he knows it. 'Sides, Luce'll fetch her back; he's got sand, that boy."
But this rubbed a raw place. "Damnation, Jim, do yu fancy I wanta be under any obligation to one o' that breed?" he snapped, and relapsed into a moody silence.
Chapter XX
BREAKFAST in the C P bunkhouse on the following morning was not the usual cheerful function, for the strange disappearance of their young mistress had a depressing effect on the riders. Though they did not know, they guessed shrewdly, and, after the manner of their kind, yearned for action.
"What's come to the Old Man?" Curly said querulously. "Ain't them Burdettes prodded him enough a'ready?"
"Huh! Reckon it's Green holdin' him off," Moody surmised. "Odd too, for he don't seem the long-sufferin' sort."
From the head of the table Yago grinned at the malcontents. "If yu fellas had longer ears it'd be damned hard to tell yu from jackasses, on'y burros has more brains," he said pleasantly.
"Solomon was the wisest man ever lived--up to his time," Flatty informed the company. "O' course, Bill was born later."
Yago joined in the laugh. "Awright, yu chumps," he returned, "Yu'll get yore bit o' blood-lettin' yet."
Later, as he and the foreman were riding for the northern rim of the valley, he remarked casually :
"The boys are spoilin' for a scrap; they figure the Circle B has run on the rope a-plenty."
If he was fishing for information the attempt failed dismally; the answer he got was a question : "What yu think o' the marshal?"
"Don't think of him--nasty subject," Bill grinned. "Sooner occupy my mind with rattlers, centipedes, an' poison toads."
"I reckon yu'd be right at that," Sudden conceded. "But what part's he playin' in this yer game?"
"He's Burdette's dawg, to be petted or kicked at his master's pleasure," Yago said contemptuously.
The foreman's gesture was one of disagreement. "Slype ain't no dawg--not even a yaller one," he said. "He's a coyote, an' a cunnin' one. I'm beginning to have ideas 'bout that fella."
"Is that why we're pointin' for his place?"
"Yu've ringed the bell first rattle."
"If yo're wantin' to see him it's odds yu won't; he ain't there much."
"Which is why we're goin'," his foreman told him, and held up a hand to enjoin silence as a clink of iron against stone reached them.
Curious to know who it could be, Sudden slid to the ground and stepped to the brush-fringed rim of the ravine along the side of which they were riding. Thirty feet below, in the bed of the gully, the man they had been speaking of was jog-trotting in the direction of his ranch. A perfectly natural proceeding, but the fact that the marshal, like they themselves, had selected a roundabout route, seemed suspicious.
"We'll keep an eye on that jigger," the foreman decided. "Mebbe he's meetin' somebody."
The guess proved a good one, for after less than a mile had been covered they heard the marshal utter a surly, "Howdy."
Promptly they dismounted, dropped the reins, and crawled to the edge of the ravine. Squatting cross-legged on the ground, a cigarette drooping from his thin lips, was the Mexican half-breed, Ramon. The marshal descended from his saddle, tied his mount, and sat down facing the man who had evidently been awaiting him.
"What's yore notion, draggin' me out here?" he growled. "Too lazy to ride in huh?"
"Walls have ears, senor," Ramon replied. "What I weesh to say is ver' private, yu sabe?"
Slype pulled out a black cigar, lit up, and said tersely, "Shoot."
The Mexican appeared to be in no hurry; his dark, cunning eyes were studying the diminutive, hunched form of the man before him. Apparently the scrutiny pleased, for a sly smile flickered across his face.