"Where do we go now?" she asked.
A mocking laugh answered her. "Yu don't," said a hated voice, and a lifted lantern drove away the darkness. King Burdette was standing a few yards in front of them, one thumb hooked in his belt and a jeering grin on his face. Like a flash Luce whipped out his gun and covered him.
"Stand outa the way or I'll send yu to hell pronto," the boy rasped.
The threatened man laughed. "Yu couldn't kill one o' yore own kin, Luce," he said.
"Yu ain't that, thank God," came the retort.
King laughed again. "Found that out at last, huh?" he sneered. "Well, it shore was funny to see yu swaggerin' around, puttin' on frills as one o' the family when allatime yu was on'y a nameless brat."
"I'd a thousand times sooner be that than a Black Burdette," Luce retorted passionately, and, as his finger tightened on the trigger, "I've warned yu that there's nothin' to prevent me shootin' yu down..."
The elder man snarled a curse. "Nothin' to prevent yu?" he repeated. "Why, yu young fool, there's a dozen guns coverin' yu right now. Fire, an' be damned to yu; we'll go together, an' instead o' one admirer Miss Purdie'll have quite a number."
The fiendish threat underlying the last words drove the blood from the rescuer's cheeks. He looked around and saw dark forms with levelled revolvers step from the shadows into the lamp-light. He was trapped. Doubtless King had been watching for some such attempt--Luce knew Mandy would not betray him--and had enjoyed allowing it to almost succeed; it was in keeping with the cruel humour of the man. With a smothered groan he holstered his weapon. He might have killed King, but he would lose his own life and leave Nan at the mercy of men who did not know the meaning of the word. Once more the hateful laugh rang out.
"Learnin' sense, huh? Well, I'm a good teacher," King said. "Unbuckle yore belt an' let it drop."
"That's a trick I taught yu," Luce reminded him, as he complied with the order.
The gibe sank in; King's face became a mask of malignity. "Don't push on yore reins, boy," he hissed. "I'll be learnin' yu aplenty afore I'm through." He turned to his men. "Tie an' lock 'em up--apart, an' then cut that damn tree down."
Luce looked at his fellow-prisoner. "I'm sorry, Nan," he said miserably. "Reckon I've on'y made things worse for yu."
The girl smiled bravely. "No, it was fine of you to come, Luce," she replied, and her tone was a caress. "I'm not afraid now."
"Better tell him good-bye; yu won't be seein' him again," King mocked.
The threat did not have the effect he expected--it only roused the girl's fighting spirit. "I'll do that," she said quietly. "Thank you, Luce, and in case this coward means what he says ..." She reached up and kissed the astonished boy full on the lips. "I'll never forget, dear--never," she whispered.
To have his taunt flung back in his face was more than Burdette had bargained for, but he repressed his rage and substituted a sneer: "Make the most of it, my fine fella--it's the on'y one yu'll get; the rest'll be mine." He growled an order to his followers, "Take 'em away. Sim, I hold yu responsible till I come back."
"Yu needn't to worry--they'll be here," the younger brother assured him.
King nodded, went to the corral for his horse, and was soon on the way to Windy. He was in an exultant mood, things were going as he had planned--with one exception --the escape of California. Luce must be made to tell where the miner was hiding, and then, if the move he was now about to make proved successful, the game was won.
*
In her own little sitting-room at "The Plaza," Lu Lavigne listened with growing astonishment while King Burdette outlined the situation. It was a pleasant place, tastefully furnished, gaudily-coloured Navajo blankets and a fine grizzly pelt concealing the bareness of walls and floor; on the centre table stood a great jar of flowers. The daintily-dressed girl, with her trim, shining head and wide, deep eyes, was not the least of the room's attractions, and the visitor, lounging easily in a chair, was fully aware of the fact. He was speaking softly, persuasively, his bold eyes paying her the homage dear to the heart of every woman, be she princess or peasant. A different man this smiling, low-voiced, handsome fellow to the cynical, ruthless devil she knew he could be, and, strangely enough, this was the King Burdette she feared, for, with all her independence, in this mood he could bend her to his will.
"So that's how the cards lie, honey," he concluded, triumphantly. "All we gotta do is lay the hand down an' rake in the pot."
"And I'm to help you to the C P ranch and--a wife?" she queried resentfully.
"Shucks, Lu, yu got me all wrong," King replied. "When Purdie hands over the ranch he gets the girl back, an' Luce can have her for all I care. Time comes I want a mistress for the C P yu know where I'll look, don't yu, sweetness?"
The caressing tone and the ardent look which accompanied the words brought a flush to the girl's cheeks, and convinced her that he was speaking the truth. As to the morality of what King was attempting, that troubled her not at all; Nan Purdie lived on a different plane and theywere not even acquainted. Even in this far-off corner of the earth a woman who ran a saloon could not hope to meet on equal terms the daughter of a big cattleman. Moreover, in those days too often might was right, and Burdette had been at pains to fabricate a grievance against Chris Purdie. The only qualm she experienced was when she thought of the C P foreman, and that she resolutely dismissed from her mind; he had told her plainly that women could have no part in his life, and the fascination King Burdette had for her was still strong. Because of it she consented to do his bidding, though she told herself she was a fool to mix in the affair.
Chapter XXII
WHEN Sudden and Yago returned to the C P in the early afternoon the cook came from the bunkhouse on the run.
"Hey, Jim, the Ol' Man's just bin aroun'--said for yu to go see him as soon as yu showed up," he explained. "I'm bettin' suthin' has broke loose--he was lookin' as mad as a singed cat."
Turning his horse over to Bill, the foreman strode to the ranch-house. Tied to the rail of the verandah was the pony Lu Lavigne rode, and on stepping into the living-room he saw the lady herself, seated in a large chair. She greeted him with a cool nod, and then her attention went back to Purdie, who was pacing up and down in an obvious attempt to overcome his passion. He paused as the foreman entered, and growled.
"Glad yu've come, Jim." He waved a hand savagely at his guest. "One o' Burdette's creatures; he hadn't the sand to come himself an' sends a woman."
The girl flushed. "That's not true," she protested. "I have no part in King Burdette's business--he is merely a friend. He asked me to bring his message because he expected to be shot on sight if he showed himself here."
"He was damn right too," the rancher grimly agreed. "That's my way o' treatin' vermin."
Lu Lavigne shrugged her slim shoulders. "It would have helped your daughter so much, wouldn't it?" she retorted.
The foreman judged it was time to put in a word: "Burdette makin' an offer, Purdie?" he asked.
The cattleman stopped and whirled. "Yeah, the sort yu might expect from such a dirty road-agent," he replied fiercely. "I'm to sign a paper that woman has fetched, makin' over my ranch an' cattle to him for value received, an' in return, I get my girl back unharmed."
Sudden did not reply at once; the magnitude and audacity of the demand staggered him. He looked at the lady, sitting there with a set, wooden face devoid of all expression, and his thoughts went straying.
"An' if the paper ain't signed?" he said at last.
"Luce Burdette will die, and your daughter, Mister Purdie, will want to," the messenger replied tonelessly.
"So Luce failed?"
"King was watching; he let them almost escape."