There were four, and one of them, a craggy-faced fellow of over forty, stirred as Yago bent over him and regarded the C P man maliciously.
"Too late, ol'-timer," he said.
"Where's King an' the rest?" yago asked.
"Half-way to Windy by now," the man lied loyally. "Half-way to hell," Bill retorted.
"Same--thing," the fellow gasped. His head fell back and his lower jaw dropped in what appeared to be a ghastly grin at his last grim joke.
Yago straightened the body out. "Yu had yore own notions o' livin', hombre, but yu shore knowed how to die," was his comment.
He joined Purdie and the foreman in front of the ranchhouse and made his report. "Seven or eight, of 'em musta got away," he concluded. "Hey, boss, look who's comin'."
His excited cry was drowned in a whoop of delight from other members of the outfit as their young mistress came running across the plateau to fling herself into her father's arms. She was followed by Luce, and Mandy, whom they had found sitting stolidly where Sudden had left her.
"Gosh, girl, but it's good to have yu back, safe an' sound," Purdie said, when he had heard her story. "As for yu, Jim, I'll never be able to pay what I owe yu. If I'd 'a' knowed yu was goin' to hold up that thievin' devil single-handed ..."
"Shucks! Forget it, Purdie," the foreman smiled.
"Not while I got breath in my body," the rancher returned warmly. His eyes went to Luce. "I never thought the day would come when I'd thank a Burdette for any-thin', but I guess I gotta," he added, slowly putting out a hand.
From the shelter of her father's shoulder Nan laughed shyly. "Hurts your pride, daddy mine, doesn't it?" she whispered. "But it need not--Luce is no more a Burdette than you are."
"What do yu mean, girl?" he asked.
Nan told the news, and Mandy, with many nods, confirmed it. Purdie looked at Luce again, and saw what blind prejudice had prevented him from recognizing before: this red-headed, open-faced boy, who did not in any way resemble the Black Burdettes, could not have treacherously slain his son. Chris Purdie was a white man; his hand came out readily enough now.
"I'm right glad, Luce," he said simply, and meant it. "I've had some hard thoughts about yu, but I'm hopin' yu'll forget it."
The boy gripped the extended hand. "That's done a'ready," he said. "The way things looked, I couldn't blame yu."
Purdie gazed round. "Seems I gotta thank Mandy too," he went on. "An' that of scamp, Cal, an' all the boys. Reckon I'll have to sell the C P to meet my ohligations."
He grinned hugely; the recovery of his daughter and the paying of an old score had put him in great good humour. "I'm bettin' we've seen the last o' King Burdette."
"Yu'd lose, Purdie," Sudden said quietly.
A little later, Yago called the foreman aside. "Thought yu'd like to know I found a .38 rifle an' fodder cached in a cupboard in King's bedroom," he said. "Sorta bears out Ramon's story, don't it?"
"Shore does," Sudden agreed. "Don't tell nobody else; we got trouble enough ahead without gettin' Purdie on the rampage again."
"What d'yu reckon King'll come back for?" yago asked.
"To do yu a good turn, Bill," Sudden said, and smiled at his friend's puzzled expression. "Yeah, he's goin' to try an' make yu foreman o' the C P."
The little man understood, and his comment was vivid.
Chapter XXV
SAM SLYPE sat in his office, teeth clamped on a black cigar, brows knitted in thought. It was a blazing afternoon and the street outside was deserted. Two days had passed since the fight at Battle Butte and the excitement had to some extent died down. Save to the more lawless element, the crushing of the Circle B had brought satisfaction--Windy had long resented the arrogance and domination of the Burdettes and their riders. The marshal's own position had been delicate, but he flattered himself that he had adopted the right attitude. While, in deference to his office, he deprecated Purdie's appeal to force, he was careful to also make it clear that, in abducting the girl, King had placed himself outside the pale.
He smiled sourly as he remembered that these sentiments had met with general approval as being those of a fair-minded man who held a public position. But the marshal was by no means satisfied. The Burdettes were shattered, and this he had longed and schemed for, but Green remained. For he both hated and feared this capable young man who, drifting casually into the town, had at once began to make his presence felt. When, following an overheard remark, he had trailed the attackers to the Circle B, it had been in the hope of a furtive shot which would pass unnoticed. It might have been King, Green, or Purdie; it chanced to be Sim, who died because he was a Bur-dette, and, as the slayer had argued, his death would infallibly bring about that of the C P foreman. It was this disappointment over which he was brooding.
"Cuss the crooked luck," he muttered aloud.
"Conscience troublin' yu, Slippery?" asked a cool, amused voice.
It was King Burdette, and the marshal was aware of an inner icy chill which nearly stopped the beating of his heart. So absorbed had he been in his meditations that he had not heard the door open. Before his bulging eyes pale phantoms of the Burdettes he had so foully murdered seemed to stand beside this one and gibber at him. One thought obsessed him--had King learned the truth? He was smiling, but he was of the type who smiled as they strike.
"Anybody'd think yu weren't pleased to see me," the visitor went on, leaning lazily against the closed door.
The marshal collected his scattered wits. "I was thinkin' o' yu right when yu walked in, King," he stammered.
"Grievin', huh? The town don't appear to be mournin' none."
"Yore friends is sorry."
"But bein' in the minority an' wise men--as my friends would be--they're doin' the Br'er Rabbit act an' layin' low; oughtn't to blame 'em for that, I s'pose. What action yu takin', Sam?"
The unexpected question gave the officer a nasty jar. "Me?" he cried, and his amazement was real enough. "What can I do?"
Burdette surveyed him with very evident disgust. "Yo're the marshal," he reminded. "See here, Purdie rounds up an army--there was townsfolk in it--shoots me up, killin' eleven o' my men an' damagin' my property. Yu goin' to tell me that's accordin' to law?"
"Yu stole his gal, King," Slype protested.
"Stole nothin'--she come of her own free will," came the easy lie. "When it got out, we pretended she was a prisoner to save her good name. I sent word to Purdie that I'd marry her an' end the trouble between the two families. Yu know what his answer was."
"Sounds fair to me, King, but her tale don't tally."
"O' course not; did yu think it would?"
The marshal had not thought so; he knew the story was an invention to hit Purdie through his daughter, but that did not concern him. What he wanted to know was why Burdette had come to him, for the pretext of appealing to the law did not deceive him for an instant; he knew the Burdette nature better than that. Summoning his nerve, he put the question.
"I want justice," King told him sternly, and Slype's face turned to a sickly yellow. It was coming now; this savage devil would shoot him down without mercy unless ... Fear was driving him to snatch at his own gun in sheer desperation when the visitor spoke again. "Purdie must make good the damage he an' his men have done."
The marshal's suspended breath expelled itself in a gasp of relief, and, satisfied that his hide was not in danger, his cunning brain got busy. He could not fathom Burdette's attitude, but an inspiration came to him.
"Purdie figures yu've gone for good," he said. "I hear he's givin' the Circle B to Green." King straightened up, his careless, cynical expression changing to one of fierce surprise. "An' Green don't aim to be lonely up there on the Butte--he's bin at `The Plaza' most all day," Slype supplemented. "Betcha he's there now."