The poisoned shaft bit deep. Burdette was cruel, heartless, incapable of real affection, but he had his pride. The muscles of his jaw tightened, his lips curled back to uncover the clenched teeth, one hand went to his gun as he leaned forward.
"Yu lie," he hissed.
The marshal's puny soul shrivelled within him; he saw death itself staring out of those narrowed, flaming eyes. One moment of weakness would be the end--for him. His statement regarding the Circle B and Green was a deliberate invention, made to inflame the visitor, and despite the latter's fierce denial, Slype knew it had succeeded. He fought down his fears and answered steadily:
"I'm givin' yu the straight goods. Actin' friendly to yu don't buy a fella much, King."
The other ignored the reproach, but relaxed the tenseness of his attitude. The marshal's heart skipped a beat when King pulled out a gun, spun the cylinder, and replaced it carefully in the holster. He ventured a question.
"Yu didn't come in alone, King, did yu?"
The tall man looked down at him disdainfully. "Yeah, why not?" he retorted. "Do yu s'pose I'm scared o' this rabbit-warren? If anybody wants to argue with me I'll he right pleased, but I got a little business to 'tend to first."
"What yu aim to do?"
"I'm goin' to make shore that Mister Green don't get what belongs to me," was the reply. "See yu later."
Slype tried hard to keep the exultation out of his voice. "Well, a fella has a right to protect his own property, I reckon," he said. "Good huntin'." And when he was sure his visitor had gone, added venomously, "I hope yu get him an' that he gets yu, blast yu both."
Sitting slackly in his chair, he waited hopefully for the sound he wanted to hear--the crack of exploding cartridges. With these two men out of the way his path would be easy. Burdette's return was going to prove a godsend after all, though he was still trembling with the fright it had given him.
"Mebbe yu ain't so plucky as some, Sam," he told himself, "but yu got the savvy to plan big, an' the guts to put it through. If Riley has searched out Cal's secret, there'll on'y be Purdie to deal with. . . ."
Had Burdette heard the conclusion of the marshal's valediction it would probably have aroused only amused contempt; to him the fellow was a mere tool, and he would have ridiculed the suggestion that he might be dangerous. At the moment he had forgotten Slype entirely. Full of his fell purpose, he paced slowly down the street, sitting carelessly in the saddle, head thrown back, and insolent eyes challenging the curious glances of the few men he met. No one accosted him, and the sneer on his tight lips grew more pronounced as he proceeded. Rabbits! They believed he had run away, and that was one reason why he had returned to ride, unconcerned and unattended, in broad daylight, through the town. He had dared them, and they had done--nothing. The prestige of the Black Burdettes was still powerful.
He pulled up outside "The Plaza," got down, and trailed the reins. He did not enter immediately, though the presence of the big black horse at the hitch-rail indicated that the man he sought was within. A peep through the window confirmed this and supplied what else he needed to know. Only five men were in the place, four of them playing poker at a table on the left of the entrance, and the other, Green, leaning against the bar chatting with Lu Lavigne. She was smiling at something the puncher had just said, and Burdette gritted his teeth at this apparent substantiation of what the marshal had told him. The shapely head, with its coils of shining black hair, sparkling eyes, and delicately-tinted cheeks, seemed more desirable than ever, and jealousy fanned the flame of his hatred to a white heat. For a few seconds he stood glaring like a wild beast, and then, pulling both guns, he kicked open the swing-door and stepped in.
"Reach for the roof--all o' yu ! " he spat out. "I'm on'y sayin' it once."
Almost before they looked up the men at the card-table were obeying the command--they recognized the voice; they knew too that when King Burdette threatened lie was apt' to keep his word. Sudden followed suit; already covered by the gun of a man who was killing-mad, he had no choice. The girl only disregarded the order, stepping calmly from her place behind the bar, and facing the newcomer unflinchingly. Her low-cut, short-skirted dress showing her white shoulders and slim, silk-clad ankles, brought a savage gibe to King's lips.
"All prinked up for yore new lover, huh? Yu ain't lost any time, have yu?"
"I have no new lover, King," she told him quietly. "And no old one either it seems." There was a touch of bitterness in her tone as she went on, "Perhaps I thought I had, but not being heiress to a ranch ..."
"So that's the tale that lyin' houn' has been tellin' yu?" Burdette burst in angrily.
"I haven't discussed you with anyone," she replied. "I didn't need telling, King; it was plain enough."
She was playing for time, hoping that some interruption might occur to prevent him carrying out his deadly purpose, for the moment he came in she knew he was there to kill Green. Standing half-crouched, alert for every movement, his levelled guns dominated the room. Murderous hate blazed in his slitted eyes, his mouth was twisted in a feral snarl. The sight of the man who had beaten him at every point of the game, and--as he believed--stolen the woman for whom he at least lusted, had turned him into a fiend indeed. He was on the point of pulling the trigger when the girl's cool voice intervened.
"You must be mad or drunk, King, to come back to a town where every man's hand is against you."
"Hell, I'm King Burdette, an' there ain't one of 'em dare face me," he sneered.
His swift glare at the card-players provoked no response; they knew what he could do with a six-shooter; a movement would mean instant death to two or three of them. They sat in their places as though petrified.
"Except the man who is facing you now, and from whom you ran away when it was a question of an even break," she said scathingly.
The words cut him like a knife. "Shut yore cursed mouth, yu Jezebel, or I'll send yu along with him," he raved.
"Keep outa this, Mrs. Lavigne," the puncher urged. "Yu might get hurt. He's loco, an' may shoot wild."
His voice was steady and his grave eyes stressed the request. He did not for an instant believe what he had said, but he wanted her to. Burdette was a master of his weapon, and even in the grip of passion could not miss at that short range, and shooting at one who was, in effect, unarmed. Lu Lavigne looked at him wonderingly. With the shadow of Death hovering over him his one concern was for her safety. She had never met a man like this, and her heart told her she must save him--at any cost.
"Don't do this thing, King," she cried impulsively. "Go away now and I will come with you. I'll do anything you ask; be your slave--your toy . . ."
A hideous laugh cut her short. "Hark to her," King jeered. "Willin' to buy yore triflin' life with her beautiful body, Green--there's devotion. But the price ain't nearly high enough. Yu die."
Sudden drew himself up and looked coolly at the menacing muzzle. He had faced death before, had dealt it to others, and was not afraid.
"Shoot an' be damned, yu coward," he said.
Watching the killer's eyes, alight with the lust to slay, he knew that the moment had come, and prepared to fling himself forward in a desperate effort to beat the bullet. It was one chance in a thousand against a good gunman. Burdette's finger was actually squeezing the trigger when Lu Lavigne, with a cry of "No, no, you shall not kill him," stepped swiftly in front of the threatened man. The crash of the report was followed by a tiny slap as of a drivenrain-drop on a window-pane, and the horrified spectators saw the girl drop limply into Sudden's arms.
King Burdette stood as if turned to stone, stunned by the crime he had committed. A growl of rage from the card-table apprised him of his own danger--the men were reaching for their guns. The noise of the shot would bring others. If he wished to live he must move quickly. With lightning swiftness he sent two bullets at the card-players, and without waiting to see the result, darted to the door, hurled himself on his horse, and raced down the trail.