The cattleman's face shone; his hand came out to grip that of his guest. "I'm damned glad to meet yu, Green?" he said heartily. "Yu got any plan?"
"I'm takin' the job yu offered, Purdie," he said. "But I gotta play 'possum, remember; I'm just an ordinary cow-punch who has pulled his picket-pin an' is rovin' round, sabe?" Purdie nodded, and Sudden added irrelevantly, "I don't believe that fella Luce did the killin'."
"His own brothers didn't deny it," the old man pointed out.
"That's so, an' I can't quite savvy it," Sudden admitted. "Allasame, Luce struck me as bein' straight."
The rancher was about to reply when his daughter
appeared. Seeing the stranger, she would have retired again, but her father called her.
"Meet Mister Green, Nan," he said. "He's goin' to be foreman here."
She shook hands, a kindness in her eyes for which he could not account. Her words explained it, or at least he thought so.
"I have to thank you for--what you did," she said.
The new foreman fidgeted with his feet; he would rather have faced a man with a gun than this dewy-eyed, grateful girl.
"It don't need mentionin'," he stammered.
"Green's goin' to help us find the slinkin' cur that did it, Nan," Purdie put in harshly : and to the puncher, "Well, Jim, fetch yore war-bags along an' start in soon's yu like; it'll be a relief to know yo're on the job."
"I'll be on hand in the mornin'," the puncher promised. They watched until a grove of trees hid him from view, and then the rancher asked a question.
"I like him," Nan replied. "But isn't it taking a chance? We know nothing about him."
"Mebbe it is, but I'm playin' a hunch," her father told her. "That fella ain't no common cow-punch. He's young, but he's had experience, an' them guns o' his ain't noways new. I'm bettin' he'll make them Burdette killers think."
Just at the moment, however, it was the other way about, for the new foreman's brain was busy with the burden he had so promptly undertaken. He had no illusion as to the nature of his task; he had been hired to fight the Burdette family, and, judging by the samples he had seen, and the information he had gained regarding their outfit, he was likely to have his hands full. A thin smile wreathed his lips; the little man in Juniper had not over-stated the case.
Absorbed in his thoughts, he was pacing slowly through a miniature forest when a little cry aroused him, and hel ooked up to see a woman running along the trail ahead of him. Fifty yards in front of her a saddled pony was trotting. A touch of the spur sent Nigger rocketing past the pedestrian and in a few moments Sudden was back again, his rope round the runaway's neck. He found the woman sitting on a fallen tree-trunk. She was young--about his own age, he estimated--and her oval face--the skin faintly tanned by the sun--black hair and eyes, made her good to look upon. A neat riding costume displayed her perfect figure to advantage. He noted that her cheeks were but slightly flushed and her breathing betrayed no sign of haste.
"Gracias, senor," she greeted in a low, sweet voice. "I descend to peek ze flower an' my ponce vamos."
The puncher grinned, twitched his loop from the animal's neck and flung the reins to the ground.
"If yu'd done that he'd 'a' stayed put," he exclaimed. Her eyes widened. "So?" she said. "The senor weel see zat I am w'at is call a sore-foot, yes?"
Sudden laughed and said. "The word is `tenderfoot.' " His gaze travelled to her trim high boots. "Yu've shore got a pretty one," he added.
The lady dimpled deliciously, and lifting her feet from the ground, inspected their shapeliness critically.
"You like heem?" she asked archly.
"I like heem," the puncher repeated. "I like heemboth. Now, s'pose we drop the baby-talk an' speak natural; yu ain't no Greaser."
The girl's eyes danced. "So young, and yet--so wise," she bantered.
"My second name is Solomon," he told her gravely. "Mebbe yu've heard of him?"
"Oh yes, he was the first Mormon, I believe," she smiled. "I hope you..."
Sudden shook his head emphatically. "Not one," he said.
"Why, of course not, at your age," she replied, and then, as he bent down from the saddle to study the sleek black head--from which she had now removed the hat--more closely, her feminine fears were aroused. "What is the matter?" she cried.
"I'm lookin' for the grey hairs," he said solemnly. "They seem to be plenty absent."
"Dios! But you scared me," she said, in real or pretended relief. "I thought that you had found some, or that a rattlesnake was looking over my shoulder. You are rather a disconcerting person, Mister Green."
"Yu know me?" the puncher queried.
"Of course," she smiled. "Your arrival created quite a sensation." Her voice sobered. "That poor Mister Purdie, and Kit was such a nice boy. Now, can you guess who I am?"
"No need to guess--yu must be Mrs. Lavigne," Sudden replied. "Someone was tellin' me about yu."
"Nothing bad, I hope?" she asked anxiously.
"No, it was a man," the puncher grinned. "He said yu were restful to the sight."
She laughed delightedly. "So you might venture to come and see me at `The Plaza,' " she suggested. "That is, if you are staying in Windy."
"I'm goin' to ride for Purdie," he told her.
The news struck the merriment from her face. She hesitated as though about to speak, and then put on her hat, settling it with a deft touch, stood up, grasped the reins of her pony and was in the saddle before he could dismount to help her.
"I'm goin' to town too," he suggested.
She shook her head. "No, no, my friend, but--you may come to see me," she smiled.
Ere he could remonstrate, the pony was racing along the trail. At the first bend, its rider turned in the saddle, waved gaily, and vanished, leaving the puncher pondering. Why had she changed when he told her he was to ride for the C P? The answer was not hard to find--he would be opposed to King Burdette, and King Burdette was what--to her? He patted the satiny neck of the black horse, which, in colour and sheen, matched the hair of the girl who had just left him.
"I'm bettin' she stampeded that pony," he said reflectively. "Nig, this yer neck o' the woods is a heap more dangerous than the governor man let on. The matrimonial noose is harder to dodge than a ha'r rope, an' we ain't got no time for foolishness. There's a tangle here to straighten out, an' then ..."
The furrow between his eyebrows came into evidence as his thoughts went to the quest which had sent him--a mere boy--prowling the country like a lone wolf. Years had been spent on it, and more were to pass ere its fulfilment, which has been told in another place.*
**
The Circle B ranch was a bachelor establishment. Old Man Burdette had lost his wife many years before he met his own untimely end, and the housekeeping and upbringing of the boys had devolved upon Mandy, a negress who had served the family nearly all her life.
The ranch-house was a pretentious one for the time and place. Two-storeyed, built of trimmed logs chinked with clay, it occupied a bench about half-way up the face of Battle Butte, and was reached by a rough, winding wagon-road from the valley. At the back of the building, the brush and tree-clad ground rose steeply. It was not an ideal location, and Old Burdette never forgave himself for not having a look at the other end of the valley. It was not until Purdie arrived and settled on Old Stormy that the firstcorner realized he had blundered, and this was the beginning of the ill-feeling between the families.
On the morning after the burial, Luce entered the big living-room and found his eldest brother awaiting him.
"What is it, King?" he asked. "Sim said yu wanted me."
The other nodded, and after a short pause, snapped out, "How come yu to shoot Purdie?"
*The Range Robbers, Geo. Newnes, Ltd.
"I didn't," was the quiet reply.