The threat of exposure to the child he had robbed, but of whom he was genuinely fond, wilted the man. When he spoke it was in a husky whisper:
"Anythin' but that, Seth. Take some more cows; I can manage so they won't be missed."
Raven shook his head. "Too risky--for me. Think I wanta be pulled for rustlin'? I on'y took 'em before 'cause I was damn short an' to oblige yu. No, there's a better way."
Sarel. raised his head, a gleam of hope in his deep-sunk eyes.
"S'pose she married someone else?" Raven went on.
"Yu got anybody in yore mind?" Reuben queried.
The saloon-keeper hesitated, and then, "Yeah," he said firmly. "A fella who wouldn't send yu travellin' an' who might forget about that four thousand."
It took a moment or two for the significance of this to sink in, but when it did the fat man sat up in his chair as though he had been stung.
"Yu?" he cried. "Yu marry 'Ionia? Why, damn--" He clamped his lips suddenly.
"Yu were goin' to say--?" Raven suggested softly.
Sarel swallowed hard and looked uncomfortable. "I was goin' to say, damn me if I ever thought of it," he lied.
The man who had made the proposition smiled acidly; he knew better. But he was enjoying himself; to get a white man in his power, ride and rake him with the spurs, afforded his mean mind the keenest satisfaction. But having indulged this desire he must apply the soothing ointment; he did not wish to drive his victim to desperation.
"Why should yu 'a' thought of it, Reub?" he asked, smiling. "An' again, why shouldn't yu? I'm young yet, an' there's less important fellas than me in these parts. Is there any reason why I mustn't aspire to yore niece?"
The cold, beady eyes of the speaker bored into those of the man opposite, daring him to say what he knew was in his mind--that there was a reason, one no amount of argument could ever remove. Reuben Sarel squirmed in his chair, fearful of giving offence, as helpless as a hog-tied calf in the branding corral. When the words came they were no answer to the question.
"I expect she ain't never thought o' yu thataway, Seth. It's her say-so, yu know."
"Shore, but yu bein' her on'y relation, I reckoned it right to get yore--consent. No doubt it'll take time, but with yu on my side I got a chance."
To cover his perturbation, Sarel slopped some more whisky in his glass and took a long drink. "Tonia's fond o' Bordene," he said.
"Natural enough--they've been brought up together," Raven agreed. "But Andy's affairs are in bad shape, an' he's drinkin' an' gamblin' more'n a young fella should who's expectin' to settle down. Yu sabe?"
The Double S man nodded miserably; he was getting orders and hated it, but he could not help himself. At his invitation the visitor stayed for the midday meal, and made a surprising effort to be pleasant. He paid Tonia one or two little compliments, but was careful not to let any hint of his intentions escape him. When Bordene's name was mentioned, all he said was, "Andy's havin' a tough time; I'm hopin' he'll make the grade."
After he had gone, the girl turned to her uncle. "I don't think I ever disliked anyone as I do that man," she said. "He's--slimy."
"Oh, Seth's all right," Reuben muttered, and cursed the passion for poker which had put him in the saloon-keeper's power. He watched as she went to get her pony from the corral, stepping with a fine, swinging grace which, as so many things in her did, brought back her father. The thought that followed made him sick. How would Anthony have received the proposal to which he had tamely listened? He knew only too well--flung the maker of it headlong into the dust, at no matter what cost to himself. Anthony had been all a man, while he--With a bitter oath he turned into the house.
At the slow "Spanish trot" of the cowpuncher, Raven was returning to Lawless. He was well satisfied with the morning's work. Another instrument for the furtherance of his schemes had been created, a weak one, certainly, but--as he reflected grimly--all the more useful on that account.
Before his brooding eyes flashed a picture of the future as he had planned it: Seth Raven, offspring of a drunken prospector and his Comanche woman, owner of the three big ranches and husband of the prettiest girl in the south-west, rich, respected, and, above all, feared. He saw himself sent to Congress, even appointed Governor of the Territory, and at the thought of that he laughed harshly.
"By God! I'll make some o' these damn Yanks step around," he cried.
It was typical of the man that he did not long indulge in these day-dreams. Almost immediately his mind was again milling over the problems he had to solve, and of these the most pressing was the marshal. Leeson had failed, and he cursed him for a clumsy fool. Then his scowl changed to a Satanic smile of satisfaction; he had hit on a plan, one which would achieve his object without any come-back, which was what he desired.
"That'll fix him," he exulted, and awoke his dozing pony by ripping it across the ribs with both spurs.
CHAPTER XV
It was two mornings later that Pete, who for once was first astir, found a somewhat grubby envelope thrust under the door. It was addressed to "The Marshul."
"Huh, one has come at last," he said. "I'm wonderin' which o' the damsels in this dog-hole of a town has fallen for yore fatal beauty?"
"Usin' yore intellects on an empty stomach'll put yu in a loco-house," the marshal told him.
He tore open the envelope, extracted a scrap of coarse paper, and read:
"Marshul.
If yu wanta here about Sudden, come to the Old Mine at nune.
A Frend."
"Writin' is pretty near good, but she's got her own notions o' spellin'," Pete commented.
"Yu supposin' it's a girl?"
"Shore am. One o' them female wimmen wants to meet yu on the quiet. Mebbe she's bashful, or got a husban', or somethin'."
"You ain't got brains enough to outfit a flea," the marshal said caustically. "Grab a skillet an' get breakfast, yu chunk o' grease."
The approach of noon found Green nearing the rendezvous. He recognized that he was taking a risk, and had no intention of riding blindly into an ambush. Therefore he turned off the trail and advanced cautiously under cover of the chaparral until he was able to see the open space where Bordene's body had been found. Squatting on the ground in the shade of a juniper was a man, smoking a cigarette, and from time to time casting an eye down the trail in the direction of Lawless. He was a Mexican of the poorest class, a peon, raggedly clad, with a knife and pistol thrust through the dirty scarf wound round his waist. For a while the marshal waited, and then rode out. Instantly the man got up, a gleam in his shifty eyes.
"Buenas dias, senor!" he greeted. "No spik here; I breeng horse."
He slipped like a snake into the brush, and a moment later, a cackle of merriment told the marshal that he was trapped.
"One leetle move, senor, and you die," said a familiar voice.
Green glanced round and saw Moraga covering him with a levelled carbine; saw, too, the dozen bandits with drawn guns closing in upon him from all sides, and realized that any attempt at resistance would be sheer suicide. His hands came away from his guns, and, disregarding the threat, he rolled and lighted a smoke. Then he turned to face the leader.
"Yu win--this time--little man," he said contemptuously. "Brought yore army too, I see."
Moraga spat out a sibilant Spanish oath; like most small men he was touchy about his stature. For an instant his hand hovered over a pistol butt, and then, with a cruel smile, he hissed, "I can wait, senor." Turning to his followers, he added, "Seize and tie him."
The marshal had made his preparations. While his hands had apparently been fumbling with his cigarette papers, he had deftly tied the reins to the horn of his saddle. As soon as he heard the command, he slid to the ground and uttered a shrill call. Nigger knew it for the signal that he was to go full speed, and bunching his great muscles he sprang forward, burst through the ring of astonished riders, and vanished down the trail. Green grinned scornfully as two of the guerrillas spurred after the runaway; he knew his horse. The return of the animal to town with the reins tied would tell Pete something was wrong, and they might be able to trail the bandits; it was his only chance.