Steele shook a long arm at the mayor.
“I need your help. You refuse. Now, I'll work alone. This man Snell goes to Del Rio in irons.”
George Wright rushed up to the table. The blood showed black and thick in his face; his utterance was incoherent, his uncontrollable outbreak of temper seemed out of all proportion to any cause he should reasonably have had for anger.
Sampson shoved him back with a curse and warning glare.
“Where's your warrant to arrest Snell?” shouted Sampson. “I won't give you one. You can't take him without a warrant.”
“I don't need warrants to make arrests. Sampson, you're ignorant of the power of Texas Rangers.”
“You'll take Snell without papers?” bellowed Sampson.
“He goes to Del Rio to jail,” answered Steele.
“He won't. You'll pull none of your damned Ranger stunts out here. I'll block you, Steele.”
That passionate reply of Sampson's appeared to be the signal Steele had been waiting for.
He had helped on the crisis. I believed I saw how he wanted to force Sampson's hand and show the town his stand.
Steele backed clear of everybody and like two swift flashes of light his guns leaped forth. He was transformed. My wish was fulfilled.
Here was Steele, the Ranger, in one of his lone lion stands. Not exactly alone either, for my hands itched for my guns!
“Men! I call on you all!” cried Steele, piercingly. “I call on you to witness the arrest of a criminal opposed by Sampson, mayor of Linrock. It will be recorded in the report sent to the Adjutant General at Austin. Sampson, I warn you—don't follow up your threat.”
Sampson sat white with working jaw.
“Snell, come here,” ordered Steele.
The man went as if drawn and appeared to slink out of line with the guns. Steele's cold gray glance held every eye in the hall.
“Take the handcuffs out of my pocket. This side. Go over to Gorsech with them. Gorsech, snap those irons on Snell's wrists. Now, Snell, back here to the right of me.”
It was no wonder to me to see how instantly Steele was obeyed. He might have seen more danger in that moment than was manifest to me; on the other hand he might have wanted to drive home hard what he meant.
It was a critical moment for those who opposed him. There was death in the balance.
This Ranger, whose last resort was gun-play, had instantly taken the initiative, and his nerve chilled even me. Perhaps though, he read this crowd differently from me and saw that intimidation was his cue. I forgot I was not a spectator, but an ally.
“Sampson, you've shown your hand,” said Steele, in the deep voice that carried so far and held those who heard. “Any honest citizen of Linrock can now see what's plain—yours is a damn poor hand!
“You're going to hear me call a spade a spade. Your office is a farce. In the two years you've been mayor you've never arrested one rustler. Strange, when Linrock's a nest for rustlers! You've never sent a prisoner to Del Rio, let alone to Austin. You have no jail.
“There have been nine murders since you took office, innumerable street fights and hold-ups.Not one arrest! But you have ordered arrests for trivial offenses, and have punished these out of all proportion.
“There have been law-suits in your court—suits over water rights, cattle deals, property lines. Strange how in these law-suits, you or Wright or other men close to you were always involved! Stranger how it seems the law was stretched to favor your interests!”
Steele paused in his cold, ringing speech. In the silence, both outside and inside the hall, could be heard the deep breathing of agitated men.
I would have liked to search for possible satisfaction on the faces of any present, but I was concerned only with Sampson. I did not need to fear that any man might draw on Steele.
Never had I seen a crowd so sold, so stiff, so held! Sampson was indeed a study. Yet did he betray anything but rage at this interloper?
“Sampson, here's plain talk for you and Linrock to digest,” went on Steele. “I don't accuse you and your court of dishonesty. I say—strange ! Law here has been a farce. The motive behind all this laxity isn't plain to me—yet. But I call your hand!”
Chapter 3. SOUNDING THE TIMBER
When Steele left the hall, pushing Snell before him, making a lane through the crowd, it was not any longer possible to watch everybody.
Yet now he seemed to ignore the men behind him. Any friend of Snell's among the vicious element might have pulled a gun. I wondered if Steele knew how I watched those men at his back—how fatal it would have been for any of them to make a significant move.
No—I decided that Steele trusted to the effect his boldness had created. It was this power to cow ordinary men that explained so many of his feats; just the same it was his keenness to read desperate men, his nerve to confront them, that made him great.
The crowd followed Steele and his captive down the middle of the main street and watched him secure a team and buckboard and drive off on the road to Sanderson.
Only then did that crowd appear to realize what had happened. Then my long-looked-for opportunity arrived. In the expression of silent men I found something which I had sought; from the hurried departure of others homeward I gathered import; on the husky, whispering lips of yet others I read words I needed to hear.
The other part of that crowd—to my surprise, the smaller part—was the roaring, threatening, complaining one.
Thus I segregated Linrock that was lawless from Linrock that wanted law, but for some reason not yet clear the latter did not dare to voice their choice.
How could Steele and I win them openly to our cause? If that could be done long before the year was up Linrock would be free of violence and Captain Neal's Ranger Service saved to the State.
I went from place to place, corner to corner, bar to bar, watching, listening, recording; and not until long after sunset did I go out to the ranch.
The excitement had preceded me and speculation was rife. Hurrying through my supper, to get away from questions and to go on with my spying, I went out to the front of the house.
The evening was warm; the doors were open; and in the twilight the only lamps that had been lit were in Sampson's big sitting room at the far end of the house. Neither Sampson nor Wright had come home to supper.
I would have given much to hear their talk right then, and certainly intended to try to hear it when they did come home.
When the buckboard drove up and they alighted I was well hidden in the bushes, so well screened that I could get but a fleeting glimpse of Sampson as he went in.
For all I could see, he appeared to be a calm and quiet man, intense beneath the surface, with an air of dignity under insult. My chance to observe Wright was lost.
They went into the house without speaking, and closed the door.
At the other end of the porch, close under a window, was an offset between step and wall, and there in the shadow I hid. If Sampson or Wright visited the girls that evening I wanted to hear what was said about Steele.