'I ain't bin there in weeks,' Sark lied. 'Too many saloons an' dance-halls. I've bin thinkin' it's time I settled down, with a woman o' my own.'
'If you've come a-courtin', Welcome ain't got much to offer,' the saloon-keeper said.
'Bah ! ' Sark cut in. 'There's on'y one woman I'd look twice at her an' that's Mary Gray.' Receiving no comment, he went on eagerly. 'It'd mean a lot for her to be back where she oughta be.'
'Yeah, but I fancy I heard she didn't cotton to the idea,' the saloon-keeper suggested.
'That's so, but I was oiled an' overplayed my hand. Anyways, I'm goin' to put it to her again. I reckon she'll see which side her bread is buttered.'
'Yeah, an' mebbe forget that she eats both sides,' Sudden rejoined.
Not quite knowing how to take this, Sark decided that it was meant humorously, laughed, and went out. The two men looked at one another, and the saloon-keeper chuckled.
'He must fancy we ain't cut our eye-teeth,' he said.
Before the other could reply, Dave came bursting in. 'Sark's gone into the Widow's,' he announced. 'What's he want?'
'It's a place o' public entertainment an' he might want a meal,' the marshal pointed out. 'If you gotta know, he'sgone to offer her the Dumb-bell ranch, includin' his most unworthy self.' The young man promptly loosened his gun in the holster and moved towards the door, but his friend stepped in front of him. 'I'm bettin' the little woman can manage her own affairs. What right yu got to butt in?' he said.
Dave had no answer to this, and stood moodily watching the street. Fifteen minutes only had elapsed when they saw the rancher come out, fling himself on his mount, and begin to use spurs and quirt immediately. Head down, he passed at a furious pace, still thrashing the beast beneath him.
'Either he's hurryin' to fetch a parson, or . . .'
'Did yu see his face?' Dave asked, his own alight. 'Shore. I'll bet she made herself plain.'
'She couldn't ever do that,' Dave laughed, and flushed boyishly. 'I mean '
'Shucks! Yo're makin' yoreself mighty plain,' Sudden grinned, and sobering, 'She ain't done with him yet.' The marshal was right; even as he spoke the words, Sark's frenzied, evil mind was working as he rode recklessly in the direction of his ranch. Mary Gray had listened quietly to what he had to say, and then dismissed him with a finality which would have convinced the most sanguine wooer.
Directly he arrived at the Dumb-bell, he despatched an urgent message to Mullins. When the rustler rode in, some hours later, it was to find him in the same ugly mood.
'Wantin' me?' Jake asked.
'I've a job for you--if you want it. If not, I can find someone else.'
'Suits me,' Jake said, and turned to go.
Sark had not expected his bluff to be called. 'Don't be a damned fool,' he retorted irritably, and pushed the bottle across the table. 'There's a pretty pickin' in this for you. Take a chair and a drink.' The visitor did neither; this was an opportunity, and he meant to make the most of it. 'How much?' he wanted to know.
'A thousand bucks.'
'About a hundred apiece,' Mullins sneered. 'Chicken-feed. What have we gotta do for it?' Sark outlined his scheme, and the other listened in silence, considering how it fitted in with his own plans. Having come to the conclusion that it might further them, he sat down and helped himself to whisky.
'You mean to marry her?'
'Certainly, fair an' square, but she needs a little assistance in makin' up her mind.'
'Awright for you, mebbe, but me an' my men'll have to pull stakes.'
'Meanin' the price ain't high enough?'
'Jesse, there's times you show real intelligence,' Mullins grinned. He was enjoying himself.
Sark considered. 'I'll double it, but that's the limit.' The rustler nodded; he had his own ideas about that too. 'When do we git the dollars?'
'When I take over the goods. Yo're holdin' her to ransom, an' I come along with the needful. She oughta be grateful, an' she will if you play yore part right by puttin' the fear o' something worse than death into her. Sabe?'
'Betcha life. Fixed the time yet?'
'No,' Sark replied. 'Make yore preparations an' be ready for the word.' Jake emptied his glass and stood up. 'Make it soon,' he said. 'We're all broke.' The man departed, and the master opened a fresh bottle, and sat, drinking and brooding, until it was time to turn in. He awoke in the morning with a bad head and a worse temper. Two cups of strong black coffee restored him somewhat, but he was still unsteady when he shambled into the living-room to find Lyman awaiting him. The lawyer's ferrety eyes considered him with very patent disgust.'That rot-gut will be your finish,' he said sharply.
Sark blinked at him owlishly. 'Special occasion, ol' timer,' he replied. 'To celebrate my forthcomin' weddin'.'
'She's consented?'
'Not yet, but she's goin' to. I'm fixin' it. See?'
'That you're still drunk, yes,' Lyman said. 'Explain.' The cattleman complied, and in his fuddled state, failed to note the growing concern on his listener's face. When he concluded with a triumphant, 'What d'you think of it?' Lyman sprang to his feet and said angrily:
'Not only drunk but mad. How do you expect to get away with it? Your name will stink.'
'Yore hearin' ain't too good this mornin',' Sark retorted. 'Jake is the villain o' the piece; I'm on'y the good fairy who comes to the rescue o' the damsel in distress by payin' her ransom.' From outside came the drum of hurrying feet and a moment later the door was flung back and one of Sark's men strode in.
'S'cuse me, boss, but I figured you'd like to know quick that the marshal is startin' for Bentley this mornin'.' The rancher's face registered both amazement and dismay. `Bentley? What's his errand there?' The messenger spread his hands wide. 'He didn't tell me --musta forgot to,' he replied drily.
Sark checked the angry reproof on his lips--he could not afford to quarrel with any of his outfit just now--and having ascertained that the marshal was travelling alone, dismissed the bringer of the news. Then he said hopefully:
'It may not mean anythin'--just a chance visit.'
'I doubt it,' Lyman said. 'Did you ever know a fellow called `Lumpy'?'
'N-no,' was the reply.
'You don't have to lie to me,' was the stern answer. 'Was it in Bentley that you knew this Lumpy?' and when the other hesitated, 'You don't seem to realize that you're in a very tight place.'
'We are,' Sark corrected meaningly.
Lyman's thin shoulders lifted. 'I've a complete answer,' he said. 'But you, if the marshal unearth anything . . .'
'Lumpy ain't seen me since--them days, or he'd 'a' made hisself known,' Jesse argued. 'I guess we're bogglin' at shadows.'
'A man like that doesn't ride two hundred miles to admire the scenery,' the lawyer observed. 'There's just one way out, now--the plan you spoke of.'
'Changed yore mind 'bout that, huh?'
'A person who isn't prepared to do so, in altered circumstances, will get nowhere,' was the quiet reply. 'I don't like it any the more, but put it across and you may keep the Dumb-bell; fail, and your best move will be to saddle your fastest horse and get as far from here as it will carry you.' The cattleman glowered at the hunched-up, shrunken figure of the man who was telling him that all he possessed, perhaps even life and liberty, depended upon one desperate throw of the dice. But, with his next remark, the lawyer identified himself with the enterprise.
'We'll have to move fast, before that damned gunman gets back. It must be to-night.'
'I'll send word to Jake right now,' Sark said, and went at once to give the order. He returned wearing a satisfied smirk. 'That's fixed then. To-morrow me an' her'll ride into Dry-wash an' git hitched. That'll '
'Tell everyone you had her abducted and land you neck-high in the mire,' Lyman harshly interjected. 'Listen: you'll get the news when it is brought, and don't forget to be properly amazed. Some days must pass before--as her only relative--a demand for the ransom reaches you.'
'S'pose they search for an' find her?'
