'I can ride him if he don't have a back,' the young man retorted.
'Right, then, we're takin' different trails. yo're ridin' to Welcome to round up some o' the boys. How strong is Jake, Rowley?'
'He had thirteen, countin' him, but he's lost one.'
'Better rope in some o' the Bar 0--we may have to reckon with the Dumb-bell outfit as well,' the marshal told his deputy.
Dave rose with a bound, grabbed his clothes and began to scramble into them. 'Beautiful, I'll give you any price yu name for yore hoss an' gun,' he offered.
'Don't notice him, Rowley, he's just a kid,' Sudden smiled, and to Dave, 'I know how yu feel, boy, but yo're in no state to go shootin' up Sark. Because yu licked him once '
'How d'yu hear o' that?'
'Followed yu there, didn't see Jesse, but his cook told me.' Dave chuckled throatily. 'Awright, I give in. S'pose yo're goin' to the Dumb-bell, huh? Don't yu touch Sark--he's my meat.'
'I ain't layin' a finger on him, but I wanta know what he's doin'. I'll be back by the time yu an' the others arrive.' They dressed and left, the black bearing a double burden until they neared the hang-out. There Rowley departed, taking his saddle and bridle. The two friends continued along the trail by which Sudden had entered. Here, the marshal had a parting word.
'Let that cayuse know that yo're wearin' spurs. I'll be expectin' yu early in the mornin', an' that won't be any too soon for Mrs. Gray, I'm thinkin'.' The reminder sent the young man scampering away like a scalded cat. Sudden turned his horse towards the Dumbbell range, to learn what he might of its owner's movements.
Chapter XIX
THE owner of the Dumb-bell had spent the day nursing his hurts, both mental and physical. The fact that his hired assassin had not reappeared to claim the price of his villainy did not add to his peace of mind. In the late afternoon a messenger came, bringing a closed scrawl : Yore cousin, Mrs. Gray, is in my hands. She will be released on payment of four thousand dollars, cash. you must come alone, or there's no trade. If I don't git the money, she will--suffer.
MULLINS.
His lips curled as he read. 'She will--suffer,' he repeated. 'Pretty neat, for Jake, that. I guess any woman can savvy what it means, an' my charmin' relative oughta be real pleased to see me. Four thousand, double the agreed figure, huh? Mebbe, Mister Mullins, mebbe.' With an added expletive, he thrust the paper into a pocket and went to give certain instructions to his men. He returned to find Lyman awaiting him, an unwelcome sight.
'What's the trouble now?' he asked testily.
'None so far as I'm concerned,' the lawyer replied. 'You seem to have found some. Has our friend, the marshal, been trying to alter the geography of the face God, or the Devil, gave you?' Sark frowned darkly. He seas almost certain that Lyman knew; he had probably been there some time, and would have wormed the story out of Juba. So, for once, he told the truth.
'No, the next worst thing--that cub of a deputy. Took me by surprise. I'll cut his heart out for it.'
'Put him to sleep first; it makes surgery easier, and safe --for the operator,' Lyman ironically advised. 'Well, how are matters progressing?'
'Smooth as silk,' Sark said, and produced the missive he had received from Mullins.
'It's a lot of money for us to lose,' the lawyer commented. 'When are you collecting the girl?'
'Early mornin'; one more night in Jake's company oughta put her in the mood to make me welcome. Besides, holdin' that brat, we got her cinched, an' with Greensettled--nobody around her will be able to talk down to me.' The baleful, deep-sunk eyes of the little man rested on him with malicious contempt; he hated this thing he had created for his own purposes, realizing that it would turn and rend him at the first opportunity.
'So you're prepared to pay off the mortgage?' he said quietly.
The question brought Sark to earth again with a bump. In his exultation, he had forgotten this dried-up specimen of humanity whose feeble fingers held him in a steel vice. With a sulky look, he replied :
'You know I ain't got the dollars, Seth.'
'That four thousand would help, eh?'
'I gotta give it to Mullins--no other way ' He stopped. Lyman had risen, his face suddenly furious. 'You lie,' he accused. 'I was outside the bunkhouse door just now and heard what you told your men. Trick Jake out of the money if you can, but planning to put it in your own pocket is double-crossing me, and for that I'll have you hanged.' The violent outburst did not have the usual effect. 'We go together, remember,' Sark retorted.
'You're even a bigger fool than I thought,' came the sneering reply. 'What can they charge me with? It can't be shown I ever saw Jesse Sark, and when you came to me, knowing all about him and his affairs, why shouldn't I accept you as the real Simon Pure?'
'You wrote the will.'
'At your uncle's dictation, of course, as his man of business. Who's to prove he didn't sign it? You needed money to pay your debts and for running expenses, so I lent it to you on the security of the ranch--a perfectly natural and lawful proceeding. No, I'm the innocent victim of your imposture, and all I can be blamed for is too easily believing you the man you claimed to be.' The blood suffused Sark's features. He knew it was the truth. This wily old scoundrel had kept himself well in the background, and his specious excuses would leave him hisfreedom. Like a wild beast in a trap, he sought a way of escape, vainly, until the cold, jeering voice suggested one.
'I had nothing to do with the murder of Amos Sark,' it went on. 'My evidence, given for the State, while not incriminating me, will swing you high and dry, Ezra Kent, and then I shall foreclose and the Dumb-bell will be mine.' Though he did not know it, the speaker had sealed his own fate. Caught in this spider's web of intrigue, Sark saw that, whatever happened, so long as this man lived, he himself would never be more than a mere tool, a means to an end. In a frenzy of fear and hatred, he snatched a knife from his belt, and as the lawyer turned to go, drove it to the hilt between the thin, bowed shoulders. With a choking grunt, Lyman sank in a huddled heap on the floor. Panting with passion, the murderer stood over him, teeth showing in a wolfish grin.
'Do yore squealin' in hell,' he hissed.
Callously he jerked out the weapon, wiped it, and replaced it in his belt. Then he lifted the slack form, carried it upstairs, locked it in an empty room, and put the key in his pocket. The lawyer's horse he hid in a disused shed.
'To-morrow I'll bury him an' the hoss,' he decided. 'An' if Juba knows he was here ...' His expression boded ill for the negro. 'Wonder where them damn docyments is?' Absently he wiped a wetness from his fingers on the front of his shirt and swore when he saw the red stain. 'Curse it; can't go a-courtin' in clothes that's all bloody; I'll have to spruce up.' It was late when the marshal arrived at the Dumb-bell to find it wrapped in silence. One gleam of light from the kitchen behind the bunkhouse alone showed. There he found Juba, and learned that Sark and his men had ridden away earlier, where, the cook did not know.
'Any visitors to-day?' Sudden asked.
'Sho figure I see Mistah Lyman's grey outside de house, but she ain't dere no mo'.' Sudden rode away, but once out of sight, returned to the ranch-house. The door of the living-room not being fastened, he went in, and lighted a candle on the table. He did not know quite what he hoped to find, but it was certainly not the sinister pool of red on the carpeted floor. Blood; and not yet dry. There was a splash a yard distant, and others, leading to the door, the handle of which was moist and sticky. He followed the trail of spots up the stairs to a locked door which a sturdy thrust of his shoulder burst open. On the floor, face downwards, a man was lying. Setting down his light, Sudden knelt beside him, noting the ugly gash in the black coat and the spreading stain in the cloth.
'Stabbed in the back,' he muttered, and turned the body over. 'Lyman, by thunder ! ' He could detect no sign of life. Hurrying to the kitchen, he told Juba of his discovery. 'I'm afraid he's dead, but see what yu can do,' he said. 'I'm goin' after the red-handed rat who did it.' It was obvious that Sark had thrown off the shackles, and if he had taken his men to the hide-out in the hills, some important move was impending, and he could not doubt that this had to do with the presence there of Mary Gray.
'I shore hope Dave has stayed on that borried bronc,' he told himself. 'If he ain't, we'll be too late.' Dave had done not only that, but managed to convince the animal that speed was an essential factor in their affairs. Nevertheless, since riding a half-wild cow-pony without a saddle, and with only a hackamore to guide it, is both a difficult and uncomfortable feat, it was a very sore and weary young man who staggered into the Red Light,
