The passer-by became alert. 'The outlaw?' he queried.
The woman nodded. 'He had a hard reputation, but I reckon it warn't deserved; he did me a mighty good turn onct, an' I've heard of others.'
Pardoe thought rapidly. 'Unless yu wanta do him a mighty bad turn yu'll keep mum 'bout him,' he urged. 'It's all right with me--I ain't sayin' a word; but if folks here found out who he is they'd hang him quicker'n scat.'
'My land, mister, I'm obliged to yu for the warnin',' she said earnestly. 'Yu can reckon me dumb, if I am a woman. I wouldn't have harm come to him through me for all the gold in Mexico; he's a good fella, say what they like.'
The gambler's cunning eyes watched her hurry away, and saw the subject of their conversation enter the sheriff's office. Then he slid into the nearest saloon, bought a drink, and sat down to think things over, keeping a wary eye on the sheriff's door.
'If I take him in Raven will be tickled to death,' he reasoned. 'Make me marshal, likely, and mebbe I'll find where he cached the plunder.'
The matter satisfactorily decided, he absorbed another drink, and departed by the back door to make the necessary preparations.
* * *
The sheriff leaned back in his chair and regarded his visitor thoughtfully. He had just heard the latest news from Lawless, and his frown showed that he did not like it.
'Allus had doubts 'bout Raven--dunno why--'count of his mixed blood, I reckon; sooner trust an honest-to- God Injun myself,' he said. 'He certainly 'pears to have them two ranchers roped.'
Green asked an apparently irrelevant question: 'Was it ever found out who bumped off Anthony Sarel?'
The sheriff shook his head. 'No evidence a-tall,' he replied. 'The body warn't robbed an' he had no known enemies; Tony was a good fella an' well liked.'
'Where was Raven at the time?'
'Couldn't say--no one knowed quite when the killin' took place. Tony left town 'bout midday an' he warn't found till evenin', when one o' his outfit happened on him. Yu don't think--?'
'I'm shootin' in the dark; but, holdin' that mortgage, he had a good reason for wantin' Sarel out o' the way, an' he wasn't in town when the stage was held up nor when Bordene was bushwhacked. Then there's the hoss.'
'What hoss?' the sheriff enquired.
Green told of the tracking of Andrew Bordene's murderer over the Border and back again, and the finding of the hidden black in the little valley. Strade's eyebrows went up.
'Odd, that,' he admitted. 'Near the 88 too. Yu figure that Raven is yore double?'
'Can't go as far as that, but yu gotta allow that if he's tryin' to corral the ranches, Sudden the Second has helped him a whole lot. O' course, it might be someone workin' for him. I thought o' Leeson but he ain't got the guts, an' Jevons--wish I knew what he was goin' to tell us.'
'Five minutes' talk with Potter would clear the air some, I'm thinkin'.'
'That's the cussed luck of it--every leak stopped,' the marshal grumbled, and suddenly sat up. 'Hell's bells, he mighta robbed the bank hisself.'
'But he's returnin' the money,' the sheriff protested.
'Not Andy's thirty thousand, the loss of which practically gives Raven the Box B,' Green pointed out. 'An' if Potter was gettin' dangerous--' He ruminated for a moment. 'It was on'y Raven who saw a fella on a black hoss sneakin' outa town that night.'
The sheriff whistled softly. 'Puttin' her thataway, it seems you might be right,' he agreed. 'But provin' it is somethin' else.'
The marshal nodded moodily. 'Most o' them damn fools in Lawless wouldn't hear a word against him just now. Can yu imagine Raven givin' money away?'
'He's gettin' good value,' Strade said. 'He'd sell what he might call his soul for power. As an Injun, he'd 'a' been chief of his tribe, or nothin'; that's the kind o' man he is.' Which showed that the sheriff had gauged the saloon-keeper correctly without divining the basic hatred behind his obsession. 'Wonder why he made yu marshal?'
'He took it that bein' down an' out I'd dance to his tune,' Green replied. 'He pretty near said it, an' mebbe I didn't contradict him.'
'Yu'll need to watch out now yu've shown yore hand,' Strade warned.
'Yu don't have to tell me that,' the marshal said grimly. 'I saw Jevons die.'
The sheriff held out his hand. 'So long, yu blame' outlaw,' he smiled .'Send when you want me. By the way, there's a Lawless man here to-day--they call him the 'Parson.' Know him?'
'Yeah, tin-horn card-sharp,' Green said scornfully. 'He ain't dangerous--even at poker.'
It would have certainly surprised him to know that the man who was not 'dangerous' was even then riding the trail to Lawless, seeking diligently the best place to 'hole up' and wait with a levelled gun for the 'outlaw' who had, as he believed, despoiled him. He found what he wanted where the trail traversed a tiny hollow, the sides of which were masked by brush sufficiently high and dense to cover both man and mount. Selecting a spot to his liking, the bushwhacker squatted down, his rifle ready, his cold, expectant gaze on the road to Sweetwater.
Half an hour passed and he heard the dull thud of hoofs again; this time there could be no mistake. The big, black horse was moving at a fast lope, his rider sitting slackly in the saddle, deep in thought. Now that the moment had come the gambler's nervousness left him. Planting his feet firmly, he trained his weapon on a point in the trail immediately opposite and when the horseman reached it, fired. The marshal, jarred out of his meditations by the crash of the report and the passage of a slug through his hat, snatched out a gun, drove a bullet into the puff of smoke in the brush, and, realizing the futility of argument, spurred the black. His chance shot, though it did no more than cut a furrow in the bushwhacker's cheek, disconcerted him so much that by the time he was ready to fire again horse and rider were a diminishing dot on the trail.
'Missed him, my God!' swore the disappointed killer. 'An' he damn near got me too.' He wiped the blood from his face and swore again at the smart. 'Have to let Seth handle it, after all,' he went on. 'But I ain't startin' yet; he'll mebbe wait for me.'
The marshal had no intention of doing so; he was pushing for Lawless at the best speed the big, knotted muscles of the black could produce. He knew what his chances were against a hidden adversary and was not disposed to take them.
'It ain't often I play safe, Nig,' he told his horse, 'but this is one time, I reckon, when I gotta copper a bet.'
CHAPTER XXIV
Some two hours after the marshal, Pardoe effected an inconspicuous return to Lawless and made his way to the Red Ace. He was tired, for he had not dared to keep to the trail, and a devious route had proved exhausting. Having first peeped in and ascertained that Green was not present, he entered the bar.
'Where's the boss?' he asked.
'In his room, an', if yore business ain't pressin', I'd postpone it,' Jude told him. 'He's 'bout as sociable as a grizzly b'ar with the bellyache.'
Pardoe stepped to the door of the office, opened it, and walked in. The saloon-keeper was sitting in the chair behind the desk, chin on his chest. Beneath his frowning brows his narrowed eyes shot a look of anger at the intruder.
'What the hell du yu want?' he growled. 'I told that fool out there--'
'Jude tried to head me off, but I had to see you,' Pardoe replied.
'Come to pay back that five hundred?' Raven asked sneeringly.
The taunt did not have the effect he intended, for the gambler achieved the nearest he could to a smile. 'Yeah,' he said. 'What I gotta tell yu oughta be worth that--an' more.'
'I'm the judge o' that,' was the retort. 'Spill it.'
Pardoe placed his hat on the desk, sat down, and helped himself to a cigar. When he had lighted it to his satisfaction he said coolly:
'The marshal ain't no particular pet o' yores, is he?'
'I hate him,' the half-breed hissed.
