hat, settling it with a deft touch, stood up, grasped the reins of her pony and was in the saddle before he could dismount to help her.
'I'm goin' to town too,' he suggested.
She shook her head. 'No, no, my friend, but--you may come to see me,' she smiled.
Ere he could remonstrate, the pony was racing along the trail. At the first bend, its rider turned in the saddle, waved gaily, and vanished, leaving the puncher pondering. Why had she changed when he told her he was to ride for the C P? The answer was not hard to find--he would be opposed to King Burdette, and King Burdette was what--to her? He patted the satiny neck of the black horse, which, in colour and sheen, matched the hair of the girl who had just left him.
'I'm bettin' she stampeded that pony,' he said reflectively. 'Nig, this yer neck o' the woods is a heap more dangerous than the governor man let on. The matrimonial noose is harder to dodge than a ha'r rope, an' we ain't got no time for foolishness. There's a tangle here to straighten out, an' then ...'
The furrow between his eyebrows came into evidence as his thoughts went to the quest which had sent him--a mere boy--prowling the country like a lone wolf. Years had been spent on it, and more were to pass ere its fulfilment, which has been told in another place.*
**
The Circle B ranch was a bachelor establishment. Old Man Burdette had lost his wife many years before he met his own untimely end, and the housekeeping and upbringing of the boys had devolved upon Mandy, a negress who had served the family nearly all her life.
The ranch-house was a pretentious one for the time and place. Two-storeyed, built of trimmed logs chinked with clay, it occupied a bench about half-way up the face of Battle Butte, and was reached by a rough, winding wagon-road from the valley. At the back of the building, the brush and tree-clad ground rose steeply. It was not an ideal location, and Old Burdette never forgave himself for not having a look at the other end of the valley. It was not until Purdie arrived and settled on Old Stormy that the firstcorner realized he had blundered, and this was the beginning of the ill-feeling between the families.
On the morning after the burial, Luce entered the big living-room and found his eldest brother awaiting him.
'What is it, King?' he asked. 'Sim said yu wanted me.'
The other nodded, and after a short pause, snapped out, 'How come yu to shoot Purdie?'
*The Range Robbers, Geo. Newnes, Ltd.
'I didn't,' was the quiet reply.
King grinned unpleasantly. 'That tale's all very well for town, Luce,' he said. 'Here yu needn't be afeared to tell the truth.'
'Which is what I'm doin',' the boy retorted, a shade of heat in his tone.
'Shucks, we ain't blamin' yu,' his brother shrugged. 'It was a damn good riddance, an' if of Purdie goes on the prod it gives us an excuse to show the C P where it gets off; we've owed 'em that ever since they downed Dad--an' before.'
'It was never proved they did; an', anyways, the fella who shot Kit was a cowardly cur,' Luce protested warmly. 'Yu get this straight, King : if it was the work of a Burdette I'm ashamed o' bein' one, an' I'm through with 'em.'
The older man's face grew dark with rage. 'Takin' that tone, huh?' he sneered. 'Well, let me tell yu---' He stopped, a sudden cunning in the fierce eyes. 'All right, take yore truck an' clear out--the Burdettes is through with yu; we don't want traitors here,' he finished savagely.
'I ain't that, an' yu know it,' the younger man replied. 'An' I'm not likely to raise my hand against my own flesh and blood, but that don't go for the bunch o' bar-scourin's yu got ridin' for yu now--toughs that Dad would 'a' quirted off the ranch, an' he warn't noways finicky.'
King ripped out a blistering oath. Until this moment his authority, since his father's death, had been supreme at the Circle B, and to be defied by the one from whom he least expected opposition made him furious.
'Pull yore freight, pronto, or I'll use a whip on yu,' he rasped.
Luce looked at him levelly. 'Will yu?' he said quietly. 'Not while I've got a gun, King; there's a limit to what I'll take, even from yu.'
Getting no reply, Luce went out, and presently, from the window overlooking the valley, King watched him ride down the road. A bulky roll at the cantle of the saddle brought a sneer to the older man's lips.
'So yo're obeyin' orders, huh?' he muttered. 'Well, yu got a lot o' things to learn yet, an' one of 'em is that it don't pay to cross me.' He frowned at a thought. 'Hell! I must be gettin' old--I nearly told him; that would 'a' been a bad break. As it is we've got him tied, an' can ride him till he drops. Didn't shoot Kit Purdie, eh? Wonder how far that'll get yu when yore own family ain't denying it?'
In the hope of gaining information before it became generally known that he had joined the C P, Sudden again spent the evening in 'The Lucky Chance.' He was sitting about half-way between the door and the bar, watching a game of poker, when Luce Burdette slouched in. Without a word to anyone, the boy paid for a drink and draped himself against the bar, indifferent to the glances--some of them far from friendly--sent in his direction. Almost on his heels came a party of three, two Mexicans and a half-breed named Ramon, who having been 'given his time' by Purdie some months before, was now riding for Slype. These men ranged themselves next to Burdette, ordered liquor, and began to talk in low tones.
Sudden, suspecting that these men had a definite purpose, gave them all his attention. He saw the vaquero's malicious eyes furtively scanning the solitary figure by the bar, and noted that his voice was gradually becoming more distinct. Presently, in reply to a muttered remark by one of his companions, he laughed aloud.
'Nan Purdie?' he said derisively. 'I tell you somet'ing 'bout her. At ze C P ze boys 'ave to lock ze bunk'ouse door nights to keep her out.'
This infamous statement struck the room to an amazed silence, and then the brooding man at the bar came to life. His left hand gripped the traducer's shoulder, swinging him round, while his right fist, with fiendish fury, crashed on the fellow's jaw and sent him staggering and clutching to the floor; he looked up to find Burdette's gun covering him.
'Yu dirty liar,' the young man grated. 'Eat yore words, pronto, or yu go to hell right now.'
The evil black eyes looked up into the flaming blue ones and found only death there; one twitch of the finger aching to press the trigger and the world would know Ramon the vaquero no more. He did not like to back down, but life was sweet. The half-breed had vanity, but no pride; there is a difference. He began to mutter.
'Speak up, yu bastard,' Burdette warned. 'This is yore last chance.'
'W'at I say was a lie--I make it up,' Ramon called out. 'I not know anyt'ing against Mees Purdie.'
With a shrug of contempt, Luce holstered his gun and turned back to the bar. Ramon got slowly to his feet, and then, as he saw the jeering expression on many of the spectators' faces, madness seized him. His hand flashed up, a wicked blade lying along the palm. Ere he could despatch it on its deadly errand, however, an iron clasp fell on his wrist, forcing the arm down and round behind his back.
'Drop it ! ' came the curt order. 'Or I'll shore bust yore wing.'
Mouthing Mexican curses, the captive twisted like an eel, but he could not break that hold, and when his wrist began to nudge his shoulder-blades he squealed in agony and the weapon tinkled on the boards.
'Will some gent kindly open the door?' Sudden requested, and when this had been done, he forced the helpless half-breed to it, placed a foot in the small of the fellow's back, and straightened his leg. As though propelled from a gun, the victim shot over the sidewalk and ploughed into the dust of the street on his face. Sudden looked at the saloon-keeper.
'Sorry to make a ruckus in yore joint, Magee,' he said.
'Ye done the roight thing, son,' the Irishman replied. 'I hope ye've bruk his lyin' neck.'
The puncher picked up the dropped weapon; it was a short-handled, heavy throwing-knife, a deadly instrument in the hands of an expert. He balanced it for a moment in his fingers, his eyes on Ramon's companions, who were watching him uneasily.
'I guess that's a bullet-hole by the door there,' he said. 'Shure it is,' smiled the proprietor. 'Not the only wan neither.'
Sudden's arm moved, and like a shaft of light itself the blade flashed through the air and sank deeply into the wall about half an inch from the target he had selected. He looked apologetically at his audience.
