Frosty watched the black till it disappeared round a curve and then climbed his own mount. "Just can't figure him, Cactus," he mused, "but I'm bettin' high he's--straight."
Sudden's demeanour when he reached Dugout was anything but that of a fugitive. He procured the needed meal at Black Sam's, and learned that though the raid on the ranches was the one subject of conversation, his own supposed share in it was not known. This was fortunate, the town being indignant at the spoliation of its two best customers.
"Couple o' hundred head at one lick," Jansen said. "Real money, that is. I'll wager Keith is some difficult to live with."
"He's takin' it hard," the puncher admitted.
"Beats me why him an' Merry don't team up an' drive them rats out'n their hole," Naylor remarked. "Some of us would give a hand."
"Ever bin in Hell City?" Birt asked. "I have---on business," he added hastily. " 'Less yo're a bird, there's but two ways in, an' four men with rifles would hold the pair of 'em agin ten times their number."
Sudden left them arguing, and rode in the direction of the place he had been warned to avoid. He was less than half-way when he met Miss Dalroy, riding a horse he recognized. At the sight of him she pulled up, anger and scorn in her eyes.
"You are going back?" she cried.
"Shore looks thataway," he replied, and then, "So he lets yu ride his hoss? He's a beauty--the hoss, I mean."
He leant over and stroked the shiny muzzle, his hand straying upwards, pushing the short hair aside to find traces of white paint at the roots.
"I tried to see the Chief night afore last," he said casually. "Silver said he warn't there."
She looked sharply at him. "What are you trying to find out?"
He shrugged. "Just whether it was an excuse or not. There can't be any mystery 'bout his movements, anyway, an'yo're forgettin'--this." He pointed to the badge he had donned after leaving Dugout.
"He was abroad," she admitted. "If you had any sense at all you'd throw that thing away and--ride."
"Why not take yore own advice?" he smiled. "What keeps yu in Hell City?"
"The reason we all have--necessity," she replied, and in a burst of bitterness, "I killed a brute, and because I was a woman, they called it murder and would have hanged me; at the best, it meant a life sentence. Jeff contrived my escape, and brought me here."
"One good deed to his credit."
"Don't think it. Many of his men owe him the same debt, and that gives him absolute power over them."
"Ever seen him without the mask?" Sudden asked casually.
"No, but once he showed me a photograph; it was signed `Jefferson Keith.' "
"Odd that a fella should hide his face from the woman he cares for," the puncher murmured. "Shucks, I shouldn't 'a' said that; musta been thinkin' aloud."
Her laugh did not ring true. "If you're meaning me, you'd better think again," she said scornfully. "I'm just his property, to pet or punish at his pleasure. He is incapable of any passion, save hate, and to satisfy that will stoop to the vilest deeds, and yet ..." she broke off with an impatient gesture, and then, "In some way you have offended him." She saw his little smile of tolerance, and touched her horse with the spur. "Oh, well, a wilful man must learn his lesson."
"I'm shore grateful, ma'am," he said gravely, and resumed his journey.
Apart from proof that Satan was in the plot to discredit him at the Double K he had discovened nothing. Belle Dalroy he had already classed as a fugitive from the law. Wayward, im petuous, and quick-tempered, she was not to be trusted. He smiled thinly at the thought that in this place to which he was going there was not one person on whom he could rely. The woman, Anita, perhaps, but promises made in the stress of emotion were not wont to be lasting. He consoled himself with a philosophical reflection:
"Playin' a lone hand has one good point--yu on'y got yoreself to worry about."
Chapter XV
Satan welcomed the puncher with a satirical smile. "Back so soon?" he cried.
"Yeah. Don't tell me yo're surprised."
"I said yesterday that you would be. I take it they were not pleased to see you at the Double K?"
"Pleased don't express it; I was a dream come true. I had to tear myself away," Sudden told him. "Why, Steve wanted to waste a new rope on me."
He gave an account of his escape, and the change in the masked man's expression was amazing.
"I told him you were not to be harmed," he rapped out. "Damn his soul, he's getting " He stopped, conscious of betraying himself, and then, "Well, it doesn't matter, no hurt was done. Still, it's a pity you stole those cows."
"So I did take 'em?"
"Certainly, so far as the country round is concerned, and my men believe the same," came the cool reply. "You see, I wanted to make sure of you, Sudden, and as this is now the only place where you will be safe, I think I've done it. Do you follow me?"
"I'm treadin' close on yore heels."
"I credit you with courage and intelligence. I need such a man to be my
"Pardner?"
"Right hand, I was about to say, but it may lead to the other. Those animals outside can execute but are incapable of thinking, for me or for themselves. You will take orders from me, and they from you."
"I'm a stranger; mebbe they won't stand for that."
"Are those guns of yours ornaments?" was the cynical query. "There is only one man who may prove really awkward, since you will be succeeding him."
"Ain't meanin' Steve, are yu?"
"That clod?" Satan sneered. "No, this is a fellow called `Butch'--short for butcher, I imagine, he being a slayer of some note. Have you heard of him?"
Despite the indifferent tone, the puncher was aware of the other's scrutiny.
"Not any," he replied nonchalantly.
"I shall leave you to deal with him, as you choose," the bandit said meaningly. "He is in the town now. You understand?"
"Why don't yu tell him to pull his freight?" Sudden asked bluntly.
"Knowing what he does, he would be a menace. Also, I need someone to take his place, and that someone must be the better man. Now do you see?"
Sudden did, all too clearly; he had again been jockeyed into false position. Butch, a dangerous tool who had transgressed, must be got rid of, and he--probably regarded in the same light, was to do the work. He could see no way out, save to abandon his mission.
"I get yu," he said.
"Right. How about quarters?"
"The saloon ain't so bad. Don't cotton much to these holes in the ground; make me feel like a gopher."
"One gets used to them."
Sudden glanced round. "Yu oughta be middlin' comfortable," he said. "That's a han'some picture."
Standing on the floor, where the light was poorest, he hadnot noticed it on his previous visits. A large canvas, depicted the life-size figure of a gunman. The half-crouch pointing pistol, and malignant expression on the face, produced an amazing effect of reality.
"The subject should appeal to you."
"Yeah," Sudden agreed. "The gun is wrong--he'd be dead afore he got it that high. Allasame, it's mighty clever---I could 'a' sworn I saw the eyes move."
Satan laughed. "That's a common illusion," he returned. "Well, I wish you luck."
"The fella who depends on luck has a poor pardner," the cowboy said, and went out.
A few moments passed and then the masked man said quietly, "You can come out, Butch."
In response to the invitation, a man emerged from behind the picture. His appearance was not formidable. Untended, greying hair showed beneath his slouched hat, a black coat hung loosely from his rounded shoulders, giving him a pronounced stoop. But his lined, dissipated face, with its bloodless lips and heavy-lidded eyes, told a different tale. Here was one to whom cruelty was a commonplace, who would slay without compunction.