[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.The corral was packed to suffocation with cattle, threatening the health of the animals; Deveny had sent no word from the Cache regarding the disposal of the stock, and Haydon’s whereabouts were unknown.Rogers had moved stock on his own initiative in former days—for he had been an able assistant to both leaders.And Rogers could have moved the stock out of the corral and to the point far south where the outlaws had always sold them.But there was malice in Rogers’ heart toward the two outlaw leaders, and a perverse devil lurked in him.For many months he had worshiped Barbara Morgan from a distance, vaguely aware that his passion for her could never be realized.But there was a spark of honesty and justice in Rogers despite his profession, and a sincere admiration for the girl that admitted of no thought of evil toward her.He had almost betrayed his resentment to Deveny when in Lamo, on the day of the coming of Harlan, Deveny had boldly announced his intentions toward the girl; and it had been a dread of clashing with Deveny that had kept him from interfering.The will to protect the girl had been in Rogers’ mind, but he lacked the physical courage to risk his life for her.This man who had boldly entered the outlaw camp, after first defying Deveny in Lamo, had made a stirring appeal to the good in Rogers; and he foresaw that trouble, in which Harlan had a chance to emerge victorious, was certain.And he had decided to align himself with the Pardo gunman.Therefore, on this morning, when it was certain that the cattle in the corral must be moved, he deliberately refused to exercise his prerogative.Instead, he waited until after breakfast—when the men were congregated outside the bunkhouse door—when he was certain they would all hear him.Harlan had come out, too.He had not visited the Rancho Seco for more than a week, fearing that his absence might jeopardize the advantage he had gained over the men through the killing of Latimer.With the attention of all the men centered upon him, Rogers walked close to Harlan, speaking loudly:“Them cattle ought to hit the trail, Harlan.It’s up to you—you’re the boss.Do we move ’em—an’ where?”A comprehensive light gleamed in Harlan’s eyes.“They move,” he said shortly.“Drive them where you’ve been drivin’ them.”As though he had been giving orders to the outlaws all his life, he briskly mentioned the names of the men who were to form the trail herd.Not a man dissented.Those whose names were called quickly detached themselves from the group, and sought the horse corral; where they roped their horses and began to make preparations to obey Harlan’s order.And later, when the cattle were driven out of the corral, and the trail herd crew straggled behind them over the level that led southward, the men were grinning.For Harlan had told them that their share of the spoils resulting from the sale of the cattle was to be materially increased.He had likewise told them that they might spend an extra day in “town” before their return.Only one man besides Harlan remained at the Star after the herd vanished into the southern distance.That man was the black-bearded fellow who had escorted Harlan to the ranchhouse on the occasion of his first visit—Lafe Woodward.This man’s admiration for Harlan had never been concealed.He had stayed as close to Harlan as possible; and from his manner Harlan had divined that the man was eager to ingratiate himself.Woodward stood near Harlan as the herd and the men vanished.He had grinned widely when, just before the outfit had departed, he had heard Rogers whisper to Harlan:“You’ve made yourself solid with the bunch, for sure, by offerin’ ’em a bigger divvy.They’ve been grumblin’ about it for a long time.They’re all sore at Haydon an’ Deveny for bein’ greedy.But you’re sure cookin’ up a heap of trouble with Haydon an’ Deveny!”Harlan grinned with grim mirthlessness.It had been his first opportunity to stir up dissension and strife in the outlaw camp, and he had taken instant advantage of it.He had created factional feeling, and he was prepared to accept the consequences.And, later in the day, when he saw Haydon ride in, dismount and cast a surprised glance at the empty corral, he knew that the moment for which he had planned, had come.Woodward was nowhere in sight; and Harlan, who had been in the blacksmith-shop, made himself visible to Haydon by stepping outside.Haydon called to him, sharply; and Harlan walked slowly to where the outlaw chief stood, a saturnine grin on his face, his eyes alight with a cold humor that might have been illuminating to Haydon had he taken the trouble to look into them.Haydon was laboring under some strong passion.He was suppressing it with an effort, but it showed in his tensed muscles and in his flushed face.“Where are the cattle?” he demanded, his voice a trifle hoarse.“They’re headed for Willow Wells—where you’ve been sellin’ them.”“By whose orders?” Haydon’s voice was choked with passion.“Mine,” drawled Harlan.Harlan might have explained that the stock had been suffering in the crowded enclosure, thus assuaging Haydon’s wrath.But he gave no explanation—that would have been a revelation of eagerness to escape blame and the possible consequences of his act.Instead of explaining he looked steadily into Haydon’s eyes, his own cold and unblinking.He saw Haydon’s wrath flare up—it was in the heightened color that spread upward above the collar of his shirt; he saw the man’s terrific effort at self-control; and his look grew bitter with insolence.“What’s botherin’ you?” he said.“The cattle—damn it!” shouted Haydon.“What in hell do you mean by sending them away without orders?”“I’m havin’ my say, Haydon.We agreed to split everything three ways.Authority to give orders goes with that.That was the agreement.A man’s got to be either a captain or a private, an’ I’ve never played second to any man.I ain’t beginnin’ now.”“Why, damn you!” gasped Haydon.His eyes were aglare with a terrible rage and hate; he stepped backward a little, bending his right arm, spreading the fingers.Harlan had made no move, but the light in his eyes betrayed his complete readiness for the trouble that Haydon plainly meditated.“Yes,” he said, slowly, drawling his words, a little! “It’s come to that, I reckon.You’ve got to flash your gun now, or take it back.No man cusses me an’ gets away with it.Get goin’!”Haydon stood, swaying from side to side, in the grip of a mighty indecision.The fingers of his right hand spread wider; the hand descended to a point nearer to his pistol holster.There it poised, the fingers hooked, like the talons of some giant bird about to clutch a victim
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]