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his right.

ā€œOne manā€”anā€™ a led horse,ā€ he said shortly. ā€œLooks like Laskar.ā€

Devenyā€”big, smooth-shavenā€”with black, glowing, attractive eyes that held a glint quite as hard as that which shone in the eyes of the speaker, looked long out of the window at a moving dot on the desert, which seemed to be traveling toward them. Deveny had looked before; but now he saw two dots where at other times he had seen only one. His lips held a slight pout as he glanced at the speaker.

ā€œYouā€™re right, Rogers,ā€ he said; ā€œthereā€™s only one. The old fool must have put up a fight.ā€

Deveny filled a glass from the bottle and drank slowly. His features were large. His nose was well shaped, with wide nostrils that hinted of a fiery, passionate nature; his thrusting chin and the heavy neck muscles told of strength, both mental and physicalā€”of mental strength that was of a tenacious character, of physical strength that would respond to any demand of the will.

He was handsome, and yet the suggestion of ruthlessness in the atmosphere of himā€”lurking behind the genial, easy-going exterior that he wore for appearancesā€”or because it was his nature to conceal his passions until he desired to unleash themā€”was felt by those who knew him intimately. It had been felt by Barbara Morgan.

Deveny was king of the lawless element in the Lamo section. The magnetism of him; the arrogance, glossed over with the calm and cold politeness of his manner; his unvarying immaculateness; the air of large and complete confidence which marked his every action; the swiftness with which he struck when he was aroused, or when his authority was questioned, placed him without dissent at the head of the element that ruled the Lamo country.

Deveny ruled, but Devenyā€™s rule was irksome to Strom Rogersā€”the man to whom Deveny had just spoken. For while Deveny drank, Rogers watched him with covert vigilance, with a jeering gleam far back in his eyes, with a secret envy and jealousy, with hatred and contempt and mockery.

Yet there was fear in Rogersā€™ eyes, tooā€”a mere glimmer of it. Yet it was there; and when Deveny set his glass down and looked straight at Rogers, it was that fear which brought the fawning, insincere smirk to Rogersā€™ lips.

ā€œSee the girl?ā€ questioned Rogers.

Deveny laughed lowly. Apparently he did not notice the glow in Rogersā€™ eyes; but had Rogers looked closely he might have seen Devenyā€™s lips straighten as he shot a glance at the other.

ā€œHad the room next to her last night. Heard her drag the bed in front of the door of her room. She knew I was there, all right!ā€ Deveny laughed deeply. ā€œSheā€™s wised up by this time. Lolly Kaye hates herā€”because Barbaraā€™s a good-looking girl, I suppose. Thatā€™s like some women. Lolly would see Barbara roasting in hell and not give her a hand!ā€

ā€œLollyā€™s been disappointed in loveā€”I reckon.ā€ Rogersā€™ laugh was hollow, mirthless. And again Deveny shot a glance at him.

ā€œBut you didnā€™t bother herā€”Barbara?ā€ questioned Rogers in a dry, light voice.

ā€œNo,ā€ grinned Deveny; ā€œthat time hasnā€™t comeā€”yet. Itā€™s coming soon. I told Lolly to keep an eye on her; Iā€™ve got Engle and Barthman and Kelmer watching at the doors so Barbara canā€™t light out for the Rancho Seco. She donā€™t get away until tomorrow. Then she goes with me to the end of Sunset Trail. Iā€™ve sent Shorty Mallo to Willowā€™s Wells for the parson.ā€

ā€œBarbara know whatā€™s up?ā€ Rogersā€™ voice was low and throaty.

Again Deveny glanced at himā€”sharply.

ā€œHell, no!ā€ he snapped. ā€œItā€™s none of her damned businessā€”nor anybodyā€™s!ā€ He grinned maliciously when he saw Rogersā€™ face whiten.

ā€œBarbara will need a husband now,ā€ Deveny went on. ā€œWith old Morgan gone and her brother sloped from the home ranch, sheā€™ll be kind of lonesome. I aim to cure her of that.ā€

He laughed, and Rogers writhed inwardly. For Rogers had long nursed a secret hope that one day the fates might take a notion to give him the chance that Deveny intended to seize.

But Rogers was forced to conceal his jealousy and disappointment. He laughed mirthlessly.

ā€œSo she canā€™t get away, eh?ā€”sheā€™s corralled!ā€

ā€œBah!ā€ declared Deveny; ā€œshe wonā€™t want to get awayā€”once she knows what I meanā€”that itā€™s going to be a regular wedding. Sheā€™ll raise a fuss, most likely, to make folks believe sheā€™s unwilling, but in the end sheā€™ll get over it.ā€

Deveny glanced out of the window at the blot that was now closer.

ā€œItā€™s Laskar, all regular,ā€ he said. ā€œHeā€™s leading a sorrel horseā€”Dolverā€™s horse. Old Morgan got Dolverā€”looks like, the damned old gopher! Men as willing as Dolver are not found every day.ā€ He looked at the third man, who had not spoken.

ā€œLawson,ā€ he said, ā€œyou mosey down the trail a little piece and meet Laskar. Bring him here!ā€

Lawson, a thin-faced, medium-sized man with narrow shoulders, whose distinguishing mark was a set of projecting upper teeth that kept his mouth in a continual smirking smile, got up quickly and went out. Deveny and Rogers, their thoughts centered upon the same personā€”Barbara Morganā€”sat silent, watching Lawson as he rode down the street toward the point where the trail, crossing the broken stretch of country that intervened, merged into the desert.

Half an hour later Laskar, holding his chest, where Purgatory had kicked him, was sitting at the table in the rear room of the First Chance, cursing with a fluency that he had not yielded to in many years.

ā€œDolverā€™s wiped out!ā€ he gasped hoarsely; ā€œplugged so quick he didnā€™t know he was hit. A center shotā€”plumb in the heart; his own gun goinā€™ off while he was fallinā€™. I looked him overā€”after. He was croaked complete. Then that sober-faced hyena lifts my gunā€”anā€™ the rifleā€”anā€™ says things to me, which I donā€™t try to cross him. Then he goes behind the rockā€”where we was havinā€™ it outā€”anā€™ while heā€™s gone I tries to git my guns from under that devil-eyed cayuse of hisā€™n.

ā€œAnā€™ I donā€™t succeedā€”noways. That black devil turns on a half-dollar anā€™ plants his hoofs plumb in my breast-bone. If Iā€™d been an inch nearer, or if heā€™d have kicked me a foot lower, or a foot higher, Iā€™d be layinā€™ out there where Dolver is now, the coyotes anā€™ the buzzards gnawinā€™ at me.ā€

Unmoved by Laskarā€™s incoherence, Deveny calmly watched him. And now, when Laskar paused for breath, Deveny spoke slowly:

ā€œA black horse, you said. How did a black horse get there? Old Morgan rode a bay when he left Lamoā€”Balleau says.ā€

ā€œDid I say Morgan rode a black horse?ā€ queried Laskar, knowledge in his eyes that he had a thing to tell that would blanch their faces. He grinned, still holding his chest, his glance malicious.

ā€œDid I say a black horse?ā€ he repeated. ā€œDid I say Morgan rode a black horse? Morgan didnā€™t. Morgan rode a bayā€”anā€™ the Chief run it off after he shot Morgan. But Morgan didnā€™t die right away, anā€™ the Chief he had to slope, he saidā€”anā€™ he didā€”leavinā€™ me anā€™ Dolver to finish old Morgan.

ā€œWe was tryinā€™ our damnedest when this guy on the black horse pops up out of nowhere anā€™ salivates Dolver.ā€

ā€œWho was it?ā€

This was Deveny. He was now leaning forward, a pout on his lips, watching Laskar with an intent, glowering gaze.

ā€œā€˜Dragā€™ Harlan!ā€ shouted Laskar. His face lighted with a hideous joy as he watched the effect of his news.

ā€œā€˜Dragā€™ Harlan! Do you hear?ā€ he went on. ā€œā€˜Dragā€™ Harlan, the Pardo ā€˜two-gunā€™ man! Heā€™s headed toward Lamo. He bored Dolver, anā€™ he said that soon as Morgan cashed in he was hittinā€™ the breeze for here!ā€

Lawson, the man who had gone to meet Laskar, ejaculated hoarsely, and stood rigid, his mouth open, his eyes bulging. It was the involuntary expression of the astonishment and fear that had seized him. Laskar forgot the pain in his chest long enough to straighten and grin at Lawson.

Rogersā€™ face had changed color. He, too, had become rigid. He had been in the act of reaching for the bottle on the table, and the hand that had been extended had been suddenly drawn back, so that the hand was now midway between his body and the bottleā€”and the fingers were clenched. The other hand, under the table, was likewise clenched, and the muscles of his jaws were corded. Into his eyes had come a furtive, restless gleam, and his face had paled.

Deveny gave no visible sign of perturbation. He coolly reached out, grasped the bottle that Rogers had been reaching for, and poured some of the amber fluid into one of the glasses. The other men watched him silentlyā€”all of them intent to note the tremor they expected to see.

Devenyā€™s hand did not tremble. He noted the glances of the menā€”the admiration that came into their eyes as with steady muscles he raised the glass and drankā€”and he smiled with slight contempt.

ā€œComing here, eh?ā€ he said evenly. ā€œSo he said that. Did he mention what he was coming for?ā€

ā€œHe didnā€™t mention,ā€ replied Laskar.

ā€œSo he downed Dolver. Did he say what for?ā€

ā€œSaid Dolver had shot up his partner, Davey Langanā€”back in Pardo. Harlan was eveninā€™ up.ā€

ā€œWhat do you know about Harlan?ā€

The question was addressed to all of them.

Rogers answered.

ā€œHeā€™s a bad guyā€”all bad. Heā€™s an iceberg, anā€™ heā€™s got the snakiest gun-hand of any man in the country. Draws hesitatinā€™-like. A man donā€™t know when heā€™s goinā€™ to uncork his smoke-wagons. I seen him put Lefty Blandinā€™ out. He starts for his guns, anā€™ then kind of stops, trickinā€™ the other guy into goinā€™ for his. Then, before the other guy can get his gun to workinā€™, Harlanā€™s stickinā€™ his away, anā€™ the guyā€™s ready for the mourners.

ā€œHarlan got his handle that way. He goes for his guns so slow anā€™ hesitatinā€™ that he seems to drag ā€™em out. But some way heā€™s always shootinā€™ first. Anā€™ they always let him off because itā€™s mighty plain that the other guy tried to draw first.ā€

ā€œIā€™ve heard that,ā€ said Deveny slowly. ā€œWhatā€™s his record?ā€

ā€œPlays her a lone hand,ā€ returned Rogers. He watched the other steadily.

Deveny toyed with a glass as he gazed out of the window. There was a cold, sullen gleam in his eyes when he finally looked at Laskar.

ā€œYou said Harlan told you he was coming here as soon as Morgan cashed in. According to that, Morgan must have been hit bad.ā€

ā€œThe Chief said he bored him plenty. Anā€™ me anā€™ Dolver must have got him some.ā€

ā€œYou didnā€™t get a chance to search Morgan?ā€

ā€œNo chanceā€”he fit like a hyena; anā€™ when he got behind that damned rock there was no way of gettinā€™ at him.ā€

ā€œThen,ā€ said Deveny, ā€œaccording to what you say, Harlan will come here as soon as Morgan dies. And when you left there Morgan was in a bad way. Harlan is due most any time, then.ā€

ā€œThatā€™s the way I figger,ā€ agreed Laskar.

And now Laskar fidgeted. ā€œI aim to be hittinā€™ the breeze nowā€”before Harlan hits town. This climate is gettinā€™ unhealthy for me. Harlan give me notice.ā€

ā€œTo leave town?ā€

It was Deveny who spoke. There was a snarl in his voice; he leaned forward and scowled at Laskar.

Laskar nodded.

Rogers cleared his throat, and Lawson moved his feet uneasily.

Devenyā€™s scowl faded; he grinned coldly.

ā€œGiving ordersā€”is he?ā€ he snapped. ā€œWell, weā€™ll see.ā€ He laughed. ā€œWhen Harlan hits town it will be a sign that old Morganā€™s crossed the Divide. Well, there was no witnesses to Morganā€™s cashing in, and one manā€™s word is as good as anotherā€™s in this country.ā€

ā€œMeaninā€™?ā€ questioned Rogers, noting the light in Devenyā€™s eyes.

ā€œMeaning that Laskar is goingā€”right nowā€”to whisper into Sheriff Gageā€™s ear that he saw our friend, ā€˜Dragā€™ Harlan, killing old Morgan.ā€

Rogers got to his feet, grinning. The gleam in his eyes indicated that he felt some relief over the prospect presented by Devenyā€™s suggestion.

ā€œOf course we ainā€™t sure Harlan means to make

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