按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
crashed through the doors； and with a wild yell leaped sheer
into the saddle； hauling his horse up high and goading him
to plunge away。
Men running to the door and windows of the store saw a
streak of dust flying down the road。 And then they trooped
out to see it disappear。 The hour of suspense ended for
them。 Las Vegas had lived up to the code of the West； had
dared his man out； had waited far longer than needful to
prove that man a coward。 Whatever the issue now； Beasley was
branded forever。 That moment saw the decline of whatever
power he had wielded。 He and his men might kill the cowboy
who had ridden out alone to face him； but that would not
change the brand。
The preceding night Beasley bad been finishing a late supper
at his newly acquired ranch； when Buck Weaver； one of his
men； burst in upon him with news of the death of Mulvey and
Pedro。
〃Who's in the outfit？ How many？〃 he had questioned； quickly。
〃It's a one…man outfit； boss；〃 replied Weaver。
Beasley appeared astounded。 He and his men had prepared to
meet the friends of the girl whose property he had taken
over； and because of the superiority of his own force he had
anticipated no bloody or extended feud。 This amazing
circumstance put the case in very much more difficult form。
〃One man！〃 he ejaculated。
〃Yep。 Thet cowboy Las Vegas。 An；' boss； he turns out to be a
gun…slinger from Texas。 I was in Turner's。 Hed jest happened
to step in the other room when Las Vegas come bustin' in on
his boss an' jumped off。 。 。 。 Fust thing he called Jeff an'
Pedro。 They both showed yaller。 An' then； damn if thet
cowboy didn't turn his back on them an' went to the bar fer
a drink。 But he was lookin' in the mirror an' when Jeff an'
Pedro went fer their guns why he whirled quick as lightnin'
an' bored them both。 。 。 。 I sneaked out an 〃
〃Why didn't you bore him？〃 roared Beasley。
Buck Weaver steadily eyed his boss before he replied。 〃I
ain't takin' shots at any fellar from behind doors。 An' as
fer meetin' Las Vegas excoose me； boss！ I've still a
hankerin' fer sunshine an' red liquor。 Besides； I 'ain't got
nothin' ag'in' Las Vegas。 If he's rustled over here at the
head of a crowd to put us off I'd fight； jest as we'd all
fight。 But you see we figgered wrong。 It's between you an'
Las Vegas！ 。 。 。 You oughter seen him throw thet hunter Dale
out of Turner's。〃
〃Dale！ Did he come？〃 queried Beasley。
〃He got there just after the cowboy plugged Jeff。 An' thet
big…eyed girl； she came runnin' in； too。 An' she keeled over
in Dale's arms。 Las Vegas shoved him out cussed him so
hard we all heerd。 。 。 。 So； Beasley； there ain't no fight
comin； off as we figgered on。〃
Beasley thus heard the West speak out of the mouth of his
own man。 And grim； sardonic； almost scornful； indeed； were
the words of Buck Weaver。 This rider had once worked for Al
Auchincloss and had deserted to Beasley under Mulvey's
leadership。 Mulvey was dead and the situation was vastly
changed。
Beasley gave Weaver a dark； lowering glance； and waved him
away。 From the door Weaver sent back a doubtful；
scrutinizing gaze； then slouched out。 That gaze Beasley had
not encountered before。
It meant； as Weaver's cronies meant； as Beasley's
long…faithful riders； and the people of the range； and as
the spirit of the West meant； that Beasley was expected to
march down into the village to face his single foe。
But Beasley did not go。 Instead he paced to and fro the
length of Helen Rayner's long sitting…room with the nervous
energy of a man who could not rest。 Many times he hesitated；
and at others he made sudden movements toward the door； only
to halt。 Long after midnight he went to bed； but not to
sleep。 He tossed and rolled all night； and at dawn arose；
gloomy and irritable。
He cursed the Mexican serving…women who showed their
displeasure at his authority。 And to his amaze and rage not
one of his men came to the house。 He waited and waited。 Then
he stalked off to the corrals and stables carrying a rifle
with him。 The men were there； in a group that dispersed
somewhat at his advent。 Not a Mexican was in sight。
Beasley ordered the horses to be saddled and all hands to go
down into the village with him。 That order was disobeyed。
Beasley stormed and raged。 His riders sat or lounged； with
lowered faces。 An unspoken hostility seemed present。 Those
who had been longest with him were least distant and
strange； but still they did not obey。 At length Beasley
roared for his Mexicans。
〃Boss； we gotta tell you thet every greaser on the ranch hes
sloped gone these two hours on the way to Magdalena；〃
said Buck Weaver。
Of all these sudden…uprising perplexities this latest was
the most astounding。 Beasley cursed with his questioning
wonder。
〃Boss； they was sure scared of thet gun…slingin' cowboy from
Texas；〃 replied Weaver； imperturbably。
Beasley's dark； swarthy face changed its hue。 What of the
subtle reflection in Weaver's slow speech！ One of the men
came out of a corral leading Beasley's saddled and bridled
horse。 This fellow dropped the bridle and sat down among his
comrades without a word。 No one spoke。 The presence of the
horse was significant。 With a snarling； muttered curse；
Beasley took up his rifle and strode back to the
ranch…house。
In his rage and passion he did not realize what his men had
known for hours that if he had stood any chance at all
for their respect as well as for his life the hour was long
past。
Beasley avoided the open paths to the house； and when he got
there he nervously poured out a drink。 Evidently something
in the fiery liquor frightened him； for he threw the bottle
aside。 It was as if that bottle contained a courage which
was false。
Again he paced the long sitting…room； growing more and more
wrought…up as evidently he grew familiar with the singular
state of affairs。 Twice the pale serving…woman called him to
dinner。
The dining…room was light and pleasant； and the meal；
fragrant and steaming； was ready for him。 But the women had
disappeared。 Beasley seated himself spread out his big
hands on the table。
Then a slight rustle a clink of spur startled him。 He
twisted his head。
〃Howdy； Beasley！〃 said Las Vegas； who had appeared as if by
magic。
Beasley's frame seemed to swell as if a flood had been
loosed in his veins。 Sweat…drops stood out on his pallid
face。
〃What you want？〃 he asked； huskily。
〃Wal now； my boss； Miss Helen； says； seein' I am foreman
heah； thet it'd be nice an' proper fer me to drop in an' eat
with you THE LAST TIME！〃 replied the cowboy。 His drawl
was slow and cool； his tone was friendly and pleasant。 But
his look was that of a falcon ready to drive deep its beak。
Beasley's reply was loud； incoherent； hoarse。
Las Vegas seated himself across from Beasley。
〃Eat or not； it's shore all the same to me；〃 said Las Vegas；
and he began to load his plate with his left hand。 His right
hand rested very lightly； with just the tips of his
vibrating fingers on the edge of the table； and he never for
the slightest fraction of a second took his piercing eyes
off B