'Drag' Harlan Part 22

"No offense intended, Harlan. I was merely curious on Barbara's account."

He mounted his horse, urged it along the corral fence, and sent back a smiling:

"So-long."

Motionless, still standing where he had stood when Haydon climbed on his horse, Harlan watched while the man rode the short distance to the house.

At the corner around which he had appeared some minutes before, Haydon brought his horse to a halt, waved a hand--at Barbara, Harlan supposed--and then rode on, heading westward toward Sunset Trail.

Harlan watched him until he had penetrated far into the big valley; then he turned, slowly, and sought Red Linton--finding him in the blacksmith-shop.

Later in the day--after Harlan and Linton had talked long, standing in the door of the blacksmith-shop--Linton mounted his horse and rode to where Harlan stood.

Linton was prepared for a long ride. Folded in the slicker that was strapped to the cantle of his saddle was food; he carried his rifle in the saddle sheath, and a water-bag bulged above the horse's withers.

"You won't find all the T Down boys yearnin' to bust into this ruckus,"

Harlan said as he stood near Linton's horse as Linton grinned down at him; "but there'll be some. Put it right up to them that it ain't goin'

to be no p.u.s.s.y-kitten job, an' that it's likely some of them won't ever see the T Down again. But to offset that, you can tell 'em that if we make good, the Rancho Seco will owe them a heap--an' they'll get what's comin' to them."

He watched while Linton rode eastward over the big level; then he grinned and walked to the ranchhouse, going around the front and standing in the wide gateway where he saw Barbara sitting on a bench in the _patio_, staring straight ahead, meditatively, unaware that he was standing in the gateway, watching her.

Harlan watched the girl for a long time--until she turned and saw him.

Then she blushed and stood up, looking at him in slight wonderment as he came toward her and stood within a few feet of her.

On Harlan's face was a slow, genial grin.

"Sunnin' yourself, eh?" he said. "Well, it's a mighty nice day--not too hot. Have you knowed him long?"

The startling irrelevance of the question caused Barbara to gaze sharply at Harlan, and when their eyes met she noted that his were twinkling with a light that she could not fathom. She hated him when she could not understand him.

"Mr. Haydon, do you mean?" she questioned, a sudden coldness in her voice.

Harlan nodded.

"A little more than a year, I think. It was just after I returned from school, at Denver."

He watched her, saying lowly:

"So it was Denver. I'd been wonderin'. I knowed it must have been some place. Schoolin' is a thing that I never had time to monkey with--I reckon my folks didn't believe a heap in 'em."

"You've lived in the West all your life--you were born in the West, I suppose?"

He looked keenly at her. "I expect you knowed that without askin'. I've been wonderin' if it would have made any difference."

"How?"

"In me. Do you think an education makes a man act different--gives him different ideas about his actions--in his dealin's with women, for instance?"

"I expect it does. Education should make a man more considerate of women--it is refining."

"Then you reckon a man that ain't had any education is coa.r.s.e, an' don't know how to treat a woman?"

"I didn't say that; I said education _should_ make a man treat women that way."

"But it don't always?"

"I think not. I have known men--well educated men--who failed to treat women as they should be treated."

"Then that ain't what you might call a hard-an'-fast rule--it don't always work. An' there's hope for any man who ain't had schoolin'--if he's wantin' to be a man."

"Certainly."

"But an educated man can't claim ignorance when he aims to mistreat a woman. That's how it figures up, ain't it?"

She laughed. "It would seem to point to that conclusion."

"So you've knowed Haydon about a year? I reckon he's educated?"

"Yes." She watched him closely, wondering at his meaning--why he had brought Haydon's name into the discussion. She was marveling at the subtle light in his eyes.

"Your father liked Haydon--he told me Haydon was the only square man in the country--besides himself an' Sheriff Gage."

"Father liked Haydon. I'm beginning to believe you really _did_ have a talk with father before he died!"

He smiled. "Goin' back to Haydon. I had a talk with him a little while ago. I sort of took a shine to him." He drew from a pocket the section of gold chain he had found on the desert, holding it out to her.

"Here's a piece of Haydon's watch chain," he said slowly, watching her face. "The next time Haydon comes to see you, give it to him, tellin' him I found it. It's likely he'll ask you where I found it. But you can say I wasn't mentionin'."

He turned, looking back over his shoulder at her as he walked toward the gate.

She stood, holding the glittering links in the palm of one hand, doubt and suspicion in her eyes.

"Why," she called after him; "he was just here, and you say you talked with him! Why didn't you give it to him?"

"Forgot it, ma'am. An' I reckon you'll be seein' him before I do."

Then he strode out through the gate, leaving her to speculate upon the mystery of his words and his odd action in leaving the chain with her when he could have personally returned it to Haydon.

Harlan, however, was grinning as he returned to the bunkhouse. For he wanted Barbara to see Haydon's face when the section of chain was returned to him, to gain whatever illumination she could from the incident. He did not care to tell her--yet--that Haydon had killed her father; but he did desire to create in her mind a doubt of Haydon, so that she would hesitate to confide to him everything that happened at the Rancho Seco.

For himself, he wanted to intimate delicately to Haydon his knowledge of what had really occurred at Sentinel Rock; it was a message to the man conveying a significance that Haydon could not mistake. It meant that for some reason, known only to himself, Harlan did not intend to tell what he knew.

CHAPTER XVII

FORGING A LETTER

The impulse which had moved Harlan to send Red Linton to the T Down ranch to enlist the services of some of his old friends had resulted from a conviction that he could not depend upon those men of the Rancho Seco outfit who had seemed to him, to be unfriendly to Stroud, the straw-boss.