'Drag' Harlan Part 23

He knew nothing about them, and their loyalty to Barbara Morgan might be of a quality that would not endure through the sort of trouble that seemed to be imminent.

The T Down men--those who would come--would stand with him no matter what happened--they would do his will without question.

There was no doubt in Harlan's mind that John Haydon was the mysterious "Chief"--the man who had sent into Lane Morgan's breast the bullet that had ultimately killed him; and there was no doubt that some powerful, secret force was at work in the country, and that the force was directing its attention to the Rancho Seco and the defenseless girl who was at the nominal head of it. For some reason the secret force had killed her father, had isolated the ranch, had encompa.s.sed it with enemies, and was working slowly and surely to enmesh the girl herself.

Harlan was convinced that one of the motives behind the subtle aggressions of the men was a yearning for the gold that Morgan had left--in fact the presence of Dolver and Laskar at Sentinel Rock--and Morgan's word to him about the gold--provided sufficient evidence on that score.

They had watched Morgan; they suspected he was taking gold to Pardo to have it a.s.sayed, and they had killed him in the hope of finding something on his person which would reveal to them where he had hidden the rest of it.

One other motive was that of the eternal, ages-old pa.s.sion of a man for woman. Evidence of that pa.s.sion had been revealed to Harlan at Lamo, by the attack on Barbara by Deveny's hireling--Higgins; by the subtle advances of John Haydon. It seemed to Harlan that all of these men had been--and were--equally determined to possess the girl.

And yet back of it all--behind that which had been rendered visible by the actions of the man and by Harlan's own deductions--was something else--something stealthy and hidden; a secret threat of dire things to come--a lingering promise of trickery.

Standing at one of the gates of the corral upon the third morning following Linton's departure, Harlan considered this phase of the situation. He felt the hidden threat of something sinister that lurked in the atmosphere.

It was all around him. It seemed to lie secreted in the yawning s.p.a.ce that engulfed the Rancho Seco--south, north, and east. From the haze that stretched into the unending distance westward it seemed to come, bearing its whispered promise. The solemn hills that flanked the wide stretches of Sunset Valley seemed to hint of it--somberly.

Mystery was in the serene calm that seemed to encompa.s.s the big basin; from the far reaches westward, in the misty veil that seemed to hang from the far-flung shafts of sunlight that penetrated the fleecy clouds, came the sinister threat--the whole section seemed to pulse with it.

And yet Harlan knew there could be no mystery except the mysteries of men. Nature was the same here as in any other section of the world, and her secrets were not more profound than usual.

He grinned mirthlessly at the wonderful basin, noting that the Rancho Seco buildings seemed to lie on a direct line with its center; that the faint trail that ran through the basin--the trail men traveled--came on in its undulating way straight toward the Rancho Seco ranchhouse, seemed to bring the mystery of the big basin with it; seemed to be a link that connected the Rancho Seco with the promise of trouble.

That impression might have engaged the serious thoughts of some men. It widened the smile on Harlan's face. For he knew there was no threat in the beauty of the valley; that it did not hide its secrets from the prying eyes of men. Whatever secret the valley held was in the minds of men--the minds of Deveny and the mysterious "Chief," and their followers.

Harlan had not absented himself from the ranchhouse since the departure of Linton. He had lounged in the vicinity of the buildings during the day--and Barbara had seen him many times from the windows; and he had spent his nights watching the ranchhouse, half expecting another attack on Barbara.

The girl had seen him at night, too; and she had smiled at the picture he made with the moonlight shining upon him--or standing in some shadow--somber, motionless, undoubtedly guarding her.

She saw him this morning, too, as he stood beside the corral gate, and there was a glow in her eyes that, had he seen it, might have thrilled him with its grat.i.tude.

She came out of a rear door after a while, and Harlan was still standing at the gate.

He watched her as she came toward him--it was the first time she had ventured in that direction since the return from Lamo with him--noting that she seemed to be in better spirits--that she was smiling.

"You looked lonesome," she said, as she halted near him. "Did Linton join the outfit?"

"It's likely; he went three days ago."

"I knew he had gone; I saw you several times, and you were always alone.

And," she added, looking keenly at him; "I saw you several times, at night. Don't you ever sleep?"

"I reckon I'm a sort of restless cuss."

Her face took on serious lines.

"Look here, Harlan," she said, reprovingly, "you are keeping something back. You have been watching the ranchhouse at night--and during the day.

You are guarding me. Why is it? Do you think I am going to run away?"

"From me?" he queried; "I was hopin' you wouldn't."

She stiffened with exasperation, for she felt the insincerity in his manner--caught the humorous note in his voice.

"You are treating me as you would treat a child," she declared; "and I won't have it. Are you watching me because you fear there might be another--Lawson?"

"There might be."

"Nonsense! There isn't another man in the section would dare what Lawson dared!"

"Gentlemen--eh?" he said, tauntingly. "Well, I've nosed around quite considerable, an' I don't remember to have ever run into a place where there was fewer _men_ than in this neck of the woods."

"There are plenty of gentlemen. Do you think John Haydon----"

Harlan grinned faintly. "He's been fannin' it right along for half an hour," he said, with seeming irrelevance.

"Who?" she asked, with a swift, uncomprehending glance at him.

"Your gentleman," he said slowly.

She followed the direction of his gaze, and saw, on the trail that led downward from a little table-land to the level that stretched toward the ranchhouse, a horseman, coming rapidly toward them.

"It's Mr. Haydon!" she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, her voice leaping.

"So it is," said Harlan, dryly. He looked keenly at her, noting the flush on her face, the brightness of her eyes. "You ain't forgettin' to give him that piece of chain."

"Why," she said, drawing the glittering links from a pocket of her skirt; "I have it here. You may return it to him."

"Me an' Haydon ain't on speakin' terms," he smiled. "He wouldn't appreciate it none, if I give it to him."

"Why--" she began, only to pause and look at him with a sudden comprehension in her eyes. For into Harlan's face had come an expression that, she thought, she could a.n.a.lyze. It was jealousy. That was why he was reluctant to return the chain to Haydon.

The situation was so positively puerile, she thought, that she almost felt like laughing. She would have laughed had it not been that she knew of Harlan's unfailing vigilance--and that she felt differently toward him now than she had felt during the first days of their acquaintance. His steadfast vigilance, she decided, must have been responsible for the change, together with the steady consideration he revealed for her.

At any rate, something about him had affected her. She felt more gentle toward him; more inclined to believe in him; and there had been times during the past few days when she had been astonished at the subtle, warm sensation that had stolen over her whenever she saw him or whenever she thought of him.

Something of that warmth toward him was in her eyes now as she watched him and she decided that she should humor his whim; that she should perform the action that he was reluctant to perform.

She smiled, with the wisdom of a woman to whom a secret had been unwittingly revealed.

"You don't like Haydon?"

"Him an' me ain't goin' to be bosom friends."

"Why don't you like him?" she asked banteringly.

She thought his grin was brazen. "Why don't you like me?"

"I don't know," she said coldly. But her face reddened a little.