The Ranchman Part 25

The incident of the fight between Carrington, Danforth, Judge Littlefield, and Taylor in front of the courthouse had eloquently revealed a trait of Taylor's character which was quite generally known to the people of Dawes, and which, in a great measure, accounted for Taylor's popularity.

Few of Dawes's citizens had ever seen Taylor angry. Neil Norton had seen him in a rage once, and the memory of the man's face was still vivid. A few of the town's citizens had watched him once-when he had thrashed a gunman who had insulted him-and the story of that fight still taxed the vocabularies of those who had witnessed it. One enthusiastic watcher, at the conclusion of the fight, had picturesquely termed Taylor a "regular he-wolf in a sc.r.a.p;" and thus there was written into the traditions of the town a page of his history which carried the lesson, repeated by many tongues:

"Don't rile Taylor!"

Riding into Dawes about two hours after he had heard from Marion Harlan the story of the attack on her by Carrington, Taylor's face was set and grim. His ancient hatred of Carrington was intensified by another pa.s.sion that had burned its way into his heart, filling it with a primitive l.u.s.t to destroy-jealousy.

He dismounted in front of the Castle Hotel, and, entering, he asked the clerk where he could find Carrington. The clerk could give him no information, and Taylor went out, the clerk's puzzled gaze following him.

"Evidently he doesn't want to congratulate Carrington about anything,"

the clerk confided to a bystander.

Mounting his horse, Taylor rode down the street to the building which Danforth had selected as a place from which to administer the government of Dawes. A gilt sign over the front bore upon it the words:

CITY HALL.

Taylor went inside, and found Danforth seated at a desk. The latter looked sourly at his visitor until he caught a glimpse of his eyes, then his face paled, and he sat silent until Taylor spoke:

"Where's Carrington?"

"I haven't seen Carrington this morning," lied Danforth, for he _had_ seen Carrington some time before, riding out of town toward the Huggins house. He suspected Carrington's errand was in some way concerned with the three men who had been sent there. But he divined from the expression in Taylor's eyes that trouble between Taylor and Carrington was imminent, and he would not set Taylor on the other's trail without first warning Carrington.

He met Taylor's straight, cold look of disbelief with a vindictive smirk, which grew venomous as Taylor wheeled and walked out. Taylor had not gone far when Danforth called a man to his side, whispered rapidly to him, telling him to hurry. Later the man slipped out of the rear door of the building, mounted a horse, and rode hurriedly down the river trail toward the Huggins house.

Taylor rode to the _Eagle_ office, but Norton was not there, and so, pursuing his quest, Taylor looked into saloons and stores, and various other places. Men who knew him noted his taciturnity-for he spoke little except to greet a friend here and there shortly-and commented upon his abrupt manner.

"What's up with Taylor?" asked a man who knew him. "Looks sort of riled."

Taylor found Carrington in none of the places in which he looked. He returned to the _Eagle_ office, and found Norton there. He greeted Norton with a short:

"Seen Carrington?"

"Why, yes." Norton peered closely at his friend. "What in blazes is wrong?" His thoughts went to another time, when he had seen Taylor as he appeared now, and he drew a deep breath.

Briefly Taylor told him, and when the tale was ended, Norton's eyes were blazing with indignation.

"So, that's the kind of a whelp he is!" he said. "Well," he added, "I saw him go out on the river trail a while ago; it's likely he's gone to the Huggins house."

"His-now," said Taylor; "that's what makes it worse. Well," he added as he stepped toward the door, "I'll be going."

"Be careful, Squint," warned Norton, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I know you can lick him-and I hope you give him all that's coming to him. But watch him-he's tricky!" He paused. "If you need any help-someone to go with you, to keep an eye--"

"It's a one-man job," grinned Taylor mirthlessly.

"You'll promise you won't be thinking of that ankle-this time?" said Norton seriously.

Taylor permitted himself a faint smile. "That's all explained now," he said. "She's been a lot generous-and forgiving. No," he added, "I won't be thinking of that ankle-now!"

And then, his lips setting again, he crossed the sidewalk, mounted Spotted Tail, and rode through town to the river trail. Watching him, Norton saw him disappear in some timber that fringed the river.

Carrington had finished his talk with the three men he had set to guard the Huggins house. The men were told to stay until they received orders from Carrington to leave. And they were to report to him immediately if anyone came.

Carrington had watched Parsons go down the big slope; and for a long time after he had finished his talk with the three men he stood on the front porch of the house watching the progress made by Parsons through the basin.

"Following Marion," Carrington a.s.sured himself, with a crooked smile.

"Well, I'll know where to get both of them when I want them."

Carrington felt not the slightest tremor of pity for Parsons. He laughed deep in his throat with a venomous joy as he saw Parsons slowly making his way through the big basin; for he knew Parsons-he knew that the craven nature of the man would prevent him from attempting any reprisal of a vigorous character.

Yet the exultation in the big man's heart was dulled with a slight regret for his ruthless attack on Marion Harlan. He should not have been so eager, he told himself; he should have waited; he should have insinuated himself into her good graces, and then--

Scowling, he got on his horse and rode up the Dawes trail, shouting a last word of caution to the three men-one seated on the front porch, the other two lounging in the shade of a tree near by.

Half a mile from the house, riding through a timber grove, he met the man Danforth had sent to him. The latter gave Carrington the message he carried, which was merely: "Taylor is looking for you."

"Coming here?" he asked the man sharply.

"I reckon he will be-if he can't find you in town," said the man.

"Danforth said Taylor was a heap fussed up, an' killin' mad!"

A grayish pallor stole over Carrington's face, and he drew a quick breath, sending a rapid, dreading glance up the Dawes trail. Then, coincident with a crafty backward look-toward the Huggins house-the grayish pallor receded and a rush of color suffused his face. He spoke shortly to the man:

"Sneak back-by a roundabout trail. Don't let Taylor see you!"

He watched while the man urged his horse deep into the fringing timber.

Carrington could see him for a time as he rode, and then, when horse and rider had vanished, Carrington wheeled his horse and sent it clattering back along the trail to the big house.

Arriving there, he called the three men to him and talked fast to them.

The talk ended, the men ran for their horses, and a few minutes later they raced up the river trail toward Dawes, their faces grim, their eyes alert.

About a mile up the trail, where a wood of spruce and fir-balsam spread dark shadows over the ground, and an almost impenetrable growth of brush fringed the narrow, winding path over which any rider going to the big house must pa.s.s, they separated, two plunging deep into the brush on one side, and one man secreting himself on the other side.

They urged their horses far back, where they could not be seen. And then, concealing themselves behind convenient bushes, they waited, their eyes trained on the Dawes trail, their ears attuned to catch the slightest sound that might come from that direction.

Back at the big house-having arranged the ambuscade-Carrington drew a deep breath of relief and smiled evilly. He thought he knew why Taylor was looking for him. Marion had gone to the Arrow, to tell Taylor what had happened at the big house, and Taylor, in a jealous rage, intended to punish him. Well, Taylor could come now.

CHAPTER XX-A FIGHT TO A FINISH

And Taylor was "coming." The big black horse he was riding-which he had named "Spotted Tail" because of the white blotches that startlingly relieved his somber sable coat-was never in better condition. He stepped lightly, running in long, smooth leaps down the narrow trail, champing at the bit, keen of eye, alert, eager, snorting his impatience over the tight rein his rider kept on him.

But Spotted Tail was not more eager than his rider. Taylor, however, knowing that at any instant he might run plump into Carrington, returning from the big house, was forced to restrain his impatience.

Therefore, except on the straight reaches of the trail, he was forced to pull the black down.