The Trail Horde Part 45

She got out into the open and ran toward the street, hardly knowing what she intended to do. Whatever happened, she did not want to stay longer in the Wolf. She had a feeling that if she could find Moreton she would be safe until Shorty and the Circle L men completed the grim work upon which they were engaged. For she knew that the Circle L men had sworn to square their account with the outlaws--and, knowing the circ.u.mstances of the fight on the plains the previous spring, she could not blame them for what they had done.

And yet she wanted to get away from the scene--anywhere.

She halted in front of the Wolf, and saw a number of men on the street--and others running toward the building. She moved down the street toward the station, and as she pa.s.sed a group of men she saw a man running toward her, shouting loudly:

"Lawler's here! What in h.e.l.l is comin' off? Lawler just got off a special train! He looks like he looked that day he rode into town lookin' for Gary Warden!"

Far down the street Ruth saw him coming. He was running, and she leaped to meet him, unaware that Shorty and the other Circle L men had emerged from the front door of the Wolf and were listening to the man who had brought the news of Lawler's arrival.

She was aware of nothing but the fact that Lawler was coming. And when, running toward him, she saw him stop dead short, she cried aloud with joy:

"O Kane! Kane!"

And then his big arms went around her, and she nestled close to him, shuddering, sobbing, laughing.

Excitedly, rapidly, as he held her, she related the story of the night's adventure. Then Shorty and the others came up. She and Lawler were standing in front of a store, in a glare of light that came through a big window; and she saw his lips straighten when she told him what Slade had done.

"Shorty," he said, grimly; "take care of her."

And then, despite her struggles--for she knew that he was going to seek Warden--she found herself a captive in the giant's arms, while Lawler ran down the street toward Warden's office.

CHAPTER XLII

GOING EAST

Within fifteen minutes after he had left Ruth Hamlin with Slade at the side door of the Wolf, Warden had sent a telegram to Lawler, at the capital, informing him that the girl might be found at the brothel with the outlaw. He had signed no name to the telegram, but that did not lessen the venomous satisfaction he felt over sending it.

It had been nearly eleven o'clock when Warden sent the wire and allowing for some minutes of waste time before the message could be delivered, and the s.p.a.ce of time that must elapse before Lawler could reach Willets--even if he came on a special train--he knew that Lawler could not arrive before the early hours of the morning.

Lawler, Warden knew, would be in a killing mood when he reached Willets.

And he knew, also, that Slade would be waiting for Lawler, and that he would kill Lawler on sight.

Slade would have to kill Lawler, for Lawler, as governor, had the power to be revenged upon the outlaw for the abduction of Ruth; and Slade would know that Lawler would use that power to the limit. If Slade killed Lawler, that would be another matter. The outlaw would have to hide, to evade the clutches of the law. But hiding was not more than Slade had been accustomed to for years, and that necessity would work no hardship upon him.

That was Warden's reasoning. Perhaps it was faulty, for it hinged upon the vagaries of a wanton character who could not be depended upon. But Warden had to take that chance.

And Warden's reasoning, of late, had been influenced by his pa.s.sionate hatred of Lawler. That hatred had warped his judgment until he had become a creature guided by the savage impulses that filled his brain.

When he left Slade and Ruth at the door of the Wolf, he went directly to his office, taking Singleton with him. He lit a kerosene lamp, built a fire in the small stove that stood in a corner; seated himself in a chair, motioned Singleton to another, lit a cigar and smoked--his eyes gleaming with the vindictive joy he felt.

However, the cigar in his mouth was not half smoked, when from a distance, on the steady west wind, was borne to his ears the faint, wailing shriek of a locomotive whistle.

The cigar drooped from his lips and he looked swiftly at Singleton.

Singleton had heard the sound, too, for his eyes had narrowed and his att.i.tude had become tense.

That both men had the same thought was evidenced by the glance they exchanged--incipient apprehension.

"It's a freight, likely," muttered Singleton.

Warden took a nervous puff at his cigar. Then he got up, walked to a window and stood, looking out into the night. He stood there for a few minutes, Singleton watching him--until the whistle shrieked again and a m.u.f.fled roar reached their ears. Then Warden turned, his face ashen.

"Singleton, it's a special!" he said, jerkily; "an engine and one car!"

Singleton got up and walked to the window, beside Warden. As they stood there, they saw the train stop at the station. They saw, in the dim light from the coach, the figure of a tall man alight and dart across the platform, to vanish in the shadow of the station. Simultaneously, there came to their ears the staccato reports of pistols, the sounds rendered faint and m.u.f.fled by distance.

Singleton flashed around, his face pale and his eyes bulging.

"It's Lawler! I'd know him among a million! An' somethin's happened at the Wolf. That's where the shootin' is! Warden," he said, nervously; "it looks like there's goin' to be h.e.l.l to pay!"

Warden's face was ashen, but he laughed.

"Don't worry, Singleton; Slade will take care of Lawler," he said. But the words carried no conviction with them--they had been uttered without expression.

Warden walked to the door and gazed down the dimly lighted stairway.

There was suppressed excitement in his manner, nervous anxiety in his eyes. He walked back into the room, threw his cigar into a cuspidor, and stood with his back to the stove, listening.

Singleton said nothing; though his lips had settled into a pout and his eyes had a sullen, malignant expression. He, too, was wishing--what Warden was wishing--that Slade would kill Lawler. The death of Lawler would make the future safe for both of them; it would remove a menace to their lives and a barrier to their schemes for the autocratic control of the cattle industry.

But they doubted. Deep in their hearts lurked a fear that something had gone wrong--which thought was suggested by the sounds of the shooting they had heard.

Singleton had become afflicted with the nervousness that had seized Warden. The pout on his lips grew; he cast startled, inquiring glances toward the door. And at last, as they stood silent, looking at each other, there came a sound--close; the sound of a man walking in the street. As they listened the sound came closer, reached the front of the building. Then they heard it on the stairs. Warden stiffened, and Singleton drew his gun. An instant later the door crashed inward, and Lawler stood in the opening, his eyes flaming with the cold wrath that had been in them on the day when, after he had killed Antrim, he had come to Warden's office for a like purpose.

There was no word spoken. Lawler saw the gun in Singleton's hand. He leaped quickly to one side as Singleton pulled the trigger--the smoke streak touching his clothing as he moved. He leaped again as Singleton shot at him a second time. This time he was so close to Singleton that the powder burned his face. And before Singleton could shoot again Lawler struck--with the precision and force that he had put into his blows that day in the schoolhouse.

Singleton reeled headlong across the room, bringing up against the farther wall, striking it with his head and tumbling to the floor beside it.

Then, his lips set stiffly, his eyes flaming with a fire that brought terror into Warden's heart, he faced the other.

"Now, d.a.m.n you; I'll teach you to make war on women!" He leaped forward, striking at Warden with terrific energy.

Still struggling in Shorty's arms, Ruth heard Singleton's shots. She broke away from Shorty, noting with dull astonishment that Shorty seemed almost to have permitted it, and ran down the street toward Warden's office. As she ran she heard a tumult behind her, and steps close beside her. She glanced swiftly over her shoulder, to see Shorty beside her.

The giant was taking steps that dwarfed hers, and while she looked at him he drew past her. She heard him muttering as he pa.s.sed--caught his words:

"Lawler ain't got no gun--I seen that!"

She ran faster than ever at that, and when Shorty reached the foot of the stairs leading to Warden's office she was at his heels.

There were other men behind her--a mult.i.tude. She felt them pressing close behind her as she ran up the stairs. But she did not look back, for she heard sounds of a conflict in Warden's office--the thud and jar of blows, the crashing of furniture overturned and smashed; the scuffling of feet on the floors--and screams of rage--in Warden's voice.

When she reached the top of the stairs and looked into the room between Shorty's shoulder and the door jamb, she screamed with apprehension. For she saw Singleton, with blood dripping from a huge gash in his cheek, in the act of picking up a pistol that, evidently, had fallen on the floor during the fight that must have raged in the room.

Singleton's face was hideous with rage. It was evident that he did not see Shorty and herself at the door--and that he had not heard the tramping of the many feet on the stairs. He was apparently oblivious to everything but the fact that the pistol was there and that he had an opportunity to use it.