Part 50 (1/2)

”They're winter stores,” said Buck shortly.

Then, as Beasley laughed right out, and he became aware of a general smile at his expense, he grew hot.

”What's the matter?” he demanded sharply. And his demand was not intended for the saloon-keeper alone.

”Ke'p your s.h.i.+rt on, Buck,” exclaimed Beasley, with studied good-nature. ”We couldn't jest help but laff.” Then his eyes became sentimentally serious. ”Y' see, we bin worried some. We wus guessin'

when you came along. Y' see, ther's a sheriff an' a big posse o'

dep'ties comin' right along to this yer camp. Y' see, ther's some guy chasin' around the hills, an' he's wanted fer--murder.”

The man was watching for an effect in Buck's face. But he might as well have looked for expression in that of a sphinx.

”Wal?”

It was the only response Buck afforded him.

”Wal,” Beasley s.h.i.+fted his gaze. He laughed feebly, and the onlookers transferred their attention to him. ”Y' see, it was sort o' laffable you comin' along buyin' winter stores in August, an' us jest guessin'

what guy the sheriff would be chasin'--in the hills. He won't be smellin' around the fort now?” He grinned amiably into the dark face.

But deep in his wicked eyes was an a.s.surance which Buck promptly read.

Nor did it take him a second to come to a decision. He returned the man's look with a coolness that belied his real feelings. He knew beyond question that Mercy Lascelles had already commenced her campaign against the Padre. He had learned of her journey into the camp from Joan. The result of that journey had not reached him yet. At least it was reaching him now.

”You best hand it me straight, Beasley,” he said. ”Guess nothin'

straight is a heap in your line. But jest for once you've got no corners to crawl around. Hand it out--an' quick.”

Buck's manner was dangerously sharp set. There was a smouldering fire growing in his pa.s.sionate eyes. Beasley hesitated. But his hesitation was only for the reason of his own growing heat. He made one last effort to handle the matter in the way he had originally desired, which was with a process of good-humored goading with which he hoped to keep the company present on his side.

”Ther's no offense, Buck,” he said. ”At least ther' sure needn't to be. You never could play easy. I wus jest handin' you a laff--same as we had.”

”I'm waitin',” said Buck with growing intensity, utterly ignoring the explanation.

But Beasley's hatred of the man could not be long denied. Besides, his last attempt had changed the att.i.tude of the onlookers. There was a lurking derision, even contempt in their regard for him. It was the result of what had occurred before Buck's coming. They expected him to talk as plainly as he had done then. So he gave rein to the venom which he could never long restrain.

”Guess I hadn't best ke'p you waitin', sure,” he said ironically. Then his eyes suddenly lit. ”Winter stores, eh?” he cried derisively.

”Winter stores--an' why'll the Padre need 'em, the good kind Padre, when the sheriff's comin' along to round him up fer--murder?”

There was a moment of tense silence as the man flung his challenge across the bar. Every eye in the room was upon the two men facing each other. In the mind of every one present was only one expectation. The lightning-like play of life and death.

But the game they all understood so well was not forthcoming. For once Buck's heat was controlled by an iron will. To have shot Beasley down where he stood would have been the greatest delight of his life, but he restrained the impulse. There were others to think of. He forced himself to calmness.

Beasley had fired his shot in the firm conviction it would strike home unfailingly. Yet he knew that it was not without a certain random in it. Still, after what had been said, it was imperative to show no weakening. He was certain the quarry was the Padre, and his conviction received further a.s.surance as he watched Buck's face.

For an instant Buck would willingly have hurled the lie in his teeth.

But to do so would have been to lie himself, and, later, for that lie to be proved. There was only one course open to him to counter the mischief of this man. He looked squarely into the saloon-keeper's face.

”The truth don't come easy to you, Beasley,” he said calmly, ”unless it's got a nasty flavor. Guess that's how it's come your way to tell it now.”

”Winter stores,” laughed the man behind the bar. And he rubbed his hands gleefully, and winked his delight in his own astuteness at the men looking on.

Then his face sobered, and it seemed as though all his animosity had been absorbed in a profound regret. His whole att.i.tude became the perfection of a righteous indignation and sympathy, which almost deceived Buck himself.