Part 19 (1/2)

”Not a horse,” he mumbled. ”They're sneaking out of the country with 'em. Tom, come here,”--with a jerk of his head. Beck walked over and sat down. ”Did you hear what the Reverend says?” Dad asked. ”About the horses?”

”Yes, I ain't surprised. Are you?”

His eyes, again amused, bored into Hepburn's face with the query:

”No, but--”

The sharp batter of running hoofs cut him short. The whole a.s.semblage was listening. The rider stopped short at the gate, they heard it creak and a moment later he came across toward the bunk house at a high lope.

They heard him speak gruffly to the horse, heard the creak of leather as he swung down and then jingling spurs marked his further progress toward the door.

It was Henry Riley, owner of the Bar Z ranch, thirty miles down Coyote creek. A cattleman of the old order, a man not given to haste or excitement. His appearance caught the interest of all, for he was breathing fast and his eyes blazed.

”Where's Dad?” he asked and Hepburn, rising, said: ”Here. What's the matter, Henry?”

”Who's this nester in Devil's Hole?” Riley asked.

”Why ... I didn't know there was a nester there.”

Dad answered hesitatingly and Beck sc.r.a.ped one foot on the floor.

”Well, there is. Guess we've all been asleep. He's there, with a girl, and they filed on that water yesterday. That shuts your outfit and mine out of the best range in the country if he fences, which he will! If they're goin' to dry farm our steers off the range we'd better look alive.”

”I'll be d.a.m.ned,” muttered Hepburn. ”That was one of the next things I was goin' to have her do, file on that water.”

He scratched his head and turned. Beck was waiting for him to face about.

”Now,” he said slowly, ”what are you going to do?”

His eyes flashed angrily and any who watched could see the challenge.

Silently Hepburn reached for his belt and gun, strapped it on, dug in his blankets for another revolver and shoved it into his s.h.i.+rt.

”First,” he said, ”I'm goin' after those horses. _That_ ain't too late to be remedied. No, I'll go alone!” as Tom stepped toward his bunk where his gun hung.

Hepburn gave Beck stare for stare as though defying him now to impute his motives and strode out into a fine rain, drawing on his slicker.

CHAPTER IX

THE DESTROYER

While the men were eating that night another rider had come to H.C. He entered slowly, tied his horse to the fence and walked down along the cottonwoods toward the house. He stood outside a time, looking through the window at Jane whose golden head was bowed in the mellow glow of the student lamp as she worked at her desk.

He stepped lightly across the veranda and rapped; at her bidding he entered.

”d.i.c.k!” she exclaimed.

”Undoubtedly,” he said, with forced attempt at lightness.

”How did you get here? Why come at this time of day?”--rising and walking toward him.