Part 37 (1/2)

She saw it. She also understood that she had failed. But she veiled her chagrin and disappointment behind a scornful smile.

”Framed!” she said. ”And it was crude work, too--wasn't it, Lawler? I should have been more careful. Ha, ha! Lawler, I should have known you would do something like this--after what happened in the line cabin. And I let you trick me!”

She raised her head, disdaining to glance at Lawler as she walked to the door, in front of which Moreton was standing.

She smiled broadly at the latter. ”Mr. Sheriff,” she said, evenly; ”if you will stand aside, I shall be glad to leave you.”

Moreton grinned, admiringly. ”You've sure got a heap of nerve, ma'am,”

he complimented; ”I'll say that for you! I don't know what your game is, but you're mighty clever--though you're wastin' your time out here in the sagebrush. You ought to stay East--where there's a lot more rummies than there is out here!”

He opened the door, and bowed her out with extravagant politeness. Then, when she had gone, he motioned Lawler toward the door.

”Jail's empty, Kane. But I reckon we'd better play this deal safe.

Dorgan, the county prosecutor, is in his office. We'll go down to see him, an' I'll have him make a record of what happened here. Then, if I happen to get b.u.mped off this here planet them sc.u.m can't come back at you, sayin' this never came off!”

Lawler accompanied Moreton to the office of the prosecutor, who took the depositions of both men, attested the doc.u.ment and placed it in the office safe.

”So that's the kind of a dame she is--eh?” grinned the official. ”Well, she don't look it. But you never can tell--can you?”

CHAPTER x.x.xII

RED KING RUNS

Sheriff Moreton had left Red King at the livery stable, and after Lawler had thanked the sheriff for his part in the little drama that had just been played, he walked to the stable, saddled and bridled the big horse, mounted and rode out of town, toward the Circle L.

While grim tragedy had lurked over the incident that had just closed, the thing had had its humorous side. And as Lawler rode he reflected smilingly, though feeling a pulse of shame for Della Wharton.

In spite of the fact that the woman had charged Gary Warden with evolving the plot, Lawler felt nothing but contempt for the man.

Warden's schemes, so far, had resulted only in discomfiture for Warden himself. And because Lawler was not vindictive, he entertained no thoughts of reprisal.

However, Lawler was now well equipped with evidence of Warden's misdeeds. Months before, he had sent to Metcalf, the editor of the _News_, in the capital, the story of the drive to Red Rock, embellished with an account of his adventure with Antrim's gang, his capture of Antrim and the subsequent bringing of the outlaw to Willets, where he had delivered him to Warden.

Metcalf had written him that the publication of the article had created a sensation in the state, and it appeared from the prominent position in which Metcalf had placed the story--on the front page, with a picture of Lawler dominating; and big, black headlines announcing:

”PROMINENT CATTLEMAN WORSTS TRAIL HORDE!”--that Metcalf had kept his promise to the effect that he intended to ”feature” his fight against the power that was attempting to control the cattle industry.

So far, though, Lawler had no evidence that the governor's power had been used against them. He was convinced that Warden, Jordan, Simmons, and the others were employing their talents against him with the secret approval of the governor; but until he secured absolute, d.a.m.ning evidence he dared not openly charge it.

Lawler had been waiting patiently for such evidence. He had felt all along that sooner or later his enemies would over-reach themselves, leaving some weak spot through which he could attack, and he had been content to wait until that time, merely defending himself and his interests, planning no aggressive campaign.

The effect of the a.s.saults of his enemies thus far had disturbed him little. He had been able to antic.i.p.ate most of their attacks and they had resulted in little harm to himself. They had left him unperturbed, unharmed--like the attacks of an excitable poodle upon a giant, contemptuous mastiff.

Deep in his heart, though, lurked a spark of pa.s.sion that, day by day, had been slowly growing, warming him, making his veins swell a little when his thoughts dwelt upon Warden and the others; bringing into his heart a savage longing that he often had yielded to in the old days--before he had learned to control his pa.s.sions. There were times when he was almost persuaded to break the laws for which he had fought in the old days--moments when it seemed to him that further toleration of the attacks of his enemies would be a sign of weakness. But he had conquered those surges of pa.s.sion, though the victory always left him with a smile on his face that would have awed Warden, had he seen it.

Something of that pa.s.sion was in his heart now, as he rode toward the Circle L. It had become plain to him that Warden would adopt any means to destroy him; that in the man's heart was a malignant hatred that was driving him to a boldness that could mean nothing but that in the end they must settle their differences as man to man. Lawler would not always be able to control the pa.s.sion that lurked in him. He knew it.

One day Warden would press him too hard. And then----