Chapter Nine

Sheathing his weapon, Jim Bond surveyed Farlin coolly. Three of Lawson’s men picked up the motionless form of Porky Snyder, but, as they carried him away, none of the others offered to move. Lawson gave a sharp command as Cole rose, glowering savagely, from the ground and confronted his chief. Lawson beckoned him and started away without another look. But Cole’s eyes met Bond’s for an instant as he turned to follow. Bond’s features were set and cold. There were now three of them—Farlin, Big Tom Lester, and Bond.

“Are you going?” Dan Farlin demanded.

“Your man Porky isn’t dead,” said Bond. “If you don’t want to take my word for it that I shot him, he’ll probably tell you so himself. I want you to get this thing straight.” He looked the gambler squarely in the eyes.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Farlin snapped. “I won’t even bother to ask you how you came to be here. You’re just a meddling young whelp and you’re setting your own trap.”

“If I am, I’ll spring it,” Bond retorted. “I saw this Porky snooping around up here. He’s got a horse cached just below here. Maybe he told your friend Lester where he was going . . . afterward.”

Big Tom swore. “I’m givin’ you till daylight to get out of town!” he said harshly. “That goes, whoever you are.”

Bond chuckled softly, looking steadily at Farlin. “That’s supposed to scare me, I take it,” he said, his expression changing with the words. “Tom, you’re a joke . . . and it’s time somebody put you wise.”

Big Tom’s face went black and his right hand darted down. But Farlin caught him just in time and whirled him around. Bond’s laugh echoed again. His weapon had come into his hand like a flash of light. “Suppose we cut these parlor theatricals,” he suggested mildly. “If we understand each other, Farlin, I’ll be going.”

“That’s what I’m waiting for you to do,” said Farlin.

“So long.” Bond nodded, with a swift glance at the enraged Lester. He put up his gun and walked jauntily down the wide trail.

“Come in the house,” Farlin told Lester, and the two went inside.

* * * * *

In the shadowy space in the rear of the Red Arrow, Lawson halted and scowled at Cole.

“What was the idea in the two plays against this Bond?” he asked in a hard voice.

“Oh, is he a friend of yours?” Cole countered with a sneer. “Your pal, Tom, said to try him out, an’ he tries to make a fool out of me! Maybe he did. I suppose I’m to let him get away with it. He punctures Porky, an’ you let him get away with it. He . . .”

“Shut up!” commanded Lawson. “Look here, Red, I’ve got a reason for anything I do. Tom is just fool enough to put something off on you that he’s afraid to do himself. When he puts something off on you, he’s puttin’ it off on me. Ever think of that? I said we’d go slow this trip, an’ you try to gum up the works. I’m just askin’ you one thing, Red . . . are you takin’ orders or not?”

Cole’s eyes were glittering beads of fire. His chief was calling him, and there was no side-stepping the issue.

“Meaning just what, Ed?” he managed to get out.

“Meanin’, are you runnin’ with the outfit or goin’ on your own?” Lawson shot back. “If you’re runnin’ with me, you’re takin’ my orders without askin’ any questions or talkin’ back. If you’re on your own, you’re on hostile territory. You can take it or leave it. That ought to be plain enough.” Lawson was not mincing words, and it was evident he was fighting mad about the whole business.

Red Cole’s look of anger gave way to astonishment. “That’s strong talk, Ed,” he said, recovering his natural voice. “You said plenty then. Are you givin’ me my notice?” His eyes narrowed.

“I’m ready to give you your orders, if you’re ready to take ’em,” Lawson retorted. “If you’re not . . . it’s the other thing. An’ Big Tom’s business is none of ours. We’ve got a big play comin’ up, an’ it’ll be all we can do to attend to our own affairs. This is no time to be settlin’ a personal grudge. I’m not anxious to lose you . . . I’ll tell you that. But this newcomer might get you, whether you think so or not. Which way do you stand?”

“With you, if we’re the same as always,” growled Cole. “But I’d like to know . . . .”

“Get the men together an’ ready to ride,” ordered Lawson. “No more town stuff. We’ll talk things over later. We’re beating it in an hour.”

Red Cole made rather a ridiculous figure, swaying and working his hands in indecision. Then, with an effort, he straightened.

“All right,” he said finally, “but this is the first time you’ve worked behind my back, Ed, an’ maybe I could be of help.”

“If you could think hard enough, you’d have tried to kill me an’ go out on your own long ago,” sneered Lawson. “I’m your bread an’ butter, an’ you know it. Do as I say an’ leave the big stuff to me.”

“Sure,” said Cole. “Sure thing.” He walked away quietly enough, but there was murder in his eyes.

But if there was murder in Red Cole’s eyes, there was that and more in the gaze Lawson leveled at his retreating form. The outlaw strode swiftly into the rear of the resort, but did not go into the big room. He waited possibly two minutes, and then slipped out and into the shadow of the trees behind the place. The sound of voices had come to him, and now he was waiting for Lester.

* * * * *

Whether Bond suspected anything or not, he did not keep to the trail on the way from the Farlin cabin. He entered the timber and came out upon the main street of the town at a point above the Red Arrow. Then he strolled to the livery barn. He stepped quickly into the little front office when he saw the activity within. Men were saddling horses, talking, swearing—the Lawson outfit was preparing to quit town.

As Bond had a horse that would attract any rider’s eye, he proposed to see that it was not taken by mistake, or otherwise. But swift as his move had been, he had not escaped the alert glance of Red Cole, who had just arrived with Lawson’s orders.

Cole watched his chance to slip into the office unobserved. The place was unlighted, except for the feeble rays of the lantern hanging over the front doors of the barn, and the dim light filtering in the window.

Jim Bond’s hand closed on his gun. “No loud talk and no foolishness,” he said. “If you start to act funny, I’ll draw this time.”

“Don’t worry about me foolin’ none,” said Cole, looking at him keenly. “An’ I meant it when I drew down on you up there. Now I’m glad Ed butted in. I reckon you’re not here for your health.” His words were weighted with a meaning Bond ignored.

“I don’t have to go looking for something I’ve got,” he said coldly. “If you’ve got anything to say, you better say it ahead of that mob you’re traveling with.”

Cole stepped quickly to the door and looked out. He turned on Bond with a bright light in his eyes.

“I’m not goin’ to fool around with this,” he said, speaking rapidly in a low, distinct voice. “You’re here for something besides your health an’ what the card tables would bring you, if anything. I’m all over bein’ sore, not on account of anything you did, but . . . no matter. No man can work this place alone. You can take it from me that I know what I’m talkin’ about. I’m takin’ a chance talkin’ with you at all. But I’m not so tied up that I’m not open to a proposition.” He nodded significantly and again glanced out the door.

“I suppose your boss would be tickled stiff to hear that,” Bond observed quite coolly.

Cole’s face darkened. “Tell him,” he shot through his teeth. “You can’t get a crew in here, an’, if you did, you’d have to fight him an’ more others than you think. You can’t do it alone, an’ . . . you heard what I said.”

Bond was frowning. “Who’s this Porky?” he asked.

“A run-around for Tom Lester,” Cole answered readily enough. “He was snoopin’ around up there to . . .” He paused, listening.

Bond listened and could hear nothing. “Yes?” he prompted.

“Well, you can guess the rest,” said Cole with a shrug, “but if you want to talk business with me, set a time an’ place.”

“Right here, one week from tonight,” said Bond evenly. “And see to it that none of that bunch of cut-throats takes a liking to my horse. Understand?”

“I’ll try to make it,” said Cole, ignoring the reference to the horse. “An’ I’m not worrying about you keepin’ this to yourself, but it might be wiser. So long.”

He left Bond more perplexed than he ever had been in his life. Bond had made the appointment on the spur of the moment, without reason and without any intention of keeping it. He had reminded Cole of the horse to avoid trouble, for if any attempt were made to steal it, he would have to act. Now he felt that the horse would not be molested. But he took no chances. He waited for an opportunity to speak to the liveryman, and, when he finally came, he told him straight.

“There’s never been a hoss stolen in my barn yet, so keep your shirt on,” the liveryman said gruffly.

Equipped with a legitimate excuse, Bond remained in the barn office. One by one the men rode out. Bond’s thoughts were racing. Had Porky been up at the Farlin cabin hoping to steal money? Bond knew what the man’s orders had been. He was to follow Farlin. Why was Farlin going away, and where was he going? And why was Lawson taking his outfit out of town on such short notice? Why was Big Tom Lester so interested in Farlin’s movements? Bond could merely conjecture the answers to his questions, but one thing he knew—the queer business affected Gladys Farlin, and he wanted to help her. Therefore, he determined to take a hand in it. And no sooner had he made up his mind than he decided on a bold move.

He called the liveryman and ordered his horse saddled. Cole still was in the barn, and, when Bond left the office, Cole entered it. But Bond had no time for more talk with Lawson’s henchman. He rode out of the barn and down the street, disappearing in the shadows of the trees as if he was riding eastward. He did not cross the creek, but tied his horse in the trees, and then made his way up the edge of the timber toward the Farlin cabin, where several lighted windows showed.

He took a position where he could see the front of the house and could hear if there should be any talking when the door was open. It was not his intention to wait long before ascertaining in some way if Lester still was in the cabin. He did not have to wait as long as he had expected. The door suddenly was opened and Lester’s big form loomed against the beam of lamplight. Farlin’s face showed over his shoulder.

“So long,” said Lester, striding rapidly away.

“Good night,” Farlin called after him, and closed the door.

Then Bond saw Gladys and her father facing each other in the square of light in a window. He forgot his decision to confront Lester as he saw the girl shaking her head and Dan Farlin putting his hands on her shoulders, nodding as he talked. Then the girl’s back was to him and the gambler had disappeared. Bond looked after Lester, but the big man had vanished in the shadows down the slope. When he glanced back at the window, the square of light was vacant.

Bond was undecided, but now for the second time in the few minutes since he had arrived there he did not have long to ponder. The door opened and Farlin appeared. He had a coat on his arm. Then Bond saw the white dress of the girl and her arms about her father’s neck.

“I wish you wouldn’t go, Daddy,” she said in a voice that convinced Bond she was close to tears.

“We’ve gone all over that,” said Farlin kindly. “Now, do you promise?”

“I promise to stop you from taking chances, Daddy,” was the answer.

Farlin kissed her, patted her shoulder, and then started down the trail, leaving her in the doorway.

Bond waited until the gambler was gone and the door had closed. He stood still, staring at the cabin, his brain whirling with the memory of Gladys’ beauty as she had lingered in the doorway with the moonlight on her face. Then he swore mildly and softly, and finally stole around to the rear of the cabin and tapped on a window where a light glowed behind a curtain.

There was no response, and the cabin was silent. Then came a light sound on his right, and he whirled, to see the girl standing there with the moonlight glinting on her gun.

She lowered the weapon slowly. “What do you want now?” she asked in a slow, dull voice, heavy with worry, Bond thought.

“I told you, you might need a friend,” he said, “and I’m here.”

She looked at him a long time and her eyes suddenly filled with tears. Bond waited for no more. He took a quick step and gathered her in his arms, and held her while she
sobbed softly.