Chapter Sixteen

When Dan Farlin left the bank, he sauntered about town. He nodded to casual acquaintances often but stopped to converse with none. He ventured into side streets, but they always were situated on the side where the bank was located, and, as the jail and the resort where Lester had repaired to be discovered by Jim Bond, were on the opposite side of the main street, he didn’t have a chance to observe either of them. Farlin was concerned with the rear approach to the bank and its proximity to the main trails leading north and west.

To all appearances, his business completed, he merely was killing time before starting back after the heat of the day. But, in reality, he was getting the lay of the land, taking in every point of vantage that could be utilized in such a raid as Lawson planned. And it is extremely doubtful if any of the outlaw leader’s followers could have obtained so much valuable information in so short a time. Farlin had made up his mind that he would not make more than one visit to the town in the interest of his present enterprise. If he could avoid a second visit, so much the better.

At last his inspection was ended. Farlin walked up the main street, undoubtedly the most distinguished-appearing individual in town. Oblivious of the attention he was attracting, the gambler continued on with his thoughts. Many times he had considered entering the very game in which the notorious Lawson was engaged. He had been turned aside in this ambition, first because of the ease with which he reaped a harvest at the green-topped tables, and second because of his wife, Gladys’s mother. He was going to have to leave all this—the scene he loved—and forfeit, perhaps, the respect of the men who knew him well. He shrugged. It was all in the game. But in his heart of hearts, he knew this was not true.

The genuine warmth in the greetings of George Reed, the hotel proprietor, and John Duggan, the banker, lingered in his mind. It was also noteworthy that Farlin realized keenly that he took two risks—the risk of being identified with Lawson’s nefarious undertaking and the dangerous prospect of being double-crossed by the outlaw. The news that the vast domain about Sunrise was soon to be developed ordained in advance the passing of that town as a rendezvous for the lawless. John Duggan might just as well have told him that the north range careers of Lawson, himself—yes, and of Lester—were soon to end.

Dan Farlin’s fine eyes lost their luster in a glint of hardness. Since this was to be his last play, he would make it pay as no other game ever had paid him in the past. He would send Gladys away from the scene, and he would himself engineer and direct the raid upon the bank and . . . He stopped in his tracks with a new and startling thought. Perhaps Lawson already had considered the new angle, but—why not knock off Big Tom Lester’s place in the bargain? Two big jobs, and two big splits, and independence on a big scale for the rest of his life, with Gladys well provided for when he should pass on.

The gambler’s eyes gleamed; he straightened to his full height, and threw back his shoulders involuntarily. It was like calling “fours” with a “full hand” when he was not sure but that he was beaten. He started and turned almost guiltily as a familiar voice fell upon his ear.

“What do you think of the old town since we dressed her up?”

He looked into the quizzical, blue eyes of Sheriff Mills. His first thought was of the remodeled interior of the bank. “A few coats of fresh paint will do wonders, Sheriff,” he replied at random. A sly glance about, however, showed him he was not far from the mark.

“Bet your life,” said Sheriff Mills heartily. “I’ve been preaching the doctrine of fresh paint for years, and this spring, when the boom started, they got together and decided I was right. Did you see how they’ve fixed up the bank?”

“Couldn’t miss it,” said Farlin, looking the other squarely in the eyes. “Just stuck a wad in there for safekeeping in case I was to get old and need it.”

“You’ll get old one of these days, Dan,” mused the sheriff. “And your game can’t last forever, no matter how you play it.”

Farlin frowned. “Say, Mills, are you going to read me a lecture?” he asked. “Because if you were figuring on doing that, you can save your breath. I’ve been reading myself a lecture these past two or three years. We’re both old-timers, and I guess we can read the writing on the wall. And you’re in a better fix than I am.”

“So?” Mills seemed surprised. “Why, you must have quite a pile cached somewhere, Dan. You haven’t been reckless here lately.”

Farlin shrugged. “I only have one business, if you can call it that,” he said cryptically.

“How’s tricks out at Sunrise?” asked Mills casually.

“Hard to take,” was Farlin’s short answer.

“Anybody come in with you?” asked the sheriff absently.

“Not that I know of,” replied the gambler with a sharp look.

Mills decided that Farlin did not know of the presence of Bond and Lester and made up his mind not to mention the coincidence of their being in town at the same time. Possibly there was no connection between their visits and that of Farlin. But he was thinking.

“Figuring on a little play here in town, Dan?” he asked.

Farlin smiled. “Once a gambler, always a gambler . . . eh, Mills? Suppose I was hankering to finger the pasteboards here, Sheriff. Suppose I’d come to the conclusion that this was rich territory . . . then what?”

“No objection on my part,” replied Mills readily enough. “You know I’ve never kicked on your play. Of course, I’ve never lost any money in a game that you were in,” he quickly added as an afterthought.

Dan Farlin laughed outright, and, when Farlin laughed that way, it was good to hear. “Mills, I’m almost beginning to think you’re a friend of mine,” he said, sobering suddenly.

“Thinking back quite a spell, I can’t remember ever having showed myself to be your enemy,” drawled the official, squinting.

“That’s three of ’em,” Farlin muttered. He was thinking of Reed, Duggan, and the sheriff. “Nice of you to say that, Sheriff,” he said. “And the enemies I’ve got stay pretty well under cover.” The last words carried a grim note.

“Well, I haven’t been to dinner even,” said Mills, looking at his ponderous watch. “Do you calculate to go back soon, Dan?”

“I’m sleeping in town tonight,” said Farlin. “I don’t like to stay away from Gladys long, but I’m not the rider I used to be.”

“Then maybe we’ll meet up later,” said Mills as he moved away.

Farlin looked after him. Of all the people on that range, none knew better than Dan Farlin what a smooth, shrewd man was the sheriff of Crazy Butte County. At this very moment, he knew Mills had something on his mind, and he sensed that it had something to do with Sunrise and the people there. Could it be possible that he had an inkling of Lawson’s plan—perhaps even of Farlin’s connection with it? The gambler thoughtfully resumed his walk.

Farlin dwelt, too, on the sheriff’s question as to whether he was in town alone. For the first time he considered the possibility of having been followed, but he put this aside with a shrug. What difference would it make? Only one man—Lester, possibly—could be interested in his movements, excepting Lawson. Anything that Lester could learn as to where he had gone would avail him nothing, and Lawson could not come to Rocky Point without breaking his truce with Sheriff Mills. Besides he . . .

The gambler yawned and went to his room in the hotel. He had no intention of remaining there all night, but there was no reason why he shouldn’t take a nap and start back in the coolness of the early night. He was downright tired, and the weakening reaction of the nervous strain he had been under had set in. He turned in for forty winks as he promised himself.

Meanwhile, Jim Bond did go to the bank and deposit the $5,000 that Lester had paid him, and more besides. He, too, snatched a light rest, but it was in the barn, for he intended to be the first to leave for Sunrise in the evening. Lester disappeared from the scene entirely, put up in sleeping quarters, doubtless, by a friend in his own business. His trip to Rocky Point had availed him nothing, although he more than half believed all that Bond had told him. Thus it was a queer triangle of affairs in Rocky Point this afternoon.

When Dan Farlin woke, it was dark. He hastily lighted the lamp and found it was nearly midnight. He had overslept by hours! Moreover, he was stiff and sore as the result of his long ride. He bathed his aching body in hot water and dressed hurriedly. He went to a small café for something to eat and then repaired to the livery. He asked if anyone he knew had been in, but the night man did not know him and replied in the negative. Farlin did not bother putting any questions elsewhere and rode away shortly after midnight.

It was torture for the first two miles that Farlin rode, and then the soreness began to wear off and a feeling akin to exhilaration possessed him. It was a night made to order, as he himself expressed it. A great silver moon rode among the star clusters and a soft wind laved the land of weaving shadows. He had a good horse. He flattered himself that he was not old for his age. And he had Gladys. Surely if ever a man had a legitimate reason to turn such a trick as he contemplated, it was he. Three of them—Reed, Duggan, and Mills—and what good would they do him if he were down and out? A loan! For what? To be used as a stake to gamble himself into the money again! No, he had to go through with Lawson. But . . .

He had nearly reached the dividing of the trail south of the butte when a shadow, swift-moving, detached itself from the black hand of the trees and sped toward him.

Farlin instinctively reined in his horse, the Derringer sliding into his right hand, and waited. Long before the rider came up to him, he recognized the burly form of Lawson in the saddle. He sighed with relief and the deadly little gun disappeared.

Lawson held up a hand as he approached. “’Lo, Dan,” he greeted genially. “I had to ride out this way an’ thought you wouldn’t mind if I trailed along with you.”

“It’s poor judgment,” said Farlin coldly. “We may not be the only people riding about and it wouldn’t look good for us to be seen together. I suppose you never thought of that.” His last words were brimming with sarcasm and struck an antagonistic note in Lawson.

“You needn’t be so particular,” said the outlaw. “We’re alone. I’ve had my eyes peeled, so don’t worry.”

“I suppose you were afraid I might overstay,” said Farlin. He was nettled and suddenly the outlaw’s presence was repulsive.

Lawson quieted his horse. “Listen, Dan,” he said in an earnest voice, “I’ve been on your trail . . . keepin’ out of sight, remember. I don’t know if you know it or not, but two people followed you to town.”

Farlin recalled instantly the sheriff’s query as to whether he had come alone. “What of it?” he asked somewhat belligerently.

“Just this,” replied Lawson sharply, “this isn’t a kid’s game we’re playin’, an’ I’m not takin’ any chances of bein’ double-crossed myself and I’m not takin’ any chances of you bein’ double-crossed. Did you see anybody in town from Sunrise?”

“No,” Farlin answered bluntly. He was not altogether at ease.

“Well, that Bovert or Bond . . . that young fellow who’s been buttin’ in on things generally . . . followed you in. Lester sent him. Lester told me himself that he sent him. An’ then Lester, the big jackass, followed his man, tried to outrun him in a race to the butte, lost out, an’ he went on into town. Now, you know something.”

Dan Farlin was frowning. “Lester’s afraid I’m going to quit his joint,” he said, half to himself. “He’s a fool.”

“Sure,” Lawson agreed. “But in messing around the woodenhead’s liable to get something into his nut that don’t belong there, see? As for that young snort, Bond, I can attend to him fast enough.”

Farlin started. “Leave him alone,” he said shortly. “We don’t want any rough stuff in this, Lawson.”

“No?” Lawson’s tone implied a sneer. “Well, I’ll look after that end of it. This is a big play an’ there’s too much at stake to let any lumbering hombre like Lester, or any whippersnapper like Bond . . . no matter how tough he is . . . gum things up. See?”

Farlin looked about. The huge, black bulk of Crazy Butte rose above them in the north. To their left—eastward—were the dark shadows of the trees in the tumbled lands and southeastward the plain flowed in shadowy waves under the moonlit sky.

“Well, this is a fine open spot for a conference,” he observed.

“Lester an’ Bond have ridden back toward Sunrise,” said the outlaw. “Bond went first . . . an’ fast. Lester’s takin’ it easy. I’ve been on watch here ever since you went to town.”

“All right,” Farlin snapped out, “we might as well get down to cases in this thing.”

“That’s right,” said Lawson eagerly. “What’d you find out in town? I could have gone in, understand, there’s nothing I’ve got to be afraid of there. But I thought it would be better if I wasn’t seen there. You know how it is. What do you know?”

“Plenty,” replied Farlin shortly. “I’ve got the lay-down pat. I don’t know as I would have to go in again at all if it wasn’t for a bit of personal business that has nothing to do with this deal, or you. By the way, I deposited that twenty thousand in my name, of course.”

Lawson chuckled. “Of course, of course. But it would have given that old fogy of a John Duggan something to think about if you had used my name. I heard they’d made some changes in the bank. Is that so?”

“I know all about the changes and everything else,” said the gambler. “I know everything. And I’m not spilling a thing until the time comes. There’s one thing we’ve got to understand, Ed. I’m not in this business through any love for you or respect for your game. I’m in it for the money. Don’t get me wrong as to why I’m throwing in with you. When this thing is over, I hope I never see you again. That’s how much I think of you personally.”

“An’ I don’t care a whoop what you think of me!” Lawson ejaculated. “Although I always have had a likin’ for you, Dan,” he added hastily. “But you haven’t made the money you should. You say we’ve got to get down to cases. All right. This is my last play around here, an’ . . . unless you’re a fool . . . it’s yours. An’ the beauty of it is that there’s goin’ to be just the two of us in the big money.”

“That’s why I’m going to watch you like a hawk, Ed,” said Farlin grimly. “You’d shoot me in the back in the wink of an eye if you thought you could get away with all of it. Well, I’m going to see that you don’t. This is the first job of the kind I’ve tackled. I’m engineering it, and I’m going to boss it. You can tend to the men and . . .”

“An’ take the big risk!” sneered Lawson.

“While we’ve been talking, I’ve decided to take the big risk with you,” Farlin announced calmly. “It’s the only way I can play safe. Now, do we understand each other?”

Ed Lawson’s angry look changed to one of admiration. “If I ever had any thought of double-crossin’ you, Dan . . . which I hadn’t . . . what you just said would drive it out of my head. What’s more, I see your brains are goin’ to count more than my guns in puttin’ this raid across. I don’t mean to leave the boys who have run with me flat, remember, but . . . an’ I’m lookin’ to you to keep this to yourself . . . when this job is wrapped up an’ put away, I’m quittin’ the gang an’ the country. You can use your own judgment.”

Farlin had listened carefully and now he smiled to himself. For all his seemingly straight talk, Lawson’s words lacked absolute sincerity. It just wasn’t in the outlaw’s make-up to play square all the way.

“Well said,” was Farlin’s comment. “We won’t talk any more tonight, Ed. We’ll talk further in Sunrise, three . . . maybe four or five days from now. And it wouldn’t be best for us to ride on in together,” he added pointedly.

“I’m steerin’ northwest to check up on the boys,” said Lawson, scowling. “I’ll come into town to see you . . . alone.”

“So long, then,” said Farlin.

They separated, with Lawson riding off north and Farlin proceeding on his way to Sunrise, where events already were shaping themselves in an astounding way he could not suspect.