Seddon shook his head. "I ain't takin' any chances with the cuss," he said. "Mebbe he's afraid to shoot to kill, an' mebbe he ain't. But if that's why he ain't done any killin', mebbe there'll come a time when he will let loose. An' I ain't yearnin' to be in front of his guns when he does let go all holds!"
Compton grinned evilly. "He's riding a black horse, branded with the Bar S. Where did he get it?"
"Bought it from Mellert — my range boss. That black — Midnight — was an outlaw, an' I told Mellert to get rid of him. So he sold him to Rand, an' Rand broke him, makin' the best horse in the country out of him — damn him!"
"Did Mellert give him a bill of sale?"
"No!" snapped Seddon; "what you gettin' at?"
"Getting at Rand," said Compton shortly. "You back my play and we'll frame him. I'll fix it with the sheriff tonight."
Shortly before midnight, Compton rode into Ocate and dismounted at a hitching rail in front of a big frame building, still agleam with lights, across whose front was a huge sign:
THE GILT EDGE SALOON AND DANCE-HALL
Entering, Compton stood for an instant blinking at the lights and grinning at the crowd that thronged the barroom and the dance-hall in the rear. And when, his eyes becoming accustomed to the glare, he saw a big man seated at a table at the rear of the barroom, he strode to the table, seated himself in a chair opposite the big man, and smiled at him.
"For a sheriff, you're reasonably liberal-minded, Webster," he said. "If you'd move your office down here—"
The big man grinned. "Law an' order," he said; "I've got to be on the job, here!"
"Speaking of jobs," said Compton, leaning close to the other and lowering his voice, "we've got the goods on Beau Rand!"
"The hell you have!" said the sheriff. He was surprised, and he tried to get some enthusiasm into his voice. But the color left his face, and his eyes drooped to a glass on the table in front of him. He fingered it nervously as he listened to Compton, who continued to talk.
Later the sheriff got up and went out. returning after a few minutes with a tall, slender, cruel-faced man, whom he introduced as "Slim" Kinney. The man wore two guns, both swung low at his hips. There was a hard, cynical light in his eyes as he looked at Compton while Webster introduced him.
"Slim's been achin' to join us for quite a spell," said Webster. "Down Bernalillo way — where Slim's been hangin out—things has been gettin' pretty hot for him; them havin' no sheriff whose views is as broad as mine — an' Slim needin' lots of broadness in his business. He's allowin' he'd admire to be one of my deputies — an' he'd admire to have the job of salivatin' Beau Rand. I reckon we ain't objectin'." The sheriff's eyes glittered.
Kinney dropped into a chair, and Compton ordered drinks. And while the three men sat there over the bottles and glasses they talked long and earnestly; their voices rising toward the end as the liquor in the bottle slowly vanished.
It was after midnight when they got up, the sheriff staggering a little; Kinney's face flushed, and his legs unsteady. Compton, however, seemed unaffected by the whisky; and when they went out through the front door, Compton walked as straight as he had walked when he had entered.
All of which led an observer to remark, admiringly, to a friend:
"Link Compton don't let nothin' feaze him!"
But Compton might have worried a little had he known what happened in the Gilt Edge immediately after he went out with Webster and Kinney. For a tall, gracefully built girl, with dark hair and black, lambent eyes, which were flashing with passion, had watched Compton and the others leave the room. During all the time that Compton and the others had sat at their table, talking, the girl had been sitting in a chair in the dance-hall, pretending to watch the dancers, but in reality listening to the conversation carried on between the three men.
At first she had been merely tired, and had leaned her head against the thin board partition that separated the barroom from the dance-hall. But when she heard Compton's voice, and Webster's — and later Kinney's — she had pressed an ear hard against the partition, and despite the noise, she had heard much — especially during the lulls in the dancing.
She got up now, slipping along the partition until she reached the slender stairway that led upward to her room above the dance-hall. There, at the foot of the stairs, a man halted her.
"Leavin' us now, Lucia?" he demanded, reaching out an unsteady hand.
She looked at him with steady eyes, her dark face set and hard. The man withdrew his hand and stepped back.
"In a tantrum again, eh?" he laughed. "Well, I ain't rilin' you none!"
She got up the stairs without further molestation, and in her room she swiftly changed her clothing; emerging later, attired in riding garments that fitted her snugly and becomingly.
She paused in the upper hall, listening; then she went swiftly to the far end of the passage and ran down an outside stairway. Down in the somber shadows of the building she paused again, to peer around the corner nearest her. Then, seeing no one, she ran to a stable in the rear of the building, entered, emerging later leading a pony.
Mounting the animal, she headed it across the moonlit plain that began at the edge of town, and rode rapidly over a narrow trail that, she knew, would take her straight to the Three Bar.
The distance was about five miles, but the little animal under her made short work of it, and within half an hour from the time she had mounted she was standing at the front door of the Three Bar ranchhouse pounding on one of the panels.
Shortly the door opened and Rand stood on the threshold looking at her; partly dressed, his feet bare, a heavy pistol in his right hand.
"Lucia Morell!" he exclaimed when he saw her. And then he was out on the porch, gripping one of her arms, and peering closely at her, for he saw the excitement in her eyes.
"What's up?" he demanded.
"Plenty, Rand," she said, her breath coming fast. "Link Compton is planning to kill you! Tonight I heard them talking about you. It's about that black horse of yours — Midnight! They say you stole him! Amos Seddon has charged you with it. And tonight Link Compton came to town and told Webster. They're not going to arrest you — they're going to shoot you. They've hired a gunfighter named Slim Kinney. They've deputized him, and they're going to wait until you come to town. Then they'll kill you, and say you resisted arrest!"
Chapter VI. The Watcher
RAND laughed lowly, and grasping the girl by the shoulders, turned her around so that the moonlight shone on her face.
He had seen the girl several times at the Gilt Edge — on those nights when the monotony of life had afflicted him and he had gone to town to relieve it. Several times he had danced with her, and there had been other times when he had sat at one of the tables with her, talking. And he had found her interesting, despite the life she led.
That, however, had been the limit of his acquaintance with her—for he had no liking for her kind. He had not failed to note, though, that she was interested in him, and for that reason he had made his visits to the Gilt Edge as infrequent as possible.
He was aware of his obligation; and there was no doubt that had she not warned him he might have gone, unknowing, to his death at the hands of the gunfighter.
Releasing her shoulders, he took one of her hands, gripping it tightly.
"You are a bang-up girl, Lucia, an' I thank you for warnin' me. I ain't claimin' to know why you came here— I reckon I don't quite get the drift. I thought you an' Link Compton was pretty thick, an'——"
"Bah!"