He was standing slightly sidewise, the pipe projecting from his fingers. He did not seem to be paying any attention to Rand and his daughter.
But Rand knew he had been paying attention. At the instant Rand had begun to utter the words, "So it would, ma'am," Seddon had dropped his right hand to the butt of his pistol.
He had heard every word spoken by his daughter and Rand; he had stationed himself at the porch edge purposely, to hear what Rand would have to say about the boy. And he had determined that if Rand mentioned the boy he would kill him.
And Rand had mentioned the boy. However, the black passion that had swept over Seddon had been so strong as to almost overwhelm him, and he had stood for a long time fighting to regain control of himself. For the dread fear of Rand's deadly marksmanship was in his heart, and he knew that when he drew his gun he must use it quickly and accurately.
And at the instant Rand became aware of Seddon's presence at the edge of the porch, Seddon had decided that the time had come.
Seddon's fingers were encircling the butt of his pistol when Rand moved. His right hand went to his hip with the rapidity of a striking rattlesnake, flashed upward with the same swiftness and precision. The gleam of his pistol and its crashing report came simultaneously.
Seddon's pipe flew to pieces in his fingers, the stem alone remaining. And Seddon staggered, looking foolishly downward at the remains of the pipe, his eyes vacuous, his mouth open. He seemed to have forgotten the gun at his hip; and he turned his face toward Rand and the girl, looking at them as though amazed to see them.
For an instant the girl stood breathless, both hands pressed tightly over her bosom, looking from Rand to her father, a dread horror in her eyes. But when she saw that Rand did not intend to shoot again; that there was a grin on his face — as though the whole thing were a joke, that he was heartily enjoying—she darted to her father and looked him over, searching for a wound.
She saw no wound — Seddon gave no indication of having been wounded, for he was standing erect, both hands at his side, undoubtedly untouched by the bullet. And, indeed, the girl had seen where the bullet had struck; she still saw the evidence in the shape of the pipestem that Seddon's fingers still gripped.
"You're not hurt, Father?" she demanded, seizing one of his arms and twisting him around so that he faced her. He shook his head negatively, and the girl left him and walked to Rand, standing before him, her eyes blazing with passion.
"Perhaps you can tell me just what you meant by shooting at my father!" she demanded.
He looked at her steadily, the smile on his face becoming enigmatic.
"I reckon I can," he said; "but I won't. Mebbe I shot the pipe out of his hand to warn him that he has a weak heart, an' that if he goes to gettin' reckless he'll die a heap sudden. An' then mebbe I didn't. I don't feel none talkative right now, an' explanations don't come natural to me. Mebbe your dad will do the explainin'."
He grinned felinely at Seddon, who gave him a pallid sneer; then he looked at the girl, in his eyes the baffling humor that had puzzled her all along.
"I was hopin'," he said evenly. Then he paused, to continue almost instantly: "I reckon Bud will go plumb to the devil now!"
He wheeled and walked to the stable, to vanish around a corner of it. Presently he reappeared, on Midnight, and loped the animal over the river trail toward the Three Bar.
Chapter IX. Time to Clean up
HOWEVER, Rand did not go to the Three Bar. He rode the river trail until he reached a break in the level he had been riding. Striking a cross-trail, he dipped into a narrow valley, which widened as he proceeded, until at last it grew into a basin of immense proportions.
Half an hour after leaving the Bar S he paused to let Midnight drink at a water-hole; and then he rode on again, the big black horse traveling steadily at a pace that soon brought horse and rider to a level where a herd of cattle was grazing.
Skirting the fringe of the herd, Rand came upon the outfit wagon, standing near another water-hole. Rand had seen several men of the Three Bar among the cattle as he rode up; but he was looking for Larry Redfern, his range boss. And when he saw him standing near his horse close to the outfit wagon, he veered Midnight, rode to where Redfern was standing, and slipped out of the saddle.
Larry Redfern was tall and slender, clean-shaven, and square-jawed. His face was wrinkled genially, and the little creases at the corners of his eyes bore eloquent testimony of the quick humor that characterized him. His steel-blue eyes, though, had a level directness in them that warned men that they might trespass too far upon the geniality that radiated from him; and the firm set to his lips indicated that he "was a man of tenacity and indomitable purpose.
He grinned at Rand as the latter slid from the saddle and confronted him — the grin of sincere friendship.
"I seen you hittin' the breeze quite some early," he said, his eyes twinkling. "Lookin' for strays, mebbe. They're rather scarce, though, for the boys have been ridin' a heap close on them lately.
"It wasn't strays," said Rand.
"Shucks," drawled Redfern; "I wasn't reckonin' it was'—not too strong! Didn't she give you no daisy to sport in a buttonhole?"
"She wasn't allowin' she was handin' out any bokays this mornin'," returned Rand. He smiled at the other, but there was a glint of disappointment in his eyes that was not unnoticed by Redfern.
"So she wouldn't decorate you none! An' you thinkin' of her, an' talkin' of her for four years! I'd call that mighty stingy of her!" Redfern grinned toward the rimming hills in the distance and hummed in a dismal monotone:
My girl she's gone an' left me;
She's travelin' now by rail.
She ain't allowin' to poke along
No more on the old cow trail.
She got herself a drummer-man;
A dude with a flowin tie.
She—
Glancing sidelong at Rand, he broke off and turned.
"Hell!" he said; "it's somethin' else!"
And then, the spirit of levity falling from him like a mask, he looked at Rand, his face set in stern, rigid lines.
"It's Compton!" he said.
"Now you're guessin'" grinned Rand, his eyes gleaming with a light that made Redfern draw a long, full breath. "They've framed up on me — in Ocate. I didn't take the trouble to get a bill of sale from Mellert v;hen I bought Midnight from him, an' they're chargin' me with stealin' him." Then he related what had occurred at the Bar S, and Redfern's bronzed face wreathed into a smile of delight.
"That's foolin' them!" he declared. "An' you shot the old maverick's pipe out of his fingers, eh?" His eyes gleamed wickedly. "I reckon that if I'd been doin' the shootin'—sayin' I could sling my gun that way—'I'd. have planted a slug in his breadbasket!"
"I wasn't aimin' to kill him," smiled Rand mirthlessly; "I was just warnin' him. I saw him goin' for his gun, an' there was sure murder in his eyes. I reckon, before I get through with him, I'll have to kill him."
Redfern looked keenly at his employer, and saw the troubled light in his eyes. He had joked about the girl a few minutes before, but he knew the girl had made a deep impression upon Rand—for there had been times during the last four years when Rand had intimated as much. But Redfern said nothing, for this was one of those situations in which