CHAPTER XV
LINKED
"So you came at last?"
Barbara had some difficulty in keeping resentment prominent in her voiceas she faced John Haydon, for other emotions were clamoring withinher--joy because Haydon _had_ come, even though tardily; self-reproachbecause she saw in Haydon's eyes a glowing anxiety and sympathy thatlooked as though they were of recent birth.
There was repressed excitement in Haydon's manner; it was as though hehad only just heard of the girl's affliction and had ridden hard to cometo her.
She was sure of the sincerity in his voice when he grasped her handstightly and said:
"At last, Barbara! I heard it only this morning, and I have nearly killedmy horse getting over here! Look at him!"
The gray horse certainly did have the appearance of having been riddenhard. He stood, his legs braced, his head drooping, his muzzle and chestflecked with foam. Barbara murmured pityingly as she stroked the beast'sneck; and there was quick forgiveness in her eyes when she again lookedat Haydon.
Haydon was big--fully as tall as Harlan, and broader. His shouldersbulged the blue flannel shirt he wore; and it was drawn into folds at hisslim waist, where a cartridge-studded belt encircled him, sagging at theright hip with the weight of a heavy pistol.
He wore a plain gray silk handkerchief at his throat; it sagged at thefront, revealing a muscular development that had excited the enviousadmiration of men. His hair was coal-black, wavy and abundant--though hewore it short--with design, it seemed, for he must have known that itgave him an alert, virile appearance.
His face, despite the tan upon it, and the little wrinkles brought by thesun and wind, had a clear, healthy color, and his eyes black as his hair,had a keen glint behind which lurked humor of a quality not to bedetermined at a glance--it was changeable, fleeting, mysterious.
Barbara was silent. The steady courage that had sustained her until thisinstant threatened to fail her in the presence of this big, sympatheticman who seemed, to her, to embody that romance for which she had alwayslonged. She looked at him, her lips trembling with emotion.
Until now she had had no confidant--no one she could be sure of. And so,with Haydon standing close to her, though not too close--for he had neverbeen able to achieve that intimacy for which he had yearned--she told himwhat had happened, including details of her father's death, as related toher by Harlan; finishing by describing the incident with Deveny in Lamo(at which Haydon muttered a threat) and the subsequent coming of Harlanto the Rancho Seco, together with the story of his assumption ofauthority.
When she concluded Haydon laid a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.
"It's too bad, Barbara. And on top of it all, Lawson had to play thebeast, too, eh? Why didn't you send someone to me?"
"There was no one to send." Her voice threatened to break, despite thebrave gleam that flashed through the moisture in her eyes. "Lawson hadsent the men away; and when they came in Harlan took charge of them.And--besides," she admitted, dropping her gaze, "I--I thought you oughtto--I thought you would----"
He shook her, reprovingly, laughing deeply as he led her through thegateway into the _patio_, where they sat on a bench for a long time,talking, while the aspect of the _patio_ began to change, becoming againa place of cheerfulness flooded with the soft, radiant light of returninghappiness--reflected in her eyes; while the sunlight streaming down intothe enclosure took on a brightness that made the girl's eyes glisten;while the drab and empty days since her father's death began to slip backinto the limbo of memory--the sting and the sorrow of them removed. Sodoes the heart of youth respond to the nearness of romance.
They had been talking for half an hour when Barbara remembered thatHaydon had not expressed a desire to meet Harlan.
Haydon's face lost a little of its color as he replied to her suggestionthat they find the man.
But he laughed, rather mirthlessly, she thought.
"I intend to see him, Barbara--but alone. There are several things ofimportance that I want to say to him--chiefly concerning his conducttoward you."
He got up. Barbara rose also, and walked with him, outside the gate,where he got on his horse, smiling down at her.
"Harlan was right about your riding out alone. I'd stay as close to theranchhouse as possible. There's no telling what Deveny might try to do.But don't worry. If it wasn't so soon after--after what has happened--Iwould--" He smiled, and Barbara knew he meant what he had said to hermany times--about there being a parson in Lazette, a hundred miles or sonortheastward--and of his eagerness to be present with her while theparson "tied the knot." His manner had always been jocose, and yet sheknew of the earnestness behind it.
Still, she had not yielded to his importunities, because she had not beenquite sure that she wanted him. Nor was she certain now, though she likedhim better at this moment than she had ever liked him before.
She shook her head negatively, answering his smile; and watched him as herode around a corner of the ranchhouse toward the corral where, no doubt,he would find Harlan.
* * * * *
Harlan had ridden directly to the bunkhouse door and dismounted. RedLinton said nothing until Harlan seated himself on a bench just outsidethe bunkhouse door. Then Linton grinned at him.
"There's a geezer come a-wooin'," he said.
Harlan glared at the red-haired man--a truculent, savage glare that madeLinton stretch his lips until the corners threatened to retreat to hisears. Then Linton assumed a deprecatory manner.
"They ain't no chance for _him_, I reckon. He's been burnin' up thebreeze between here an' the Star for more'n a year--an' she ain't as muchas kissed him, I'd swear!"
Harlan did not answer.
"You saw him?" questioned Linton.
"Shut your rank mouth."
Linton chuckled. "I didn't know you'd been hit that bad. Howsomever, ifyou _have_ been, why, there's no sense of me wastin' time gassin' to you.They ain't nothin' will cure that complaint but petticoats an'smiles--the which is mighty dangerous an' uncertain. I knowed a manonce----"
Harlan got up and walked to the bunkhouse. And Linton, grinning, calledloudly after him, pretending astonishment.
"Why, he's gone. Disappeared complete. An' me tryin' to jam some senseinto his head."
Grinning, Linton sauntered away, vanishing within the blacksmith-shop.
He had hardly disappeared when Haydon appeared from around a corner ofthe ranchhouse, at about the instant Harlan, sensing the departure ofLinton, came to the door, frowning.
The frown still narrowed Harlan's eyes when they rested upon thehorseman; and his brows were drawn together with unmistakable truculencewhen Haydon dismounted near the corral fence.
Haydon's manner had undergone a change. When in the presence of Barbarahe had been confident, nonchalant. When he dismounted from his horse andwalked toward Harlan there was about him an atmosphere that suggestedcarefulness. Before Haydon had taken half a dozen steps Harlan was awarethat the man knew him--knew of his reputation--and feared him.
Respect was in Haydon's eyes, in the droop of his shoulders, in hishesitating step. And into Harlan's eyes came a gleam of that contemptwhich had always seized him when in the presence of men who feared him.
And yet, had not Harlan possessed the faculty of reading character at aglance; had he not had that uncanny instinct of divining the thoughts ofmen who meditated violence, he could not have known that Haydon fearedhim.
For Haydon's fear was not abject. It was that emotion which counselscaution, which warns of a worthy antagonist, which respects force that iselemental and destroying.
Haydon smiled as he halted within a few paces of Harlan and turned thepalms of his hands outward.
"You're 'Drag' Harlan, of Pardo," he said.
Harlan nodded.
"My name's Haydon. I own the Star--about fifteen miles west--on SunsetTrail. I happen to be a friend of Miss Morgan's, and I'd like to talkwith you about the Rancho Seco."
&n
bsp; "Get goin'."
Haydon's smile grew less expansive.
"It's a rather difficult subject to discuss. It rather seems to be noneof my affair. But you will understand, being interested in Barbara'sfuture, and in the welfare of the ranch, why I am presuming to questionyou. What do you intend to do with the ranch?"
"Run it."
"Of course," smiled Haydon. "I mean, of course, to refer to the financialend of it. Miss Morgan will handle the money, I suppose."
"You got orders from Miss Barbara to gas to me about the ranch?"
"Well, no, I can't say that I have. But I have a natural desire to know."
"I'll be tellin' her what I'm goin' to do."
Haydon smiled faintly. Twice, during the silence that followed Harlan'sreply, Haydon shifted his gaze from Harlan's face to the ground betweenhimself and the other, and then back again. It was plain to Haydon thathe could proceed no farther in that direction without incurring the wraththat slumbered in Harlan's heart, revealed by his narrowing eyes.
In Harlan's heart was a bitter, savage passion. Hatred for this man,which had been aroused by Barbara's reference to him, and intensified byhis visit to the girl, had been made malignant by his appearance now inthe role of inquisitor.
Jealousy, Harlan would not have admitted; yet the conviction that Haydonwas handsome, and that women would like him--that no doubt Barbaraalready liked him--brought a cold rage to Harlan. He stood, during themomentary silence, his lips curving with contempt, his eyes glinting witha passion that was unmistakable to Haydon.
He stepped down from the doorway and walked slowly to Haydon, coming to ahalt within a yard of him. His hands were hanging at his sides, his chinhad gone a little forward; and in his manner was the threat that hadbrought a paralysis of fear to more than one man.
Yet, except for a slow stiffening of his muscles, Haydon betrayed nofear. There was a slight smile on his lips; his eyes met Harlan'ssteadily and unblinkingly. In them was a glint of that mysterious humorwhich other men had seen in them.
"I know you're lightning on the draw, Harlan," he said, his faint smilefading a trifle. "I wouldn't have a chance with you; I'm not agun-fighter. For that reason I don't want any disagreement with you. AndI've heard enough about you to know that you don't shoot unless the otherfellow is out to 'get' you.
"We won't have any trouble. Be fair. As the man who will ultimately takecharge of the Rancho Seco--since Miss Barbara has been good enough toencourage me--I would like to know some things. I've heard that LaneMorgan was killed at Sentinel Rock, and that you were with him when hedied--and just before. Did he give you authority to take charge of theRancho Seco?"
"He told me to take hold."
"A written order?"
"His word."
"He said nothing else; there were no papers on him--nothing of value?"
Neither man had permitted his eyes to waver from the other's since Harlanhad advanced; and they now stood, with only the few feet of space betweenthem, looking steadily at each other.
Harlan saw in Haydon's eyes a furtive, stealthy gleam as of cupidityglossed over with a pretense of frank curiosity. He sensed greed inHaydon's gaze, and knowledge of a mysterious quality.
Haydon knew something about Lane Morgan's errand to Pardo; he knew whythe man had started for Pardo, and what had been on his person at thetime of his death.
Harlan was convinced of that; and the light in his eyes as he looked intoHaydon's reflected the distrust and the contempt he had for the man.
"What do you think Morgan had in his clothes?" he questioned suddenly.
A slow flush of color stole into Haydon's cheeks, then receded, leavinghim a trifle pale. He laughed, with a pretense of mockery.
"You ought to know," he said, a snarl in his voice. "You must havesearched him."
Harlan grinned with feline mirthlessness. And he stepped back a little,knowledge and satisfaction in his eyes.
For he had "looked Haydon over," following Morgan's instructions. He hadpurposely permitted Haydon to question him, expecting that during theexchange of talk the man would say something that would corroborate theopinion that Harlan had instantly formed, that Haydon was not to betrusted.
And Haydon's snarl; the cupidity in his eyes, and his ill-veiledeagerness had convinced Harlan.
Harlan did not resent Haydon's manner; he was too pleased over hisdiscovery that Haydon possessed traits of character that unfitted him foran alliance with Barbara. And it would be his business to bring thosetraits out, so that Barbara could see them unmistakably.
He laughed lowly, dropping his gaze to Haydon's belt; to his right hand,which hung limply near his pistol holster; and to the woolen shirt, withthe silk handkerchief at the throat sagging picturesquely.
His gaze roved over Haydon--insolently, contemptuously; his lipstwitching with the grim humor that had seized him. And Haydon stood, notmoving a muscle, undergoing the scrutiny with rigid body, with eyes thathad become wide with a queer sensation of dread wonder that was stealingover him; and with a pallor that was slowly becoming ghastly.
For he had no doubt that at last he had unwittingly aroused the demon inHarlan, and that violence, which he had wished to avoid, was imminent.
But Harlan's roving gaze, as he backed slightly away from Haydon, came tothe breast-pocket of the man's shirt. His gaze centered there definitely,his eyes narrowing, his muscles leaping a little.
For out of the pocket stretched a gold chain, broken, its upperend--where it entered the buttonhole of the shirt--fastened to thebuttonhole with a rawhide thong, as though the gold section were not longenough to reach.
And the gold section of the chain was of the peculiar pattern of thesection that Harlan had picked up on the desert near Sentinel Rock.