DRIVING A BARGAIN
Lawler stiffened. There was no mistaking the deadly threat of the rifle
and the man's menacing manner. Lawler's face was pale, but his eyes were
unwavering as they looked into those that glared out at him through the
aperture in the door.
Guilt and fear were the emotions that had driven Hamlin to this rather
hysterical threat. Lawler resisted an impulse to laugh, though he felt a
pulse of grim humor shoot through him.
To his knowledge--excepting Hamlin's predilection to rustle cattle--the
man was harmless. He never had been known to draw a gun, even in
self-defense, and Lawler was convinced that there was not sufficient
provocation for him to break one of the rules that had governed him
until now. Hamlin might be goaded, or frightened, into using the rifle,
but Lawler had no intention of goading or frightening him. In fact,
being aware of the reason for Hamlin's belligerence, he had no intention
of acquainting the man with the knowledge of what had happened the night
before. At least, not at this instant.
Lawler's lips wore a shadowy smile.
"I reckon you don't know me, Hamlin?" he said.
"I know you mighty well, Lawler," snapped Hamlin; "you heard me mention
your name!"
"Then you've got a new way of greeting your friends, eh--with a rifle.
Well, put it down and open the door. There's some things I want to say
to you."
"What about?" asked Hamlin, suspiciously. Overwhelming every other
thought in his mind was the conviction that Davies and Harris had
apprised Lawler of what had happened the night before, and that Lawler
had come to capture him, single-handed.
"About Ruth."
The wild gleam in Hamlin's eyes began to dull. However, he was still
suspicious.
"You seen any of your men this mornin'--Davies or Harris?" he asked.
"Davies and Harris went to town last night. I reckon they didn't get
back yet. What's Davies and Harris got to do with me visiting you?"
"Nothin'." There was relief in Hamlin's voice. The muzzle of the rifle
wavered; the weapon was withdrawn and the slide closed. Then the door
slowly opened, and Hamlin appeared in it, a six-shooter in hand.
"If you're foolin' me, Kane Lawler, I'll sure bore you a-plenty!" he
threatened.
"Shucks!" Lawler advanced to the door, ignoring the heavy pistol, which
was shoved close to his body as he walked into the cabin, Hamlin
retreating before him.
"Hamlin, you're losing whatever sense you had," said Lawler as he halted
near the center of the big room. There were three rooms, their doors
opening from the one in which Lawler and Hamlin stood.
"Meanin' what?" demanded Hamlin, nervously fingering the six-shooter.
It was clear that Hamlin was impressed with the repressed force that he
could see in Lawler; with the slumbering energy that Lawler's lithe,
sinewy body suggested; with the man's complete lack of fear and with the
cold confidence that swam in his steady eyes.
Hamlin did not know at this minute whether or not he had meant to shoot
Lawler. He believed that if Lawler had told him he had come to take him
for blotting out the Circle L brand in the arroyo the preceding night he
would have killed Lawler. But he was not sure. Something about Lawler
made the thought of shooting him seem ridiculous. It would take a lot of
provocation for _any_ man to kill Lawler, for something about Lawler
seemed to hint that it couldn't be done.
"Meaning that you are old enough to know that you can't keep on rustling
my cattle without getting in trouble."
"Ah!" exclaimed Hamlin, his breath hissing through his teeth as he
sucked it in with a gasp; "you sneaked on me, damn you!"
He threw the muzzle of the pistol up, his body stiffening, his eyes
glittering with the malignance that had been in them when he had been
looking out at Lawler through the aperture in the door.
"You know about that deal, an' you've come for me. You tried to fool me,
eh--tellin' me that you didn't see Davies an' Harris. Well, damn your
hide you ain't goin' to take me; I'll blow you to hell first!"
Lawler's eyes were steady and unblinking as he watched Hamlin; they
bored into Hamlin's with a compelling intensity, that brought a
conviction of futility into Hamlin's soul. They were cold eyes--cold as
icebergs, Hamlin thought as he watched them; but they seemed to flame
also, to flame with a fire that was cold as the ice in them.
The terrible power of them, and the promise of volcanic action back in
them; the awful confidence that shone in them; the threat compelling
Hamlin against his will, deadening his muscles, jumbling his
thoughts--brought chaos into the man's brain, and he stood, his mouth
agape with wonder over the thing that was happening to him, as Lawler
walked steadily to him. He made no resistance as Lawler deliberately
wrenched the pistol from his hand and as deliberately walked to a side
wall and placed it upon a shelf.
Hamlin stood, nerveless and pallid, for an instant, watching Lawler's
movements--until Lawler turned and faced him again. Then he staggered to
a chair and dropped into it, lowering his head dejectedly, sitting with
his hands folded, completely subjected.
Lawler would hang him, now. Lawler would take him to the Circle L and
turn him over to Blackburn and the other men of the outfit. And
Blackburn would hang him, for Blackburn had told him he would. Or, if
Lawler didn't take him to Blackburn he would take him to the sheriff. He
would be hanged then, but he would go to the new prison at the capital,
and Ruth would have to stay on here to do the real suffering for his
misdeeds.
"You damned fool!" came Lawler's voice into the vacuumlike stillness of
the cabin. "You haven't got nerve enough to shoot a coyote!"
Hamlin knew it; he knew, now, at least, that he hadn't had nerve enough
to shoot Lawler. He cringed under Lawler's contemptuous tone. And then
he became aware that Lawler was speaking again.
"I'm giving you another chance. I'm letting you off, clean. For Ruth's
sake.
"Look here, Hamlin!"
Hamlin's chin was caught in an iron grasp and he found himself looking
into the terrible eyes. He saw grim pity in the eyes and he shuddered.
"Ruth knows you're stealing cattle. Everybody knows it, now. Who is
buying them?"
"Singleton."
"Singleton!" Lawler's voice snapped with astonishment. "Dave Singleton,
Lefingwell's old range boss?"
Hamlin nodded. And then the grip of Lawler's fingers on his chin
relaxed. He heard Lawler step back, but he did not lift his head for a
few minutes, during which a strained silence descended upon the room.
Then he covertly raised his head, to see Lawler standing with his arms
folded over his chest, watching him.
Lawler had not suspected Singleton. Between himself and Singleton there
had always been a lack of ordinary cordiality, a constraint closely
approaching dislike; but Lawler had never entertained a suspicion that
Lefingwell's range boss was dishonest.
Hamlin was a moral weakling, he knew. Everybody in the Wolf River
section knew it. Hamlin was lazy and shiftless, seemingly contented to
drift along in an aimless way, regardless of what happened to him. There
was at Hamlin's feet some of the wealth that other cattlemen of the
district were gaining. He had proved on a quarter-section of good grass
land amid plenty of water, and yet he chose to steal cattle rather than
raise them.
Lawler's pity for the man was stronger than the resentment he felt.
Hamlin was Ruth's father, though looking at him as he sat dejectedly in
the chair, Lawler found it hard to discern the relationship.
"How long has Singleton been buying cattle from you?"
"About a year. I sold him what stock I had, before--before I got to
runnin' my brand on other folks' stock, an' he hinted he wasn't
particular whose cattle I got, long as he could get 'em under the market
price."
"Does Singleton come here?"
"Sometimes--mostly nights."
Lawler's quick conclusion was that Ruth must have seen Singleton at the
cabin, must have noted that the visits seemed surreptitious. Perhaps she
had watched, convincing herself of her father's guilt. Lawler had
wondered how she had gained the knowledge she seemed to have, and
Singleton's visits must be the explanation.
Hamlin had bowed his head again after a swift glance at Lawler. He
stiffened when he felt Lawler at his side again, for there had come into
the atmosphere of the cabin a premonitory chill which warned him that
Lawler was on the verge of action.
But he was not prepared for what happened.
Lawler's sinewy hands fell on his shoulders. The fingers bit deeply into
the flesh, drawing a groan of pain from Hamlin. He was lifted to his
feet--off his feet, so that he dangled in the air like a pendulum. He
was suspended by the shoulders, Lawler's fingers gripping him like iron
hooks; he was shaken until his feet, powerless to retard the movement,
were flopping back and forth wildly, and his teeth rattled despite his
efforts to clench them. It seemed to him that Lawler would snap his head
from his shoulders, so viciously did Lawler shake him. Then suddenly the
terrible fingers relaxed, and Hamlin reeled and swayed, dizzy and weak
from the violence of movement. He was trying to keep his feet solidly on
the floor when he felt Lawler's fingers at his throat.
To his astonishment, the fingers did not sink into the flesh. They
touched his throat lightly, and he dazedly met Lawler's eyes, burning,
with a passion he never had seen in them before. And Lawler's voice was
dry and light, but steady--so steady and cold that Hamlin realized that
only the man's complete mastery of himself had kept him from committing
murder.
"Hamlin, I ought to kill you. I'm letting you off on one condition--that
you break off with Singleton, and that you keep silent about the things
we both know. If you confess to Ruth that you've been rustling cattle,
or if you tell her--or hint of it--that I know you've been
rustling--I'll tear you apart!
"You're like a lot of other damned, weak-kneed polecats. You've got a
girl who is good as gold, and you're making a regular hell for her.
She's wise to what you've been doing--she suspects you. And from now on
you're going to show her that she was wrong--that you're straight and
square.
"There's a job for you over at the Circle L--if you want it. I'll throw
things in your way; I'll put you on your feet again--give you stock and
tools, and pretend I've sold them to you. I'll do anything to keep you
square. But if you tell Ruth, I'll kill you as sure as my name is
Lawler!"
"I'm agreein'," said Hamlin, thickly. "I ain't wanted to do the things
I've been doin'. But things didn't go right, an' Singleton--damn it,
Lawler; I never liked the man, an' I don't know _why_ I've been doin' what
I have been doin'. But I've wanted to do somethin' for Ruth--so's she
could quit teachin' an' live like a lady. I thought if I could get a
bunch of coin together that mebbe she'd have----"
"She'd see you dead before she'd touch it," scoffed Lawler.
"Mebbe I'd be better off if I was dead," said Hamlin, glumly.
"You'll die, right enough, if you don't keep your word to me," grimly
declared Lawler.
He strode to the door, leaped upon Red King and rode away.
Inside the cabin, Hamlin got to his feet and swayed toward the door,
reaching it and looking out, to see Lawler riding rapidly toward
Willets.