CHAPTER XIX—THE AMBUSH

The incident of the fight between Carrington, Danforth, Judge

Littlefield, and Taylor in front of the courthouse had eloquently

revealed a trait of Taylor’s character which was quite generally known

to the people of Dawes, and which, in a great measure, accounted for

Taylor’s popularity.

Few of Dawes’s citizens had ever seen Taylor angry. Neil Norton had

seen him in a rage once, and the memory of the man’s face was still

vivid. A few of the town’s citizens had watched him once—when he had

thrashed a gunman who had insulted him—and the story of that fight

still taxed the vocabularies of those who had witnessed it. One

enthusiastic watcher, at the conclusion of the fight, had

picturesquely termed Taylor a “regular he-wolf in a scrap;” and thus

there was written into the traditions of the town a page of his

history which carried the lesson, repeated by many tongues:

“Don’t rile Taylor!”

Riding into Dawes about two hours after he had heard from Marion

Harlan the story of the attack on her by Carrington, Taylor’s face was

set and grim. His ancient hatred of Carrington was intensified by

another passion that had burned its way into his heart, filling it

with a primitive lust to destroy—jealousy.

He dismounted in front of the Castle Hotel, and, entering, he asked

the clerk where he could find Carrington. The clerk could give him no

information, and Taylor went out, the clerk’s puzzled gaze following

him.

“Evidently he doesn’t want to congratulate Carrington about anything,”

the clerk confided to a bystander.

Mounting his horse, Taylor rode down the street to the building which

Danforth had selected as a place from which to administer the

government of Dawes. A gilt sign over the front bore upon it the

words:

CITY HALL.

Taylor went inside, and found Danforth seated at a desk. The latter

looked sourly at his visitor until he caught a glimpse of his eyes,

then his face paled, and he sat silent until Taylor spoke:

“Where’s Carrington?”

“I haven’t seen Carrington this morning,” lied Danforth, for he _had_

seen Carrington some time before, riding out of town toward the

Huggins house. He suspected Carrington’s errand was in some way

concerned with the three men who had been sent there. But he divined

from the expression in Taylor’s eyes that trouble between Taylor and

Carrington was imminent, and he would not set Taylor on the other’s

trail without first warning Carrington.

He met Taylor’s straight, cold look of disbelief with a vindictive

smirk, which grew venomous as Taylor wheeled and walked out. Taylor

had not gone far when Danforth called a man to his side, whispered

rapidly to him, telling him to hurry. Later the man slipped out of the

rear door of the building, mounted a horse, and rode hurriedly down

the river trail toward the Huggins house.

Taylor rode to the _Eagle_ office, but Norton was not there, and so,

pursuing his quest, Taylor looked into saloons and stores, and various

other places. Men who knew him noted his taciturnity—for he spoke

little except to greet a friend here and there shortly—and commented

upon his abrupt manner.

“What’s up with Taylor?” asked a man who knew him. “Looks sort of

riled.”

Taylor found Carrington in none of the places in which he looked. He

returned to the _Eagle_ office, and found Norton there. He greeted

Norton with a short:

“Seen Carrington?”

“Why, yes.” Norton peered closely at his friend. “What in blazes is

wrong?” His thoughts went to another time, when he had seen Taylor as

he appeared now, and he drew a deep breath.

Briefly Taylor told him, and when the tale was ended, Norton’s eyes

were blazing with indignation.

“So, that’s the kind of a whelp he is!” he said. “Well,” he added, “I

saw him go out on the river trail a while ago; it’s likely he’s gone

to the Huggins house.”

“His—now,” said Taylor; “that’s what makes it worse. Well,” he added

as he stepped toward the door, “I’ll be going.”

“Be careful, Squint,” warned Norton, placing a hand on his friend’s

shoulder. “I know you can lick him—and I hope you give him all that’s

coming to him. But watch him—he’s tricky!” He paused. “If you need any

help—someone to go with you, to keep an eye——”

“It’s a one-man job,” grinned Taylor mirthlessly.

“You’ll promise you won’t be thinking of that ankle—this time?” said

Norton seriously.

Taylor permitted himself a faint smile. “That’s all explained now,” he

said. “She’s been a lot generous—and forgiving. No,” he added, “I

won’t be thinking of that ankle—now!”

And then, his lips setting again, he crossed the sidewalk, mounted

Spotted Tail, and rode through town to the river trail. Watching him,

Norton saw him disappear in some timber that fringed the river.

* * * * *

Carrington had finished his talk with the three men he had set to

guard the Huggins house. The men were told to stay until they received

orders from Carrington to leave. And they were to report to him

immediately if anyone came.

Carrington had watched Parsons go down the big slope; and for a long

time after he had finished his talk with the three men he stood on the

front porch of the house watching the progress made by Parsons through

the basin.

“Following Marion,” Carrington assured himself, with a crooked smile.

“Well, I’ll know where to get both of them when I want them.”

Carrington felt not the slightest tremor of pity for Parsons. He

laughed deep in his throat with a venomous joy as he saw Parsons

slowly making his way through the big basin; for he knew Parsons—he

knew that the craven nature of the man would prevent him from

attempting any reprisal of a vigorous character.

Yet the exultation in the big man’s heart was dulled with a slight

regret for his ruthless attack on Marion Harlan. He should not have

been so eager, he told himself; he should have waited; he should have

insinuated himself into her good graces, and then——

Scowling, he got on his horse and rode up the Dawes trail, shouting a

last word of caution to the three men—one seated on the front porch,

the other two lounging in the shade of a tree near by.

Half a mile from the house, riding through a timber grove, he met the

man Danforth had sent to him. The latter gave Carrington the message

he carried, which was merely: “Taylor is looking for you.”

“Coming here?” he asked the man sharply.

“I reckon he will be—if he can’t find you in town,” said the man.

“Danforth said Taylor was a heap fussed up, an’ killin’ mad!”

A grayish pallor stole over Carrington’s face, and he drew a quick

breath, sending a rapid, dreading glance up the Dawes trail. Then,

coincident with a crafty backward look—toward the Huggins house—the

grayish pallor receded and a rush of color suffused his face. He spoke

shortly to the man:

“Sneak back—by a roundabout trail. Don’t let Taylor see you!”

He watched while the man urged his horse deep into the fringing

timber. Carrington could see him for a time as he rode, and then, when

horse and rider had vanished, Carrington wheeled his horse and sent it

clattering back along the trail to the big house.

Arriving there, he called the three men to him and talked fast to

them. The talk ended, the men ran for their horses, and a few minutes

later they raced up the river trail toward Dawes, their faces grim,

their eyes alert.

About a mile up the trail, where a wood of spruce and fir-balsam

spread dark shadows over the ground, and an almost impenetrable growth

of brush fringed the narrow, winding path over which any rider going

to the big house must pass, they separated, two plunging deep into the

brush on one side, and one man secreting himself on the other side.

They urged their horses far back, where they could not be seen. And

then, concealing themselves behind convenient bushes, they waited,

their eyes trained on the Dawes trail, their ears attuned to catch the

slightest sound that might come from that direction.

Back at the big house—having arranged the ambuscade—Carrington drew a

deep breath of relief and smiled evilly. He thought he knew why Taylor

was looking for him. Marion had gone to the Arrow, to tell Taylor what

had happened at the big house, and Taylor, in a jealous rage, intended

to punish him. Well, Taylor could come now.