The Ranchman by Charles Alden Seltzer
CHAPTER XVIII--THE BEAST AGAIN
Carrington was conscious of the error his unrestrained passion haddriven him to committing. Yet he had not been sincere when he haddeclared to Martha that he wouldn't bother the girl again. For afterleading the two horses to Dawes and arranging for their care, he huntedup Danforth. It was nearly midnight when Danforth reached Carrington'srooms in the Castle, and Carrington was in a sullen mood.
"I want two or three men who will do what they are told and keep theirmouths shut," he told Danforth. "Get them--quick--and send them to theHuggins house--mine, now--and have them stay there. Nobody is to leavethe house--not even to come to town. Understand? Not even Parsons.Hustle! There is no train out of here tonight? No? Well, that's allright. Get going!"
Danforth had noticed Carrington's sullenness, and the strainedexcitement of his manner, and there was in Danforth's mind aninclination to warn Carrington about including the woman in the schemeto subjugate Dawes--for he knew Carrington of old; but a certain lightin the big man's eyes warned Danforth and he shut his half-opened lipsand departed on his errand.
In an hour he returned, telling Carrington that his orders had beenobeyed.
Danforth seated himself in a chair near one of the front windows andwaited, for he knew Carrington still had something to say to him--theman's eyes told him, for they were alight with a cold, speculative gleamas they rested on Danforth.
At last, after a silence that lasted long, Carrington said, shortly:
"What do you know about Taylor?"
"What I told you before--the first day. And that isn't much."
"I had a talk with Parsons the other day--about Larry Harlan," saidCarrington. "It seems that Larry Harlan worked for Taylor--for two orthree years. I didn't question Parsons closely about the connectionbetween Taylor and Harlan, but it seems to me that Parsons mentioned amine. What about it? Do you know anything about it?"
Danforth related what he knew regarding the incident of the mine--thestory told by Taylor when he returned after Larry Harlan's death--andCarrington's eyes gleamed with interest.
"Do you think he told a straight story?" he asked.
He watched Danforth intently.
"Hell, yes!" declared the other. "He's too square to lie!"
Five minutes later Carrington said good-night to Danforth. ButCarrington did not immediately go to bed; he sat for a long time in achair near the window looking out at the buildings of Dawes.
In the courtroom early the next morning he leaned over JudgeLittlefield's desk, smiling.
"Did you ever hear of Quinton Taylor being connected with a miningventure?"
"Well, rather."
"Where?"
"At Nogel--in the Sangre de Christo Mountains."
"How far is that?"
"About ten miles--due west."
"What do you know about the mine?"
"Very little. Taylor and a man named Lawrence Harlan registered theclaim here. I heard that Harlan died--was killed in an accident. Soonafterward, Taylor sold the mine--to a man named Thornton--for aconsideration, not mentioned." The judge looked sharply at Carrington."Why this inquiry?" he asked; "do you think there is anything wrongabout the transaction?"
"There is no determining that until an investigation is made."Carrington laughed as he left the judge.
Later he got on his horse and rode to the big house. On the front porch,seated in a chair, smoking, he saw one of the men Danforth had sent inobedience to his order; at the rear of the house was another; and,lounging carelessly on the grass near the edge of the butte fringing thebig valley, he saw still another--men who seemed to find their workagreeable, for they grinned at Carrington when he rode up.
Carrington dismounted and entered the house--by one of the reardoors--which he had wrecked the night before. He went in boldly,grinning, for he anticipated that by this time Marion Harlan would havereached that stage of intimidation where she would no longer resist him.
At first he was only mildly disturbed at the appearance of the interior;for nothing had been done to bring order out of the chaos he had createdthe night before, and the condition of the furniture, and the atmosphereof gloomy emptiness that greeted him indicated nothing. The terror underwhich the girl had labored during the night might still be gripping her.
He had no suspicion that the girl had left the house until after he hadlooked into all the rooms but the one occupied by Parsons. Then aconviction that she _had_ fled seized him; he scowled and leaped to thedoor of Parsons' room, pounding heavily upon it.
Parsons did not answer his knock, and an instant later, when Carringtonforced the door and stepped into the room, he saw Parsons standing neara window, pallid and shaking.
With a bound Carrington reached Parsons' side and gripped the man by thecollar of his coat.
"Where's Miss Harlan?" he demanded. He noted that Parsons swayed in hisgrasp, and he peered at the other with a malignant joy. He had alwayshated Parsons, tolerating him because of Parsons' money.
"She's gone," whispered Parsons tremulously. "I--I tried to stop her,knowing you wouldn't want it, but--she went away--anyway."
"Where?" Carrington's fingers were gripping Parsons' shoulder near thethroat with a bitter, viselike strength that made the man cringe andgroan from the pain of it.
"Don't, Jim; for God's sake, don't! You're hurting me! I--I couldn'thelp it; I couldn't stop her!"
The abject, terrified appeal in his eyes; the fawning, doglikesubjection of his manner, enraged Carrington. He shook the little manwith a force that racked the other from head to heel.
"Where did she go--damn you!"
"To the Arrow."
Aroused to desperation by the flaming fury that blazed in Carrington'seyes, Parsons tried to wrench himself free, tugging desperately, andwhining: "Don't, Jim!" For he knew that he was to be punished for hisdereliction.
He shrieked when Carrington struck him; a sound which died in his throatas the blow landed. Carrington left him lie where he fell, and went outto the men, interrogating the one he had seen on the front porch.
From that person he learned that no one had left the house since the menhad come; so that Carrington knew Marion must have departed soon afterhe had left the night before--or some time during the time of hisdeparture and the arrival of the men.
Ten minutes after emerging from the house he went in again. Parsons wassitting on the floor of his room, swaying weakly back and forth, whiningtonelessly, his lips loose and drooling blood.
For an instant Carrington stood over him, looking down at him with amerciless, tigerlike grin. Then he stooped, gripped Parsons by theshoulders, and, lifting him bodily, threw him across the bed. Parsonsdid not resist, but lay, his arms flung wide, watching the big manfearfully.
"Don't hit me again, Jim!" he pleaded. "Jim, I've never done anything toyou!"
"Bah!" Carrington leaned over the other, grinning malevolently.
"You've double-crossed me, Elam," he said silkily. "You're through. Getout of here before I kill you! I want to; and if you are here in fiveminutes, I shall kill you! Go to the Arrow--with your niece. Tell herwhat you know about me--if you haven't done so already. And tell herthat I am coming for her--and for Taylor, too! Now, get out!"
In less than five minutes, while Carrington was at the front of thehouse talking with the three men, Parsons tottered from a rear door,staggered weakly into some dense shrubbery that skirted the far side ofthe house, and made his slow way toward the big slope down which Marionand Martha had gone some hours before.
Retribution had descended swiftly upon Parsons; it seemed to him he wasout of it, crushed and beaten. But no thread of philosophy weaved itsway through the fabric of the man's complete misery and humiliation, andno reflection that he had merely reaped what he had sown glimmered inhis consciousness. He was merely conscious that he had been beaten androbbed by the man who had always been his confederate, and as he reeleddown the big slope on his way to the Arrow he whined and moaned in atoneless voice of vengeance--