The Heart of the Range

  CHAPTER XI

  THE LOOKOUT

  "Tell you, gents, somethin's come up to change my plans." It was JackHarpe speaking. Racey and Swing had met him on the sidewalk in frontof Lainey's hotel shortly after breakfast the following morning, andRacey had told him of their ultimate decision. As he spoke Mr. Harpebraced an arm against the side of the building, crossed his feet, andscratched the back of his head. "I'm shore sorry," he went on, "butI'd like to call off that proposition about you riding for me. Couplamen used to ride for me one time are coming back unexpected. You know.Naturally--you know how it is yoreself--I'd like to have these fellersriding for me, so if it's alla same to you two gents we'll call itoff. But I wanna be fair. You expected a job on my ranch. I told youyou could have it. I owe you somethin'. What say to a month's wagesapiece?"

  Racey shook a slow head, and hooked his thumbs in his belt. "You don'towe us a nickel," he told Jack Harpe. "Take back yore gold. We'rehonest workin'-girls ourselves. Of course we may starve, but what'sthat between friends? In words of one syllable what do we care forpoverty or precious stones?"

  Jack Harpe followed this flight of fancy with an uncertain smile."Alla same," he said, "I wish you'd lemme give you that month's wages.I'd feel better about it. Like I was paying my bets sort of."

  "'Tsall right," nodded Racey Dawson. "We still don't want any money.We're satisfied if you are. Yep, we're a heap satisfied--now. _But_ Iain't contented--much."

  "That's tough," commiserated Jack Harpe, and dropped at his side thearm he had braced against the wall of the hotel. Also he straightenedhis crossed leg. His air and manner, even to the most casual of eyes,took on a sudden brisk watchfulness. "That's tough," repeated JackHarpe, and added a headshake for good measure.

  "Ain't it?" Racey Dawson said, brightly. "But maybe you can help meout. Lookit, I ain't trying to pry, y' understand. I'm the leastprying feller in four states, but this here ranch of yores which ain'tgot anything to do with the 88 and won't cut any corners off the Bar Smight it by any chance overlap on Mr. Dale's li'l ranch?"

  "Overlap the Dale ranch! What you talkin' about?"

  "I dunno," Racey replied, simply. "I'm trying to find out."

  Jack Harpe laughed his soundless laugh. "I dunno what it is to you,"he said, "but if my ranch don't come near the Bar S how can it hit theDale place?"

  "Stranger things than that have happened. But still, alla same, I'dshore not admire to see any hardship come to old Chin Whisker--Dale, Imean."

  If Racey had hoped to gain any effect by mentioning "Chin Whisker" hewas disappointed. Jack Harpe was wearing his poker face at the moment.

  "I wouldn't like that any myself," concurred Jack Harpe. "Old Daleseems like a good feller, sort of shackles along a mite too shiftlessmaybe, but his daughter takes the curse off, don't she?"

  "We weren't talking about the daughter," Racey pointed out.

  Swing Tunstall immediately stepped to one side. There was a somethingin Racey's tone.

  But Jack Harpe did not press the point. He smiled widely instead.

  "We weren't talking about her, for a fact," he assented. "Coming rightdown to cases, we'd oughta be about done talking, oughtn't we?"

  "Depends," said Racey. "It all depends. I'd just like folks to knowthat I'd take it a heap personal if any tough luck came to old Daleand his ranch."

  "Meanin'?"

  "What I said. No more. No less."

  "What you said can be took more ways than one."

  "What do you care?" flashed Racey. "What I said concerns only the gentor gents who are fixing to colddeck old Dale. Nobody else a-tall. Sowhat do you care?"

  "I don't. Not a care, not a care. Only--only one thing. Mister Man, ifyou're aiming to drynurse old Dale you're gonna have yore paws mostawful full of man's size work. Leastaways, that's the way she looksto a man up a tree. Me, I'm a great hand for mindin' my own business,but--"

  "Yo're like Luke Tweezy thataway," cut in Racey. "That's what he'salways doing."

  "Who's Luke Tweezy?"

  "So you've learned yore lesson," chuckled Racey. "It was about time.Guess you must 'a' bothered Luke Tweezy some when you spoke to himthat day in front of the Happy Heart just before you and Lanphercrawled yore cayuses and rode to Dale's on Soogan Creek.... Don'tremember, huh? I do. You said, 'See you later, Luke,' and he didn'tspeak back. Just kept on untying his hoss and keeping his head bentdown like he hadn't heard a word you said. 'S'funny, huh?"

  "Damfunny," assented Jack Harpe with an odd smoothness.

  "Yeah, you fellers that don't know each other are all of that. Tell mesomething, do you meet in the cemetery by a dead nigger's grave in thedark of the moon at midnight or what? I'm free to admit I'm puzzled.She's all a heap too mysterious for me."

  "Crazy talk," commented Jack Harpe. "You been wallowing in thenosepaint and letting yore imagination run on the range too much."

  "Maybe," Racey said, equably. "Maybe. You can't tell. As a young one Ihad a powerful imagination. I might have it yet."

  Jack Harpe gazed long and silently at Racey Dawson. The latterreturned the stare with interest. With the sixth sense possessed bymost men who live in a country where the law and the sixshooter arepractically synonymous terms, Racey was conscious that Marie, theHappy Heart Lookout, had suddenly drifted up to his left flank and nowstood with arms akimbo on the inner edge of the sidewalk. Her bodywas turned partly toward him but her head was turned wholly away.Evidently there was something of interest farther up the street.

  Racey moved slightly to the left. He wished to have a little morelight on Jack Harpe's right side. The Harpe right hand--it was in theshadow. Jack Harpe pivoted to face Racey. The light from the hotelwindow fell on the right hand. The member was near the gun butt, butnot suggestively near.

  "Listen here," said Jack Harpe, suddenly, in a snarling whisperdesigned solely for the ears of Racey Dawson, "I dunno what you beena-drivin' at, but just for yore better information I'm telling youthat I always get what I go after. Whether it's land, cows, horses,or--women, I get what I want. Nothing ever has stopped me. Nothingever will stop me. Don't forget."

  "Thanks," smiled Racey. "I'll try not to."

  "And here's somethin' else: What I take I keep--always."

  "Always is a long word."

  "There's a longer."

  "What?"

  "Death."

  "Meanin'?"

  "That folks who ain't for me are against me. Looks like yore friendthere wanted to talk to you. So long."

  Abruptly Jack Harpe faced about and went into the hotel. Racey felt atouch on his arm. He turned to find that Marie had almost bumped intohim. Her head was still turned away. One of her hands was groping forhis arm. Her fingers clutched his wrist, then slid upward to the crookof his elbow.

  "Le's go across the street," she said in a breathless voice, andpulled him forward.

  Her body as she pulled was pressed tightly against him. She seemed tohang upon him. And all to the discomfort and mental anguish of RaceyDawson. He was no prude. His moral sense had never oppressed him. Butthis calm appropriation of him was too much. But he accompanied her.For there was Swing Tunstall, a nothing if not interested observer.Other folk as well were spectators. To shake loose Marie's grip,to run away from her, would make him ridiculous. He continued toaccompany the young woman quite as if her kidnapping of him was amatter of course.

  In the middle of the street they were halted by the headlong approachof a rapidly driven buckboard. As it swept past in front of them thelight of the lantern clamped on the dashboard flashed on their faces.

  "'Lo, Mr. Dawson," cried the driver, her fresh young voice liftingto be heard above the drum of the hoofs and the grind of the rollingwheels. And the voice was the voice of Miss Molly Dale.

  Racey did not reply to the greeting. He was too dumb-foundedly aghastat the mischance that had presented him, while arm in arm with aperson of Marie's stamp, to the eyes of one upon whom he was strivingto make an impression. What would Molly Dale think? The worst, ofcourse.
How could she help it? Appearances were all against him. Thenhe recalled that she had been the sole occupant of the buckboard--thatshe had called him by name _after_ the light had fallen on the face ofthe lookout. It was possible that she might not know who Mariewas. Although it was no more than just possible, he cuddled thepotentiality to him as if it had been a purring kitten.

  He allowed Marie to lead him across the sidewalk and into thepot-black shadow between Tom Kane's house and an empty shack. But herein the thick darkness he paused and looked back to see whether SwingTunstall were following. Swing was not. He was entering the hotel incompany with Windy Taylor.

  Marie jerked at his arm. "C'mon," she urged, impatiently. "Gonna takeroot, or what?"

  Willy-nilly he accompanied his captor to the extremely private andsecluded rear of Tom Kane's new barn. Here were the remains of abroken wagon, several wheels, and the major portion of a venerable anduseless stove. Marie released his arm and Racey sat down on the stove.But it was a very useless stove, and it collapsed crashingly under hisweight (later he learned that even when it had been a working memberof Tom Kane's menage the stove had been held together mainly by trustin the Lord and a good deal of baling wire).

  "Clumsy!" Marie hissed as he arose hurriedly. "All thumbs and leftfeet! Why don't you make a li'l more noise? I'll bet you could if youtried."

  "Say," Racey snapped, temperishly, for a sharp corner of the stovedoor had totally obscured his sense of proportion, "say, I didn't askto come over here with you! What do you want, anyway?"

  "Want you to shut up and pay attention to me!" she flung back. "Ithought you was gonna leave town. Why ain't you?"

  "Changed my mind," was his answer.

  "Why can't you do what you said you'd do?" She was quite vehementabout it.

  "I got a right to change my mind, ain't I?"

  "Go, dammit! Why can't you go? You gave them a chance to even upwhen you ran that blazer on Doc Coffin an' Honey Hoke there in theStarlight. Let it go at that. Whadda you want to hang round here for?Don't you know that every hour you stay here makes it more dangerousfor you?... Oh, you can laugh! That's all you do when a feller doesher level best to see you don't come to any harm. Gawd! I could shakeyou for a fool!"

  "Was that what you pulled me alla way over here to tell me?" heinquired, somewhat miffed at her acerbity.

  "I pulled you across the street because if I'd left you where I foundyou you wouldn't 'a' lived a minute." The starlight was bright enoughto reveal to him the set and earnest tenseness of her features.

  "I wouldn't 'a' lived a minute, huh?" was his comment. "I didn't seeanybody round there fit and able to put in a period."

  "It wasn't anybody you could _see_. Don't you remember what I saidabout a knife in the night, or a shot in the dark? Man, do you have tobe killed before you're convinced?"

  "Well--uh--I--"

  "Whadda you guess I was standin' alongside of you for while you wastalkin' to that other feller, huh? Tryin' to listen to what you wassayin'? Think so, huh?"

  "You shore had yore nerve," he said, admiringly--and helplessly.

  "Nerve nothin'!" she denied. "He wouldn't shoot through me. I knowthat well enough."

  "Why wouldn't he? And how do you know?"

  "Because, and I do. That's enough."

  "Which particular _one_ is he?"

  "I ain't sayin'."

  "Do you like him as much as that?" Shrewdly.

  "Not the way you mean." Dispassionately.

  "Then who is he?"

  "I ain't sayin', I tell you!"

  "You snitched on Nebraska." Persuasively.

  "This feller's different."

  "How different?"

  "None of yore business. Lookit, I'm doin' my best for you, but I won'thave the luck every time that I had to-night--nor you won't, neither.Gawd! if I hadn't just happened to strike for a night off this evenin'I dunno where you'd be!"

  "Say, I thought you didn't dare let them see you have anythin' to dowith me?"

  "I didn't, and I don't. But I had to. I couldn't set by an' let you beplugged, could I? Hardly."

  "But--"

  "'Tsall right, 'tsall right. Don't you worry any about me. I got a acein the hole if the weather gets wet. But I wanna tell you this: Ifyo're bound to go on playin' the fool, keep a-movin' and walk round alighted window like it's a swamp."

  She dodged past him and was gone. He made no move to follow. He pushedback his hat and scratched his head.

  "Helluva town this is," he muttered. "Can't stand still any morewithout having some sport draw a fine sight where you'll feel itmost."

  After she left Racey Dawson Marie diagonalled across Main Street,passed between the dance hall and Dolan's warehouse, and made her wayto the most outlying of the half-dozen two-room shacks scatteredat the back of the dance hall. She entered the shack, felt for thematches in the tin tobacco-box nailed against the wall, and struck oneto light the lamp. Like the provident miss she was she turned the wickdown after lighting in order that the chimney might heat slowly.

  It may have been the dimness of the lighted lamp. It may have beenthat she was not as observing as usual. But certainly she had noinkling of another's presence in the same room with her till she hadslipped out of her waist. Then a man in the corner of the room sworeharshly.

  "---- yore soul to ----!" were his remarks in part. "What did you hornin for to-night?"