CHAPTER XL
PRIMITIVE INSTINCTS
Shorty and a dozen Circle L men--among them Blackburn and the threeothers who had been wounded in the fight with the rustlers on the plainsthe previous spring--had been waiting long in a gully at a distance of amile or more from the Hamlin cabin. Shortly after dark they had filedinto the gully, having come directly from the Circle L.
Hours before, they had got off their horses to stretch their legs, andto wait. And now they had grown impatient. It was cold--even in thegulley where the low moaning, biting wind did not reach them--and theyknew they could have no fire.
"Hell!" exclaimed one man, intolerantly; "I reckon she's a whizzer!"
"Looks a heap like it," agreed Shorty. "Seems, if Hamlin couldn't gethim headed this way--like he said he would--he ought to let us know."
"You reckon Hamlin's runnin' straight, now?" inquired Blackburn.
"Straight as a die!" declared Shorty. "If you'd been trailin' him likeme an' the boys has, you'd know it. Trouble is, that Singleton isholdin' off. A dozen times we've been close enough to ketch Singletonwith the goods--if he'd do the brandin'. But he don't, an' Hamlin has todo it--with Singleton watchin'. We've framed up on him a dozen times.But he lets Hamlin run the iron on 'em. Hamlin eased that bunch into thegully just ahead, especial for tonight. I helped him drive 'em. An'Hamlin said that tonight he'd refuse to run the iron on 'em--makin'Singleton do it. An' then we'd ketch him doin' it. But I reckon Hamlin'sslipped up somewheres."
"It ain't none comfortable here, with that wind whinin' that vicious,"complained a cowboy. "An' no fire. Hamlin said ten o'clock, didn't he?It's past eleven."
"It's off, I reckon," said Shorty. "Let's fan it to Hamlin's shack an'say somethin' to him."
Instantly the outfit was on the move. With Shorty leading they swept outof the gully to the level and rode northward rapidly.
When they came in sight of the Hamlin cabin there was no light within,and the men sat for a time on their horses, waiting and listening. Then,when it seemed certain there was no one stirring, Shorty glanced at thehorse corral.
Instantly he whispered to the other men:
"Somethin's wrong, boys. Hamlin's horse is gone, an' Ruth's pony!"
He dismounted and burst into the cabin, looking into the two bedrooms.He came out again, scratching his head in puzzlement.
"I don't seem to sabe this here thing, boys. I know Ruth Hamlin ain't inthe habit of wanderin' off alone at this time of the night. An' Hamlinwas tellin' me that he sure was goin' with Singleton. It's a heapmysterious, an' I've got a hunch things ain't just what they ought tobe!"
He turned toward the plain that stretched toward Willets. Far out--amere dot in his vision--he detected movement. He straightened, his facepaled.
"Somebody's out there, headin' for town. I'm takin' a look--the bosswould want me to, an' I ain't overlookin' anything that'll do him anygood!"
He leaped upon his horse, and the entire company plunged into the softmoonlight that flooded the plains between the cabin and Willets.
* * * * *
The ivory-handled pistols were still on Lawler's desk when his secretarysoftly opened a door and entered. The secretary smiled slightly at sightof the weapons, but he said no word as he advanced to the desk andplaced a telegram before Lawler.
He stood, waiting respectfully, as Lawler read the telegram. It was fromMoreton:
"Governor Lawler: There's something mighty wrong going on in Willets.Slade and his gang struck town this morning. He was with Warden all dayin the Wolf. Don't depend on the new sheriff."
Lawler got up, his face paling. He dismissed the secretary and thenstood for several minutes looking down at the pistols on the desk. Theyoffered a quick solution of the problem that confronted him.
At this minute he was conscious of one thing only--that Slade was inWillets. Slade, who had led the gang that had killed his men--Slade,whose face haunted Blackburn's dreams--the man the Circle L outfit heldresponsible for the massacre that day on the plains above the bigvalley.
Lurking in the metal cylinders of the two weapons on the desk was thatdeath which Warden, Singleton, Slade, and the others deserved at hishands. He took up the pistols, nestling their sinister shapes in hispalms, while his blood rioted with the terrible lust that now seizedhim--the old urge to do violence, the primal instinct to slay, to whichhe had yielded when Shorty told him of the things Blondy Antrim haddone.
Another minute passed while he fondled the weapons. Twice he moved asthough to buckle the cartridge belt around his waist--shoving aside theblack coat he wore, which would have hidden them. But each time hechanged his mind.
He knew that if he wore them he would use them. The driving intensity ofhis desire to kill Warden, Singleton, and Slade would overwhelm him ifhe should find they had harmed Ruth. The deadly passion that held him ina mighty clutch would take no account of his position, of his duty tothe state, or of the oath he had taken to obey and administer the laws.
While he silently fought the lust that filled his heart the secretarycame in. He started and then stood rigid, watching Lawler, seeming todivine something of the struggle that was going on before his eyes. Hesaw how Lawler's muscles had tensed, how his chin had gone forward witha vicious thrust--noted the awful indecision that had seized the man. Asthe secretary watched, he realized that Lawler was on the verge ofsurrendering to the passions he was fighting--for Lawler had againtaken up the cartridge belt and was opening his coat to buckle the beltaround him.
"_Governor._"
It was the secretary's voice. It was low, conveying the respect that theman always used in addressing Lawler. But the sound startled Lawler likethe explosion of a bomb in the room. He flashed around, saw thesecretary--looked steadily at him for one instant, and then dropped thebelt to the desk, tossed the pistols into the drawer and smiledmirthlessly.
"Governor," said the secretary; "your train is ready."
The secretary stood within three yards of Lawler, and before he couldturn to go out, Lawler had reached him. He seized both the man's hands,gripped them tightly, and said, hoarsely:
"Thank you, Williams."
Then he released the secretary's hands and plunged out through the door,while the secretary, smiling wisely, walked to the desk and picking upthe cartridge belt, dropped it into the drawer with the pistols.