The Trail Horde, Charles Alden Seltzer [read out loud books .txt] 📗

profusely, turned his back and pretended to be interested in a picture on the wall.

"I reckon there's somethin' about this case that ain't been brought out yet, Mrs. Lawler," said Moreton when he was about to depart with his prisoner. "But things has a way of comin' out, an' I reckon we'll get Kane out of this before long."

Outside, on their horses, Moreton rode close to Lawler.

"Kane, I reckon it's a damn lie about you killin' Link an' Givens the way that Wharton woman says you did—in that damned paper—just malicious, without them deservin' it?"

"Moreton, I told you my side of the story a couple of months ago. It's the lady's word against mine."

Moreton muttered much to himself during the ride. He told Lawler how Warden had come to him with the statement—the charge; and of how he had waited until Della Wharton had personally appeared before him to corroborate what she had signed.

"She don't want to have her reputation dragged into it," sneered Moreton. "Well, before it's over she won't have no more reputation than a coyote! I'll make the thing so damned public that she'll think I've hired a brass band to blare it all over the country!"

Lawler merely smiled. He might have further increased the sheriff's rage by showing him the signed confession in his pocket—the confession he had secured from Link and Givens—but he preferred to keep silent until he discovered why Della Wharton had brought the charge against him.

There were two possible motives. One was that Della was still in the grip of the vindictiveness that had characterized her that last day in the cabin—and had charged him with murder merely to be revenged upon him; the other was that she had been influenced to the action by Gary Warden. He intended to keep silent until events explained the motive. And he smiled faintly at Moreton when the sheriff opened the jail doors for him—Moreton saying that he "hated like poison to do it."

Two persons had watched Lawler and Moreton ride into town. Warden, standing in the darkened windows of the Wolf Saloon—deserted by its revelers shortly before—saw Moreton and Lawler dismount in front of the jail, which adjoined the sheriff's office. Warden watched until he saw the two men enter the building—until he saw Moreton come out alone and enter his office. Then Warden smiled and walked to the door of a room in the rear of the saloon, where Singleton and several other men were playing cards. He winked at Singleton, a signal correctly interpreted by the other, whose eyes quickened. And then Warden returned to the front window where, later, he was joined by Singleton; for a long time both of them watched the southern sky, into which had crept a dull red glow, faint, and far away.

"Antrim didn't lose any time!" commented Warden, exultantly. "And Della can tell the truth to the sheriff whenever she gets ready!"

The other watcher was Della Wharton. She had seen the sheriff leave town, to ride southward, and she had divined what his errand meant. And she had sat in a chair near a window for many hours, peering into the darkness for Moreton's return with his prisoner. And when she saw them coming she smiled as she had smiled when she had entered the room after taking leave of Warden.

Della knew Warden better than Warden knew himself; and on the night when he had asked her to sign the statement charging Lawler with murder, she was convinced that Warden intended to use the statement. He had told her that he merely intended to hold it as a threat over Lawler's head, to dissuade him from succeeding politically; and she had permitted Warden to think that she believed him. And when, upon her arrival from the capital, he had told her that it was part of his strategy to secretly present the statement to the sheriff—and that she must appear personally before that official—she had consented, knowing that Warden was insincere.

Della had really felt vindictive toward Lawler on that last day in the line cabin. She had yielded to the resentment that had assailed her over the conviction that she had made no impression upon the man. And she had lied when she had told Warden that she had been merely infatuated with Lawler. She discovered that after she reached the hotel following her sojourn in the cabin with him. She wanted him more than she had ever wanted anything in the world. And she was determined to have him. She meant to win him even if she had to bring confusion upon Warden. And so she smiled as she watched Moreton open the jail doors to Lawler—a smile in which there was much triumph.

CHAPTER XXXI "JAIL'S EMPTY, KANE!"

The jail was small—merely one room with barred windows and an iron door, opening upon the street. The iron door was supplemented with a wooden one, which halted the glances of the curious. The windows were high, thus insuring further privacy; the hard adobe floor was clean, and the bunk in which Lawler lay when the dawn came was as comfortable as might have been expected.

Moreton had come in just before daylight, solicitous, concerned, eager to lessen the discomforts of his prisoner. Back of the apology in his voice was a note of rage:

"It goes ag'in' the grain to keep you here, Lawler," he said when he closed the door after entering; "but I'm goin' to bring this case to a showdown today, an' don't you forget it!"

But the sheriff did not bring the case up that day. A little later he provided Lawler with breakfast, and toward noon he opened the door to ask Lawler how he was getting along. On the occasion of this visit he told Lawler he was trying to locate Warden, but so far hadn't been successful.

"An' I ain't found that Wharton woman, either!" he declared. "I'm sendin' a man out to the Two Diamond for both of them, an' if they ain't in town to appear ag'in' you by night I'm goin' to turn you loose—an' be damned to them!"

It seemed to Lawler that only an hour or so had elapsed when the key grated in the lock of the door and Moreton stuck his head in. His face lacked expression.

"Someone to see you, Lawler," he grunted, gruffly. "Wants to talk to you alone. I'll be right outside, so's you can call me when you've got enough of it."

He pushed the door open, and Della Wharton stepped in.

Moreton closed the door, and Della stood watching Lawler steadily.

Lawler had been standing near one of the rear windows, and when he recognized his visitor he came forward and stood within three or four paces of her.

"Well, Miss Wharton?" he said, quietly.

"I heard you were here, Lawler," she said, evenly, her voice expressionless. "In fact, I saw the sheriff bring you in, last night."

"You expected me, I presume?"

The sarcasm in his voice brought a faint glow to her cheeks. But her gaze was level and steady, containing much inquiry.

"Yes," she said slowly; "I expected you to be brought here. You know, of course, about the charge I brought against you?"

"Why did you do it, Miss Wharton?"

She laughed mirthlessly. "Why? I don't know, Lawler. I expect I did it because I felt I ought to tell the truth."

Lawler's grim smile did not seem to affect her. She met it steadily.

"You say in your charge that I deliberately planned to kill Link and Givens; you said I laid in wait for them at the door. Is that the way you saw it?"

"Yes."

"And you are willing to swear to that?" His smile was incredulous.

She nodded affirmatively.

He bowed stiffly to her. "In that case, Miss Wharton, there seems to be nothing more for us to talk about." He walked to the front window, and stood on his toes, intending to call to Moreton to open the door for Miss Wharton, when she moved close to him and seized his left arm, drawing him suddenly toward her while he was off balance, so that when he turned he was facing her, standing close to her.

The color that had surged into her face soon after her entrance, had gone. Her cheeks were white and her eyes held mute appeal that, she felt, he must respond to.

She saw the cold contempt in his eyes as he looked at her, the lurking passion that lay deep in them, and the disgust that she should lie about a matter that might mean life or death to him.

She must act, now, and she must sacrifice Warden. Her grasp on his arm tightened; she clung to him in seeming frenzy, and she spoke brokenly, pleadingly.

"Lawler, I don't believe what I said—what was written on that paper I signed. I know you acted in self-defense; you couldn't help doing as you did.

"Gary Warden forced me to sign that statement, Lawler—he threatened to kill me if I didn't! He found out, some way, that I had been in the cabin with you. And he made me sign.

"He told me that he didn't intend to charge you with the murder; he said he merely wanted to threaten you—to keep you out of politics. Please believe me, Lawler!"

Lawler laughed coldly, incredulously. "A minute ago you told me——"

"I did that to frighten you," she declared. "I—I thought that—perhaps—when you saw that I would testify against you—you would—" She paused and tried to get closer to him, but he held her off and watched her keenly, suspiciously.

"Lawler," she urged; "don't you see? I thought you would agree to marry me if—if I told you that. And, now——"

"An' now it don't make a damn bit of difference what you say!" interrupted a voice from the doorway. Both Miss Wharton and Lawler wheeled quickly, to see Sheriff Moreton standing in the room.

He was grinning hugely, though his eyes were gleaming subtly.

While Lawler and Miss Wharton watched him, he slowly tore to pieces the statement the woman had signed, and scattered them upon the floor.

"That's all of that damned nonsense!" he declared. "Lawler, I knowed they was somethin' behind all this. That's why I let this hussy in to talk to you. I thought I'd hear somethin', an' I did!"

"Lawler, you're free as the air! If there's any more of this talk about chargin' you with killin' them two guys, an' you don't salivate them that's doin' the talkin', I will!"

After his first quick glance at Moreton, Lawler looked at Della. The deep amusement Lawler felt over the knowledge that the sheriff had overheard Della, and that the woman's evidence would now be discredited, was revealed in his smile as he watched her.

She saw it. She also understood that she had failed. But she veiled her chagrin and disappointment behind a scornful smile.

"Framed!" she said. "And it was crude work, too—wasn't it, Lawler? I should have been more careful. Ha, ha! Lawler, I should have known you would do something like this—after what happened in the line cabin. And I let you trick me!"

She raised her head, disdaining to glance at Lawler as she walked to the door, in front of which Moreton was standing.

She smiled broadly at the latter. "Mr. Sheriff," she said, evenly; "if you will stand aside, I shall be glad to leave you."

Moreton grinned, admiringly. "You've sure got a heap of nerve, ma'am," he complimented; "I'll say that for you! I don't know what your game is, but you're mighty clever—though you're wastin' your time out here in the sagebrush. You ought to stay East—where there's a lot more rummies than there is out here!"

He opened the door, and bowed her out with extravagant politeness. Then, when she had gone, he motioned Lawler toward the door.

"Jail's empty, Kane. But I reckon we'd better play this deal safe. Dorgan, the county prosecutor, is in his office. We'll go down to see him, an' I'll have him make a record of what happened here. Then, if I happen to get