The Trail Horde | Page 6

than raise them.
Lawler's pity for the man was stronger than the resentment he felt.
Hamlin was Ruth's father, though looking at him as he sat dejectedly in
the chair, Lawler found it hard to discern the relationship.
"How long has Singleton been buying cattle from you?"
"About a year. I sold him what stock I had, before--before I got to
runnin' my brand on other folks' stock, an' he hinted he wasn't particular
whose cattle I got, long as he could get 'em under the market price."
"Does Singleton come here?"
"Sometimes--mostly nights."
Lawler's quick conclusion was that Ruth must have seen Singleton at
the cabin, must have noted that the visits seemed surreptitious. Perhaps
she had watched, convincing herself of her father's guilt. Lawler had
wondered how she had gained the knowledge she seemed to have, and
Singleton's visits must be the explanation.
Hamlin had bowed his head again after a swift glance at Lawler. He
stiffened when he felt Lawler at his side again, for there had come into
the atmosphere of the cabin a premonitory chill which warned him that
Lawler was on the verge of action.
But he was not prepared for what happened.

Lawler's sinewy hands fell on his shoulders. The fingers bit deeply into
the flesh, drawing a groan of pain from Hamlin. He was lifted to his
feet--off his feet, so that he dangled in the air like a pendulum. He was
suspended by the shoulders, Lawler's fingers gripping him like iron
hooks; he was shaken until his feet, powerless to retard the movement,
were flopping back and forth wildly, and his teeth rattled despite his
efforts to clench them. It seemed to him that Lawler would snap his
head from his shoulders, so viciously did Lawler shake him. Then
suddenly the terrible fingers relaxed, and Hamlin reeled and swayed,
dizzy and weak from the violence of movement. He was trying to keep
his feet solidly on the floor when he felt Lawler's fingers at his throat.
To his astonishment, the fingers did not sink into the flesh. They
touched his throat lightly, and he dazedly met Lawler's eyes, burning,
with a passion he never had seen in them before. And Lawler's voice
was dry and light, but steady--so steady and cold that Hamlin realized
that only the man's complete mastery of himself had kept him from
committing murder.
"Hamlin, I ought to kill you. I'm letting you off on one condition--that
you break off with Singleton, and that you keep silent about the things
we both know. If you confess to Ruth that you've been rustling cattle,
or if you tell her--or hint of it--that I know you've been rustling--I'll tear
you apart!
"You're like a lot of other damned, weak-kneed polecats. You've got a
girl who is good as gold, and you're making a regular hell for her. She's
wise to what you've been doing--she suspects you. And from now on
you're going to show her that she was wrong--that you're straight and
square.
"There's a job for you over at the Circle L--if you want it. I'll throw
things in your way; I'll put you on your feet again--give you stock and
tools, and pretend I've sold them to you. I'll do anything to keep you
square. But if you tell Ruth, I'll kill you as sure as my name is Lawler!"
"I'm agreein'," said Hamlin, thickly. "I ain't wanted to do the things I've
been doin'. But things didn't go right, an' Singleton--damn it, Lawler; I

never liked the man, an' I don't know why I've been doin' what I have
been doin'. But I've wanted to do somethin' for Ruth--so's she could
quit teachin' an' live like a lady. I thought if I could get a bunch of coin
together that mebbe she'd have----"
"She'd see you dead before she'd touch it," scoffed Lawler.
"Mebbe I'd be better off if I was dead," said Hamlin, glumly.
"You'll die, right enough, if you don't keep your word to me," grimly
declared Lawler.
He strode to the door, leaped upon Red King and rode away.
Inside the cabin, Hamlin got to his feet and swayed toward the door,
reaching it and looking out, to see Lawler riding rapidly toward
Willets.
CHAPTER III
A WOMAN'S EYES
There had been a day when Willets was but a name, designating a
water tank and a railroad siding where panting locomotives, hot and dry
from a long run through an arid, sandy desert that stretched westward
from the shores of civilization, rested, while begrimed, overalled men
adjusted a metal spout which poured refreshing water into gaping
reservoirs.
In that day Willets sat in the center of a dead, dry section, swathed in
isolation so profound that passengers in the coaches turned to one
another with