HELP WEARS A MASK
Penny couldn't turn back without making herself appear ridiculous. Rangoon had already seen her, and was grinning a welcome. He took his hat off with a flourish and revealed black hair, parted low on one side and plastered down upon his forehead with a carefully nurtured dip. His hair gleamed from greasy stuff that he used on it.
"Wal," he said with the air of a welcoming host, "this is a downright surprise."
Penny halted at the edge of the clearing. It was the first time she had seen Rangoon at close range, and she found him wholly repugnant. His face was pitted from smallpox, scarred from a knife brawl, and generallygreasy with sweat, but it was his eyes that made him hideous. They were small, bloodshot, and set too close together. He had only one eyebrow, which extended clear across the ridge of his receding forehead, serving both eyes. The expression in the eyes was one of confidence and insolence.
Instinctively, Penny felt that she should turn at once and ride back home. Rangoon advanced on foot, and held a hand toward her.
"I'll help yuh down from the saddle," he said.
"I'm not dismounting, I was just about to turn back."
"I don't reckon you'll want tuh turn back right now," Rangoon said. "There's somethin' over here you'll be right glad to have a look at."
"I doubt it." Penny tried to jerk the reins around, but Rangoon was holding them. "Please let go of my reins, Rangoon. I'm going home."
Rangoon shook his head slowly. "I wouldn't," he said, "if I was you. I understand that yer uncle'd be right sore if he found you'd rid up here in spite of all he's said about it."
Penny pulled suddenly and hard, but vainly.
"It ain't no use tryin' tuh pull free jest yet," Rangoon advised her, "because I aim tuh have yuh take jest one look at what I seen. Then yore free tuh go, if yuh want tuh."
Penny was armed: she wore a small-caliber revolver on a belt around her waist. She felt that she could use this if necessary. She was more angry than frightened. She dismounted, ignoring the offered hand of the pock-marked man. He shrugged his shoulders as if to say itdidn't matter. She noticed that his own horse was tethered to a near-by tree.
"What is it you want to show me?"
"I suppose," Rangoon said slowly, "you're downright disappointed that it's me yuh seen here instead of yer other friend."
Penny noticed the use of the word "other." It implied that in his mind Rangoon had no intention of considering himself in the humble position of a waddie on her uncle's ranch, but rather as one on an equal social footing. Penny made no comment.
"Yuh wonder how I know about him, eh?" Rangoon said. "Wal, there is what I wanted yuh tuh see." He pointed to the ground.
Penny saw the marks of her small boots clearly showing where she had stood yesterday. Near by were the prints that Tonto's moccasins had made. Penny stared and felt herself growing cold with fury at the realization of what she knew must be in Rangoon's foul mind. Not only were the prints there together, but both pairs led toward the lean-to.
"'Tain't as if it was one of the boys from the Basin," the tantalizing voice behind her said, "but a critter wearin' moccasins! That might mean a redskin."
Penny acted instinctively. She whirled quickly and swung with all the force of her arm. Her gloved hand smacked against the scar on Rangoon's cheek.
Then she burned with embarrassment. Any explanation would be futile. She walked quickly toward her horse.
"Not so fast," Rangoon said sharply, grabbing Penny's arm.
"You let go of my arm, or I'll shoot you."
"The hell yuh will!"
In that instant Penny was ready to kill. All reasoning left her. The hand on her arm brought her fury to white heat. She snatched for her gun, but Rangoon slapped the weapon from her hand.
Rangoon released his grip on her arm, and caught up the reins of her horse. "Jest git yer senses while I tie up yer hoss, an' we'll talk."
Released, the girl made a dive for her gun, which was on the ground. Rangoon saw the motion, and put his foot on the weapon.
"I'll fix that," he growled. He picked up the gun and emptied it of cartridges. "Now you c'n have the shootin' iron back," he said, handing it to her while he tossed the ammunition deep among the heavy brush. Penny took her weapon mechanically and put it, empty, in her holster.
Fear gripped her for a moment when she realized that she was practically helpless. To turn and race away on foot would be a futile gesture. She thought of fainting, but that wouldn't help matters any. She looked defiantly at Rangoon.
"What do you want to talk about?"
"Now, that's more like it. Yuh needn't be scairt of me; I don't aim tuh hurt yuh none." There was a definite sneer in both the voice and expression while the man tossed Las Vegas' reins about a tree and knotted them.
"Don't get the notion that you gotta fight fer yer honor an' all that sort o' tripe like in the readin' books. I don't aim tuh git shot up by men in the Basin fer makin' passesat you. I like my women without no killin' fights tied ontuh them."
Penny stubbornly refused to let her face indicate her feelings. She stood, chin up, listening.
"First of all," Rangoon said, "I hanker tuh know why yuh rid up here."
"It's none of your business."
"Goin' tuh be stubborn again, eh? Now you'll git home a sight quicker if yuh answer my questions."
"Why are you here?" countered Penny.
"That's easy. I tell, then you tell," Rangoon grinned. "Makin' a sort o' game of it, eh? Wal, yesterday I seen smoke comin' outen the treetops. I wondered who was campin' here, but couldn't git away from the Basin tuh see. I rid up tuhday an' found some downright interestin' footprints. Now it's yore turn tuh tell jest what they mean."
"And then you'll let me leave here?"
"Talk first."
"I used to ride up this way before I went to school. I came up yesterday and found a friendly Indian camped here."
"Why?"
"How do I know?"
"Yuh rid up here twice."
Penny hadn't credited Rangoon with such skill at reading signs.
"Yes, I came up twice."
"The redskin had two horses with him. What about 'em?"
Penny, while hating herself for enduring the man's insolence, felt that there was no use trying to evade the truth, which after all was harmless. She told Rangoon about bringing food for the Indian's friend.
When she mentioned the friend, Rangoon showed keen interest.
"Who was that there friend?"
"I don't know."
"Where was he at?"
"I don't know that either. I've told you all I know, Rangoon."
The man shook his head slowly, "'Tain't enough. I got tuh know the rest."
Penny was defiant. "I've told you all I know and now I'm starting back for the Basin. If I'm not there Uncle Bryant will wonder why, and I'll tell him why I was delayed. You ought to know him pretty well, Rangoon. He won't take this sort of behavior from you!"
Rangoon threw back his head and laughed hard at this.
"Yer uncle won't hurtme," he said between two roars of laughter.
Penny made a sudden dive for the knotted reins. Again Rangoon was quicker. He caught her in strong hands.
"Yuh ain't leavin'," he said, "till yuh tell who the redskin's friend is, an' where he's hidin'."
"I tell you I don't know." Penny struggled to free herself.
"I'll wring it out of yuh," Rangoon bellowed as he wrapped his long arms completely around the girl and nearly cut off her wind in a bearlike grip.
"L-let m-me g-go," gasped Penny.
Rangoon's grip was tighter. His arms were crushing the slim girl to him, bending her back until it hurt frightfully. His ugly face was close to her, his breath, foul with alcohol and half-rotted teeth, was hot. Penny felt nauseated, violently ill.
Contact with the girl made Rangoon reckless. He seemed to forget any fear he might have had.
His voice was hoarse as he shouted to Penny, "Who is that Indian's friend?"
His repeated question was simply an excuse to hold the girl. His voice was hoarse. "Who is that Indian's friend?"
"I am!"
It was a new voice, a deeply resonant one that spoke from behind Rangoon.
"Stand back," the same voice snapped.
Rangoon swore and whirled as he snatched out his gun with catlike speed and agility. The releasing of the girl, the turning, the drawing, and the firing, all seemed part of one smooth flowing movement that came from instinct.
Wide-eyed, Penny saw Rangoon's gun jump as it lashed flame and smoke toward the newcomer. The gun seemed a thing alive—it leaped free of Rangoon's hand and flew in an arc across the clearing. Rangoon screamed a livid curse of pain as he gripped his gun hand.
The stranger, standing ten feet away, had his own weapon back in its holster. Penny saw that the man was tall; his hat was white and clean, and his face was masked.
Rangoon's hand must have hurt terribly, to judge from his violent cursing. Penny had a dazed, detached feeling as she watched the two men. Rangoon, still cursing,held a hand that stung from the force of the bullet that had knocked his own gun away.
The stranger with the mask stepped forward and slapped Rangoon on the face. The blow did not appear to be hard-swung, but it sent Rangoon sprawling on the ground.
"That's enough of that talk," the stranger said in his crisp but nonetheless pleasant voice. Penny heard another sound, and turned as Tonto came from behind the trees.
The masked man spoke again. "You're not hurt badly. My bullet struck your gun, not your hand."
"You'll pay fer this," Rangoon cried. "I'll see yuh shot up, a little at a time—I'll have my men git yuh, you wait."
The Lone Ranger turned to Tonto. "You'd better gag him, Tonto," he said. "It's going to be hard to talk above that noise."
Tonto grinned and leaped astride Rangoon, who made no attempt to rise from the ground. What the killer said was muffled as Tonto jammed a knotted cloth into his mouth.
"When he's gagged, rope him."
Tonto nodded and his expression said, "Gladly."
Penny watched with interest. She knew she should mount and ride at once for the Basin, but there was something about the masked man that held her, and there were things she wanted to ask. Who was this stranger whose chin was so well shaped? Why was he masked? She instinctively liked him, aside from the help he'd given her. She liked his efficient manner of handling Rangoon.
Beyond the trees she caught a glimpse of Silver. This,then, was the man to whom she had sent food. The man for whom Tonto had asked help. This was the owner of the magnificent stallion.
"Friend," she thought. "That's who he is. Tonto's friend." She remembered the way Tonto had spoken of him, then understood the tone the Indian had used when he said, "My friend."
THE TRAIL LEADS DOWN
When Rangoon was tied, the Lone Ranger dragged him across the clearing and placed him with his back propped against a tree.
"You'll probably be here for some time," he said. "I'll take that gag out of your mouth if you can keep quiet."
The gag removed, the masked man studied Rangoon's face for fully a minute. "What's your name?" he asked.
Rangoon glared darkly from beneath the connected eyebrows. His mouth, already distorted somewhat by the scar on his cheek, was drawn even further back when he said in a slow voice that fairly dripped with hate, "You go tuh hell."
Penny spoke. "He calls himself Rangoon."
The Lone Ranger nodded. "It seems to me that I've seen him when he had another name." He turned to Penelope. "You, of course, are Penelope Cavendish," he said, more as a statement than a question.
The girl nodded while her eyes remained fixed on the face beneath the mask, and the mask itself. She hadn't noticed the slight limp when the Lone Ranger walked; the shoulder bandage was covered by his shirt. Her feeling was one of admiration and gratitude, but most of all resentment. She felt that Tonto had misled her. It was inconceivable that the man before her could so recently have been desperately in need of food. He didn't look helpless. He certainly hadn't acted helpless when he saw Rangoon. Yet Tonto had implied that his plight was serious. Perhaps need of concealment, not starvation, had kept the masked man hidden while Tonto sought food. Though Penny liked his voice and manner and the way he'd handled Rangoon, she could judge him only by facts and circumstances. He had come to the clearing—Rangoon was in the clearing. Wasn't it obvious that they came there to meet? Rangoon, known as an outlaw—the newcomer masked. True, the masked man had fired at Rangoon while Rangoon fired at him, but wasn't this perhaps an act for her benefit? Neither man was injured. These were the facts.
To Tonto, Penny said, "I didn't know your friend was an outlaw."
Tonto began to speak, but Penny continued. "If I had, I certainly wouldn't have brought food for you to take to him."
The Lone Ranger spoke quickly, "Are you the one who brought Tonto that food?"
"Of course. Didn't he tell you?"
"No," said the masked man, glancing at Tonto, "he did not."
Tonto was highly uncomfortable.
"If I had known where that food came from," the Lone Ranger said, "I might not have—"
"I suppose," interrupted Penny, "the fact that you had food from the Cavendish family complicates things for you."
The Lone Ranger looked at the girl somewhat surprised. She went on, speaking slowly and significantly. "It must make it a trifle difficult for you to go ahead with your plans."
Could Penelope know his plans and suspicions? The masked man tried to fathom the enigmatic expression in the girl's face. Did she know that he felt a strong suspicion that her uncle was hiring crooks to bring stolen cattle to the Basin? Did she realize that his purpose was to fix the guilt of murder on Basin killers?
He said, "It might make everything more complicated than you realize, Miss Cavendish." He took a step toward her. "I want you to understand one thing."
"Oh, please." There was annoyance in the girl's tone. "Don't let's talk any further. You've helped me, and if you feel that I helped you, we're square. I'd sooner let it go at that and start for home."
"It can't go at that," the Lone Ranger said decisively. "The fact that you've saved my life puts me in a peculiar position." He drew a cartridge from his belt. "Take this,"he said offering the bullet, "and if there is any man in the world whose life means a great deal to you, tell him to carry it at all times."
Penny looked at the silver bullet in the palm of the masked man's hand.
"Silver?" she asked curiously, in spite of herself.
"Yes."
"So you want to repay me by agreeing to spare one life." She drew up proudly. "Keep your bullet. We are quite able to defend ourselves against you."
Turning abruptly, she mounted Las Vegas and rode quickly away.
As Penelope guided Las Vegas downhill she felt as if a buoyant hope had been punctured to sink into a black sea of despair. Her confidence in Tonto had been great, and despite what she had heard about the murder of the Texas Rangers, some tiny voice far deep inside her kept whispering that she should count on the man whom the Indian called "friend." She had to count on someone. Yuma thought that her uncle was a leader of killers. Penny felt otherwise. She had hoped somehow to find a strong, stanch friend who would feel as she did. Seeing Tonto's friend, she saw a masked man. A man who offered to spare the life of the one she loved most, in order to repay her for food.
Now she had no one to turn to but Bryant Cavendish. Stubborn, bitter, unreasonable old man that he was, he'd have to listen to her. He must be made to understand the forces that were piling up in his own home. He must be shown that Mort and Vince were scheming with Rangoon, perhaps with others; taking orders from an unknownchief; ambushing Texas Rangers; murdering and Heaven only knew what else. Bryant must be made to understand that his own life was probably in danger and must send word out for law men, many law men, to come and help. Becky had got word to the Texas Rangers. Bryant must find and use the same means, but this time they must reach the Basin without being ambushed.
Bryant would be hard to talk to, but the time for diplomacy in handling him was past. She rode on, not knowing that old Gimlet was waiting for her with stunning news.
Meanwhile, instead of replacing the silver bullet in his cartridge belt, the Lone Ranger put it in his pocket. He drew the Indian aside, out of hearing of Rangoon.
"Don't you see the spot we're in now, Tonto? If Bryant Cavendish is in charge of the Basin, as he's always been, he's the man we want. I'm alive to get him, only because of what his niece did for me. She may have given me a life that I've dedicated to the hanging of the man she cares for. I've got to know her feelings."
Tonto nodded his agreement, looking quite dejected.
"I don't think Bryant himself did the killing, Tonto, but unless things have changed since the last reports came out of Bryant's Basin, he rules his little kingdom with a mailed fist and there isn't a thing that goes on there that he doesn't order. If killers are there, he brought them there. The Texas Rangers must have died because Bryant Cavendish sent men out to kill them."
Tonto studied the tall man's eyes and noted that there was a new intensity in the gray depths.
"Maybe now," he said, "we make-um camp. You need rest."
"There isn't time to rest now. Penelope Cavendish believes I'm one of the outlaws. If she thinks Bryant is on the level and tells him about seeing me, he'll make things too hot. We've got to strike before he can act. It'll soon be dark enough to get to the Cavendish house without being seen, and I'm going there.
"Cavendish is an old man. At best he hasn't many years to live. His niece, if she loves him, can keep him. But we're going to take the killers that work for him and he's going to give us the evidence that will hang them."
The Lone Ranger spoke softly, but with a calm determination that told Tonto there was little use in trying to persuade him to postpone a meeting in a murderers' retreat.
"What's more," the Lone Ranger finished, "he's going to put that evidence in writing."
"Tonto go with you," the Indian said. "We leave Rangoon feller tied here."
"No, Tonto; I'm going alone."
Tonto tried to convince the Lone Ranger that he was risking his life, that he needed help, that he should not ride unaccompanied into the Basin; but the masked man shook his head.
"My plans are better, Tonto. We're going to leave Rangoon here by the trail these men use in going from the Basin to the outside. The first ones who come through here will find him. They'll release him and there will be some talk. I want Rangoon to think that both of us haveridden to the Basin. We'll start out down the trail, but you'll turn back and hide near by to hear what's said. I'll ride into the Basin, have a showdown talk with Cavendish, and meet you later in our cave in the Gap."
The masked man pointed out how Tonto's natural abilities made him the logical one to wait in the forest. No white man could maintain the vigil with the absolute silence that was so imperative. On the other hand, the Indian's scant knowledge of white men's laws and courts of law made him a poor one to dictate the sort of statement that must be secured from Bryant Cavendish.
The two returned to the proximity of Rangoon and made ready to start riding.
"Yuh can't leave me here," the scar-faced outlaw shouted.
The Lone Ranger looked at him and said deliberately, "Why not?"
"What if I starve, what if I'm et up by animals?"
"That," retorted the masked man, "would be easier than the way the Snake Flats homesteaders died when Abe Larkin killed them."
Rangoon's eyes went wide at the mention of the name he formerly had used and the people he had killed.
"What d'yuh know about them?" he cried.
"The law is still keeping a noose ready for Abe Larkin."
"Where yuh goin'?" There was panic in Rangoon's voice as he saw the two mount and point their horses toward the Basin. The Lone Ranger said, "Come on, Silver."
Rangoon tugged at his ropes, struggled with them untilhis wrists were almost bleeding. His courage, as darkness fell in the woodland clearing, ebbed until he was reduced to a sniveling, sobbing wretch with scant resemblance to the swaggering monster that had bullied Penelope.
"Who," he cried aloud, "who was he? Who in God's name was that masked man with the silver bullets? He called me Abe Larkin. Who in God's name was he?"
Somewhere, unseen in the darkness, a crouching Indian grinned.
INTRIGUE COMES CLOSER
When Penny reached home just after dark, she noticed a peculiarly deserted air about the ranch. Most of the horses belonging to the cowboys were gone from the corral when she turned Las Vegas in. The shack where Becky had lived was dark, and the big house nearly so. There was one lamp burning in the living room, and the kitchen wing was lighted. That was all. The usual bunkhouse sounds of laughter, or murmuring voices against an occasional accordion or guitar background, were not there. Penelope entered by the kitchen door. Gimlet rose to greet her, with anxiety showing in every one of the enumerable lines on his battered old face.
"Keee-ripes!" burst out Gimlet. "Where you been?"
Penny was somewhat taken aback by the old man's obvious agitation. "What's the matter, Gimlet? Is anything wrong?"
"That's jest it, I dunno. It seems like all hell's due tuh bust loose an' yet they ain't a thing I c'n put a finger on. They's things bilin' up, I tell yuh. I was scared damn near tuh death somethin'd happened tuh you."
"But why?"
"Yuh sure everything's all right with yuh? Yuh ain't met with no trouble?"
"What kind of trouble? Where is everyone?"
"I dunno what kind, jest trouble. Trouble like bein' shot at, or like havin' threats made at yuh."
Penny shook her head. "I rode quite a way," she said, "and didn't realize it was so late. Where is Uncle Bryant?"
It was when Gimlet replied that Penny felt her first frustration. "He's gone, an' God knows where to, or why."
"Gone," echoed the girl. "Didn't he say anything?"
"He come here tuh the kitchen, told me tuh pack some vittles in a sack, an' stayed while I done it. He took the sack, tho'wed it intuh the buckboard, which same had two strong hosses all hitched, then fetched Mort outen the house with his neck still bandaged, an' the two druv off."
Penny hadn't known Bryant to leave the Basin in years. Yet she knew Gimlet must be telling the truth. "Didn't he say when he was coming back?" she asked.
"Not a damn word."
Penny had counted on a heart-to-heart talk with heruncle. Now that the talk was out of the question, at least for the time being, she felt a hopelessness that made her aware of how much she had counted on that talk.
"How long ago," she said, "did Uncle Bryant leave?"
"Jest a little while after the argyment."
"Argument? What argument?"
"Him an' that cowboy callin' himself Yuma had another set-to."
"Yuma?" In her confusion of emotions Penny could do little more than echo what Gimlet said.
"I tell yuh, they's been things goin' on, but nothin' I c'n lay a finger on. Bryant an' Yuma talked low fer a time, then both got tuh howlin'. I c'd hear some o' what 'uz said. Yuma was callin' on Bryant tuh see to it that Mort got what he deserved, an' got told tuh go tuh hell."
"That's what Uncle Bryant would tell him."
"Yuma said he'd done some thinkin' since the last row they had an' he figgered that if Mort wasn't given what a killer sh'd git, it was because Bryant didn't give a damn what went on in the Basin."
"Oh, if Yuma could only understand Uncle Bryant!" said Penny. "Uncle Bryant can't be bulldozed into doing anything. One way to make certain he doesn't turn Mort over to the law is to order him to do it."
"They had aplenty o' hot words," said Gimlet, shaking his head slowly. "They was a heap o' cussin' on both sides. When I heard what Bryant told about the shootin' of Becky, I was fit tuh be tied, I was so gol-darn mad."
"What did he say?" asked Penny eagerly.
"Said that Mort told him he never had no intent o' shootin' Becky."
Penny's lips compressed.
"Mort claimed that he seen a snake, a rattler an' a big one, an' he was shootin' at that same, but his shot went wild an' through the window tuh git his wife."
"So," said Penny softly, "that's the story he's going to tell."
"He's told it an' Bryant's told it, an' I reckon it'll stand. Hain't no way tuh prove otherwise."
"No," responded the girl, her confidence in Uncle Bryant severely threatened, "there's no way to prove otherwise."
"I saved some chow fer yuh," Gimlet said in an incidental way, "if yuh want it. I reckon yore hungry."
Penelope shook her head. "I'm not hungry, Gimlet."
"I dunno what's goin' tuh happen," the old man said sadly. "I do know one thing though, an' that's jest this. Becky wasn't kilt by no accident, an' if Bryant says she was he's as big a damn liar as Mort."
Penny looked at Gimlet. She laid one hand on his skinny forearm below the rolled-back shirtsleeve. Softly she said, "Gimlet, have you any idea why Rebecca was shot?"
Gimlet dropped the gaze of his one eye to the floor and shifted his weight uneasily from one foot to the other.
"Tell me," said Penny. "I want to know."
Gimlet nodded slowly. "I know," he said. "That's what made me afeared fer you." He stopped there, and Penny said:
"Go on."
Gimlet drew a deep breath as if, in telling the girl whathe knew, he were leaping into a bottomless pit filled with icy water.
"I—I'm the one that got her kilt."
Penny waited, knowing that when he enlarged on the amazing statement it would be vastly modified.
"I couldn't o' helped it, though. I dunno where Becky learned that a pack o' killers from all parts o' the state was bein' brought tuh jobs here, so's they c'd hide while they stole hosses an' cattle from outside the Basin. She knowed it though, an' sent me with a note intuh Captain Blythe in Red Oak. I gave him the note an' left, like she tol' me tuh do. I dunno how the crooks here learned about it, but they sure as hell was ready when the Texas Rangers rid through the Gap. They wiped 'em out aplenty."
"But there'll be other Rangers coming to see what happened to them," said Penny.
"An' alibis an' lies aplenty waitin' fer them same. By the time the next Rangers git here, there won't be a damn thing fer 'em tuh see. The stolen cattle'll have new brands an' the crooks that's hidin' here will be hidin' where they cain't be found. No one'll know nothin' about nothin'."
Penny nodded slowly, realizing the truth in what old Gimlet said.
"If it's knowed by the crooks that you know what's goin' on, they'll do tuh you the same as they done tuh Becky. As fer me, I'm expectin' tuh git kilt most any time."
"You said there wasn't anything you could put your finger on, Gimlet. It seems to me you know just about all there is to know."
"Can't prove nothin' though; 'sides that, I dunno where Bryant stands."
"I wish I knew that," said Penny thoughtfully.
"One thing's sure. As long as he's here, there won't no harm come tuh you. Let him git killed though, as I know damn well he's expectin', an' God knows what'll happen. 'Nuther thing I dunno is who is bossin' things!"
"Vince?"
Gimlet shook his head. "Too cussed fer any man tuh take orders from."
"Mort?"
Again the old man's head moved slowly from one side to the other. "I don't think so. We c'n figger Jeb an' Wallie out as a matter o' course. Maybe they know what's goin' on, maybe they don't. Jeb ain't the brains of a jackass an' Wallie ain't hardly ever home."
"Has he returned from town?"
"Nope. He left tuh tomcat around some more an' maybe find a woman tuh raise Becky's kids. He ain't come back yet."
"Where have the other men gone?"
"They moseyed out soon after the buryin'. I dunno where they went. Vince an' some o' them are in the front room o' the house."
"Who is with Vince?"
"Sawtell an' Lombard an' the man that talked with Bryant t'other night—Lonergan. They been chewin' the rag in there ever since Bryant took Mort away."
Gimlet turned to the huge stove and shoved a pan back from the heat. "Yuh sure yuh won't eat?" he asked.
Penny felt that food would choke her. She wondered ifthere were anyone in the world to whom she might turn in confidence and trust.
The door swung open suddenly, and Yuma stood in the opening. The big blond cowboy's face was grim. He glanced at Gimlet, then the girl.
"Saw yer hoss in the corral," he explained. "I got tuh ask yuh jest one thing, Miss Penny."
Penny nodded without speaking. She noticed that Yuma wore two guns, both tied low. His hat was well down on his forehead and he had a leather jacket over his shirt. He seemed to be dressed for a considerable ride. "Jest one thing," he repeated ponderously.
"Well, what is it?"
"I'm fixin' tuh pull stakes," the cowboy said. "Yuh don't know me very well, an' yuh got no reason tuh trust me exceptin' that I tell yuh I'm on the level. I know what I'm sayin' will sound crazy loco an' yuh won't pay no attention tuh it, but I'm wantin' tuh take you intuh Red Oak an' see yuh outen this Hell Basin. They's folks there that'd make yuh right tuh home. You c'd teach school if yuh wanted tuh. Will you leave right now?"
"Of course not!" retorted Penny.
Yuma nodded slowly. "That's what I figgered. I'll be there, though, if ever yuh need me."
Penny could never know how Yuma had steeled himself to make the extravagant suggestion. The cowboy knew there wasn't a one-in-a-thousand chance that Penny would agree, and when he saw the scornful look, he had no more to say, no argument to put forth. He had made his request and it had been turned down. His simple and straightforward way of thinking hadn't grasped the thingin the same way that Penny did. He knew the girl was in a dangerous place and wanted to take her from it, make her safe. She refused to go. That was all there was to it.
The door closed, and Penny was about to voice her indignation, but Gimlet spoke first.
The old man said, more soberly than he'd spoken before, "Miss Penny, yuh should o' gone."
"Why, the nerve of that crazy cowboy! I don't even know his name. He's been here only a short time; he's fought twice with Uncle Bryant, and told me what he thought of the only man in the world I ever cared for, my uncle. And now he expects me to leave home and go off to Red Oak teaching school! Leave here tonight! With him! It's the most ridiculous outlandish nonsense I—"
Penny stopped for breath.
Gimlet said again, "Yuh should o' gone."
"I should, huh!" retorted Penny. "I'd have to be gagged and hog-tied to go with that crazy wrangler, and even then I'd fight every inch of the way." She turned abruptly and pushed through the door into the living quarters of the house.
Gimlet blinked when the door slammed, almost in his face. He fingered his mustache reflectively andh'mmm'dthrough his knobby nose. "Gagged an' hawg-tied, eh," he muttered. "Keeee-ripes, but mebbe that's a good idee." He hurried across the kitchen in a busybody sort of stride and followed Yuma into the darkness.
Penny hoped to get upstairs and to her bedroom without having to talk any further. Her mental state was in the lowest depth of despondency she'd ever known. It seemed that the more she learned the more futile it becameto look ahead to happiness in Bryant's Basin. Her nerves felt drawn to a tension that threatened to snap them like catgut drawn too tightly on a violin. It seemed as if nothing that could happen now made a great deal of difference. She turned a corner of the hall and stopped. At the foot of the stairs stood Vince Cavendish.
At the sight of his cousin, Vince's shoulders seemed to droop, and his eyes assumed a woebegone expression that was something new. He advanced to the girl and said, "God knows what's goin' tuh happen to us, Cousin."
Penny had never heard Vince speak in that sort of tone. She looked at him suspiciously, wondering what was behind the beaten manner that was like a plea for sympathy. She moved her hand behind her as Vince sought to take it in his own.
"What's the matter with you?" she demanded. "You act like a sick calf."
"Double-crossed," Vince said hollowly. "Double-crossed by Uncle Bryant. He's sold the lot of us out."
Penny recalled some of the things Gimlet had told her. "How?" she asked.
"I already signed," said Vince. "The men 're upstairs now, gettin' Jeb's name on the paper, an' they'll get yours when they come down."
"My name to what paper?"
"One that Bryant had drawed up," went on Vince in a melancholy voice. "We gotta sign away any claim we might have on the ranch as his heirs. He wants tuh leave it all tuh someone else."
"Who?"
Vince shook his head. "Dunno."
"Why didn't Uncle Bryant tell us to sign the agreement, or whatever it is?"
"Left it tuh some o' the men tuh handle. He's gone in tuh Red Oak with Mort. Reckon they're waitin' there fer the boys tuh git the paper signed an' bring it tuh them there."
"I'll not sign a thing until I talk to him," said Penny flatly, "and in the meantime, I'm going to bed."
Vince shook his head slowly. "Yuh can't."
"Who's going to stop me?"
"Sawtell an' Lombard an' Lonergan will be done with Jeb in a few minutes. They'll see that you sign somehow."
Penny turned to go upstairs, but Sawtell's stocky figure appeared at the top of the flight. His voice was soft and smooth to match the bland expression of his wide face.
"Miss Cavendish," he said as he started down the stairs, "I'm glad you're back. We've something to talk about."
"You've nothing to talk about with me," the girl said to the descending man. "Any business you have for Uncle Bryant can wait until he gets back here."
Sawtell smiled. "I guess you don't understand. He won't be back here until we take some documents to him with your name and the names of your cousins signed to them." He halted at the bottom of the flight, and took a folded paper, covered with close writing, from his pocket. "Shall we go into the other room?" he said.
"You can do what you want, I'm going to bed," retorted the girl, starting once more.
Sawtell gripped her arm.
"Let go of me!"
"I don't want to use any harsh methods, Miss Cavendish," Sawtell said with his smile gone, and an impatient edge to his voice. "But I promise you, you're going to sign the agreement so we can start for town as soon as possible."
Penny jerked her arm free. She felt panicky, helpless, but dared not show it. Her gun was still on the belt about her waist, but the cartridges it had held were somewhere in the brush on Thunder Mountain. She was determined to get to her room, bar the door, and stay there until her uncle came home. No matter what Bryant did, she knew that he would let nothing serious happen to her. It was incredible that he'd left instructions, such as Vince had told her about, with men like Sawtell and Lombard. She wondered about Lombard and Lonergan. Gimlet had said they were here in the house. Upstairs? It was quite possible.
The girl looked toward the front door, then at Sawtell.
"There's no use putting us all to a lot of extra trouble," Sawtell told her. "You'll only make it harder for yourself."
"He's right," put in Vince, in a resigned voice. "They ain't no use puttin' off the signin' o' that paper. Might as well do it an' git it done with."
Penny's jaw was firm. "I won't do anything until I talk to Uncle Bryant."
Sawtell nodded slowly. "All right then, we'll have to bring Jeb down here." He called curt orders up the stairs, and in a moment Jeb, struggling between Lonergan andLombard, was practically carried down the stairs. His eyes were wide and staring, and his lean face white with terror.
"Do what they want," he cried to the girl. "No matter what it is, you sign it like what I done. If yuh don't they'll brand me with a poker."
"Take him to the fireplace," ordered Sawtell, "put some ropes around him, then come back for Vince. This girl will do what Bryant says, or she'll see slow murder, with a lot of pain."
"No, no," cried Vince, "not me!"
As if by magic a gun appeared in Sawtell's hand.
"You," he said, "as well as Jeb."
Penny watched the wide-eyed Jeb and the cringing, wincing Vince being dragged, howling, to the fireplace, where Lombard and Lonergan tossed ropes about them. The two were jerked off their feet and stretched on the floor, and more ropes looped about their ankles made them helpless. Sawtell, gun still in hand, watched the procedure, unmoved and expressionless. Lonergan's black eyes reflected the leaping flames when he faced Sawtell. His black mustache, so carefully brushed and tapered, seemed to twitch with his eagerness to make the next move.
Sawtell nodded, and the former gambler grabbed the poker in lean fingers and shoved it deep among the red-hot coals. Stark terror from their souls showed in the eyes of the captured men. Vince drooled supplications for mercy, begging Penny to sign Bryant's agreement and save him from the torture of the heated iron. Jeb wailed conglomerate quotations, misquoted, from the Scriptures.
Sawtell approached Penelope. "You have a few minutes to think it over," he said, "while the iron gets red-hot. Have you ever heard a man scream with the pain of being branded"—he paused, lowered his voice, and added "—in the eyes?"