doesn't care. He has always been cold blooded. You've wondered why I wouldn't marry him. That's why. He has the disposition of a tiger. He would kill anything or anyone that stood in his way. Even you, Uncle John."
He started and looked at her uneasily. "Why do you say that?"
"Because it's true. I know our tall and handsome man. He will allow nothing to come between him and what he desires. You've chosen some choice companions." She got to her feet. 'If you hear anything of Captain Kedrick, let me know, will you?"
Gunter stood still for a long time after she left. He swore bitterly. Connie was like her mother. She always had the faculty for putting her finger on the truth, and certainly, she was right about this. It was beginning to look ugly, but away down deep in his heart, he was upset less over Keith than over Burwick. That strange, fat, and dirty man was a thing of evil, of corruption. There was some ,foul thing within him, something cold and vicious as a striking snake.
Connie Duane was not the only person who was disturbed over the strange disappearance of Tom Kedrick.
Bob McLennon, unofficial commander of the forces for defense, sat in his rambling ranch house on the edge of Yellow Butte. Pete Slagle, Burt Williams, Dai Reid and Pit Laine were all gathered there. With them was Sue Laine, keeping to the background. Her dark, lovely eyes were stirring from one to the other, her ears were alert for every word. "Blazes, man!" McLennon said irritably. "Where could he have gone? I'd have sworn he went into that box canyon. There was no other place for him to go unless he took wings and flew. He had to go in there.'
"You looked yourself," Slagle said dryly. "Did you see him? He just ain't there, that's all! He got plumb away."
"He probably did that," Dai Reid commented. "A quick man, that Tom Kedrick. Hand or mind, he's quick." He drew out his pipe and stoked it slowly. "You shouldn't have jumped him," he continued. I k now the lad, an' he's honest. If he said that was what he come for, it was the truth he told. I'd take my oath he'd no knowledge of the k illin' . "I'd like to believe that," McLennon agreed. "The man impressed me. We could use an honest man on the other side, one who would temper the wind a bit, or get this thing stopped."
"It won't be that Shaw who stops. He's a murder-in' little devil," Slagle said. "He'll kill like a weasel in a chicken pen until there's nought left to kill."
"Kedrick fought me fair," Williams said. "I'll give him that."
"He's a fair man," Dai persisted. "Since a lad I've known him. I'd not be wrong. I'd give fifty acres of my holdin' for the chance to talk to him."
Daylight brought the first attack. It came swiftly, a tight bunch of riders who exploded from the mouth of the arroyo, hit the dusty street of Yellow Butte on a dead run, pistols firing, and then there followed the deep, heavy concussion of dynamite. As suddenly as they had come, they were gone. Two men sprawled in the street.
Peters, the man Shaw had faced down in the streets of Mustang, was one of them. He had taken three .44 slugs through the chest and died before he hit the ground. He had made one fine effort to win back his self-respect. He had seen Donnie Shaw in the van of the charging riders and rushed into the street to get him. He failed to get off a single shot.
The second man down was shot through the thigh and arm. He was a Swede who had just put ill his second crop.
The riders had planned their attack well ant' h ad worked near enough to the guards at the mouth of the arroyo, and had come at a time when no attack was expected. The one guard awake was knocked down by a charging horse, but miraculously, suffered only bruises. Two bundles of dynamite had been thrown. One had exploded against the door of the general store, smashing it off its hinges and tearing up the porch. The second exploded harmlessly between the buildings. The first rattle of rifle fire brought Tom Kedrick to an observation point.
He started and looked at her uneasily. "Why do you say that?"
"Because it's true. I know our tall and handsome man. He will allow nothing to come between him and what he desires. You've chosen some choice companions." She got to her feet. 'If you hear anything of Captain Kedrick, let me know, will you?"
Gunter stood still for a long time after she left. He swore bitterly. Connie was like her mother. She always had the faculty for putting her finger on the truth, and certainly, she was right about this. It was beginning to look ugly, but away down deep in his heart, he was upset less over Keith than over Burwick. That strange, fat, and dirty man was a thing of evil, of corruption. There was some ,foul thing within him, something cold and vicious as a striking snake.
Connie Duane was not the only person who was disturbed over the strange disappearance of Tom Kedrick.
Bob McLennon, unofficial commander of the forces for defense, sat in his rambling ranch house on the edge of Yellow Butte. Pete Slagle, Burt Williams, Dai Reid and Pit Laine were all gathered there. With them was Sue Laine, keeping to the background. Her dark, lovely eyes were stirring from one to the other, her ears were alert for every word. "Blazes, man!" McLennon said irritably. "Where could he have gone? I'd have sworn he went into that box canyon. There was no other place for him to go unless he took wings and flew. He had to go in there.'
"You looked yourself," Slagle said dryly. "Did you see him? He just ain't there, that's all! He got plumb away."
"He probably did that," Dai Reid commented. "A quick man, that Tom Kedrick. Hand or mind, he's quick." He drew out his pipe and stoked it slowly. "You shouldn't have jumped him," he continued. I k now the lad, an' he's honest. If he said that was what he come for, it was the truth he told. I'd take my oath he'd no knowledge of the k illin' . "I'd like to believe that," McLennon agreed. "The man impressed me. We could use an honest man on the other side, one who would temper the wind a bit, or get this thing stopped."
"It won't be that Shaw who stops. He's a murder-in' little devil," Slagle said. "He'll kill like a weasel in a chicken pen until there's nought left to kill."
"Kedrick fought me fair," Williams said. "I'll give him that."
"He's a fair man," Dai persisted. "Since a lad I've known him. I'd not be wrong. I'd give fifty acres of my holdin' for the chance to talk to him."
Daylight brought the first attack. It came swiftly, a tight bunch of riders who exploded from the mouth of the arroyo, hit the dusty street of Yellow Butte on a dead run, pistols firing, and then there followed the deep, heavy concussion of dynamite. As suddenly as they had come, they were gone. Two men sprawled in the street.
Peters, the man Shaw had faced down in the streets of Mustang, was one of them. He had taken three .44 slugs through the chest and died before he hit the ground. He had made one fine effort to win back his self-respect. He had seen Donnie Shaw in the van of the charging riders and rushed into the street to get him. He failed to get off a single shot.
The second man down was shot through the thigh and arm. He was a Swede who had just put ill his second crop.
The riders had planned their attack well ant' h ad worked near enough to the guards at the mouth of the arroyo, and had come at a time when no attack was expected. The one guard awake was knocked down by a charging horse, but miraculously, suffered only bruises. Two bundles of dynamite had been thrown. One had exploded against the door of the general store, smashing it off its hinges and tearing up the porch. The second exploded harmlessly between the buildings. The first rattle of rifle fire brought Tom Kedrick to an observation point.
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