'Drag' Harlan Part 17

A sense of loss, of emptiness, still afflicted the girl, and yet through it all there ran a thrill of satisfaction, of a.s.surance that the steady-eyed man who had saved her from Deveny, and who had treated her like a courtier of old on the night she had killed Lawson, seemed to have her welfare in mind, seemed--despite the reputation the people of the country had given him--to have const.i.tuted himself her guardian, without expectation of reward of the kind she had feared he sought.

Harlan's method of a.s.suming control of the Rancho Seco had been direct and simple. When the twenty-seven men of the outfit had straggled into the yard surrounding the big corral--the chuck-wagon, bearing the cook and his a.s.sistant, trailing a little behind, and followed by the horses of the _remuda_ with the wrangler hurling vitriolic language in the rear--Harlan was standing beside Purgatory near the corral fence in front of one of the bunkhouses.

He had paid--apparently--no attention to the men as they dismounted, unsaddled, and turned their horses into the corral, and he did not even look at the belligerent-eyed cook whose sardonic glance roved over him.

But the men of the outfit watched him out of the corners of their eyes; as they pa.s.sed him to go to the bunkhouses, they shot inquiring, speculating glances at one another, full of curiosity, not unmixed with astonishment over his continued silence.

It was when, drawn by the wonder that consumed them, they gathered in a group near the door of one of the bunkhouses, that Harlan moved toward them.

For he had noted that they had become grouped, and that into the atmosphere had come a tension.

Harlan's actions had been governed by design. His continued silence had been strategy of a subtle order. It had attracted the attention of the men, it had intrigued their interest.

If he had spoken to them while they had been moving about on their different errands, telling them that henceforth he was to manage the Rancho Seco, they would have given him scant attention. Also, he would not have been able to study their faces as he had studied them while they had been watching him, and he would not have gained the knowledge of their characters that he now possessed.

Besides, a humorous malice possessed Harlan--he wanted to view them collectively when he gave them his news, to note the various ways in which they would receive it.

Absolute silence greeted Harlan's forward movement. He could hear the labored breathing of some of the men--men of violent temper who sensed trouble--and his grin grew broad as he halted within a dozen feet of the group.

"Boys," he said, slowly, "you've got a new boss. It's me. A day or so ago, crossin' from Pardo, I run into a ruckus at Sentinel Rock. Lane Morgan was the center of the ruckus--an' he got perforated--plenty. But before he cashed in he got a gleam of downright sense an' told me he'd been lookin' for me, to make me manager of the Rancho Seco.

"I'm reckonin' to be manager--beginnin' now. If there's any of you men that ain't admirin' to do the jumpin' when I yap orders to you, you're doin' your ga.s.sin' right now. Them that's pinin' to work under me is sure of a square deal, beginnin' now, and continuin' henceforth. I reckon that's all."

Into Harlan's eyes as he talked had come that vacuous light that had been in them when he had faced Deveny's men in Lamo--the light that was always in his eyes whenever he faced more than one man, with trouble imminent.

He saw the face of every man in the group--while seeming not to be looking at any of them. He noted the various shades of expression that came into their faces as they digested his words, he saw how some of them watched him with sober interest and how others permitted themselves a sneer of incredulity or dislike.

He noted that a tall, slender, swarthy man on the extreme left of the group watched him with a malevolent gaze, his eyes flaming hate; he saw a black-haired, hook-nosed fellow near the center of the group watching him with a grin of cold contempt.

It seemed to Harlan that a fair proportion of the men were willing to acknowledge his authority--for they were frankly studying him, ready to greet him as their employer. Many others, however, were as frankly hostile.

After Harlan ceased speaking there came a short silence, during which many of the men looked at one another inquiringly.

It was a moment during which, had a leader appeared to take the initiative for those who intended to dissent from Harlan's rule, the outfit might have been divided.

Evidently the tall, swarthy man divined that the time to dissent had come, for he cleared his throat, and grinned felinely.

Before he could speak, however, a short man with keen eyes that, since the instant they had rested upon Harlan, had been glowing with something that might have been defined as mingled astonishment and delight thinly concealed by a veneer of humor--said distinctly:

"You crossed over from Pardo--you say?"

Harlan nodded, and a pin-point of recognition glowed in his eyes as he looked at the man.

The other laughed, lowly. "Seems I know you," he said. "You're 'Drag'

Harlan!"

A tremor ran through the group. There was a concerted stiffening of bodies, a general sigh from lungs in process of deflation. And then the group stood silent, every man watching Harlan with that intent curiosity that comes with one's first glimpse of a noted character, introduced without expectation.

Harlan noted that a change had come over the men. Those whose faces had betrayed their inclination to accept his authority had taken--without exception--a glum, disappointed expression. On the other hand, those who had formerly betrayed hostility, were now grinning with satisfaction.

A tremor of malicious amus.e.m.e.nt, expressed visibly by a flicker of his eyelids, was Harlan's only emotion over the change that had come in the men of the group. He could now have selected those of the men who--as Lane Morgan had said--could not be trusted, and he could have pointed out those who had been loyal to Morgan, and who would be loyal to Barbara and himself.

Among the former were the tall, swarthy man on the extreme left, and the hook-nosed fellow near the center. There were perhaps ten of the latter, and it was plain to Harlan that the short man who had spoken was their leader.

"'Drag' Harlan--eh?"

This was the tall, swarthy man. The malevolence had gone from his eyes, he was grinning broadly, though there was respect of a fawning character in his manner as he stepped out from the group and halted within a few feet of Harlan.

"Me an' my friends wasn't none tickled to find that we was goin' to have a new manager. We was sort of expectin' Miss Barbara to do the runnin'

herself. But if _you_ say you're runnin' things, that makes it a whole lot different. We ain't buckin' 'Drag' Harlan's game."

"Thank you," grinned Harlan. "I saw you reportin' to Miss Morgan. You're straw-boss, I reckon."

"You've hit it. I'm Stroud--Lafe Stroud."

"You'll keep on bein' straw-boss," said Harlan, shortly. "I'm appointin'

a foreman."

"Where's Lawson?"

It was Stroud who spoke. There was a shadow of disappointment in his eyes.

"Lawson won't be needin' a t.i.tle any more," said Harlan, narrowing his eyes at the other. "He needs plantin'. Soon as we get set some of you boys can go over an' take care of him. You'll find him in the harness shop. He busted down the door of Miss Barbara's room last night, an' she made a colander out of him."

Harlan ignored the effect of his news on the men, fixing his gaze on the short man who had spoken first, and who was now standing silent, in an att.i.tude that hinted of dejection.

"You'll be foreman, Linton," he stated shortly.

Linton, who had been glumly listening, was so startled by the sudden descent upon his shoulders of the mantle of authority that he straightened with a snap and grabbed wildly at his hat--which dropped from his head despite his effort to clutch it, revealing a mop of fiery red hair. When he straightened, after recovering the hat, his freckled face was crimson with embarra.s.sment and astonishment.

"I'm obliged to you," he mumbled.

That had ended it. The following morning Linton came to Harlan for orders, and a little later the entire outfit, headed by Stroud, and trailed by the chuck-wagon and the horses of the _remuda_, started southward to a distant section of the big level, leaving Linton and Harlan at the ranchhouse.

And as the outfit faded into the southern distance, Harlan, walking near the larger of the two bunkhouses, came upon Linton.

Harlan grinned when he saw the other.

"You didn't go with the outfit, Red?" he said. "Seems a foreman ought to be mighty eager to be with his men on their first trip after he's appointed."

Linton's face was pale, his gaze was direct.

"Look here, Harlan," he said, steadily. "I've knowed you a long time, an'

I know that you're a d.a.m.n' sight straighter than a lot of men which has got reputations better than yourn. But there's some things want explainin'. I've sort of took a s.h.i.+ne to that little girl in there.

There's things brewin' which is goin' to make it mighty bad for her. It wasn't so bad while old Morgan was here, but now he's gone, an' she's got to play it a lone hand.

"You git riled an' sling your gun on me if you want to. I know I wouldn't have a chance. But just the same, I'm tellin' you. You know that more'n half that outfit you've put me at the head of is Deveny's men--sneakin', thievin', murderin' outlaws?"

"You wantin' to quit, Red?" said Harlan, smoothly.