The girl’s eyes gleamed for an instant with venomous satisfaction. Then she said, tremulously:
“And father?”
“I buried him near the rock,” returned Harlan, lowly.
Soundlessly, closing her eyes, Barbara sank into the dust of the street.
Harlan broke the force of her fall with his left hand, supporting her partially until she collapsed; then, his eyes alight with a cold flame, he called, sharply, his gaze still on the group of men:
“Get her, Gage! Take her into your place!”
He waited until Gage carried the slack form inside. Then, his shoulders sagging, the heavy pistol in his right hand coming to a poise, the fingers of the left hand brushing the butt of the weapon in the holster at his left hip, the vacuous gleam in his eyes telling them all that his senses were alert to catch the slightest movement, he spoke, to Deveny:
“I seen that desert deal. It wasn’t on the level. I ain’t no angel, but when I down a man I do it fair an’ square—givin’ him his chance. I sent that sneak Dolver out—an’ that coyote Laskar. It was a dirty, rotten deal, the way they framed up on Morgan. It’s irritated me—I reckon you can hear my rattles right now. I’m stayin’ in Lamo, an’ I’m stickin’ by this Barbara girl until you guys learn to walk straight up, like men!”
He paused, and a heavy silence descended. No man moved. A sneer began to wreathe Harlan’s lips—a twisting, mocking, sardonic sneer that expressed his contempt for the men who faced him.
“Not havin’ any thoughts, eh?” he jeered. “There’s some guys that would rather do their fightin’ with women, an’ their thoughts wouldn’t sound right if they put words around them. I ain’t detainin’ you no longer. Any man who thinks it’s time to call for a show-down can do his yappin’ right now. Them that’s dead certain they’re through can mosey along, takin’ care not to try any monkey business!”