“Meanin’?”
“Oh, hell—you know well enough what I mean. You’re not such a law-abiding citizen, yourself. I’ve heard of you—often. And I’ve admired you. To get right down to the point—I could find a place where you’d fit in just right. We’re needing another man—a man of your general size and character.”
Harlan grinned. “I’m thankin’ you. An’ I sure appreciate what you’ve said. You’ve been likin’ me so much that you tried to frame up on me about sendin’ Lane Morgan out.”
“That’s business,” laughed Deveny. “You were an unknown quantity, then.”
“But not now—eh?” returned Harlan, his eyes gleaming with a cold humor. “You’ve got me sized up right. The yappin’ I done about stickin’ to Barbara Morgan wasn’t the real goods, eh?”
“Certainly not!” laughed Deveny, “there must be some selfish motive behind that.”
“An’ you sure didn’t believe me?”
“Of course not,” chuckled Deveny, for he thought he saw a gleam of insincerity in Harlan’s eyes.
“Then I’ve got to do my yappin’ all over again,” said Harlan. “Now get this straight. I’m stickin’ to Barbara Morgan. I’m runnin’ the Rancho Seco from now on. I’m runnin’ it my way. Nobody is botherin’ Barbara Morgan except them guys she wants to have bother her. That lets you out. You’re a rank coyote, an’ I don’t have no truck with you except at the business end of a gun. Now take your damned, sneakin’ grin over an’ wet it down, or I’ll blow you apart!”
Deveny’s face changed color. It became bloated with a poisonous wrath, his eyes gleamed evilly and his muscles tensed. He stood, straining against the murder lust that had seized him, almost persuaded to take the slender chance of beating Harlan to his weapon.