Nevada (1995) (6 page)

"Lize, I heah you're thick with Link Cawthorne," said Nevada.

"Bah! You can call it thick, if you like," she returned
,
scornfully. "But I call it thin. He's a jealous tight-fiste
d
brag. He's as mean as a coyote. I was half drunk, I guess, when I
t
ook up with him. And now he thinks he owns me."

"Wal, Lize, wouldn't it be interestin' for me right now--if Lin
k
happened in?" drawled Nevada.

"Ha! Ha! More so for me, Jim," she trilled. "I'll give hi
m
something to be jealous about. But Link could never be interestin
g
to you. He's a bluff."

"All the same, Lize, if you'll excuse me I'll stand up an' let yo
u
have the chair," replied Nevada, coolly, as he extricated himsel
f
and arose.

She swore her amaze. "What the devil's come over you, Jim Lacy?"
s
he demanded. "Why, two years ago, if Link Cawthorne had com
e
roaring in here with two guns you'd have laughed and turned you
r
back."

"Two years ago! Lize, I've learned a lot in that long time."

With sudden change of manner and lowering of voice she queried
,
sharply, "Jim, did you kill Less Setter?"

Nevada had braced himself for anything from this girl, so at th
e
point-blank question he did not betray himself.

"Setter! . . . Is he daid?"

"Yes, he's daid," she replied, flippantly mimicking his Souther
n
accent. "And a damn good thing. . . . Jim Lacy, I lay that t
o
you."

"Wal, Lize, I cain't stop the wonderin's of your mind, but you'r
e
shore takin' a lot upon yourself," he returned, coldly.

She caught his hand.

"Jim, I didn't mean to offend," she said, hastily. "I remember yo
u
were queer about--you know--when you'd had some gunplay."

"Ahuh? Wal, there's no offense. Reckon I'm sort of hurt that yo
u
accuse me."

"Jim, I notice you don't DENY it," she retorted, with her brillian
t
searching eyes on him. "But listen. Only a few people i
n
Lineville have heard Setter is dead. You know how we keep mu
m
about that sort of thing. I heard it from a chance traveler wh
o
stayed here overnight. Setter had been shot by a wild-horse hunte
r
over in California. That was all. That reminded me of somethin
g
else. Last summer Steve Elkins saw you in a saloon in Hammell. H
e
used to come through here occasionally and he'd seen you. So whe
n
I remembered that, I remembered you had a grudge on Setter, als
o
that you loved wild-horse hunting, and I put two and two togethe
r
and figured YOU had done for Setter. But I've never mentioned m
y
suspicions to anyone. I'm not sure, but I don't believe anyon
e
here has connected you with that little gunplay. Cash Burridge wa
s
glad enough to hear the news, you can bet. He had been sent t
o
Arizona by Setter on some deal only the two of them were in. Cas
h
had a roll of money big enough to stop up a stovepipe. He went t
o
Arizona. And he never saw Setter again. That I know, for he tol
d
me so. Well, he didn't tell me how he'd benefited by Setter'
s
death. I figured that, too."

"Lize, you're shore a clever girl," said Nevada, admiringly.

"Reckon you hit most deals right on the haid. But shore I'd rathe
r
you didn't give me credit for removin' so many undesirable citizen
s
from the world. You used to do that. I'm not Billy the Kid, o
r
Plummer, or Wess Hardin."

"Have it your own way, Jim," she returned, with a sly laugh. "An
d
now for what I was coming to. Did you ever hear of Hardy Rue?"

"Wal, yes, somewhere or other that name struck me. Never saw th
e
man, though."

"He wasn't here during your time. But he's here now, and he's th
e
man for you to watch. I think he was Setter's right hand man an
d
came to Lineville to check up on Cash Burridge. They don't ge
t
along. I'd say Rue is a dangerous man. Deep sort of chap, seldo
m
talks, never drinks, hates women, and has an eye like a hawk.

He's . . . Hello! Somebody calling me. I forgot I have to work.

I'll see you later. You bet I want to be around when Link stroll
s
in."

She ran from the room, leaving Nevada with plenty to think about.

Yet he was considerably relieved that his name had not been openl
y
used in connection with Setter's death. That would have made hi
s
position less secure in Lineville. Not that security in thi
s
border town was possible for him or any other of its desperate men!

Gradually the gaming tables filled up. More than one keen-eye
d
player gave Nevada a curt nod of recognition. Probably everybod
y
in Lineville now knew of his return. There was nothing unusua
l
about that. All of these men were absent now and then. Nevad
a
felt that he labored with an unreasonable desire to be somebod
y
else, thus to avoid the complications sure to be woven around th
e
name Jim Lacy.

He was approached presently by two newcomers, one of whom, a littl
e
alert man, no longer young, with a face like that of a weasel, an
d
eyes that had a trick of opening and shutting quickly, h
e
recognized as Blink Miller.

"Howdy, Blink!" he replied to the other's greeting.

"You're lookin' fust-rate, Lacy," replied Miller. "Shake hand
s
with my friend, Hardy Rue."

Nevada found himself under the surveillance of a quiet, penetratin
g
gray gaze. This man Rue was matured, a stalwart type of mine
r
rather than the rangy rider. He had a hard lined face, wit
h
prominent chin and set thin lips.

"Care to drink with me, Lacy?" he inquired.

"No, thanks," replied Nevada. "Reckon I'm not fixed to buy drinks
,
so I'm not acceptin' any."

"Ain't you grown awful particular since you've been away so long?"
q
ueried Miller, with a smile.

"Wal, Blink, come to think aboot it, I have," drawled Nevada, wit
h
all his old cool carelessness. "Particular aboot not owin' anybod
y
favors an' particular aboot who I drink with."

Nevada, despite his calculations beforehand, could not help givin
g
that tart answer. If it was anything it was an instinct o
f
antagonism, quick to grasp antagonism in others.

Miller blinked at Nevada. "Reckon that's particular nice of you
,
Lacy. Nobody wants to buy drinks for a feller who's broke."

Then Rue gave Nevada an inscrutable look, more deceiving for th
e
pleasant voice with which he accompanied it.

"But you're not particular about throwin' a gun on--anybody?" h
e
queried.

Nevada's cool bright stare was not so deceptive. And then h
e
drawled: "Not at all--not at all, Mr. Rue. Shore it's just
a
habit. I never mean anythin' uncivil."

The two men passed on to a gaming table, where seats evidentl
y
awaited them. Nevada turned on his heel, muttering: "Damn the
m
anyhow. They just cain't let me alone."

Among others who entered presently was Cash Burridge. He was
a
tall man nearing forty, but he looked younger. He had the build o
f
a horseman, a fine figure in top-boots and spurs. Nevada was quic
k
to see where he packed his gun, and that was significant. Burridg
e
was a handsome, dissolute man, blond, with a curling mustache
,
almost gold, and light, gleaming, restless blue eyes.

Nevada knew that Burridge had seen him the instant of entrance, i
f
not before, and he wondered what the outcome would be. It did no
t
matter one way or another to Nevada. Burridge had been th
e
ringleader in the stage hold-up to which Nevada had been a party.

The one deed to which he owned with shame!

At length Burridge disengaged himself from his companions an
d
deliberately walked around between the tables to get to Nevada.

"Jim, I'm dog-gone glad to see you!" he said, extending his hand
,
and his handsome face corroborated his words.

"Howdy, Cash!" replied Nevada, meeting the outstretched hand.

"Reckon I'm glad you're glad to see me."

"It's good you blew in. I've often wondered what'd become of you.

I'll tell you, Jim, I'm not curious about where you've been or wha
t
you've been doin', but I'm plumb interested in what you're goin' t
o
do."

"Why so?" asked Nevada, not without surprise. He was not wholl
y
proof against Burridge's warm welcome.

"Are you goin' to hole up here this winter, same as the rest o
f
us?" queried Burridge.

"Reckon I am, as far as I know," returned Nevada, slowly feelin
g
his way.

"Broke?" queried Burridge, with a knowing look.

"Shore am."

"I'm not so well heeled myself, but I can stake you to a roll."

"Thanks, Cash. But I cain't borrow. I don't like borrowin', an'
m
aybe I never could pay back. I'll get a job for my keep heah.

An' the cairds an' drinks won't bother me."

"Jim, what'll you do after the snow flies?"

"I'll be hanged if I know," replied Nevada, truthfully enough.

"That's all I wanted to hear," spoke up Burridge, with grea
t
satisfaction. "I've got a deal on--the biggest I ever handled.

It's--"

"Cash, reckon you're not goin' to ask me to rustle cattle wit
h
you?" interrupted Nevada, severely.

"No. I swear I'm not," hastily returned Burridge, and if he wa
s
not sincere, he surely was a splendid actor. "By Heaven! it's a
n
honest deal, Jim."

"Wal, I'm glad to heah you say that. An' I'll listen to you."

"This ain't the place for us to talk. Besides, I've a poker gam
e
on. The deal I'm in is big; it's cattle, an' it's honest. I'v
e
got to have a hard-shootin' outfit, an' a leader with a reputatio
n
like yours."

"But, Cash, I heard you say this deal was honest," proteste
d
Nevada.

"If it ain't then I don't know what honesty is," declared Burridge
,
forcibly. "Sure my talk is plumb misleadin'. But you wait till I
t
ell you all about the deal."

"Wal, Cash, I'll shore try to be patient waitin'," drawled Nevada.

"I'm givin' you a hunch," rejoined Burridge. "Keep it t
o
yourself."

Burridge withdrew then to his card game, while Nevada returned t
o
his chair by the fire. "What the devil is Cash up to now?"
p
ondered Nevada. "Honest deal? Cattle? Hard-shootin' outfit . . .

I'll be darned."

Nevada discovered that the word honest inhibited all his deductiv
e
powers in relation to what Cash Burridge might be engaged in.

Cash's deliberate assertion was a poser. Nevada could not solv
e
it. But he grasped one significant fact at once, and that was
a
motive for Burridge's warm greeting. He had never before shown an
y
kindliness to Nevada. Where Burridge had any special interest h
e
could be agreeable, and, if the case required, most persuasive an
d
dominating. These traits, however, had never before been exercise
d
upon Nevada.