Yet he had no thought of settling his differences with Ferguson as man
to man. Twice had he been given startling proof of the stray-man's
quickness with the six-shooter, and each time his own slowness had been
crushingly impressed on his mind. He was not fool enough to think that
he could beat the stray-man at that game.
But there were other ways. Rope Jones had discovered that--when it had
been too late to profit. Rope had ridden into a carefully laid trap
and, in spite of his reputation for quickness in drawing his weapon,
had found that the old game of getting a man between two fires had
proven efficacious.
And now Leviatt and Tucson were to attempt the scheme again. Since his
interview with Stafford, Leviatt had become convinced that the time for
action had come. Ferguson had left word with the manager that he was
to show the latter the rustler, and by that token Leviatt knew that the
stray-man had gathered evidence against him and was prepared to show
him to the manager in his true light. He, in turn, had left a message
with the manager for Ferguson. "We'll be ready for him," he had said.
He did not know whether Ferguson had received this message. It had
been a subtle thought; the words had been merely involuntary. By "We"
the manager had thought that he had meant the entire outfit was to be
held ready to apprehend the rustler. Leviatt had meant only himself
and Tucson.
And they were ready. Down in the blacksmith shop, while Ferguson had
ridden in and stepped into the manager's office, had Leviatt and Tucson
made their plan. When they had joined the group in front of the
bunkhouse and had placed themselves in positions where thirty or forty
feet of space yawned between them, they had been making the first
preparatory movement. The next would come when Ferguson appeared, to
carry out his intention of showing Stafford the rustler.
To none of the men of the outfit did Leviatt or Tucson reveal anything
of the nervousness that affected them. They listened to the rough
jest, they laughed when the others laughed, they dropped an occasional
word of encouragement. They even laughed at jokes in which there was
no visible point.
But they did not move from their places, nor did they neglect to keep a
sharp, alert eye out for the stray-man's appearance. And when they saw
him come out of the door of the office they neglected to joke or laugh,
but stood silent, with the thirty or forty feet of space between them,
their faces paling a little, their hearts laboring a little harder.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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