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"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.
Besides, Morgan had qualified his instructions with: "Take a look at John Haydon, an' if you think he's on the level an' you want to drift on turn things over to him." Harlan did not want to "drift on." Into his heart since his meeting in Lamo with Barbara and during the ride to the Rancho Seco had grown a decided reluctance toward "drifting."
A physician, who for many years practiced his profession in the State of California, was called once to see the child of Mr. Doak, of Calveras County, living on the road between San Andreas and Stockton, and not far from the mining town of Campo Seco, or Dry Camp.
Those were the things Harlan craved for. Haydon saw it all, now. He saw that Harlan wanted to dominate everything. He wanted to rule the outlaw camp; he wanted to run the Rancho Seco; he intended to get possession of the gold that Morgan had left, and he wanted Barbara Morgan. The rage that had held Haydon in its clutch when he had called Harlan to him was reviving.
With an appreciative and glowing eye, Miss Brewster read from her mimeographed bill of fare such legends as "ropa con carne," "bacalao seco," "enchiladas," and meantime devoured chechenaca, which, had it been translated into its just and simple English of "hash," she would not have given to her cat.
Perhaps he was some kin of yours, do you think?" "A husband," said Santa cordially. "The Seco has done well. Mr. Yeager is one of the best stockmen in the West." The dropping out of a prince-consort rarely disorganises a monarchy. Queen Santa had appointed as /mayordomo/ of the ranch a trusty subject, named Ramsay, who had been one of her father's faithful vassals.
And when Hallowell remarked that Lane Morgan, of the Rancho Seco had declared he would give half his ranch to a trustworthy man who could be depended upon to "work his guns" in the interest of the Morgan family, the slow tensing of Harlan's muscles might have betrayed the man's emotions for Hallowell grinned faintly. Hallowell had said more.
Once, after they had ridden some distance up the valley, Barbara heard a man behind them call Deveny's attention to some horsemen who were riding the shelving trail that Deveny and his men had taken on their way to the level; and she heard Deveny laugh. "Some of the Star gang, I reckon. Mebbe Haydon, goin' to the Rancho Seco, to see his girl."
But he might be lying about the promise to her father merely for the purpose of providing an excuse to come to the Rancho Seco. It seemed to her that if her father had really exacted a promise from him he would have written to her, or sent her some token to prove the genuineness of it. There was no visible evidence of Harlan's truthfulness.
And into his eyes came a glitter of that cold contempt which Haydon had seen in them on the day he had faced Harlan near the bunkhouse at the Rancho Seco. "You're doin' the honors, Haydon," he said. "If you're that kind of a coyote I don't want to deal with you. If you think you want to pass up a share of that hundred thousand, start yappin' to them boys.
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