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Updated: June 13, 2025
It's likely he ain't at that. I've heard, bad as he is, that he plays square. An' if I was runnin' things I'd take a look at him before chargin' him with killin' Lane Morgan, when the killin' had been done by the Chief, an' Dolver, an' Laskar." It was Strom Rogers' voice.
Deveny was strangely silent, glowering toward the desert; Rogers folded his arms and faced the oncoming rider and the somber-coated animal he bestrode; Lawson scowled; and Laskar nervously estimated the distance that stretched between himself and the steady-eyed man who had told him certain things in a voice that had been entirely convincing.
If a girl could make up her mind to accept shame, bodily injury if she displeased, and a life of toil, she fared better under Blizzard's direction than her sister who worked for Ecbaum, let us say, the lacemaker, or Laskar, or any of a thousand East Side employers of labor. The man could be kind upon impulse, and generous. He paid the highest wages.
"You're wastin' your time, goin' to see Morgan Hatfield, the commissioner. Don't I know him? He tin-horned over at Laskar for two or three years before he got into politics; an' now he's tin-hornin' the cattle owners of the state. He'll grin that chessie-cat grin of his an' tell you he can't do nothin'. An' he'll do it! Bah! This country is goin' plumb to hell.
He was now leaning forward, a pout on his lips, watching Laskar with an intent, glowering gaze. "'Drag' Harlan!" shouted Laskar. His face lighted with a hideous joy as he watched the effect of his news. "'Drag' Harlan! Do you hear?" he went on. "'Drag' Harlan, the Pardo 'two-gun' man! He's headed toward Lamo.
He bored Dolver, an' he said that soon as Morgan cashed in he was hittin' the breeze for here!" Lawson, the man who had gone to meet Laskar, ejaculated hoarsely, and stood rigid, his mouth open, his eyes bulging. It was the involuntary expression of the astonishment and fear that had seized him. Laskar forgot the pain in his chest long enough to straighten and grin at Lawson.
And for an instant as their eyes met Harlan's level and cold, Deveny's aflame with a hostility unmistakable the crowd which had witnessed the shooting of Laskar again became motionless, while a silence, portending further violence, descended over the street. Then Deveny abruptly wheeled and began to walk across to the First Chance.
Some of them merely stepped into near-by doorways, others sauntered slowly down the street and halted at a little distance to look back. But no man made a hostile move, for they had seen the tragedy in which Laskar had figured, and they had no desire to provoke Harlan to express again the cold wrath that slumbered in his eyes. Meeder Lawson was the first of Deveny's intimates to leave the group.
Wondering, intensely curious for that word "trouble" meant shooting in the vocabulary of men of the Deveny type Barbara drew back until she was certain the men in the street could not see her. When Deveny and Laskar disappeared, Strom Rogers laughed sneeringly: "Deveny's scared of 'Drag' Harlan, I reckon. It's a cheap frame-up." "Aw, hell," jibed the other; "you're jealous, that's all.
If I'd been an inch nearer, or if he'd have kicked me a foot lower, or a foot higher, I'd be layin' out there where Dolver is now, the coyotes an' the buzzards gnawin' at me." Unmoved by Laskar's incoherence, Deveny calmly watched him. And now, when Laskar paused for breath, Deveny spoke slowly: "A black horse, you said. How did a black horse get there?
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