"When your uncle dies Mulvey is goin' over to Beasley an' he's goin' to take all the fellars who'll stick to him.""Could Jeff be so faithless -- after so many years my uncle's foreman? Oh, how do you know?""Reckon I guessed long ago. But wasn't shore. Miss Nell, there's a lot in the wind lately, as poor old Al grows weaker. Mulvey has been particular friendly to me an' I've nursed him along, 'cept I wouldn't drink. An' his pards have been particular friends with me, too, more an' more as Iloosened up. You see, they was shy of me when I first got here. To-day the whole deal showed clear to me like a hoof track in soft ground. Bud Lewis, who's bunked with me, come out an' tried to win me over to Beasley -- soon as Auchincloss dies. I palavered with Bud an' I wanted to know.
But Bud would only say he was goin' along with Jeff an' others of the outfit. I told him I'd reckon over it an' let him know. He thinks I'll come round.""Why -- why will these men leave me when -- when -- Oh, poor uncle! They bargain on his death. But why -- tell me why?""Beasley has worked on them -- won them over," replied Carmichael, grimly. "After Al dies the ranch will go to you.
Beasley means to have it. He an' Al was pards once, an' now Beasley has most folks here believin' he got the short end of thet deal. He'll have papers -- shore -- an' he'll have most of the men. So he'll just put you off an' take possession. Thet's all, Miss Nell, an' you can rely on its bein' true.""I -- I believe you -- but I can't believe such -- such robbery possible," gasped Helen.
"It's simple as two an' two. Possession is law out here.
Once Beasley gets on the ground it's settled. What could you do with no men to fight for your property?""But, surely, some of the men will stay with me?""I reckon. But not enough."
"Then I can hire more. The Beeman boys. And Dale would come to help me.""Dale would come. An' he'd help a heap. I wish he was here,"replied Carmichael, soberly. "But there's no way to get him.
He's snowed-up till May."
"I dare not confide in uncle," said Helen, with agitation.
"The shock might kill him. Then to tell him of the unfaithfulness of his old men -- that would be cruel. . . .
Oh, it can't be so bad as you think."
"I reckon it couldn't be no worse. An' -- Miss Nell, there's only one way to get out of it -- an' thet's the way of the West.""How?" queried Helen, eagerly.
Carmichael lunged himself erect and stood gazing down at her. He seemed completely detached now from that frank, amiable cowboy of her first impressions. The redness was totally gone from his face. Something strange and cold and sure looked out of his eyes.
"I seen Beasley go in the saloon as I rode past. Suppose Igo down there, pick a quarrel with him -- an' kill him?"Helen sat bolt-upright with a cold shock.
"Carmichael! you're not serious?" she exclaimed.
"Serious? I shore am. Thet's the only way, Miss Nell. An' Ireckon it's what Al would want. An' between you an' me -- it would be easier than ropin' a calf. These fellars round Pine don't savvy guns. Now, I come from where guns mean somethin'. An' when I tell you I can throw a gun slick an' fast, why I shore ain't braggin'. You needn't worry none about me, Miss Nell."Helen grasped that he had taken the signs of her shocked sensibility to mean she feared for his life. But what had sickened her was the mere idea of bloodshed in her behalf.
"You'd -- kill Beasley -- just because there are rumors of his -- treachery?" gasped Helen.
"Shore. It'll have to be done, anyhow," replied the cowboy.
"No! No! It's too dreadful to think of. Why, that would be murder. I -- I can't understand how you speak of it -- so --so calmly."
"Reckon I ain't doin' it calmly. I'm as mad as hell," said Carmichael, with a reckless smile.
"Oh, if you are serious then, I say no -- no -- no! I forbid you. I don't believe I'll be robbed of my property.""Wal, supposin' Beasley does put you off -- an' takes possession. What 're you goin' to say then?" demanded the cowboy, in slow, cool deliberation.
"I'd say the same then as now," she replied.
He bent his head thoughtfully while his red hands smoothed his sombrero.
"Shore you girls haven't been West very long," be muttered, as if apologizing for them. "An' I reckon it takes time to learn the ways of a country.""West or no West, I won't have fights deliberately picked, and men shot, even if they do threaten me," declared Helen, positively.
"All right, Miss Nell, shore I respect your wishes," he returned. "But I'll tell you this. If Beasley turns you an' Bo out of your home -- wal, I'll look him up on my own account."Helen could only gaze at him as he backed to the door, and she thrilled and shuddered at what seemed his loyalty to her, his love for Bo, and that which was inevitable in himself.
"Reckon you might save us all some trouble -- now if you'd -- just get mad -- an' let me go after thet greaser.""Greaser! Do you mean Beasley?"
"Shore. He's a half-breed. He was born in Magdalena, where Iheard folks say nary one of his parents was no good.""That doesn't matter. I'm thinking of humanity of law and order. Of what is right.""Wal, Miss Nell, I'll wait till you get real mad -- or till Beasley --""But, my friend, I'll not get mad," interrupted Helen. "I'll keep my temper.""I'll bet you don't," he retorted. "Mebbe you think you've none of Bo in you. But I'll bet you could get so mad -- once you started -- thet you'd be turrible. What 've you got them eyes for, Miss Nell, if you ain't an Auchincloss ?"He was smiling, yet he meant every word. Helen felt the truth as something she feared.
"Las Vegas, I won't bet. But you -- you will always come to me -- first -- if there's trouble.""I promise," he replied, soberly, and then went out.
Helen found that she was trembling, and that there was a commotion in her breast. Carmichael had frightened her. No longer did she hold doubt of the gravity of the situation.
She had seen Beasley often, several times close at hand, and once she had been forced to meet him. That time had convinced her that he had evinced personal interest in her.
