The Best Western Novels of William MacLeod Raine. William MacLeod Raine

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СКАЧАТЬ are they going to do with you?"

      "What would you suggest, Miss Phyllis?" a voice behind her gibed.

      The speaker was Weaver. He filled the doorway of the dining room triumphantly. She had had no fears for herself; he would see if she had none for her brother.

      The boy whirled on the ranchman like a tiger whelp. "I don't care what you do. Go ahead and do your worst."

      Weaver looked him over negligently, much as he might watch a struggling calf. To him the boy was not an enemy—merely a tool which he could use for his own ends. Phyllis, watching anxiously the hard, expressionless face, felt that it was cruel as fate. She knew that somehow she would be made to suffer through her love for her brother.

      "You daren't touch him. He's done nothing," she cried.

      "He shot at one of my riders. I can't have dangerous characters around. I'm a peaceable man, me," grinned Buck.

      "You didn't, Phil," his sister reproached.

      "Sure I did. He tried to take my gun from me," the boy explained hotly.

      "Take him out to the bunk house, boys. I'll attend to him later," nodded Buck, turning away indifferently.

      Stung to fury by the cavalier manner of his enemy, the boy leaped at him like a wild cat. Weaver whirled round again, caught him by the shoulder with his great hand, and shook him as if he had been a puppy. When he dropped him, he nodded again to his men, who dragged out the struggling boy.

      Phyllis stood straight as an arrow, but white to the lips. "What are you going to do to him?" she asked.

      "How would a good chapping do, to start with? That is always good for an unlicked cub."

      "Don't!" she implored.

      "But, my dear, why not—since it's for his good?"

      Passion unleashed leaped from her. "You coward!"

      He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm right desolated to have your bad opinion. But you say it almost as if you did hate me. That's a compliment, you know. You didn't hate the coyote, you mentioned."

      Her eyes flamed. "Hate you! If wishes could kill, you would be a thousand times dead!"

      "You disappoint me, my dear. I expected more than wishes from you. There's a loaded revolver in that table drawer. It's yours, any time you want it," he derided.

      "Don't tempt me!" she cried wildly. "If you lay a hand on Phil, I'll use it—I surely will."

      His eyes shone with delight. "I wonder. By Jove, I've a mind to flog the colt and see. I'll do it."

      The passion sank in her as suddenly as it had risen. "No—you mustn't! You don't know him—or us. We are from the South."

      "That settles it. I will," he exulted. "You have called me a coward. Would a coward do this, and defy your whole crew to its revenge?"

      "Would a brave man break the pride of a high-spirited boy for such a mean motive?" she countered.

      "His pride will have to look out for itself. He took his chance of it when he tried to assault me. What he'll get is only what's coming to him."

      "Please don't! I'll—I'll be different to you. Take it out on me," she begged.

      He laughed harshly. "Do you suppose I'm such a fool as not to know that the way to take it out on you is to take it out of him?"

      She had come nearer, a step at a time. Now she threw her hand out in a gesture of abandon.

      "Be generous! Don't punish me that way. Something dreadful will come of it."

      She broke down and struggled with her tears. He watched her for a moment without speaking.

      "Good enough. I'll be generous and let you pay his debt for him, if you want to do it."

      Her eyes were glad with the swift joy that leaped into them.

      "That is good of you! And how shall I pay?" she cried.

      "With a kiss."

      She drew back as if he had struck her, all the sparkling eagerness driven from her face.

      "Oh!" she moaned.

      "Just one kiss—I don't ask anything more. Give me that, and I'll turn him loose. Honor bright."

      He held her startled gaze as a snake holds that of a fascinated bird.

      "Choose," he told her, in his masterful way.

      Her imagination conceived a vision of her young brother being tortured by this man. She had not the least doubt that he would do what he said, and probably would think the boy got only what he deserved.

      "Take it," she told him, and waited.

      Perhaps he might have spared her had it not been for the look of deep contempt that bit into his vanity.

      He kissed her full on the lips.

      Instantly she woke to life, struck him on the cheek with her little, brown fist, and, with a sob of woe, turned and ran from the room.

      Weaver cursed himself in a fury of anger. He felt himself to be a hound because of the thing he had done, and he hated the instinct in him that drove him to master her. He had insulted and trampled on her. Yet he knew in his heart that he would have killed another man for doing it.

      Chapter IX

       Punishment

       Table of Contents

      The cattleman strode into the bunk house, where young Sanderson sat sulkily on a bed under the persuasion of Curly's rifle.

      "Have this boy's horse saddled and brought around, Curly."

      "You're the doctor," answered the cowboy promptly, and forthwith vanished outdoors to obey instructions.

      Phil looked sullenly at his captor, and waited for him to begin. One of his hands was under the pillow of the cot upon which he sat. His fingers circled the butt of a revolver he had found there, where one of the riders had chanced to leave it that morning.

      "I'm going to turn you loose to go home to the hills," Weaver told him.

      "And my sister?"

      "She stays here."

      "Then so do I."

      "That's up to you. There's no law against camping on the plains—that is, out of range of the Twin Star."

      "What are you going to do with her?" the boy demanded ominously.

      "If you ask no questions, I'll tell you no lies."

      "You'll СКАЧАТЬ