Atlanta Daily World

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
A LIGHT was burning in the Dawson cabin, and a low buzz of voices drifted out through the open window.
Rob turned sharply on the girl. "Who else is there?"
"Pap. I reckon."
Old Corny wasn't likely to give him any trouble, but Rob's hand reached for the gun on his hip. He wasn't taking half a chance on Lita's word. "You go in first."
He stayed close behind her in the darkness as she pushed open the door.
"Lita!" Corny broke into a shrill babble of words as he caught sight of his daughter.
"What kind o' tricks you up to now? What's Wayne goin' t' say"
His voice dribbled off into silence as Rob, Colt in hand, stepped into the lighted doorway.
The injured man's hand shot out from under the blankets.
Rob's gun-muzzle swung to cover him.
"Hold it!" The menace of death was in his low voice, and Calder's hand dropped.
He strode across the room and scooped up the gun that lay on a chair at the head of the bed. Corny crouched in his seat like a heap of old clothes.
"I suppose you're Mallory." Calder spoke with a poker-faced coolness.
"I take it Lita's been spinning you a yarn. You look like a man with too much sense to listen to the ravings of a jealous woman."
Rob sized the man up swiftly. A cool customer-on the surface, anyway-but there was no real toughness in those thin, chiselled features.
"I've seen you before," Rob spoke deliberately, "-in the jail last night. For a man your stripe, you keep odd company."
"I was in the saloon." The twisted mouth took on a deprecating smile. "I'd had a long ride I was thirsty.
Guess I wet my whistle a little too thoroughly. Liquor can make a sensible man do mighty foolish things, especially when he's in the company of fools. I'm sorry for it-I've got good reason to be."
He indicated his bandaged shoulder.
"Rusty's a better shot than I took him for."
The betraying venom in the last words settled any doubts Rob might have had. He leaned closer.
"Even after he killed a man in Dodge City?" he suggested softly.
"Only he didn't, did he? You did-"
"You're crazy!" Calder's laugh was convincing, but he couldn't conceal the flicker of fear in his eyes.
"Not half as crazy as you and your friend Cameron, when you tried to run your schemes on me.
A cheap crook and a tin-horn gambler," he laughed harshly, "thinking they could smash Rob Mallory!" Suddenly his voice was the lash that had cowed the mob
"Talk, feller! Your luck's run out. You might as well make it easier for yourself."
"You can't bluff me the way you did those nesters. You haven't got a thing on me except the word of a cheap little tramp no jury would believe!", There was almost as much hate as fear in the frozen eyes as they slid past Rob to rest for an instant on Lita."You'll need more than talk, Mallory!"
"guess I will." Rob's face was an emotionless mask, covering his bitter distaste for the next move.
Whatever he'd done, Calder was a wounded man, weaponless and helpless-but his sealed lips held the words that would free Kerry of a murder charge. Steeling himself, Rob clubbed the gun in his hand. Calder saw what was coming, and tried to dodge, but the barrel raked his cheek, laying it open from eye to chin A cry like a trapped animal's filled the cabin.
"Better talk, tin-horn," Rob grated, "if you don't want the left side of your face looking as bad as the other one." He raised the Colt again Calder's hands went up to shield his face, and his voice came from behind them in sobbing gasps.
"All right-I'll talk don't hit me again, Mallory!--I'll talk-!"
The gambler was broken completely. The words poured out of him, filling in details Lita had left out or not known. It was a wild, incoherent story as he told it, but Rob's brain put it together into a shape that made a grim sense.
"All right," he said, when he saw Calder was moaning more than anything. "You're coming to Broken Spur with me. Tomorrow we'll go to town and talk to Lacey Parran.
You, too," he added, his look including Lita and Corny.
He got the injured man up on his horse, watched Corny mount his old nag, and then, mouth tight, lifted Lita onto his own saddle and swung up behind her. They rode to Broken Spur in bleak silence.
Rob's first notion had been to take his witnesses to the sheriff, see that they told their stories, and let Lacey do the rest, but leaving things to others had never been his way. He had a fever on him to see this matter settled. Before he crossed his own threshold, he'd made up his mind to bring in Wayne Cameron himself.
First, though, with a grim sort of pity, he washed the gash on Calder's cheek, gave him a drink of whisky and made him comfortable on the couch,
"I'm riding out again," he told Lita briefly. "I'll be back in a couple of hours. You'll get your thousand when we've seen Parran -not sooner. That way, I'll be sure you'll stay around."
She moved up to him, laid both hands on his arm. "I'd stay, any-