Brand Blotters - Page 179/180

The train drew into the station. Presently the conductor's "All aboard!"

served notice that it was starting. The outlaw shook hands with Melissy

and then with the mine owner.

"Good-bye. Don't forget that I'm coming back," he said, in a perfectly

distinct, low tone.

And with that he swung aboard the Pullman car with his heavy suitcase. An

instant later the Mexican vaquero pulled himself to the vestibule of the

smoking car ahead.

MacQueen looked back from the end of the train at the two figures on the

platform. A third figure had joined them. It was Jack Flatray. The girl

and the sheriff were looking at each other. With a furious oath, he turned

on his heel. For the evidence of his eyes had told him that they were

lovers.

MacQueen passed into the coach and flung himself down into his section

discontentedly. The savor of his adventure was gone. He had made his

escape with a large share of the plunder, in spite of spies and posses.

But in his heart he knew that he had lost forever the girl whom he had

forced to marry him. He was still thinking about it somberly when a figure

appeared in the aisle at the end of the car.

Instantly the outlaw came to alert attention, and his hand slipped to the

butt of a revolver. The figure was that of the Mexican vaquero whom he had

carelessly noted on the platform of the station. Vigilantly his gaze

covered the approaching man. Surely in Arizona there were not two men with

that elastic tread or that lithe, supple figure.

His revolver flashed in the air. "Stand back, Bucky O'Connor--or, by God,

I'll drill you!"

The vaquero smiled. "Right guess, Black MacQueen. I arrest you in the name

of the law."

Black's revolver spat flame twice before the ranger's gun got into action,

but the swaying of the train caused him to stagger as he rose to his

feet.

The first shot of Bucky's revolver went through the heart of the outlaw;

but so relentless was the man that, even after that, his twitching fingers

emptied the revolver. O'Connor fired only once. He watched his opponent

crumple up, fling wild shots into the upholstery and through the roof, and

sink into the silence from which there is no awakening on this side of the

grave. Then he went forward and looked down at him.

"I reckon that ends Black MacQueen," he said quietly. "And I reckon

Melissy Lee is a widow."

* * * * *

Jack Flatray had met O'Connor at his own office and the two had come down

to the station on the off chance that MacQueen might try to make his

getaway from Mesa in some disguise. But as soon as he saw Melissy the

sheriff had eyes for nobody else except the girl he loved. One sleeve of

his coat was empty, and his shoulder was bandaged. He looked very tired

and drawn; for he had ridden hard more than sixteen hours with a painful

wound. But the moment his gaze met hers she knew that his thoughts were

all for her and her trouble.