CHAPTER XXX

A WOMAN LIES

Lawler had said little to Sheriff Moreton on the ride to Willets.  Nor had he made any comment when, in the Circle L ranchhouse, in the presence of his mother, Moreton had shown him the statement signed by Della Wharton.  He had silently passed it back to Moreton; and had walked to Mrs. Lawler—­telling her why the sheriff had come; smilingly taking leave of her while Moreton, sweating profusely, turned his back and pretended to be interested in a picture on the wall.

“I reckon there’s somethin’ about this case that ain’t been brought out yet, Mrs. Lawler,” said Moreton when he was about to depart with his prisoner.  “But things has a way of comin’ out, an’ I reckon we’ll get Kane out of this before long.”

Outside, on their horses, Moreton rode close to Lawler.

“Kane, I reckon it’s a damn lie about you killin’ Link an’ Givens the way that Wharton woman says you did—­in that damned paper—­just malicious, without them deservin’ it?”

“Moreton, I told you my side of the story a couple of months ago.  It’s the lady’s word against mine.”

Moreton muttered much to himself during the ride.  He told Lawler how Warden had come to him with the statement—­the charge; and of how he had waited until Della Wharton had personally appeared before him to corroborate what she had signed.

“She don’t want to have her reputation dragged into it,” sneered Moreton.  “Well, before it’s over she won’t have no more reputation than a coyote!  I’ll make the thing so damned public that she’ll think I’ve hired a brass band to blare it all over the country!”

Lawler merely smiled.  He might have further increased the sheriff’s rage by showing him the signed confession in his pocket—­the confession he had secured from Link and Givens—­but he preferred to keep silent until he discovered why Della Wharton had brought the charge against him.

There were two possible motives.  One was that Della was still in the grip of the vindictiveness that had characterized her that last day in the cabin—­and had charged him with murder merely to be revenged upon him; the other was that she had been influenced to the action by Gary Warden.  He intended to keep silent until events explained the motive.  And he smiled faintly at Moreton when the sheriff opened the jail doors for him—­Moreton saying that he “hated like poison to do it.”

Two persons had watched Lawler and Moreton ride into town.  Warden, standing in the darkened windows of the Wolf Saloon—­deserted by its revelers shortly before—­saw Moreton and Lawler dismount in front of the jail, which adjoined the sheriff’s office.  Warden watched until he saw the two men enter the building—­until he saw Moreton come out alone and enter his office.  Then Warden smiled and walked to the door of a room in the rear of the saloon, where Singleton and several other men were playing cards.  He winked at Singleton, a signal correctly interpreted by the other, whose eyes quickened.  And then Warden returned to the front window where, later, he was joined by Singleton; for a long time both of them watched the southern sky, into which had crept a dull red glow, faint, and far away.