could stand just so much of Rafe Arker and the filth that he lived in. Whatever Arker had for an answer was lost in the sound of the slamming door.
He breathed deeply, gratefully, of the fresh air as he rode the bay slowly through the cut. He wished he didn’t have to deal with a man like Arker. He couldn’t be trusted to follow orders as they had to be followed if this plan was to be a success. And, he knew, Arker resented him — his easy way of handling problems, his brains. Knowing this, he had plans to take care of Arker if it should become necessary.
Larabee always planned to take care of every contingency. He had been meticulous in his planning ever since that one time he had failed to do so — and had spent three years of his life in a prison cell.
Those same three years had developed in him his one great weakness — his overriding desire for revenge on Roy Cameron. At times the force of his hatred for Cameron frightened him. He had tried many times to cleanse his mind of this by trying to accept Cameron’s story about the bank robbery. But the facts as Larabee saw them added up to only one answer — Cameron had doublecrossed him.
During his time in prison he read through the warden’s library. And because the warden had once been a mining lawyer, Larabee came to know a great deal about the subject. After his release, he put his knowledge to work — he acquired properties cheaply and sold them at large profits. He made a good deal of money over the years, and he spent it — buying a home in San Francisco, buying land of speculation with long term profits in mind, and buying information about Roy Cameron.
At one time Larabee had four Pinkerton men working for him. And slowly he built up a picture of Cameron during the long, hate-filled years. More than once he was tempted to appear where Cameron worked and denounce him as a criminal masquerading as a lawman. But each time he curbed himself, knowing that in most western towns such a background would not be to Cameron’s disfavor. Too many lawmen had ridden the wild trails. But finally Cameron settled in Cougar Hill, and Larabee knew that here the temper of the people was different. Here, Cameron could be hurt.
And then, as if to mock all of Larabee’s efforts, his investments began to fail. His money disappeared. He mortgaged his home, sold his properties, and he found himself without the capital he needed to work the one big deal he hoped would make him a truly rich man.
The report he had received from the Pinkerton man who found Cameron in the Cougar valley country told Larabee a good deal about the town itself. And as he read it, he realized he might have found the way to finally revenge himself for those three years in prison and at the same time get the capital he needed. By train and then by stage, he worked his way to Idaho Territory. Here he learned all he could about Cougar Hill and the valley. He hired the Dondee brothers, men he had used before, and sent them ahead of him. He heard about Rafe and waited patiently for him to be released from prison.
Thinking about Arker made Larabee smile with satisfaction. He had handled the man perfectly. As far as Arker knew, their meeting a half day’s ride from the prison had been lucky coincidence. And Arker would go on thinking this, never realizing that he was being used. Or not realizing it until nothing he could do would change the inevitable. The fact that Arker would be destroyed did not bother Larabee. He despised men of Arker’s type. In his opinion, the world would be better off without them.
As he rode up the wagonroad to the benchland, Larabee thought of how easily he could have destroyed Roy Cameron. He could have killed him last night. Or he could have stood by and let him be killed. But that would not have been enough. Cameron had to know the pain of loneliness, of being without friends. He had to know the humiliation of defeat. And above all, he had to live long enough to know who had