Chapter X
_East and West_
Mrs. Adams, ironing in the kitchen, was startled by a peremptory ringingof the bell on the office desk. The Overland had arrived and departedmore than an hour ago. She patted her hair, smoothed her apron, andstepped through the dining-room to the office. A rather tired-looking,stylishly gowned woman immediately asked if there were comfortableaccommodations for herself and her daughter. Mrs. Adams assured her thatthere were.
"We had an accident," continued the woman. "I am Mrs. Weston. This is mydaughter."
"You are driving overland?"
"We were. We have had a terrible time. A man tried to rob us, and wealmost wrecked our car."
"Goodness! Where did it happen?"
"At a place called 'The Notch,' I think," said Alice Weston, taking thepen Mrs. Adams proffered and registering.
"I can give you a front double room," said Mrs. Adams. "But the singlerooms are cooler."
"Anything will do so long as it is clean," said Mrs. Weston.
Mrs. Adams's rosy face grew red. "My rooms are always clean. I attendto them myself."
"And a room with a bath would be preferable," said Mrs. Weston.
Her daughter Alice smiled. Mrs. Adams caught the twinkle in the girl'seyes and smiled in return.
"You can have the room next to the bathroom. This is a desert town, Mrs.Weston. We don't have many tourists."
"I suppose it will have to do," sighed Mrs. Weston. "Of course we mayhave the exclusive use of the bath?"
"Mother," said Alice Weston, "you must remember that this isn't NewYork. I think we are fortunate to get a place as comfortable and neat asthis. We're really in the desert. We will see the rooms, please."
Mrs. Weston could find no fault with the rooms. They were neat andclean, even to the window-panes. Alice Weston was delighted. From herwindow she could see miles of the western desert, and the far,mysterious ranges bulked against the blue of the north; ranges thatseemed to whisper of romance, the unexplored, the alluring.
While Mrs. Adams was arranging things, Alice Weston gazed out of thewindow. Below in the street a cowboy passed jauntily. A stray burrocrossed the street and nosed among some weeds. Then a stolid Indianstalked by.
"Why, that is a real Indian!" exclaimed the girl.
"A Navajo," said Mrs. Adams. "They come in quite often."
"Really? And--oh, I forgot--the young man who rescued us told us that hewas your son."
"Lorry! Rescued you?"
"Yes." And the girl told Mrs. Adams about the accident and the tramp.
"I'm thankful that he didn't get killed," was Mrs. Adams's comment whenthe girl had finished.
Alone in her room, Alice Weston bared her round young arms and enjoyed areal, old-fashioned wash in a real, old-fashioned washbowl. Who could beunhappy in this glorious country? But mother seemed so unimpressed! "AndI hope that steering-knuckle doesn't come for a month," the girl told aframed lithograph of "Custer's Last Fight," which, contrary to allprecedent, was free from fly specks.
She recalled the scene at the Notch: the sickening sway of the car; theheavy, brutal features of the bandit, who seemed to have risen from theground; the unexpected appearance of the young cowboy, the flash of hisrope, and a struggling form whirling through the brush.
And she had said "please" when she had asked the young cowboy to let theman go. He had refused. She thought Western men more gallant. But whatdifference did that make? She would never see him again. The youngcowboy had seemed rather nice, until just toward the last. As for theother man--she shivered as she wondered what would have happened if thecowboy had not arrived when he did.
It occurred to her that she had never been refused a request in her lifeuntil that afternoon. And the fact piqued her. The fate of the tramp wasa secondary consideration now. She and her mother were safe. The carwould have to be repaired; but that was unimportant. The fact that theywere stranded in a real desert town, with Indians and cowboys in thestreets, and vistas such as she had dreamed of shimmering in theafternoon sun, awakened an erstwhile slumbering desire for a draught ofthe real Romance of the West, heretofore only enjoyed in unsatisfyingsips as she read of the West and its wonder trails.
A noise in the street attracted her attention. She stepped to thewindow. Just across the street a tall, heavy man was unlocking a door ina little adobe building. Near him stood the young cowboy whom she hadnot expected to see again. And there was the tramp, handcuffed andstrangely white of face. The door swung open, and the tall man steppedback. The tramp shuffled through the low doorway, and the door wasclosed and locked. The cowboy and the tall man talked for a while. Shestepped back as the men separated.
Presently she heard the cowboy's voice downstairs. She flushed, andgazed at herself in the glass.
"I am going to make him sorry he refused to let that man go," she toldthe mirror. "Oh, I shall be nice to him! So nice that--" She did notcomplete the thought. She was naturally gracious. When she set out to beexceptionally nice--"Oo, la, la!" she exclaimed. "And he's nothing but acowboy!"
She heard Lorry clump upstairs and enter a room across the hall. Sheknew it was he. She could hear the clink of his spurs and the swish ofhis chaps. While she realized that he was Mrs. Adams's son and had aright to be there, she rather resented his proximity, possibly becauseshe had not expected to see him again.
She had no idea that he had been discharged by his foreman, nor that hehad earned the disapproval of his mother for having quarreled. Of coursehe had ridden to Stacey to bring the prisoner in, but he knew they werein Stacey, and Alice Weston liked to believe that he would make excuseto stay in town while they were there. It would be fun--for her.
After supper that evening Mrs. Weston and Alice were introduced toWaring, who came in late. Waring chatted with Mrs. Weston out on theveranda in the cool of the evening. Alice was surprised that her motherseemed interested in Waring. But after a while, as the girl listened,she admitted that the man was interesting.
The conversation drifted to mines and mining. Mrs. Weston declared thatshe had never seen a gold mine, but that her husband owned some stockin one of the richest mines in Old Mexico. Waring grew enthusiastic ashe described mine operating in detail, touching the subject with theease of experience, yet lightly enough to avoid wearisometechnicalities. The girl listened, occasionally stealing a glance at theman's profile in the dusk. She thought the boy Lorry looked exceedinglylike Mr. Waring.
And the person who looked exceedingly like Mr. Waring sat at the far endof the veranda, talking to Buck Hardy, the sheriff. And Lorry was notaltogether happy. His interest in the capture and reward had waned. Hehad never dreamed that a girl could be so captivating as Alice Weston.At supper she had talked with him about the range, asking manyquestions; but she had not referred to that morning. Lorry had hopedthat he might talk with her after supper. But somehow or other she hadmanaged to evade his efforts. Just now she seemed to be mightilyinterested in his father.
Presently Lorry rose and strode across the street to the station. Hetalked with the agent, who showed him a telegraph duplicate for an orderon Albuquerque covering a steering-knuckle for an automobile. When Lorryreappeared he was whistling. It would take some time for thatsteering-knuckle to arrive. Meanwhile, he was out of work, and theWestons would be at the hotel for several days at least.
There was some mighty fine scenery back in the Horseshoe Range, west.Perhaps the girl liked Western scenery. He wondered if she knew how toride. He was rather inclined to think that her mother did not. He wouldsuggest a trip to the Horseshoe Mountains, as it would be pretty dull atthe hotel. Nothing but cowboys and Indians riding in and out of town.But there were some Hopi ruins over in the Horseshoe. Most Easternerswere interested in ruins. He wished that the Hopis had left a ruinsomewhat nearer town.
Yet withal, Lorry was proud to think that his father could be sointeresting to real Easterners. If they only knew who his father was!Lorry's train of thought was making pretty good time when he checked itsuddenly. F
olks in town didn't know that Waring was his father. And "Thewhole dog-gone day had just been one gosh-awful mess!"
"Weston, you said?" Waring queried.
"Yes--John Archibald Weston, of New York." And Mrs. Weston nodded.
Waring smiled. J.A. Weston was one of the stockholders in the OrtezMine, near Sonora.
"The principal stockholder," said Mrs. Weston.
"I met him down there," said Waring.
"Indeed! How interesting! You were connected with the mining industry,Mr. Waring?"
"In a way. I lived in Sonora several years."
"That accounts for your wonderful descriptions of the country. I neverimagined it could be so charming."
"We have some hill country west of here worth looking at. If you intendto stay any length of time, I might arrange a trip."
"That's nice of you. But I don't ride. Perhaps Alice would like to go."
"Yes, indeed! But--"
"We might get Mrs. Adams to come. She used to ride."
"I'll ask her," said Alice Weston.
"But, Alice--" And Mrs. Weston smiled. Alice had already gone to lookfor Mrs. Adams.
Lorry, who had heard, scowled at a veranda post. He had thought of thattrip to the Horseshoe Range long before it had been mentioned by hisfather. Wimmin made him tired, he told the unoffending post.
Shortly afterward Alice appeared. She had cajoled Mrs. Adams intopromising that she would ride to the Hopi ruins with them, as thejourney there and back could be made in a day. Alice Weston was aglowwith excitement. Of course the young cowboy would be included in theinvitation, and Alice premeditated a flirtation, either with thatgood-looking Mr. Waring or Mrs. Adams's son. It didn't matter much whichone; it would be fun.
The Westons finally went to their rooms. Lorry, out of sorts withhimself and the immediate world, was left alone on the veranda.
"She just acted so darned nice to me I forgot to eat," he told the postconfidentially. "And then she forgot I was livin' in the samecounty--after supper. And she did it a-purpose. I reckon she's tryin' toeven up with me for jailin' that hobo after she said 'please.' Well, twocan play at that even-up game."
He rose and walked upstairs quietly. As he entered his room he heard theWestons talking. He had noticed that the door of one of their rooms wasopen.
"No, I think he went away with that tall man," he heard the girl say."Cowboys don't go to bed early when in town."
"Weren't you a little too nice to him at dinner?" Mrs. Weston said.
Lorry heard the girl laugh. "Oh, but he's only a boy, mother! And it'ssuch fun to watch his eyes when he smiles. He is really good-looking andinteresting, because he hasn't been tamed. I don't think he has any realfeeling, though, or he wouldn't have brought that poor creature toStacey and put him in jail. But Mr. Waring is different. He seems soquiet and kind--and rather distinguished."
Lorry closed his door. He had heard enough for one evening.
He did not want to go to bed. He felt anything but sleepy, so he tiptoeddownstairs again and out into the night. He found Buck Hardy in a saloonup the street. Men in the saloon joked with Lorry about his capture. Heseldom drank, but to-night he did not refuse Hardy's invitation to"have something." While they were chatting a rider from the Starr Ranchocame in. Edging up to Lorry, he touched his arm. "Come on out a minute,"he whispered.
Outside, he told Lorry that High Chin, with several of the men, wascoming to town that night and "put one over" on the sheriff by stealingthe prisoner.
"And you know what that means," said the Starr cowboy. "High Chin'll gettanked, and the hobo'll be lucky if the boys don't string him up. HighChin's awful sore about something."
Lorry's first idea was to report all this to Buck Hardy. But he fearedridicule. What if the Starr cowboys didn't come?
"Why don't you tell Buck yourself?" he queried.
His companion insisted that he dare not tell the sheriff. If High Chinheard that he had done so, he would be out of a job. And there was thereward. If the prisoner's identity was proven, Lorry would get thereward. The cowboy didn't want to see Lorry lose such easy money.
The subject seemed to require some liquidation, and Lorry finallydecided that he himself was the only and legal custodian of theprisoner. As for the reward--shucks! He didn't want blood-money. ButHigh Chin would never lay a hand on the hobo if he could help it.
* * * * *
Alice Weston, anticipating a real ride into the desert country and thehills, was too excited to sleep. She drew a chair to the window, and satback where she could view the vague outline of the hills and a worldfilled with glowing stars. The town was silent, save for the occasionalopening or closing of a door and the infrequent sound of feet on thesidewalk. She forgot the hazards of the day in dreaming of the West; nolonger a picture out of books, but a reality. She scarcely noticed thequiet figure that came round the opposite corner and passed into theshadows of the jail across the street. She heard the clink of a chainand a sharp, tearing sound as of wood being rent asunder. She peeredfrom her window, trying to see what was going on in the shadows.
Presently a figure appeared. The hat, the attitude, and manner seemedfamiliar. Then came another figure; that of the tramp. She grew tensewith excitement. She heard Lorry's voice distinctly:--
"The best thing for you is to fan it. Don't try the train. They'll getyou sure if you do. No, I don't explain anything. Just ramble--and keepa-ramblin'."
She saw one of the figures creep along the opposite wall and shuffleacross the street. She felt like calling out. Instead she rose andopened her door. She would tell her mother. But what good would that do?She returned to the window. Lorry, standing on the street corner, seemedto be watching an invisible something far down the street. Alice Westonheard the sound of running horses. A group of cowboys galloped up. Sheheard the horses stop. Lorry had disappeared.
She went to bed. It seemed an age before she heard him come in.
Lorry undressed in the dark. As he went to bed he grinned. "And theworst of it is," he soliloquized, "she'll think I did it because sheasked me to let him go. Guess I been steppin' on my foot the wholedog-gone day."
Jim Waring of Sonora-Town; Or, Tang of Life Page 10
