CHAPTER VI
THE BROTHERS
As Corliss rode up to the ranch gate he took the mail from the littlewooden mail-box and stuffed it into his pocket with the exception of aletter which bore the postmark of Antelope and his address in afamiliar handwriting. He tore the envelope open hastily and glanced atthe signature, "Will."
Then he read the letter. It told of his brother's unexpected arrivalin Antelope, penniless and sick. Corliss was not altogether surprisedexcept in regard to the intuition of Eleanor, which puzzled him, comingas it had so immediately preceding the letter.
He rode to the rancho and ordered one of the men to have the buckboardat the gate early next morning. He wondered why his brother had notdriven out to the ranch, being well known in Antelope and able tocommand credit. Then he thought of Eleanor, and surmised that hisbrother possibly wished to avoid meeting her. And as it happened, hewas not mistaken.
On the evening of the following day he drove up to the Palace Hotel andinquired for his brother. The proprietor drew him to one side. "It'sall right for you to see him, John, but I been tryin' to keep him inhis room. He's--well, he ain't just feelin' right to be on the street.Sabe?"
Corliss nodded, and turning, climbed the stairs. He knocked at a door.There was no response. He knocked again.
"What you want?" came in a muffled voice.
"It's John," said Corliss. "Let me in."
The door opened, and Corliss stepped into the room to confront a dismalscene. On the washstand stood several empty whiskey bottles and murkyglasses. The bedding was half on the floor, and standing with handbraced against the wall was Will Corliss, ragged, unshaven, and visiblytrembling. His eyelids were red and swollen. His face was white savefor the spots that burned on his emaciated cheeks.
"John!" he exclaimed, and extended his hand.
Corliss shook hands with him and then motioned him to a chair. "Well,Will, if you're sick, this isn't the way to get over it."
"Brother's keeper, eh? Glad to see me back, eh, Jack?"
"Not in this shape. What do you suppose Nell would think?"
"I don't know and I don't care. I'm sick. That's all."
"Where have you been--for the last three years?"
"A whole lot you care. Been? I have been everywhere from heaven tohell--the whole route. I'm in hell just now."
"You look it. Will, what can I do for you? You want to quit the boozeand straighten up. You're killing yourself."
"Maybe I don't know it! Say, Jack, I want some dough. I'm broke."
"All right. How much?"
"A couple of hundred--for a starter."
"What are you going to do with it?"
"What do you suppose? Not going to eat it."
"No. And you're not going to drink it, either. I'll see that you haveeverything you need. You're of age and can do as you like. But you'renot going to kill yourself with whiskey."
Will Corliss stared at his brother; then laughed.
"Have one with me, Jack. You didn't used to be afraid of it."
"I'm not now, but I'm not going to take a drink with you."
"Sorry. Well, here's looking." And the brother poured himself ahalf-tumblerful of whiskey and gulped it down. "Now, let's talkbusiness."
Corliss smiled despite his disgust. "All right. You talk and I'lllisten."
The brother slouched to the bed and sat down. "How's the Concho beenmaking it?" he asked.
"We've been doing pretty fair. I've been busy."
"How's old man Loring?"
"About the same."
"Nell gone into mourning?"
Corliss frowned and straightened his shoulders.
"See here, Will, you said you'd talk business. I'm waiting."
"Touched you that time, eh? Well, you can have Nell and be damned. NoMexican blood for mine."
"If you weren't down and out--" began Corliss; then checked himself."Go ahead. What do you want?"
"I told you--money."
"And I told you--no."
The younger man started up. "Think because I'm edged up that I don'tknow what's mine? You've been piling it up for three years and I'vebeen hitting the road. Now I've come to get what belongs to me and I'mgoing to get it!"
"All right, Will. But don't forget that I was made guardian of yourinterest in the Concho until you got old enough to be responsible. Thewill reads, until you come of age, providing you had settled down andshowed that you could take care of yourself. Father didn't leave hismoney to either of us to be drunk up, or wasted."
"Prodigal son, eh, Jack? Well, I'm it. What's the use of getting soreat me? All I want is a couple of hundred and I'll get out of this townmighty quick. It's the deadest burg I've struck yet."
John Corliss gazed at his brother, thinking of the bright-faced,blue-eyed lad that had ridden the mesas and the hills with him. He wastouched by the other's miserable condition, and even more grieved torealize that this condition was but the outcome of a rapid lowering ofthe other's moral and physical well-being. He strode to him and satbeside him. "Will, I'll give anything I have to help you. You knowthat. Anything! You're so changed that it just makes me sick torealize it. You needn't have got where you are. I would have helpedyou out any time. Why didn't you write to me?"
"Write? And have you tell Nell Loring how your good little brother waswhining for help? She would have enjoyed that--after what she handedme."
"I don't know what she said to you," said Corliss, glancing at hisbrother. "But I know this: she didn't say anything that wasn't so. Ifthat's the reason you left home, it was a mighty poor one. You'vealways had your own way, Will."
"Why shouldn't I? Who's got anything to say about it? You seem tothink that I always need looking after--you and Nell Loring. I canlook after myself."
"Doesn't look like it," said Corliss, gesturing toward the washstand."Had anything to eat to-day?"
"No, and I don't want anything."
"Well, wash up and we'll go and get some clothes and something to eat.I'll wait."
"You needn't. Just give me a check--and I won't bother you after that."
"No. I said wash up! Get busy now!"
The younger man demurred, but finally did as he was told. They wentdownstairs and out to the street. In an hour they returned, WillCorliss looking somewhat like his former self in respectable raiment."John," he said as they entered the room again, "you've always been agood old stand-by, ever since we were kids. I guess I got in bad thistime, but I'm going to quit. I don't want to go back to theConcho--you know why. If you'll give me some dough I'll take care ofmyself. Just forget what I said about my share of the money."
"Wait till morning," said Corliss. "I'll take the room next, here, andif you get to feeling bad, call me."
"All right, Jack. I'll cut it out. Maybe I will go back to theConcho; I don't know."
"Wish you would, Will. You'll get on your feet. There's plenty to doand we're short-handed. Think it over."
"Does--Nell--ever say anything?" queried the brother.
"She talks about you often. Yesterday we were talking about you. Itold her what Sundown said about--"
"Sundown?"
"Forgot about him. He drifted in a few months ago. I met up with himat the water-hole ranch. He was broke and looking for work. Gave hima job cooking, and he made good. He told me that he used to have a palnamed Will Corliss--"
"And Sundown's at the Concho! I never told him where I lived."
"He came into Antelope on a freight. Got side-tracked and had to stay.He didn't know this used to be your country till I told him."
"Well, that beats me, Jack! Say, Sun was just an uncle to me when wewere on the road. We made it clear around, freights, cattle-boats, andafoot. I didn't hit the booze then. Funny thing: he used to hit it,and I kind of weaned him. Now it's me. . ."
"He's straight, all right," said Corliss. "He 'tends right tobusiness. The boys like him."
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sp; "Everybody liked him," asserted Will Corliss. "But he is the queerestHobo that ever hit the grit."
"Some queer, at that. It's after nine now, Will. You get to bed. Iwant to see Banks a minute. I'll be back soon."
When John Corliss had left the room, something intangible went withhim. Will felt his moral stamina crumbling. He waited until he heardhis brother leave the hotel. Then he went downstairs and returned witha bottle of whiskey. He drank, hid the bottle, and went to bed. Heknew that without the whiskey he would have been unable to sleep.
The brothers had breakfast together next morning. After breakfastCorliss went for the team and returned to the hotel, hoping to inducehis brother to come home with him. Will Corliss, however, pleadedweariness, and said that he would stay at the Palace until he feltbetter.
"All right, Will. I'll leave some cash with Banks. He'll give youwhat you need as you want it."
"Banks? The sheriff?"
"Yes."
"Oh, all right. Suppose you think I'm not to be trusted."
"No. But we'll leave it that way till I see you again. Write in ifyou need me--and take care of yourself. When you get ready to settledown, I'll turn over your share of the Concho to you. So long, Will."
Will Corliss watched his brother drive away. When the team haddisappeared up the road he walked down the street to the sheriff'soffice. The sheriff greeted him cordially.
"I came for that money, Jim."
"Sure! Here you are," and the sheriff handed him a five-dollargold-piece.
"Quit kidding and come across," said Corliss, ignoring the significanceof the allowance.
"Can't, Will. John said to give you five any time you wanted it, butonly five a day."
"He did, eh? John's getting mighty close in his old age, ain't he?"
"Mebby. I don't know."
"How much did he leave for me?"
"Five a day, as I said."
"Oh, you go to hell!"
The sheriff smiled pleasantly. "Nope, Billy! I'm goin' to stay rightto home. Have a cigar?"
The young man refused the proffered cigar, picked up the gold-piece andstrolled out.
The sheriff leaned back in his chair. "Well if Billy feels that waytoward folks, reckon he won't get far with John, or anybody else. Toodinged bad. He used to be a good kid."
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