Desert Dust

by Edwin L. Sabin

  CHAPTER X

  I CUT LOOSE

  I nodded; rebuffing his attentive eyes I stuffed the envelope into mypantaloons pocket.

  "Good-bye, sir."

  "Good luck. When you come back remember the Queen."

  "I'll remember the Queen," said I; and with the envelope smirching myflesh I stepped out, holding my head as high as though my pocketscontained something of more value.

  The events of yesterday had hardened, thank Heaven; and so had I, into anobstinacy that defied this mocking Western country. I was down to theground and was going to scratch. To make for home like a whipped dog,there to hang about, probably become an invalid and die resistless, wasunthinkable. Already the Far West air and vigor had worked a change in me.In the fresh morning I felt like a fighting cock, or a runner recruited bya diet of unbolted flour and strong red meat.

  The falsity of the life here I looked upon as only an incident. The gaytawdry had faded; I realized how much more enduring were the rough,uncouth but genuine products like my friend Mr. Jenks and those of thatilk, who spoke me well instead of merely fair. Health of mind and bodyshould be for me. Hurrah!

  But the note! It could have been sent by only one person--thesuperscription, dainty and feminine, betrayed it. That woman was stillpursuing me. How she had found out my name I did not know; perhaps fromthe label on my bag, perhaps through the hotel register. I did not recallhaving exchanged names with her--she never had proffered her own name. Atall events she appeared determined to keep a hold upon me, and that wasdisgusting.

  Couldn't she understand that I was no longer a fool--that I had wrenchedabsolutely loose from her and that she could do nothing with me? So inwrath renewed by her poor estimate of my common sense I was minded to tearthe note to fragments, unread, and contemptuously scatter them. Had shebeen present I should have done so, to show her.

  Being denied the satisfaction I saw no profit in wasting that modicum ofspleen, when I might double it by deliberately reading her effusion andknowingly casting it into the dust. One always can make excuses tooneself, for curiosity. Consequently I halted, around a corner in thisexhausted Benton; tore the envelope open with gingerly touch. The foldedpaper within contained a five-dollar bank note.

  That was enough to pump the blood to my face with a rush. It was aninsult--a shame, first hand. A shoddy plaster, applied to me--to me, FrankBeeson, a gentleman, whether to be viewed as a plucked greenhorn or not.With cheeks twitching I managed to read the lines accompanying the dole:

  Sir:

  You would not permit me to explain to you to-night, therefore I must write. The recent affair was a mistake. I had no intention that you should lose, and I supposed you were in more funds. I insist upon speaking with you. You shall not go away in this fashion. You will find me at the Elite Cafe, at a table, at ten o'clock in the morning. And in case you are a little short I beg of you to make use of the enclosed, with my best wishes and apologies. You may take it as a loan; I do not care as to that. I am utterly miserable.

  E. To Frank Beeson, Esquire.

  Faugh! Had there been a sewer near I believe that I should have thrown thewhole enclosure in, and spat. But half unconsciously wadding both moneyand paper in my hand as if to squeeze the last drop of rancor from them Iswung on, seeing blindly, ready to trample under foot any last obstacle tomy passage out.

  Then, in the deserted way, from a lane among the straggling shacks, afigure issued. I disregarded it, only to hear it pattering behind me andits voice:

  "Mr. Beeson! Wait! Please wait."

  I had to turn about to avoid the further degradation of acting the churlto her, an inferior. And as I had suspected, she it was, arrivingbreathless and cloak inwrapped, only her white face showing.

  "You have my note?" she panted.

  There were dark half circles under her eyes, pinch lines about her mouth,all her face was wildly strained. She simulated distress very wellindeed.

  "Here it is, and your money. Take them." And I thrust my unclosed fist ather.

  "No! And you were going? You didn't intend to reply?"

  "Certainly not. I am done with you, and with Benton, madam. Good-morning.I have business."

  She caught at my sleeve.

  "You are angry. I don't blame you, but you have time to talk with me andyou shall talk." She spoke almost fiercely. "I demand it, sir. If not atthe cafe, then here and now. Will you stand aside, please, where the wholetown shan't see us; or do you wish me to follow you on? I'm riskingalready, but I'll risk more."

  I sullenly stepped aside, around the corner of a sheet-iron groggery(plentifully punctured, I noted, with bullet holes) not yet open forbusiness and faced by the blank wall of a warehouse.

  "I've been waiting since daylight," she panted, "and watching the hotel. Iknew you were still there; I found out. I was afraid you wouldn't answermy note, so I slipped around and cut in on you. Where are you going,sir?"

  "That, madam, is my private affair," I replied. "And all your efforts toinfluence me in the slightest won't amount to a row of pins. And as I amin a hurry, I again bid you good-morning. I advise you to get back to yourhusband and your beauty sleep, in order to be fresh for your Big Tentto-night."

  "My husband? You know? Oh, of course you know." She gazed affrightedlyupon me. "To Montoyo, you say? Him? No, no! I can't! Oh, I can't, Ican't." She wrung her hands, she held me fast. "And I know where you'regoing. To that wagon train. Mr. Jenks has engaged you. You will bull-whackto Salt Lake? You? Don't! Please don't. There's no need of it."

  "I am done with Benton, and with Benton's society, madam," I insisted. "Ihave learned my lesson, believe me, and I'm no longer a 'gudgeon.'"

  "You never were," said she. "Not that. And you don't have to turnbull-whacker or mule-skinner either. It's a hard life; you're not fittedfor it--never, never. Leave Benton if you will. I hate it myself. And letus go together."

  "Madam!" I rapped; and drew back, but she clung to me.

  "Listen, listen! Don't mistake me again. Last night was enough. I wantto go. I must go. We can travel separately, then; I will meet youanywhere--Denver, Omaha, Chicago, New York, anywhere yousay--anywhere----"

  "Your husband, madam," I prompted. "He might have objections to partingwith you."

  "Montoyo? That snake--you fear that snake? He is no husband to me. I couldkill him--I will do it yet, to be free from him."

  "My good name, then," I taunted. "I might fear for my good name more thanI'd fear a man."

  "I have a name of my own," she flashed, "although you may not know it."

  "I have been made acquainted with it," I answered roundly.

  "No, you haven't. Not the true. You know only another." Her tone becamehumbler. "But I'm not asking you to marry me," she said. "I'm not askingyou to love me as a paramour, sir. Please understand. Treat me as youwill; as a sister, a friend, but anything human. Only let me have yourdecent regard until I can get 'stablished in new quarters. I can helpyou," she pursued eagerly. "Indeed I can help you if you stay in the West.Yes, anywhere, for I know life. Oh, I'm so tired of myself; I can't runtrue, I'm under false colors. You saw how the trainmen curried favor allalong the line, how familiar they were, how I submitted--I even droppedthat coin a-purpose in the Omaha station, for _you_, just to test you.Those things are expected of me and I've felt obliged to play my part.Men look upon me as a tool to their hands, to make them or break them. Allthey want is my patronage and the secrets of the gaming table. And thereis Montoyo--bullying me, cajoling me, watching me. But you were different,after I had met you. I foolishly wished to help you, and last night theplay went wrong. Why did I take you to his table? Because I think myselfentitled, sir," she said on, bridling a little, defiant of my gaze, "topromote my friends when I have any. I did not mean that you should wagerheavily for you. Montoyo is out for large stakes. There is safety in smalland I know his system. You remember I warned you? I did warn you. I sawtoo late. You shall have all your m
oney back again. And Montoyo struckme--_me_, in public! That is the end. Oh, why couldn't I have killed him?But if you stayed here, so should I. Not with him, though. Never with him.Maybe I'm talking wildly. You'll say I'm in love with you. Perhaps Iam--quien sabe? No matter as to that. I shall be no hanger-on, sir. I onlyask a kind of partnership--the encouragement of some decent man near me. Ihave money; plenty, till we both get a footing. But you wouldn't live onme; no! I don't fancy that of you for a moment. I would be glad merely totide you over, if you'd let me. And I--I'd be willing to wash floors in arestaurant if I might be free of insult. You, I'm sure, would at leastprotect me. Wouldn't you? You would, wouldn't you? Say something, sir."She paused, out of breath and aquiver. "Shall we go? Will you help me?"

  For an instant her appeal, of swimming blue eyes, upturned face, tensedgrasp, breaking voice, swayed me. But what if she were an actress, anadventuress? And then, my parents, my father's name! I had already beencozened once, I had resolved not to be snared again. The spell cleared andI drew exultant breath.

  "Impossible, madam," I uttered. "This is final. Good-morning."

  She staggered and with magnificent but futile last flourish clapped bothhands to her face. Gazing back, as I hastened, I saw her still there,leaning against the sheet-iron of the groggery and ostensibly weeping.

  Having shaken her off and resisted contrary temptation I looked not againbut paced rapidly for the clean atmosphere of the rough-and-honest bulltrain. As a companion, better for me Mr. Jenks. When my wrath cooled Ifelt that I might have acted the cad but I had not acted the simpleton.

  The advance of the day's life was stirring all along the road, where underclouds of dust the four and six horse-and-mule wagons hauled water for thetown, pack outfits of donkeys and plodding miners wended one way or theother, soldiers trotted in from the military post, and Overlanders slowlytoiled for the last supply depot before creaking onward into the desert.

  Along the railway grade likewise there was activity, of constructiontrains laden high with rails, ties, boxes and bales, puffing out, theirlocomotives belching pitchy black smoke that extended clear to theridiculous little cabooses; of wagon trains ploughing on, bearing suppliesfor the grading camps; and a great herd of loose animals, raising aprodigious spume as they were driven at a trot--they also headingwestward, ever westward, under escort of a protecting detachment ofcavalry, riding two by two, accoutrements flashing.

  The sights were inspiring. Man's work at empire building beckoned me, forsurely the wagoning of munitions to remote outposts of civilization wasvery necessary. Consequently I trudged best foot forward, although onempty stomach and with empty pockets; but glad to be at large, andexchanging good-natured greetings with the travelers encountered.

  Nevertheless my new boots were burning, my thigh was chafed raw from theswaying Colt's, and my face and throat were parched with the dust, when inabout an hour, the flag of the military post having been my landmark, Ihad arrived almost at the willow-bordered river and now scanned about forthe encampment of my train.

  Some dozen white-topped wagons were standing grouped in a circle upon thetrampled dry sod to the south of the road. Figures were busily movingamong them, and the thin blue smoke of their fires was a welcoming signal.I marked women, and children. The whole prospect--they, the breakfastsmoke, the grazing animals, the stout vehicles, a line of washedclothing--was homy. So I veered aside and made for the spot, to inquire myway if nothing more.

  First I addressed a little girl, tow-headed and barelegged, in a singlecotton garment.

  "I am looking for the Captain Adams wagon train. Do you know where itis?"

  She only pointed, finger of other hand in her mouth; but as she indicatedthis same camp I pressed on. Mr. Jenks himself came out to meet me.

  "Hooray! Here you are. I knew you'd do it. That's the ticket. Broke loose,have you?"

  "Yes, sir. I accept your offer if it's still open," I said.

  We shook hands.

  "Wide open. Could have filled it a dozen times. Come in, come on in andsit. You fetched all your outfit?"

  "What you see," I confessed. "I told you my condition. They stripped meclean."

  He rubbed his beard.

  "Wall, all you need is a blanket. Reckon I can rustle you that. You canpay for it out of your wages or turn it in at the end of the trip. FustI'd better make you acquainted to the wagon boss. There he is, yonder."

  He conducted me on, along the groups and fires and bedding outside thewagon circle, and halted where a heavy man, of face smooth-shaven exceptchin, sat upon a wagon-tongue whittling a stick.

  "Mornin', Cap'n. Wall, I'm filled out. I've hired this lad and can movewhenever you say the word. You----" he looked at me. "What's your name,you say?"

  "Frank Beeson," I replied.

  "Didn't ketch it last night," he apologized. "Shake hands with Cap'n HyrumAdams, Frank. He's the boss of the train."

  Captain Adams lazily arose--a large figure in his dusty boots, coarsetrousers and flannel shirt, and weather-beaten black slouch hat. Theinevitable revolver hung at his thigh. His pursed lips spurted a jet oftobacco juice as he keenly surveyed me with small, shrewd, china-blue eyessquinting from a broad flaccid countenance. But the countenance wasunemotional while he offered a thick hand which proved singularly soft andflatulent under the callouses.

  "Glad to meet you, stranger," he acknowledged in slow bass. "Set down, setdown."

  He waved me to the wagon-tongue, and I thankfully seated myself. All of asudden I seemed utterly gone; possibly through lack of food. My sigh musthave been remarked.

  "Breakfasted, stranger?" he queried passively.

  "Not yet, sir. I was anxious to reach the train."

  "Pshaw! I was about to ask you that," Mr. Jenks put in. "Come along andI'll throw together a mess for you."

  "Nobody goes hungry from the Adams wagon, stranger," Captain Adamsobserved. He slightly raised his voice, peremptory. "Rachael! Fetch ourguest some breakfast."

  "But as Mr. Jenks has invited me, Captain, and I am in his employ----" Iprotested. He cut me short.

  "I have said that nobody, man, woman or child, or dog, goes hungry fromthe Adams wagon. The flesh must be fed as well as the soul."

  There were two women in view, busied with domestic cares. I had sensedtheir eyes cast now and then in my direction. One was elderly, as far asmight be judged by her somewhat slatternly figure draped in a draggledsnuff-colored, straight-flowing gown, and by the merest glimpse of herfeatures within her faded sunbonnet. The other promptly moved aside fromwhere she was bending over a wash-board, ladled food from a kettle to aplatter, poured a tin cupful of coffee from the pot simmering by the fire,and bore them to me; her eyes down, shyly handed them.

  I thanked her but was not presented. To the Captain's "That will do,Rachael," she turned dutifully away; not so soon, however, but that I hadseen a fresh young face within the bonnet confines--a round rosy faceaccording well with the buxom curves of her as she again bent over herwash-board.

  "Our fare is that of the tents of Abraham, stranger," spoke the Captain,who had resumed his whittling. "Such as it is, you are welcome to. We area plain people who walk in the way of the Lord, for that is commanded."

  His sonorous tones were delivered rather through the nose, but did notfail of hospitality.

  "I ask nothing better, sir," I answered. "And if I did, my appetite wouldmake up for all deficiencies."

  "A healthy appetite is a good token," he affirmed. "Show me a well man whopicks at his victuals and I will show you a candidate for the devil. Histhoughts will like to be as idle as his knife."

  The mess of pork and beans and the black unsweetened coffee evidently werewhat I needed, for I began to mend wonderfully ere I was half through thecourse. He had not invited me to further conversation--only, when I haddrained the cup he called again: "Rachael! More coffee," whereupon thesame young woman advanced, without glancing at me, received my cup, andreturned it steaming.

  "You are from the East, stranger?" he
now inquired.

  "Yes, sir. I arrived in Benton only yesterday."

  "A Sodom," he growled harshly. "A tented sepulcher. And it will perish. Itell you, you do well to leave it, you do well to yoke yourself with theappointed of this earth, rather than stay in that sink-pit of theeternally damned."

  "I agree with you, sir," said I. "I did not find Benton to be a pleasantplace. But I had not known, when I started from Omaha."

  "Possibly not," he moodily assented. "The devil is attentive; he ispresent in the stations, and on the trains; he will ride in those gildedpalaces even to the Jordan, but he shall not cross. In the name of theLord we shall face him. What good there shall come, shall abide; but theevil shall wither. Not," he added, "that we stand against the railroad. Itis needed, and we have petitioned without being heard. We are strong butisolated, we have goods to sell, and the word of Brigham Young has goneforth that a railroad we must have. Against the harpies, the gamblers, theloose women and the lustful men and all the Gentile vanities we will standupon our own feet by the help of Almighty God."

  At this juncture, when I had finished my platter of pork and beans and mysecond cup of coffee, a tall, double-jointed youth of about my age,carrying an ox goad in his hand, strolled to us as if attracted by theharangue. He was clad in the prevalent cowhide boots, linsey-woolseypantaloons tucked in, red flannel shirt, and battered hat from whichuntrimmed flaxen hair fell down unevenly to his shoulder line. He wore athis belt butcher-knife and gun.

  By his hulk, his light blue eyes, albeit a trifle crossed, and the generallineaments of his stolid, square, high-cheeked countenance I conceived himto be a second but not improved edition of the Captain.

  A true raw-bone he was; and to me, as I casually met his gaze, looked tobe obstinate, secretive and small minded. But who can explain those suddenantagonisms that spring up on first sight?

  "My son Daniel," the Captain introduced. "This stranger travels to Zionwith us, Daniel, in the employ of Mr. Jenks."

  The youth had the grip of a vise, and seemed to enjoy emphasizing it whilecunningly watching my face.

  "Haowdy?" he drawled. With that he twanged a sentence or two to hisfather. "I faound the caow, Dad. Do yu reckon to pull aout to-day?"

  "I have not decided. Go tend to your duties, Daniel."

  Daniel bestowed upon me a parting stare, and lurched away, snapping thelash of his goad.

  "And with your permission I will tend to mine, sir," I said. "Mr. Jenksdoubtless has work for me. I thank you for your hospitality."

  "We are commanded by the prophet to feed the stranger, whether friend orenemy," he reproved. "We are also commanded by the Lord to earn our breadby the sweat of our brow. As long as you are no trifler you will bewelcome at my wagon. Good-day to you."

  As I passed, the young woman, Rachael--whom I judged to be his daughter,although she was evidently far removed from parent stock--glanced quicklyup. I caught her gaze full, so that she lowered her eyes with a blush. Shewas indeed wholesome if not absolutely pretty. When later I saw her withher sunbonnet doffed and her brown hair smoothly brushed back I thoughther more wholesome still.

  Mr. Jenks received me jovially.

  "Got your belly full, have you?"

  "I'm a new man," I assured.

  "Wall, those Mormons are good providers. They'll share with you whateverthey have, for no pay, but if you rub 'em the wrong way or go to dickerin'with 'em they're closer'n the hide on a cold mule. You didn't make sheep'seyes at ary of the women?"

  "No, sir. I am done with women."

  "And right you are."

  "However, I could not help but see that the Captain's daughter is pleasingto look upon. I should be glad to know her, were there no objections."

  "How? His daughter?"

  "Miss Rachael, I believe. That is the name he used."

  "The young one, you mean?"

  "Yes, sir. The one who served me with breakfast. Rosy-cheeked and plump."

  "Whoa, man! She's his wife, and not for Gentiles. They're both his wives;whether he has more in Utah I don't know. But you'd best let her alone.She's been j'ined to him."

  This took me all aback, for I had no other idea than that she was hisdaughter, or niece--stood in that kind of relation to him. He was twiceher age, apparently. Now I could only stammer:

  "I've no wish to intrude, you may be sure. And Daniel, his son--is hemarried?"

  "That whelp? Met him, did you? No, he ain't married, yet. But he will be,soon as he takes his pick 'cordin' to law and gospel among them people.You bet you: he'll be married plenty."