CHAPTER V
A TELEGRAM AND A GIRL
Banker Braman went to bed on the cot in the back room shortly afterCorrigan departed from Manti. He stretched himself out with a sigh,oppressed with the conviction that he had done a bad day's work inantagonizing Trevison. The Diamond K owner would repay him, he knew. Buthe knew, too, that he need have no fear that Trevison would sneak aboutit. Therefore he did not expect to feel Trevison at his throat during thenight. That was some satisfaction.
He dropped to sleep, thinking of Trevison. He awoke about dawn to a loudhammering on the rear door, and he scrambled out of bed and opened thedoor upon the telegraph agent. That gentleman gazed at him with grimreproof.
"Holy Moses!" he said; "you're a hell of a tight sleeper! I've beenpounding on this door for an age!" He shoved a sheet of paper underBraman's nose. "Here's a telegram for you."
Braman took the telegram, scanning it, while the agent talked on,ramblingly. A sickly smile came over Braman's face when he finishedreading, and then he listened to the agent:
"I got a wire a little after midnight, asking me if that man, Corrigan,was still in Manti. The engineer told me he was taking Corrigan back toDry Bottom at midnight, and so I knew he wasn't here, and I clicked back'No.' It was from J. C. He must have connected with Corrigan at DryBottom. That guy Trevison must have old Benham's goat, eh?"
Braman re-read the telegram; it was directed to him:
Send my daughter to Trevison with cash in amount of check destroyed by Corrigan yesterday. Instruct her to say mistake made. No offense intended. Hustle. J. C. BENHAM.
Braman slipped his clothes on and ran down the track to the private car.He had known J. C. Benham several years and was aware that when he issuedan order he wanted it obeyed, literally. The negro autocrat of the privatecar met him at the platform and grinned amply at the banker's request.
"Miss Benham done tol' me she am not to be disturbed till eight o'clock,"he objected. But the telegram in Braman's hands had instant effect uponthe black custodian of the car, and shortly afterward Miss Benham waslooking at the banker and his telegram in sleepy-eyed astonishment, thedoor of her compartment open only far enough to permit her to stick herhead out.
Braman was forced to do much explaining, and concluded by reading thetelegram to her. She drew everything out of him except the story of thefight.
"Well," she said in the end, "I suppose I shall have to go. So his name is'Brand' Trevison. And he won't permit the men to work. Why did Mr.Corrigan destroy the check?"
Braman evaded, but the girl thought she knew. Corrigan had yielded to animpulse of obstinacy provoked by Trevison's assault on him. It was notgood business--it was almost childish; but it was human to feel that way.She felt a slight disappointment in Corrigan, though; the action did notquite accord with her previous estimate of him. She did not know what tothink of Trevison. But of course any man who would deliberately andbrutally ride another man down, would naturally not hesitate to adoptother lawless means of defending himself.
She told Braman to have the money ready for her in an hour, and at the endof that time with her morocco handbag bulging, she emerged from the frontdoor of the bank and climbed the steps of the private car, which had beenpulled down to a point in front of the station by the dinky engine, withMurphy presiding at the throttle.
Carson was standing on the platform when Miss Benham climbed to it, and hegrinned and greeted her with:
"If ye have no objections, ma'am, I'll be ridin' down to the cut with ye.Me name's Patrick Carson, ma'am."
"I have no objection whatever," said the lady, graciously. "I presume youare connected with the railroad?"
"An' wid the ginneys that's buildin' it, ma'am," he supplemented. "I'm theconstruction boss av this section, an' I'm the mon that had the unhappyexperience av lookin' into the business end av 'Firebrand's' six-shooteryisterday."
"'Firebrand's'?" she said, with a puzzled look at him.
"Thot mon, Trevison, ma'am; that's what they call him. An' he fits itbedad--beggin' your pardon."
"Oh," she said; "then you know him." And she felt a sudden interest inCarson.
"Enough to be certain he ain't to be monkeyed with, ma'am."
She seemed to ignore this. "Please tell the engineer to go ahead," shetold him. "And then come into the car--I want to talk with you."
A little later, with the car clicking slowly over the rail-joints towardthe cut, Carson diffidently followed the negro attendant into a luxuriouscompartment, in which, seated in a big leather-covered chair, was MissBenham. She motioned Carson to another chair, and in the conversation thatfollowed Miss Benham received a comprehensive estimate of Trevison fromCarson's viewpoint. It seemed unsatisfying to her--Carson's commendationdid not appear to coincide with Trevison's performances.
"Have you heard what happened in Manti yesterday?" she questioned. "Thisman, Trevison, jumped his horse against Mr. Corrigan and knocked himdown."
"I heard av it," grinned Carson. "But I didn't see it. Nor did I see thedaisy scrap that tuk place right after."
"Fight?" she exclaimed.
Carson reddened. "Sure, ye haven't heard av it, an' I'm blabbin' like akid."
"Tell me about it." Her eyes were aglow with interest.
"There's devilish little to tell--beggin' your pardon, ma'am. But thimthat was in at the finish is waggin' their tongues about it bein' a dandyshindy. Judgin' from the talk, nobuddy got licked--it was a fair dhraw.But I sh'ud judge, lookin' at Corrigan's face, that it was a darlin' av ascrap."
She was silent, gazing contemplatively out of the car window. Corrigan hadreturned, after escorting her to the car, to engage in a fight withTrevison. That was what had occupied him; that was why he had gone awaywithout seeing her. Well, Trevison had given him plenty of provocation.
"Trevison's horse knockin' Corrigan down was what started it, they've beentellin' me," said Carson. "But thim that know Trevison's black knows thatTrevison wasn't to blame."
"Not to blame?" she asked; "why not?"
"For the simple rayson thot in a case like thot the mon has no controlover the baste, ma'am. 'Firebrand' told me only yisterday mornin' thotthere was no holdin' the black whin somebuddy tried to shoot wid him onhis back."
The girl remembered how Trevison had tried to speak to her immediatelyafter the upsetting of Corrigan, and she knew now, that he had wanted toexplain his action. Reviewing the incident in the light of Carson'sexplanation, she felt that Corrigan was quite as much at fault asTrevison. Somehow, that knowledge was vaguely satisfying.
She did not succeed in questioning Carson further about Trevison, thoughthere were many points over which she felt a disturbing curiosity, forAgatha came in presently, and after nodding stiffly to Carson, seatedherself and gazed aloofly out of a window.
Carson, ill at ease in Agatha's presence, soon invented an excuse to goout upon the platform, leaving Rosalind to explain his presence in thecar.
"What on earth could you have to say to a section boss--or he to you?"demanded Agatha. "You are becoming very--er--indiscreet, Rosalind."
The girl smiled. It was a smile that would have betrayed the girl hadAgatha possessed the physiognomist's faculty of analyzation, for in it wasmuch relief and renewed faith. For the rider of the black horse was notthe brutal creature she had thought him.
* * * * *
When the private car came to a stop, Rosalind looked out of the window tosee the steep wall of the cut towering above her. Aunt Agatha still satnear, and when Rosalind got up Agatha rose also, registering anobjection:
"I think your father might have arranged to have some _man_ meet thisoutlaw. It is not, in my opinion, a proper errand for a girl. But if youare determined to go, I presume I shall have to follow."
"It won't be necessary," said Rosalind. But Agatha set her lips tightly.And when the girl reached the platform Agatha was close behind her.
But both halted on the platform as they were about to descend t
he steps.They heard Carson's voice, loud and argumentative:
"There's a lady aboored, I tell ye! If ye shoot, you're a lot of damnedrapscallions, an' I'll come up there an' bate the head off ye!"
"Stow your gab an' produce the lady!" answered a voice. It came fromabove, and Rosalind stepped down to the floor of the cut and lookedupward. On the crest of the southern wall were a dozen men--cowboys--armedwith rifles, peering down at the car. They shifted their gaze to her whenshe stepped into view, and one of them laughed.
"Correct, boys," he said; "it's a lady." There was a short silence;Rosalind saw the men gather close--they were talking, but she could nothear their voices. Then the man who had spoken first stepped to the edgeof the cut and called: "What do you want?"
The girl answered: "I want to speak with Mr. Trevison."
"Sorry, ma'am," came back the voice; "but Trevison ain't here--he's at theDiamond K."
Rosalind reached a decision quickly. "Aunty," she said; "I am going to theDiamond K."
"I forbid you!" said Agatha sternly. "I would not trust you an instantwith those outlaws!"
"Nonsense," smiled Rosalind. "I am coming up," she called to the man onthe crest; "do you mind?"
The man laughed. "I reckon not, ma'am."
Rosalind smiled at Carson, who was watching her admiringly, and to thesmile he answered, pointing eastward to where the slope of the hill meltedinto the plains: "You'll have to go thot way, ma'am." He laughed. "You'reperfectly safe wid thim min, ma'am--they're Trevison's--an' Trevison wudshoot the last mon av thim if they'd harm a hair av your pretty head. Goalong, ma'am, an' God bless ye! Ye'll be savin' a heap av throuble for mean' me ginneys, an' the railroad company." He looked with bland derisionat Agatha who gave him a glance of scornful reproof as she followed afterher charge.
The girl was panting when she reached the crest of the cut. Agatha was alittle white, possibly more from apprehension than from indignation,though that emotion had its influence; but their reception could not havebeen more formal had it taken place in an eastern drawing-room. For everyhat was off, and each man was trying his best to conceal his interest. Andwhen men have not seen a woman for a long time, the appearance of a prettyone makes it rather hard to maintain polite poise. But they succeeded,which spoke well for their manliness. If they exchanged surreptitiouswinks over the appearance of Agatha, they are to be excused, for thatlady's demeanor was one of frigid haughtiness, which is never quiteimpressive to those who live close to nature.
In an exchange of words, brief and pointed, Rosalind learned that it wasthree miles to the Diamond K ranchhouse, and that Trevison had givenorders not to be disturbed unless the railroad company attempted tocontinue work at the cut. Could she borrow one of their horses, and aguide?
"You bet!" emphatically returned the spokesman who, she learned later, wasTrevison's foreman. She should have the gentlest "cayuse" in the "bunch,"and the foreman would do the guiding, himself. At which word Agatha,noting the foreman's enthusiasm, glared coldly at him.
But here Agatha was balked by the insurmountable wall of convention. Shehad ridden horses, to be sure, in her younger days; but when the foreman,at Rosalind's request, offered her a pony, she sniffed scornfully andmarched down the slope toward the private car, saying that if Rosalind was_determined_ to persist she might persist without _her_ assistance. Forthere was no side-saddle in the riding equipment of the outfit. AndRosalind, quite aware of the prudishness exhibited by her chaperon, andnot unmindful of the mirth that the men were trying their best to keepconcealed, rode on with the foreman, with something resemblingthankfulness for the temporary freedom tugging at her heart.
* * * * *
Trevison had camped all night on the crest of the cut. It was only at dawnthat Barkwell, the foreman who had escorted Rosalind, had appeared at thecut on his way to town, and discovered him, and then the foreman's planswere changed and he was dispatched to the Diamond K for reinforcements.Trevison had ridden back to the Diamond K to care for his arm, which hadpained him frightfully during the night, and at ten o'clock in the morninghe was stretched out, fully dressed and wide awake on the bed in his roomin the ranchhouse, frowningly reviewing the events of the day before.
He was in no good humor, and when he heard Barkwell hallooing from theyard near the house, he got up and looked out of a window, a scowl on hisface.
Rosalind was not in the best of spirits, herself, for during the ride tothe ranchhouse she had been sending subtly-questioning shafts at theforeman--questions that mostly concerned Trevison--and they had all fell,blunted and impotent, from the armor of Barkwell's reticence. But a glanceat Trevison's face, ludicrous in its expression of stunned amazement,brought a broad smile to her own. She saw his lips form her name, and thenshe waited demurely until she saw him coming out of the ranchhouse doortoward her.
He had quite recovered from his surprise, she noted; his manner was thatof the day before, when she had seen him riding the black horse. When shesaw him coming lightly toward her, she at first had eyes for nothing buthis perfect figure, feeling the strength that his close-fitting clothingrevealed so unmistakably, and an unaccountable blush glowed in her cheeks.And then she observed that his left arm was in a sling, and a flash ofwondering concern swept over her--also unaccountable. And then he was ather stirrup, smiling up at her broadly and cordially.
"Welcome to the Diamond K, Miss Benham," he said. "Won't you get off yourhorse?"
"Thank you; I came on business and must return immediately. There has beena misunderstanding, my father says. He wired me, directing me toapologize, for him, for Mr. Corrigan's actions of yesterday. Perhaps Mr.Corrigan over-stepped his authority--I have no means of knowing." Shepassed the morocco bag over to him, and he took it, looking at it in someperplexity. "You will find cash in there to the amount named by the checkthat Mr. Corrigan destroyed. I hope," she added, smiling at him, "thatthere will be no more trouble."
"The payment of this money for the right-of-way removes the provocationfor trouble," he laughed. "Barkwell," he directed, turning to the foreman;"you may go back to the outfit." He looked after the foreman as the latterrode away, turning presently to Rosalind. "If you will wait a few minutes,until I stow this money in a safe place, I'll ride back to the cut withyou and pull the boys off."
She had wondered much over the rifles in the hands of his men at the cut."Would your men have used their guns?" she asked.
He had turned to go to the house, and he wheeled quickly, astonished."Certainly!" he said; "why not?"
"That would be lawlessness, would it not?" It made her shiver slightly tohear him so frankly confess to murderous designs.
"It was not my quarrel," he said, looking at her narrowly, his browscontracted. "Law is all right where everybody accepts it as a governor totheir actions. I accept it when it deals fairly with me--when it's just.Certain rights are mine, and I'll fight for them. This situation wasbrought on by Corrigan's obstinacy. We had a fight, and it peeved himbecause I wouldn't permit him to hammer my head off. He destroyed thecheck, and as the company's option expired yesterday it was unlawful forthe company to trespass on my land."
"Well," she smiled, affected by his vehemence; "we shall have peace now,presumably. And--" she reddened again "--I want to ask your pardon on myown account, for speaking to you as I did yesterday. I thought youbrutal--the way you rode your horse over Mr. Corrigan. Mr. Carson assuredme that the horse was to blame."
"I am indebted to Carson," he laughed, bowing. Rosalind watched him gointo the house, and then turned and inspected her surroundings. The housewas big, roomy, with a massive hip roof. A paved gallery stretched theentire length of the front--she would have liked to rest for a few minutesin the heavy rocker that stood in its cool shadows. No woman lived here,she was certain, because there was a lack of evidence of woman'shandiwork--no filmy curtains at the windows--merely shades; no cushion wason the chair--which, by the way, looked lonesome--but perhaps that wasmerely her imagination. Much dust
had gathered on the gallery floor and onthe sash of the windows--a woman would have had things lookingdifferently. And so she divined that Trevison was not married. Itsurprised her to discover that that thought had been in her mind, and sheturned to continue her inspection, filled with wonder that it had beenthere.
She got an impression of breadth and spaciousness out of her survey of thebuildings and the surrounding country. The buildings were in goodcondition; everything looked substantial and homelike and hercontemplation of it aroused in her a yearning for a house and land in thissection of the country, it was so peaceful and dignified in comparisonwith the life she knew.
She watched Trevison when he emerged from the house, and smiled when hereturned the empty handbag. He went to a small building near a fencedenclosure--the corral, she learned afterward--and came out carrying asaddle, which he hung on the fence while he captured the black horse,which she had already observed. The animal evaded capture, playfully, butin the end it trotted mincingly to Trevison and permitted him to throw thebridle on. Then, shortly afterward he mounted the black and together theyrode back toward the cut.
As they rode the girl's curiosity for the man who rode beside her grewacute. She was aware--she had been aware all along--that he was fardifferent from the other men of Manti--there was about him an atmosphereof refinement and quiet confidence that mingled admirably with hismagnificent physical force, tempering it, suggesting reserve power,hinting of excellent mental capacity. She determined to know somethingabout him. And so she began subtly:
"In a section of country so large as this it seems that our Americanmeasure of length--a mile--should be stretched to something that wouldmore adequately express size. Don't you think so?"
He looked quickly at her. "That is an odd thought," he laughed, "but itinevitably attacks the person who views the yawning distances here for thefirst time. Why not use the English mile if the American doesn'tsatisfy?"
"There is a measure that exceeds that, isn't there? Wasn't there a Persianmeasure somewhat longer, fathered by Herodotus or another of the ancients?I am sure there was--or is--but I have forgotten?"
"Yes," he said, "--a parasang." He looked narrowly at her and saw her eyesbrighten.
She had made progress; she felt much satisfaction.
"You are not a native," she said.
"How do you know?"
"Cowboys do not commonly measure their distances with parasangs," shelaughed.
"Nor do ordinary women try to shake off ennui by coming West in privatecars," he drawled.
She started and looking quickly at him. "How did you know that was whathappened to me?" she demanded.
"Because you're too spirited and vigorous to spend your life dawdling insociety. You yearn for action, for the broad, free life of the open.You're in love with this country right now."
"Yes, yes," she said, astonished; "but how do you know?"
"You might have sent a man here in your place--Braman, for instance; hecould be trusted. You came yourself, eager for adventure--you came on aborrowed horse. When you were looking at the country from the horse infront of my house, I saw you sigh."
"Well," she said, with flushed face and glowing eyes; "I _have_ decided tolive out here--for a time, at least. So you were watching me?"
"Just a glance," he defended, grinning; "I couldn't help it. Pleaseforgive me."
"I suppose I'll have to," she laughed, delighted, reveling in this freedomof speech, in his directness. His manner touched a spark somewhere in her,she felt strangely elated, exhilarated. When she reflected that this wasonly their second meeting and that she had not been conventionallyintroduced to him, she was amazed. Had a stranger of her set talked to herso familiarly she would have resented it. Out here it seemed to beperfectly natural.
"How do you know I borrowed a horse to come here?" she asked.
"That's easy," he grinned; "there's the Diamond K brand on his hip."
"Oh."
They rode on a little distance in silence, and then she remembered thatshe was still curious about him. His frankness had affected her; she didnot think it impertinent to betray curiosity.
"How long have you lived out here?" she asked.
"About ten years."
"You weren't born here, of course--you have admitted that. Then where didyou come from?"
"This is a large country," he returned, unsmilingly.
It was a reproof, certainly--Rosalind could go no farther in thatdirection. But her words had brought a mystery into existence, thussharpening her interest in him. She was conscious, though, of a slightpique--what possible reason could he have for evasion? He had not theappearance of a fugitive from justice.
"So you're going to live out here?" he said, after an interval. "Where?"
"I heard father speak of buying Blakeley's place. Do you know where itis?"
"It adjoins mine." There was a leaping note in his voice, which she didnot fail to catch. "Do you see that dark line over there?" He pointedeastward--a mile perhaps. "That's a gully; it divides my land fromBlakeley's. Blakeley told me a month ago that he was dickering with aneastern man. If you are thinking of looking the place over, and want atrustworthy escort I should be pleased to recommend--myself." And hegrinned widely at her.
"I shall consider your offer--and I thank you for it," she returned. "Ifeel positive that father will buy a ranch here, for he has much faith inthe future of Manti--he is obsessed with it."
He looked sharply at her. "Then your father is going to have a hand in thedevelopment of Manti? I heard a rumor to the effect that some easterncompany was interested, had, in fact, secured the water rights for anenormous section."
She remembered what Corrigan had told her, and blushingly dissembled:
"I put no faith in rumor--do you? Mr. Corrigan is the head of the companywhich is to develop Manti. But of course _that_ is an eastern company,isn't it?"
He nodded, and she smiled at a thought that came to her. "How far is it toBlakeley's ranchhouse?" she asked.
"About two parasangs," he answered gravely.
"Well," she said, mimicking him; "I could _never_ walk there, could I? IfI go, I shall have to borrow a horse--or buy one. Could you recommend ahorse that would be as trustworthy as the escort you have promised me?"
"We shall go to Blakeley's tomorrow," he told her. "I shall bring you atrustworthy horse at ten o'clock in the morning."
They were approaching the cut, and she nodded an acceptance. An instantlater he was talking to his men, and she sat near him, watching them asthey raced over the plains toward the Diamond K ranchhouse. One manremained; he was without a mount, and he grinned with embarrassment whenRosalind's gaze rested on him.
"Oh," she said; "you are waiting for your horse! How stupid of me!" Shedismounted and turned the animal over to him. When she looked around,Trevison had also dismounted and was coming toward her, leading the black,the reins looped through his arm. Rosalind flushed, and thought of Agatha,but offered no objection.
It was a long walk down the slope of the hill and around its base to theprivate car, but they made it still longer by walking slowly and takingthe most roundabout way. Three persons saw them coming--Agatha, standingrigid on the platform; the negro attendant, standing behind Agatha in thedoorway, his eyes wide with interest; and Carson, seated on a boulder alittle distance down the cut, grinning broadly.
"Bedad," he rumbled; "the bhoy's made a hit wid her, or I'm a sinner! Butdidn't I know he wud? The two bulldogs is goin' to have it now, sure asI'm a foot high!"
'Firebrand' Trevison Page 5
