'Firebrand' Trevison

by Charles Alden Seltzer

  CHAPTER XXI

  ANOTHER WOMAN RIDES

  Trevison rode in to town the next morning. On his way he went to the edgeof the butte overlooking the level, and looked down upon the wreck andruin he had caused. Masses of twisted steel and iron met his gaze; thelevel was littered with debris, which a gang of men under Carson wasengaged in clearing away; a great section of the butte had been blastedout, earth, rocks, sand, had slid down upon much of the wreckage, partlyburying it. The utter havoc of the scene brought a fugitive smile to hislips.

  He saw Carson waving a hand to him, and he answered the greeting, notingas he did so that Corrigan stood at a little distance behind Carson,watching. Trevison did not give him a second look, wheeling Nigger andsending him toward Manti at a slow lope. As he rode away, Corrigan calledto Carson.

  "Your friend didn't seem to be much surprised."

  Carson turned, making a grimace while his back was yet toward Corrigan,but grinning broadly when he faced around.

  "Didn't he now? I wasn't noticin'. But, begorra, how c'ud he be surprised,whin the whole domned country was rocked out av its bed be the blast! Wudye be expictin' him to fall over in a faint on beholdin' the wreck?"

  "Not he," said Corrigan, coldly; "he's got too much nerve for that."

  "Ain't he, now!" Carson looked guilelessly at the other. "Wud ye be havin'anny idee who done it?"

  Corrigan's eyes narrowed. "No," he said shortly, and turned away.

  Trevison's appearance in Manti created a stir. He had achieved a doubleresult by his deed, for besides destroying the property and making itimpossible for Corrigan to resume work for a considerable time, he hadcaused Manti's interest to center upon him sharply, having shocked intothe town's consciousness a conception of the desperate battle that wasbeing waged at its doors. For Manti had viewed the devastated butte earlythat morning, and had come away, seething with curiosity to get a glimpseof the man whom everybody secretly suspected of being the cause of it.Many residents of the town had known Trevison before--in half an hourafter his arrival he was known to all. Public opinion was heavily in hisfavor and many approving comments were heard.

  "I ain't blamin' him a heap," said a man in the _Belmont_. "If things isas you say they are, there ain't much more that a _man_ could do!"

  "The laws is made for the guys with the coin an' the pull," said another,vindictively.

  "An' dynamite ain't carin' who's usin' it," said another, slyly. Bothgrinned. The universal sympathy for the "under dog" oppressed by Justiceperverted or controlled, had here found expression.

  It was so all over Manti. Admiring glances followed Trevison; though hesaid no word concerning the incident; nor could any man have said, judgingfrom the expression of his face, that he was elated. He had business inManti--he completed it, and when he was ready to go he got on Nigger andloped out of town.

  "That man's nerve is as cold as a naked Eskimo at the North Pole,"commented an admirer. "If I'd done a thing like that I'd be layin' low tosee if any evidence would turn up against me."

  "I reckon there ain't a heap of evidence," laughed his neighbor. "I expecteverybody knows he done it, but knowin' an' provin' is two differentthings."

  A mile out of town Trevison met Corrigan. The latter halted his horse whenhe saw Trevison and waited for him to come up. The big man's face wore anugly, significant grin.

  "You did a complete job," he said, eyeing the other narrowly. "And theredoesn't seem to be any evidence. But look out! When a thing like thathappens there's always somebody around to see it, and if I can getevidence against you I'll send you up for it!"

  He noted a slight quickening of Trevison's eyes at his mention of awitness, and a fierce exultation leaped within him.

  Trevison laughed, looking the other fairly between the eyes. RosalindBenham hadn't informed on him. However, the day was not yet gone.

  "Get your evidence before you try to do any bluffing," he challenged. Hespurred Nigger on, not looking back at his enemy.

  Corrigan rode to the laborers' tents, where he talked for a time with thecook. In the mess tent he stood with his back to a rough, pine-toppedtable, his hands on its edge. The table had not yet been cleared from themorning meal, for the cook had been interested in the explosion. He triedto talk of it with Corrigan, but the latter adroitly directed theconversation otherwise. The cook would have said they had a pleasant talk.Corrigan seemed very companionable this morning. He laughed a little; helistened attentively when the cook talked. After a while Corrigan fumbledin his pockets. Not finding a cigar, he looked eloquently at the cook'spipe, in the latter's mouth, belching much smoke.

  "Not a single cigar," he said. "I'm dying for a taste of tobacco."

  The cook took his pipe from his mouth and wiped the stem hastily on asleeve. "If you don't mind I've been suckin' on it," he said, extendingit.

  "I wouldn't deprive you of it for the world." Corrigan shifted hisposition, looked down at the table and smiled. "Luck, eh?" he said,picking up a black brier that lay on the table behind him. "Got plenty oftobacco?"

  The cook dove for a box in a corner and returned with a cloth sack,bulging. He watched while Corrigan filled the pipe, and grinned while hisguest was lighting it.

  "Carson'll be ravin' today for forgettin' his pipe. He must have left itlayin' on the table this mornin'--him bein' in such a rush to get down, tothe explosion."

  "It's Carson's, eh?" Corrigan surveyed it with casual interest. "Well,"after taking a few puffs "--I'll say for Carson that he knows how to takecare of it."

  He left shortly afterward, laying the pipe on the table where he had foundit. Five minutes later he was in Judge Lindman's presence, leaning overthe desk toward the other.

  "I want you to issue a warrant for Patrick Carson. I want him brought inhere for examination. Charge him with being an accessory before the fact,or anything that seems to fit the case. But throw him into the cooler--andkeep him there until he talks. He knows who broke into the dynamite shed,and therefore he knows who did the dynamiting. He's friendly withTrevison, and if we can make him admit he saw Trevison at the shed, we'vegot the goods. He warned Trevison the other day, when I had the deputieslined up at the butte, and I found his pipe this morning near the door ofthe dynamite shed. We'll make him talk, damn him!"

  * * * * *

  Banker Braman had closed the door between the front and rear rooms, pulleddown the shades of the windows, lighted the kerosene lamp, and by itswavering flicker was surveying his reflection in the small mirror affixedto one of the walls of the building. He was pleased, as the fatuousself-complacence of his look indicated, and carefully, almost fastidiouslydressed, and he could not deny himself this last look into the mirror,even though he was now five minutes late with his appointment. The fiveminutes threatened to become ten, for, in adjusting his tie-pin it slippedfrom his fingers, struck the floor and vanished, as though an evil fatehad gobbled it.

  He searched for it frenziedly, cursing lowly, but none the less viciously.It was quite by accident that when his patience was strained almost to thebreaking point, he struck his hand against a board that formed part of thepartition between his building and the courthouse next door, and tore ahuge chunk of skin from the knuckles. He paid little attention to theinjury, however, for the agitating of the board disclosed the glitteringrecreant, and he pounced upon it with the precision of a hawk upon itsprey, snarling triumphantly.

  "I'll nail that damned board up, some day!" he threatened. But he knew hewouldn't, for by lying on the floor and pulling the board out a trifle, hecould get a clear view of the interior of the courthouse, and could hearquite plainly, in spite of the presence of a wooden box resting againstthe wall on the other side. And some of the things that Braman had alreadyheard through the medium of the loose board were really interesting, notto say instructive, to him.

  He was ten minutes late in keeping his appointment. He might have beeneven later without being in danger of receiving the censure he deserved.For the
lady received him in a loose wrapper and gracefully disorderedhair, a glance at which made Braman gasp in unfeigned admiration.

  "What's this?" he demanded with a pretense of fatherly severity, which heimagined became him very well in the presence of women. "Not ready yet,Mrs. Harvey?"

  The woman waved him to a chair with unsmiling unconcern; dropped intoanother, crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair, her hands foldedacross the back of her head, her sleeves, wide and flaring, sliding downbelow her elbows. She caught Braman's burning stare of interest in thisrevelation of negligence, and smiled at him in faint derision.

  "I'm tired, Croft. I've changed my mind about going to the FirstMerchants' Ball. I'd much rather sit here and chin you--if you don'tmind."

  "Not a bit!" hastily acquiesced the banker. "In fact, I like the idea ofstaying here much better. It is more private, you know." He grinnedsignificantly, but the woman's smile of faint derision changed merely toirony, which held steadily, making Braman's cheeks glow crimson.

  "Well, then," she laughed, exulting in her power over him; "let's getbusy. What do you want to chin about?"

  "I'll tell you after I've wet my whistle," said the banker, gayly. "I'mdry as a bone in the middle of the Sahara desert!"

  "I'll take mine 'straight,'" she laughed.

  Braman rang a bell. A waiter with glasses and a bottle appeared, entered,was paid, and departed, grinning without giving the banker any change froma ten dollar bill.

  The woman laughed immoderately at Braman's wolfish snarl.

  "Be a sport, Croft. Don't begrudge a poor waiter a few honestly earneddollars!"

  "And now, what has the loose-board telephone told you?" she asked, twohours later when flushed of face from frequent attacks on thebottle--Braman rather more flushed than she--they relaxed in their chairsafter a tilt at poker in which the woman had been the victor.

  "You're sure you don't care for Trevison any more--that you're only takinghis end of this because of what he's been to you in the past?" demandedthe banker, looking suspiciously at her.

  "He told me he didn't love me any more. I couldn't want him after that,could I?"

  "I should think not." Braman's eyes glowed with satisfaction. But hehesitated, yielding when she smiled at him. "Damn it, I'd knife Corriganfor you!" he vowed, recklessly.

  "Save Trevison--that's all I ask. Tell me what you heard."

  "Corrigan suspects Trevison of blowing up the stuff at the butte--aseverybody does, of course. He's determined to get evidence against him. Hefound Carson's pipe at the door of the dynamite shed this morning. Carsonis a friend of Trevison's. Corrigan is going to have Judge Lindman issue awarrant for the arrest of Carson--on some charge--and they're going tojail Carson until he talks."

  The woman cursed profanely, sharply. "That's Corrigan's idea of a squaredeal. He promised me that no harm should come to Trevison." She got up andwalked back and forth in the room, Braman watching her with passion lyingnaked in his eyes, his lips loose and moist.

  She stopped in front of him, finally. "Go home, Croft--there's a good boy.I want to think."

  "That's cruelty to animals," he laughed in a strained voice. "But I'llgo," he added at signs of displeasure on her face. "Can I see you tomorrownight?"

  "I'll let you know." She held the door open for him, and permitted him totake her hand for an instant. He squeezed it hotly, the woman making agrimace of repugnance as she closed the door.

  Swiftly she changed from her loose gown to a simple, short-skirted affair,slipped on boots, a felt hat, gloves. Leaving the light burning, sheslipped out into the hall and called to the waiter who had served her andBraman. By rewarding him generously she procured a horse, and a fewminutes later she emerged from the building by a rear door, mounting theanimal and sending it clattering out into the night.

  Twice she lost her way and rode miles before she recovered her sense ofdirection, and when she finally pulled the beast to a halt at the edge ofthe Diamond K ranchhouse gallery, midnight was not far away. Theranchhouse was dark. She smothered a gasp of disappointment as she crossedthe gallery floor. She was about to hammer on the door when it swung openand Trevison stepped out, peered closely at her and laughed shortly.

  "It's you, eh?" he said. "I thought I told you--"

  She winced at his tone, but it did not lessen her concern for him.

  "It isn't that, Trev! And I don't care how you treat me--I deserve it! ButI can't see them punish you--for what you did last night!" She felt himstart, his muscles stiffen.

  "Something has turned up, then. You came to warn me? What is it?"

  "You were seen last night! They're going to arrest--"

  "So she squealed, did she?" he interrupted. He laughed lowly, bitterly,with a vibrant disappointment that wrung the woman's heart with sympathy.But her brain quickly grasped the significance of his words, and longingdulled her sense of honor. It was too good an opportunity to miss. "Bah! Iexpected it. She told me she would. I was a fool to dream otherwise!" Heturned on Hester and grasped her by the shoulders, and her flesh deadenedunder his fingers.

  "Did she tell Corrigan?"

  "Yes." The woman told the lie courageously, looking straight into hiseyes, though she shrank at the fire that came into them as he released herand laughed.

  "Where did you get your information?" His voice was suddenly sullen andcold.

  "From Braman."

  He started, and laughed in humorous derision.

  "Braman and Corrigan are blood brothers in this deal. You must havecaptivated the little sneak completely to make him lose his head likethat!"

  "I did it for you, Trev--for you. Don't you see? Oh, I despise the littlebeast! But he dropped a hint one day when I was in the bank, and Ideliberately snared him, hoping I might be able to gain information thatwould benefit you. And I have, Trev!" she added, trembling with a hopethat his hasty judgment might result to her advantage. And how near shehad come to mentioning Carson's name! If Trevison had waited for justanother second before interrupting her! Fortune had played favorably intoher hands tonight!

  "For you, boy," she said, slipping close to him, sinuously, whispering,knowing the "she" he had mentioned _must_ be Rosalind Benham. "Old friendsare best, boy. At least they can be depended upon not to betray one. Trev;let me help you! I can, and I will! Why, I love you, Trev! And you needme, to help you fight these people who are trying to ruin you!"

  "You don't understand." Trevison's voice was cold and passionless. "Itseems I can't _make_ you understand. I'm grateful for what you have donefor me tonight--very grateful. But I can't live a lie, woman. I don't loveyou!"

  "But you love a woman who has delivered you into the hands of yourenemies," she moaned.

  "I can't help it," he declared hoarsely. "I don't deny it. I would loveher if she sent me to the gallows, and stood there, watching me die!"

  The woman bowed her head, and dropped her hands listlessly to her sides.In this instant she was thinking almost the same words that RosalindBenham had murmured on her ride to Blakeley's, when she had discoveredTrevison's identity: "I wonder if Hester Keyes knows what she hasmissed."