The Trail Horde
Page 4
CHAPTER III
A WOMAN'S EYES
There had been a day when Willets was but a name, designating a watertank and a railroad siding where panting locomotives, hot and dry from along run through an arid, sandy desert that stretched westward from theshores of civilization, rested, while begrimed, overalled men adjusted ametal spout which poured refreshing water into gaping reservoirs.
In that day Willets sat in the center of a dead, dry section, swathed inisolation so profound that passengers in the coaches turned to oneanother with awe in their voices and spoke of God and the insignificanceof life.
But there was a small river near the water tank--the headwaters of theWolf--or there had been no tank. And a prophet of Business, notingcertain natural advantages, had influenced the railroad company to builda corral and a station.
From that day Willets became assured of a future. Cattlemen in the WolfRiver section began to ship stock from the new station, rather thandrive to Red Rock--another shipping point five hundred miles east.
From the first it became evident that Willets would not be a boom town.It grew slowly and steadily until its fame began to trickle through tothe outside world--though it was a cattle town in the beginning, and acattle town it would remain all its days.
Therefore, because of its slow growth, there were old buildings inWillets. The frame station had an ancient appearance. Its roof sagged inthe center, its walls were bulging with weakness. But it stood defiantlyflaunting its crimson paint above the wooden platform, a hardy pioneeramong the moderns.
Business had strayed from the railroad track; it had left the station,the freighthouse, the company corral, and some open sheds, to establishits enterprises one block southward. There, fringing a wide, unpavedstreet that ran east and west, parallel with the gleaming steel rails,Business reared its citadels.
Willets buildings were not imposing. One-story frames predominated, withhere and there a two-storied structure, or a brick aristocrat seeming tocall attention to its substantial solidity.
Willets had plenty of space in which to grow, and the location of thebuildings on their sites, seemed to indicate that their buildersappreciated the fact that there was no need for crowding. Between eachbuilding was space, suggestive of the unending plains that surroundedthe town. Willets sat, serene in its space and solitude, unhurried,uncramped, sprawling over a stretch of grass level--a dingy, dirty,inglorious Willets, shamed by its fringe of tin cans, empty bottles, andother refuse--and by the clean sweep of sand and sage and grass thatstretched to its very doors. For Willets was man-made.
From the second story of a brick building that stood on the southernside of the street, facing the station, Gary Warden could look past thered station into the empty corrals beside the railroad track. JimLefingwell, Warden's predecessor, had usually smiled when he saw thecorral comfortably filled with steers. But Gary Warden smiled becausethe corral was empty.
Warden was standing beside a flat-topped desk at one of his officewindows. Warden was big, though not massive. He seemed to have the frameof a tall, slender man, and had he stayed slender he might have carriedhis flesh gracefully. But Warden had lived well, denying himselfnothing, and the flesh which had been added had formed in flabbybunches, drooping his shoulders, sagging his jaws, swelling the back ofhis neck.
And yet Warden was not old; he had told some new-made friends in Willetsthat he was thirty-five. But he looked older, for a certain blasesophistication that shone from his eyes and sat on the curves of hislips, did much to create the impression of past maturity.
Warden dressed well. He was coatless, but he wore a shirt of some soft,striped material, with a loose, comfortable-looking collar and a neatbow tie. His hair was short, with bristles in the roll of fat at theback of his neck; while at his forehead it was punctiliously parted, andplastered down with precision.
Warden was not alone. At another window, her elbows on the sill, herhands crossed, her chin resting on the knuckles of the upper one, sat awoman.
She was young, slender, lissom. There was grace in every line of her,and witchery in the eyes that watched Warden with a steady gaze. Shetoo, was hatless, seemingly conscious of the beauty of her hair, whichwas looped and twisted into glistening strands that fell over hertemples and the back of her neck.
As she watched Warden, who was smiling at the empty corral, she withdrewher elbows from the window-sill, twisted around, so that she facedWarden, and idly twirled the felt hat that she took from her lap.
"Does something please you, Gary?" she asked with slight, banteringemphasis.
Warden's smile broadened. "Well, I'm not exactly displeased."
"With Willets--and the rest of it?"
"With that corral--over there." He pointed.
"Why, it's empty!"
"That's why."
"Why you are pleased! That is odd. As a buyer, I should think you wouldbe more pleased if the corral were full--had cows in it. That is whatyou are here for, isn't it?"
"Yes," grinned Warden; "to keep it empty until it is filled with steersat my price."
"Oh, bother!" The woman yawned. "I am glad it is you and not I who is todeal with these clod-hoppers. I should turn sour--or laugh myself todeath."
"Getting tired of it already, Della?"
"Dreadfully tired, Gary. If I could see one interesting person, or agood-looking man with whom I could flirt----"
"Don't forget our engagement, Della," warned Warden.
She laughed, shooting a mischievous glance at him. "Oh, it would beharmless, I assure you--mere moral exercise. Do you imagine I could losemy heart to one of these sagebrush denizens?"
"Not you, Della," grinned Warden; "that isn't your style."
The girl yawned again, and got to her feet, smoothing her ruffledskirts. Then she walked to a mirror on a wall near the door, and spentsome time placing the felt hat on her head at a precise angle, makingcertain that the coils of hair under it were arranged in the mosteffective manner. She tucked a stray wisp into the mass at the nape ofher neck, patted the glistening coils so that they bulged a littlemore--smiling with smooth serenity at the reflection in the glass.
"Well, good-bye, Gary. I left Aunt Hannah at Corwin's store. She'll beafraid I've eloped with you. No," she added, as Warden advanced towardher; "no kisses now. I'll look in again before we leave town."
She opened the door, and as it closed she flashed a smile at Warden.Then he heard her descending the stairs. He watched the closed door foran instant, frowning disappointedly; then he strode again to one of thefront windows, grinning as his gaze rested on the empty corral.