The discovery of the locket which had fallen from about Keith's neckmade it impossible for Hope to remain quietly for very long in the hotelat Fort Larned. The more carefully she thought over the story ofthat murder at the Cimmaron Crossing, and Keith's tale of how he haddiscovered and buried the mutilated bodies, the more assured she becamethat that was where this locket came from, and that the slain freightermust have been her own father. She never once questioned the truth ofKeith's report; there was that about the man which would not permit ofher doubting him. He had simply failed to mention what he removed fromthe bodies, supposing this would be of no special interest.
Mrs. Murphy, hoping thus to quiet the apprehensions of her charge,set herself diligently at work to discover the facts. As her house wasfilled with transients, including occasional visitors from Carson City,and was also lounging headquarters for many of the officers from thenear-by fort, she experienced no difficulty in picking up all thefloating rumors. Out of these, with Irish shrewdness, she soon managedto patch together a consistent fabric of fact.
"Shure, honey, it's not so bad the way they tell it now," she explained,consolingly. "Nobody belaves now it was yer father that got kilt. It wastwo fellers what stole his outfit, clothes an' all, an' was drivin' offwid 'em inter the sand hills. Divil a wan does know who kilt 'em, butthere's some ugly stories travellin' about. Some says Injuns; some saysthe posse run 'em down; an' Black Bart an' his dirthy outfit, they swearit was Keith. Oi've got me own notion. Annyhow, there's 'bout threehundred dollars, some mules, an' a lot o' valyble papers missin'."
"But if it wasn't father, where is he now?"
"That's what Oi've been tryin' ter foind out. First off he went out tothe Cimmaron Crossing, gyarded by a squad o' cavalry from the forthere. Tommy Caine wint along, an' told me all about it. They dug upthe bodies, but niver a thing did they find on 'em--not a paper, nora dollar. They'd bin robbed all roight. The owld Gineral swore loikea wild mon all the way back, Tommy said, an' the first thing he didat Carson City was to start huntin' fer 'Black Bart.' He was two daysgittin' on the trail av him; then he heard the feller was gone awaytrapsing after a singin' or dancin' gyurl called Christie Maclaire. Shewas supposed to be ayther at Topeky or Sheridan. A freighter told theowld man she was at Sheridan, an' so he started there overland, hopin'ter head off 'Black Bart.' Oi reckon we could a towld mor 'n that."
"What do you mean?"
"Why shure, honey, what's the use tryin' ter decave me? Didn't JackKeith, wid his own lips, tell me ye was Christie Maclaire?"
"But I'm not! I'm not, Mrs. Murphy. I don't even know the woman. It issuch a strange thing; I cannot account for it--both those men mistook mefor her, and--and I let them. I didn't care who the man Hawley supposedme to be, but I intended to have told Mr. Keith he was mistaken. I don'tknow why I didn't, only I supposed he finally understood. But I want youto believe, Mrs. Murphy--I am Hope Waite, and not Christie Maclaire."
"It's little the loss to ye not ter be her, an' Oi'm thinkin' loikelyJack Keith will be moighty well plased ter know the truth. What's 'BlackBart' so ayger ter git hold av this Maclaire gyurl fer?"
"I do not in the least know. He must have induced me to go to that placein the desert believing me to be the other woman. Yet he said nothing ofany purpose; indeed, he found no opportunity."
Mrs. Murphy shook her head disparagingly.
"It was shure some divilment," she asserted, stoutly. "He'll be up tosome thrick wid the poor gyurl; Oi know the loikes av him. Shure, thetwo av yez must look as much aloike as two payes in a pod. Loikely now,it's a twin sister ye've got?"
Hope smiled, although her eyes were misty.
"Oh, no; Fred and I were the only children; but what shall I do? Whatought I to do?"
The Irish mouth of Kate Murphy set firmly, her blue eyes burning.
"It's not sthrong Oi am on advisin'," she said, shortly, "but if itwas me Oi'd be fer foindin' out what all this mix-up was about. There'ssomethin' moighty quare in it. It's my notion that Hawley's got hold avthim papers av yer father's. The owld gint thinks so, too, an' that'swhy he's so hot afther catchin' him. May the divil admoire me av Oi knowwhere this Maclaire gyurl comes in, but Oi'll bet the black divil hasget her marked fer some part in the play. What would Oi do? Be goory,Oi'd go to Sheridan, an' foind the Gineral, an' till him all I knew.Maybe he could piece it together, an' guess what Hawley was up ter."
Hope was already upon her feet, her puzzled face brightening.
"Oh, that is what I wanted to do, but I was not sure it would be best.How can I get there from here?"
"Ye'd have ter take the stage back to Topeky; loikely they'd be runnin'thrains out from there on the new road. It'll be aisy fer me ter foindout from some av the lads down below."
The only equipment operating into Sheridan was a construction train,with an old battered passenger coach coupled to the rear. A squad ofheavily armed infantrymen rode along, as protection against possibleIndian raiders, but there was no crowd aboard on this special trip, asall construction work had been suspended on the line indefinitely, andmost of the travel, therefore, had changed to the eastward. The coachused had a partition run through it, and, as soon as the busy trainmendiscovered ladies on board, they unceremoniously drove the more bibulouspassengers, protesting, into the forward compartment. This left Hope incomparative peace, her remaining neighbors quiet, taciturn men, whomshe looked at through the folds of her veil during the long, slow,exasperating journey, mentally guessing at their various occupations.It was an exceedingly tedious, monotonous trip, the train slackeningup, and jerking forward, apparently without slightest reason; thenoccasionally achieving a full stop, while men, always under guard, wentahead to fix up some bit of damaged track, across which the engineerdared not advance. At each bridge spanning the numerous small streams,trainmen examined the structure before venturing forward, and at eachstop the wearied passengers grew more impatient and sarcastic, a perfectstream of fluent profanity being wafted back whenever the door betweenthe two sections chanced to be left ajar.
Hope was not the only woman on board, yet a glance at the others wassufficient to decide their status, even had their freedom of mannerand loud talking not made it equally obvious. Fearful lest she might bemistaken for one of the same class, she remained in silence, her veilmerely lifted enough to enable her to peer out through the grimy windowat the barren view slipping slowly past. This consisted of the bareprairie, brown and desolate, occasionally intersected by some smallwatercourse, the low hills rising and falling like waves to the farhorizon. Few incidents broke the dead monotony; occasionally a herd ofantelope appeared in the distance silhouetted against the sky-line, andonce they fairly crept for an hour through a mass of buffalo, grazing soclose that a fusillade of guns sounded from the front end of the train.A little farther along she caught a glimpse of a troop of wild horsesdashing recklessly down into a sheltering ravine. Yet principally allthat met her straining eyes was sterile desolation. Here and there agreat ugly water tank reared its hideous shape beside the track, theengine always pausing for a fresh supply. Beside it was invariably apile of coal, a few construction cars, a hut half buried under earth,loop-holed and barricaded, with several rough men loafing about, heavilyarmed and inquisitive. A few of these points had once been terminal, thesurrounding scenery evidencing past glories by piles of tin cans, andall manner of debris, with occasionally a vacant shack, left desertedand forlorn.
Wearied and heartsick, Hope turned away from this outside dreariness tocontemplate more closely her neighbors on board, but found them scarcelymore interesting. Several were playing cards, others moodily staring outof the windows, while a few were laughing and talking with the girls,their conversation inane and punctuated with profanity. One man wasfiguring on a scratch pad, and Hope decided he must be an engineeremployed on the line; others she classed as small merchants,saloon-keepers, and frontier riff-raff. They would glance curiouslyat her as they marched up and down the narrow aisle, but her veil,and averted face, prevented even the
boldest from speaking, Once sheaddressed the conductor, and the man who was figuring turned and lookedback at her, evidently attracted by the soft note of her voice. But hemade no effort at advances, returning immediately to his pad, obliviousto all else.
It was growing dusk, the outside world, now consisting of level plains,fading into darkness, with a few great stars burning overhead. Trainsmenlit the few smoking oil lamps screwed against the sides of the car, andits occupants became little more than dim shadows. All by this timewere fatigued into silence, and several were asleep, finding such smallcomfort as was possible on the cramped seats. Hope glanced toward theheretofore noisy group at the rear--the girl nearest her rested withunconscious head pillowed upon the shoulder of her man friend, and bothwere sleeping. How haggard and ghastly the woman's powdered face looked,with the light just above it, and all semblance of joy gone. It wasas though a mask had been taken off. Out in the darkness the enginewhistled sharply and then came to a bumping stop at some desert station.Through the black window a few lanterns could be seen flickering about,and there arose the sound of gruff voices speaking. The sleepersinside, aroused by the sharp stop, rolled over and swore, seekingeasier postures. Then the front door opened, and slammed shut, and a newpassenger entered. He came down the aisle, glancing carelessly at theupturned faces, and finally sank into the seat directly opposite Hope.He was a broad shouldered man, his coat buttoned to the throat, withstrong face showing clearly beneath the broad hat brim and lighted upwith a pair of shrewd, kindly eyes. The conductor came through, noddedat him, and passed on. Hope thought he must be some official of theroad, and ventured to break the prolonged silence with a question:
"Could you tell me how long it will be before we reach Sheridan?"
She had partially pushed aside her veil in order to speak more clearly,and the man, turning at sound of her voice, took off his hat, hissearching eyes quizzical.
"Well, no, I can't, madam," the words coming with a jerk. "For I'm notat all sure we'll keep the track. Ought to make it in an hour, however,if everything goes right. Live in Sheridan?"
She shook her head, uncertain how frankly to answer.
"No loss to you--worst place to live in on earth--no exceptions--Iknow--been there myself three months--got friends there likely?"
"I hardly know," she acknowledged doubtfully. "I think so, but I shallhave to hunt some place in which to stay to-night. Can you tell me ofsome--some respectable hotel, or boarding house?"
The man wheeled about, until he could look at her more clearly.
"That's a pretty hard commission, Miss," he returned uneasily: "Theremay be such a place in Sheridan, but I have never found it. Old MotherShattuck keeps roomers, but she won't have a woman in the house. Ireckon you 'll have to try it at the hotel--I'll get you in there if Ihave to mesmerize the clerk--you'll find it a bit noisy though."
"Oh, I thank you so much. I don't mind the noise, so it is respectable."
He laughed, good humoredly.
"Well I don't propose to vouch for that--the proprietor ain't out therefor his health--but, I reckon, you won't have no serious trouble--theboys mostly know a good woman when they see one--which isn'toften--anyhow, they're liable to be decent enough as long as I vouch foryou."
"But you know nothing of me."
"Don't need to--your face is enough--I'll get you the room all right."
She hesitated, then asked:
"Are you--are you connected with the railroad??'
"In a way, yes--I'm the contract surgeon--had to dig a bullet out ofa water-tank tender back yonder--fellow howled as though I was killinghim--no nerve--mighty poor stuff most of the riff-raff out here--ballwasn't in much below the skin--Indian must have plugged him from the topof the bluff--blame good shot too--ragged looking slug--like to see it?"
She shook her head energetically.
"Don't blame you--nothing very uncommon--get a dozen cases like it a daysometimes--stay in Sheridan, show you something worth while--very prettysurgical operation to-morrow--come round and get you if you care to seeit--got to open the stomach--don't know what I'll find--like to go?"
"Oh, no! I'm sure you mean it all kindly, but--but I would rather not."
"Hardly supposed you would--only knew one woman who cared for that sortof thing much--she was nursing for me during the war--had a hare lipand an eye like a dagger--good nurse though--rather have your kindround me--ever nurse any? Could get you a dozen jobs in Sheridan--newprospects every night--fifty dollars a week--what do you say?"
"But I'm not seeking work, Doctor," smiling in spite of herbewilderment. "I have money enough with me."
"Well, I didn't know--thought maybe you wanted a job, and didn't like toask for it--have known 'em like that--no harm done--if you ever do wantanything like that, just come to me--my name's Fairbain--everybody knowsme here--operated on most of 'em--rest expect to be--Damn that engineer.I don't believe he knows whether he's going ahead or backing up." Hepeered out of the window, pressing his face hard against the glass. "Ireckon that's Sheridan he's whistling for now--don't be nervous--I'llsee you make the hotel all right."
Chapter XXI. The Marshal of Sheridan
Keith of the Border: A Tale of the Plains Page 20
