CHAPTER XX
DRUMMOND'S PASSENGER
The summer progressed, and great changes were wrought on the desert.To the last soul Ragtown moved from its first location into thehospitable arms of Mr. Tweet--but Tweet's hospitality demanded itsprice. Outfit after outfit came crawling across the desert to pitchcamp somewhere along the line and begin its portion of the big work inband. There was a post office at Ragtown, twenty or more saloons,dance halls and gambling dens combined, restaurants, tent hotels,stores, and even a bank and a motion-picture show. Thousands of rough,hard-drinking, hard-fighting men thronged the mushroom town, and itresembled a mining town of California's early days. Miners andcattlemen, too, made the town headquarters, and there were frequentfights and an occasional shooting scrape. The cost of everything washigh. Money flowed freely, as did bootleg jackass brandy. It seemedthat the prohibition enforcement officers had been unable to locate theinfant town. The rough, unrestrained life of the frontier was rife atRagtown, and Twitter-or-Tweet Orr Tweet gleaned shekels right and left.
Jerkline Jo had not seen Al Drummond to speak with him after the fight.He had been laid up for a week from the terrible battering that Hiramhad given him, and when he was about again he left the country in histouring car.
His drivers continued to transport freight to the new Ragtown and tocertain independent contractors who had reached the work. In truth, itdeveloped that there was plenty of hauling to keep both outfits busy,and Jerkline Jo was making money hand over fist, as was every one whohad services to offer or something to sell.
Tehachapi Hank no longer stood like an ogre guarding the portals to themountain pass. Drummond had been beaten on that deal, and the gunman'sremoval was an admission of defeat. Consequently, Tweet exacted nocharge for the trucks to cross his ranch. Things were running smoothlybetween the two freighting enterprises, and Jerkline Jo hoped againsthope that there would be no more trouble. But she had not liked thebaleful look in Drummond's eye when she caught it on the street inRagtown one evening. It was plain that he considered great humiliationhad been heaped upon him, and that he was waiting and watching for anopportunity for revenge.
Then one day she met him face to face in Julia, and stepped to him totell him about the boulder in the road. His glance was like a knifethrust as he turned on his heel and stalked away before she couldspeak. After that, of course, she made no further effort to enlightenhim.
As the weeks passed it developed that Orr Tweet was not the slowestsalesman in California, where salesmen--especially landsalesmen--achieve their greatest triumphs. Not only did he sell lotsand building sites in Ragtown, but he disposed of the surroundingacreage to would-be ranchers and speculators, and had been able withease, he informed his old friends, to meet his second payment on theranch. He urged Jo to invest her earnings in the company, and afterconsideration she resolved to take a chance with him; for here andthere, where wells had been sunk and pumping apparatus installed, theonce barren land was turning green and showing evidences of rich andproductive soil.
So things stood, or refused to stand, in Ragtown and the vicinity whenDrummond drove in one day with no less a passenger than a pretty girl,all pink and white, named Lucy Dalles. Hiram Hooker came face to facewith her in Ragtown's boisterous business street an hour after herarrival, for Jo's freight outfit was at rest there for the night.
Lucy was as pretty in her petite, doll-like way as when she had sofascinated him in the city, but now he could not help comparing herhothouse beauty with the brown-skinned, outdoor desirability ofJerkline Jo. Jo could have picked up this frail, silk-garbed creatureand thrown her overhead; yet in pure womanliness and tenderness Lucywas not her equal. Jerkline Jo was a queen--a ruler--a fearless womanwith a purpose in life, big of body and soul and brain. Lucy Dalleswas merely a pretty girl, with an ambition for money and life'sfrivolous pleasures. Hiram understood this now.
She greeted him glowingly, and called him by his first name.
"I told you I was coming," she cried, giggling. "And isn't this rich?If only I were writing scenarios now!"
"Aren't you?" asked Hiram.
"No, I gave it up. They got too exacting for me, and began buying thepicture rights of books and magazine stories by established authors inpreference to original scripts for the screen. I was a piker,anyway--nothing in me, I guess. So I threw up the sponge."
"You're still a waitress, then?"
She looked at him archly. "Not on your sweet young life!" and shelaughed. "I didn't throw ambition overboard when I quit writingscenarios. Writing in any form is usually a slow road to success, I'velearned. I never wanted to be a writer just for the sake o' the work.I want jack, and lots of it, and what it'll buy."
Hiram felt a sudden disgust for her and her sordid aims in life. Butto appear polite he asked:
"What are you doing, then?"
"Everybody I can," she retorted. "I worked in a beauty parlor for alittle as a hairdresser and manicure. I'm out for the money, Hiram.I'm not a pickpocket yet, but that's because I don't know how to beone. But if you've got any loose change in your pockets watch out.I'm out for the coin. But here comes Al. He brought me down. He'sgoing to set me up in business."
"Drummond?" he asked. "He and I don't speak. We had a little trouble."
Again she arched her penciled brows. "He didn't tell me," she said."He'll be sore at me talkin' to you then. See him over there by thatsaloon? He's stopped and is scowling at us. Well, I'll just stickwith you to show him his place. Take me somewhere, Hiram; I want tosee the life."
Hiram did not know what to say. He would have preferred to terminatethe conversation. Lucy Dalles held no fascination for him now. Hiramhad met and loved a woman without parallel in his brief experience oflife. But he could not be impolite, so he sauntered down the streetwith the girl, trying to make conversation and hoping that Drummondwould not be offended all over again.
In all the resorts men and women were crowding before the bar, gamblingwith abandon or dancing.
"Buy me a drink, Hiram," Lucy pleaded. "I just want to go into one ofthese places. Women do it here, I understand."
Hiram shrugged and led her into the Palace Dance Hall, conducted by anotorious character, who followed big construction camps, called"Ghost" Falcott because of his chalk-white skin.
It was pay day at Demarest, Spruce & Tillou's, and the Palace wascrowded. They found a place at the bar, however, and the girl stoodlooking over the half-drunken throng with eager eyes, now and thencasting a glance through the door to see if Drummond was following her.
Their drinks had just been served when into the dive, with a grinningconstruction stiff on each arm, marched Jerkline Jo, laughing gayly.
This was no new sight. Frequently Hiram had seen his adventure girl insuch places, laughing and chatting with old friends of the grade.Always, it seemed, they respected her and took her actions for granted.
"Hello, Gentle Wild Cat!" Jo called, catching sight of him. Then shenoticed that he was with the girl, and a quick look of puzzlement camein her dark eyes.
Hiram made haste to call her.
"I want to introduce you," he said quickly.
Jo turned, still holding to the arms of the stiffs, and Hiram made theintroduction. Jo responded pleasantly, and the look that came in hereyes told Hiram that she remembered the name and knew who Lucy was.
"Sorry I can't join you, Hiram," said Jo. "These plugs have got medead to rights, and I've promised to set 'em up to the house."
She released the arms of the stiffs, and, cupping her hands about hermouth, shouted above the general din:
"Drinks for the house on Jerkline Jo! Le's go!"
Some one nudged Hiram on the other side, and he turned to find OrrTweet.
"Did you ever see the likes o' that Jerkline Jo?" he said admiringly."What a woman, Hiram! She can get away with anything, and there ain'ta stiff on the grade that would think any the worse of her for it.She's pure-hearted and clean-minded, and
everybody knows it and treatsher like the lady she is. But say---- For Heaven's sake! Look who'shere!"
His steel-blue eyes had taken in Lucy, who stood studying Jerkline Jo,the center of a crowd of rough, appreciative men who wrung her handsright and left.
Lucy turned and flashed Tweet a bright smile. "I remember you, o'course," she said, shaking hands. "They tell me you hit the ball anawful bang down here in Ragtown. I always knew you were there when youtalked to me up in Frisco."
For several minutes, while bartenders worked frantically to supply Jo'sbig order, Tweet and Lucy talked, and Hiram watched Jo. Then Tweetexcused himself and hurried away after some man--a prospective citizenof Ragtown, no doubt--and Lucy turned to Hiram.
"So that's Jerkline Jo, is it?" she said half scornfully. "What isshe, Hiram?"
"A lady," said Hiram with a dangerous note of warning in his tones.
Lucy sensed it and shrugged. "Maybe she is," she said lightly. "Idon't know anything about her beyond what I've heard, of course--exceptthat she's a heart-breaker--a man-killer. But what's she doing here?"she could not help tacking on.
"I might come back and ask you what you're doing here," Hiram retortedcoldly.
Lucy shrugged. "Oh, I don't make any pretenses of piety--now," shesaid significantly. Then, casting a defiant glance at him, sheproduced a silver cigarette case, took a cigarette from it, and beggedfor the end of his cigar at which to light it. "They say Jerkline Jois grabbing off big jack. How 'bout it?" She puffed indolently,greatly to her companion's disgust.
"She works hard and earns money," Jo's supporter defended. "She raisedthe wages of all of us, too, as soon as business began to look up. Weskinners get ninety dollars a month and board now."
"Ninety dollars a month!" Lucy said jeeringly. "D'ye call that money!I didn't think you'd continue to be such a fish as long as this, Hiram."
"Well, I'm investin' it," said Hiram. "It may be more some day."
Luck looked suddenly into Hiram's eyes, then let her lashes cover herown.
"I guess this pious Jerkline Jo has got you goin'," she observed.
"I work for her," said Hiram awkwardly.
"Any man would, I guess. Men are all suckers."
Hiram said nothing to this, and presently, stating that he would beobliged to return to camp, asked Lucy if she was ready to go.
Rather petulantly she gave in, and just outside the door theyencountered the glowering Al Drummond.
"Lucy," he said sharply, "come here!"
"I'll have to go," Lucy said to Hiram. "See you later, honey boy fromthe woods. Good night!"
Hiram saw Drummond take a step and roughly grab Lucy's arm as shetripped up to him. They walked away, plainly indulging in a heatedargument.
"'Honey boy,' huh!" and Hiram snorted. "Men are suckers--till theymeet a regular woman!"
He hurried back to camp and rolled himself in his blankets withoutfurther thought of the girl who had caused him to make such a fool ofhimself in San Francisco. Had he but known it the advent of LucyDalles in Ragtown was to have a great deal to do with the futurefortunes of both Jerkline Jo and himself.
The She Boss: A Western Story Page 20
