CHAPTER VII
MAINTAINING A REPUTATION
The abduction of Sassoon, which signalized de Spain's entry into thestage-line management, created a sensation akin to the exploding of abomb under the range. The whole mountain country, which concentrates,sensibly, on but one topic at a time, talked for a week of nothingelse. No such defiance of the traditions of the Morgan rule along thereaches of the Spanish Sinks had been attempted in years--and it wasrecalled more than once, when de Spain's feat was discussed at theranches, on the trails, and in the haunts of gunmen in Calabasas, thatno one of those who had ever braved the wrath of the Sink rulers hadlived indefinitely to boast of it.
Experienced men, therefore, in the high country--men of that classwho, wherever found, are old in the ways of the world, and notpromptly moved by new or youthful adventure--dismissed the incidentafter hearing the details, with the comment or the conclusion thatthere would hardly be for de Spain more than one additional chapter tothe story, and that this would be a short one. The most activeMorgans--Gale, Duke, and the easy-going Satterlee--were indeed wroughtto the keenest pitch of revengeful anger. No question of the right orwrong of the arrest was discussed--justification was not considered.It was an overwhelmingly insolent invasion--and worst of all, asuccessful invasion, by one who had nothing but cool impudence, noteven a budding reputation to justify his assault on the lifelongprestige of the Gap clan. Gale Morgan strode and rode the streets ofSleepy Cat looking for de Spain, and storming.
De Spain himself, somewhat surprised at the storm he had kicked up,heeded the counsel of Scott, and while the acute stage of theresentment raged along the trail he ran down for a few days toMedicine Bend to buy horses. Both Gale and Duke Morgan proclaimed, incertain public places in Sleepy Cat, their intention of shooting deSpain on sight; and as a climax to all the excitement of the weekfollowing his capture, the slippery Sassoon broke jail and, after abrief interval, appeared at large in Calabasas.
This feat of the Morgan satellite made a loud laugh at de Spain'sexpense. It mitigated somewhat the humiliation of Sassoon's friends,but it in no wise diminished their expressed resolve to punish deSpain's invasion. Lefever, who as the mixer among the stage men, keptclose to the drift of public sentiment, decided after de Spain'sreturn to Sleepy Cat that the stage-line authorities had gainednothing by Sassoon's capture.
"We ought to have thought of it before, Henry," he said frankly onenight in Jeffries's office, "but we didn't think."
"Meaning just what, John?" demanded de Spain without real interest.
"Meaning, that in this country you can't begin on a play like pullingSassoon out from under his friends' noses without keeping up thepace--without a second and third act. You dragged Sassoon by his hairout of the Gap; good. You surprised everybody; good. But you can'tvery well stop at that, Henry. You have raised hopes, you have ledpeople to invest you with the faint glimmerings of a reputation. Isay, the glimmerings, because such a feat by itself doesn't insure apermanent reputation, Henry. It is, so to say, merely a 'demand'reputation--one that men reserve the right to recall at any moment.And the worst of it is, if they ever do recall it, you are worse offthan when before they extended the brittle bauble to you."
"Jingo, John! For a stage blacksmith you are some spieler." De Spainadded an impatient, not to say contumelious exclamation concerningthe substance of Lefever's talk. "I didn't ask them for a reputation.This man interfered with my guard--in fact, tried to cut his throat,didn't he?"
"Would have done it if Frank had been an honest man."
"That is all there is to it, isn't it? If Sassoon or anybody else getsin the way of the stages, I'll go after them again--that's all thereis to it, isn't it?"
Lefever tapped the second finger of one fat hand gently on the table."Practically; practically all, Henry, yes. You don't quite understand,but you have the right idea. What I am trying to hammer into yourdense cocoanut is, that when a man has, gets, or is given a reputationout in this country, he has got to live up to it."
"What do you want me to do--back a horse and shoot two guns at once upand down Main Street, cowboy style?"
Lefever kept his patience without difficulty. "No, no. You'llunderstand."
"Scott advised me to run down to Medicine Bend for a few days to letthe Morgans cool off."
"Right. That was the first step. The few days are a thing of the past.I suppose you know," continued Lefever, in as well-modulated a toneas he could assume to convey information that could not be regarded aswholly cheerful, "that they expect to get you for this Sassoon job."
De Spain flushed. But the red anger lasted only a moment. "Who are'they'?" he asked after a pause.
"Deaf Sandusky, Logan, of course, the Calabasas bunch, and theMorgans."
De Spain regarded his companion unamiably. "What do they expect I'llbe doing while they are getting me?"
Lefever raised a hand deprecatingly. "Don't be overconfident, Henry;that's your danger. I know you can take care of yourself. All I wantto do is to get the folks here acquainted with your ability, withouttaking unnecessary chances. You see, people are not now askingquestions of one another; they are asking them of themselves. Who andwhat is this newcomer--an accident or a genuine arrival? A commonsquib or a real explosion? Don't get excited," he added, in an effortto soothe de Spain's obvious irritation. "You have the idea, Henry.It's time to show yourself."
"I can't very well do business here without showing myself," retortedde Spain.
"But it is a thing to be managed," persisted Lefever. "Now,suppose--since the topic is up--we 'show' in Main Street for awhile."
"Suppose we do," echoed de Spain ungraciously.
"That will crack the debut ice. We will call at Harry Tenison's hotel,and then go to his new rooms--go right to society headquartersfirst--that's my theory of doing it. If anybody has any shooting inmind, Tenison's is a quiet and orderly place. And if a man declines toeat anybody up at Tenison's, we put him down, Henry, as not ravenouslyhungry."
"One man I would like to see is that sheriff, Druel, who let Sassoonget out."
"Ready to interview him now?"
"I've got some telegrams to answer."
"Those will keep. The Morgans are in town. We'll start out and findsomebody."
It was wet and sloppy outside, but Lefever was indifferent to therain, and de Spain thought it would be undignified to complain of it.
When, followed by Lefever, he walked into the lobby of Tenison's hotela few moments later the office was empty. Nevertheless, the news ofthe appearance of Sassoon's captor spread. The two sauntered into thebilliard-hall, which occupied a deep room adjoining the office andopened with large plate-glass windows on Main Street. Every table wasin use. A fringe of spectators in the chairs, ostensibly watching thepool games, turned their eyes toward de Spain--those that recognizedhim distinguishing him by nods and whispers to others.
Among several groups of men standing before the long bar, one party offour near the front end likewise engaged the interest of those keenerloafers who were capable of foreseeing situations. These men,Satterlee Morgan, the cattleman; Bull Page, one of his cowboys;Sheriff Druel, and Judge Druel, his brother, had been drinkingtogether. They did not see Lefever and his companion as the two camein through the rear lobby door. But Lefever, on catching sight ofthem, welcomed his opportunity. Walking directly forward, he laid hishand on Satt Morgan's shoulder. As the cattleman turned, Lefever,genially grasping his hand, introduced de Spain to each of the partyin turn. What followed in the brief interval between the meeting ofthe six men and the sudden breaking up of the group a few momentslater was never clearly known, but a fairly conclusive theory of itwas afterward accepted by Sleepy Cat.
Morgan threw the brim of his weather-beaten hat back from his tannedface. He wore a mustache and a chin whisker of that varietydesignated in the mountains by the most opprobrious of epithets. Buthis smile, which drew his cheeks into wrinkles all about his long,round nose, was not unfriendly. He looked with open interest from hisfrank
but not overtrustworthy eyes at de Spain. "I heard," he said ina good-natured, slightly nasal tone, "you made a sunrise call on usone day last week."
"And I want to say," returned de Spain, equally amiable, "that if Ihad had any idea you folks would take it so hard--I mean, as anaffront intended to any of you--I never would have gone into the Gapafter Sassoon. I just assumed--making a mistake as I now realize--thatmy scrap would be with Sassoon, not with the Morgans."
Satt's face wrinkled into a humorous grin. "You sure kicked up somealkali."
De Spain nodded candidly. "More than I intended to. And I say--withoutany intention of impertinence to anybody else--Sassoon is a cur. Isupposed when I brought him in here after so much riding, that we hadsheriff enough to keep him." He looked at Druel with such composurethat the latter for a moment was nonplussed. Then he discharged avolley of oaths, and demanded what de Spain meant. De Spain did notmove. He refused to see the angry sheriff. "That is where I made mysecond mistake," he continued, speaking to Morgan and forcing histone just enough to be heard. Druel, with more hard words, began toabuse the railroad for not paying taxes enough to build a decent jail.De Spain took another tack. He eyed the sheriff calmly as the lattercontinued to draw away and left de Spain standing somewhat apart fromthe rest of the group. "Then it may be I am making another mistake,Druel, in blaming you. It may not be your fault."
"The fault is, you're fresh," cried Druel, warming up as de Spainappeared to cool. The line of tipplers backed away from the bar. DeSpain, stepping toward the sheriff, raised his hand in a friendly way."Druel, you're hurting yourself by your talk. Make me your deputyagain sometime," he concluded, "and I'll see that Sassoon stays wherehe is put."
"I'll just do that," cried Druel, with a very strong word, and heraised his hand in turn. "Next time you want him locked up, you cantake care of him yourself."
The sharp crack of a rifle cut off the words; a bullet tore like alightning-bolt across de Spain's neck, crashed through a mahoganypilaster back of the bar, and embedded itself in the wall. The shothad been aimed from the street for his head. The noisy room instantlyhushed. Spectators sat glued to their chairs. White-faced playersleaned motionless against the tables. De Spain alone had acted; allthat the bartenders could ever remember after the single rifle-shotwas seeing his hand go back as he whirled and shot instantly towardthe heavy report. He had whipped out his gun and fired sidewisethrough the window at the sound.
That was all. The bartenders breathed and looked again. Men werecrowding like mad through the back doors. De Spain, at the cigar case,looked intently into the rainy street, lighted from the corner by adingy lamp. The four men near him had not stirred, but, startled andalert, the right hand of each covered the butt of a revolver. De Spainmoved first. While the pool players jammed the back doors to escape,he spoke to, without looking at, the bartender. "What's the matterwith your curtains?" he demanded, sheathing his revolver and pointingwith an expletive to the big sheet of plate glass. "Is this the wayyou build up business for the house?"
Those close enough to the window saw that the bare pane had been cut,just above the middle, by two bullet-holes. Curious men examined bothfractures when de Spain and Lefever had left the saloon. The firsthole was the larger. It had been made by a high-powered rifle; thesecond was from a bullet of a Colt's revolver; it was remarked as amiracle of gun-play that the two were hardly an inch apart.
In the street a few minutes later, de Spain and Lefever encounteredScott, who, with his back hunched up, his cheap black hat pulled welldown over his ears, his hands in his trousers pockets and his thincoat collar modestly turned against the drizzling rain, was walkingacross the parkway from the station.
"Sassoon is in town," exclaimed Lefever with certainty after he hadtold the story. He waited for the Indian's opinion. Scott, lookingthrough the water dripping from the brim of his seasoned derby, gaveit in one word. "Was," he amended with a quiet smile.
"Let's make sure," insisted Lefever. "Supposing he might be in townyet, Bob, where is he?"
Scott gazed up the street through the rain lighted by yellow lamps onthe obscure corners, and looked down the street toward the blackreaches of the river. "If he's here, you'll find him in one of twoplaces. Tenison's----"
"But we've just come from Tenison's," objected Lefever.
"I mean, across the street, up-stairs; or at Jim Kitchen's barn. If hewas hurried to get away," added Scott reflectively, "he would slipup-stairs over there as the nearest place to hide; if he had time hewould make for the barn, where it would be easy to cache his rifle."
Lefever took the lapel of the scout's coat in his hand. "Then you,Bob, go out and see if you can get the whole story. I'll takethe barn. Let Henry go over to Tenison's and wait at the head ofthe stairs till we can get back there. It is just around thecorner--second floor--a dark hall running back, opposite thedouble doors that open into an anteroom. Stay there, Henry, till wecome. It won't be long, and if we don't get track of him you mayspot your man yourself."
De Spain found no difficulty in locating the flight of marble stairsthat led to the gambling-rooms. It was the only lighted entrancein the side street. No light shone at the head of the stairs, but adoorway on the left opened into a dimly lighted anteroom and this, inturn, through a large arch, opened on a large room brilliantlylighted by chandeliers--one in the centre and one near each corner.Around three sides of this room were placed the keno layouts,roulette-wheels, faro-tables, and minor gambling devices. Off thecasino itself small card-rooms opened.
The big room was well filled for a wet night. The faro-tables werebusy, and at the central table at the farther end of the room--thetable designated as Tenison's, because, at the rare intervals in whichthe proprietor dealt, he presided at this table--a group watchedsilently a game in progress. De Spain took a place in shadow near oneside of the archway facing the street-door and at times looked withinfor the loosely jointed frame, crooked neck, tousled forehead, andmalevolent face of the cattle thief. He could find in the many figuresscattered about the room none resembling the one he sought.
A man entering the place spoke to another coming out. De Spainoverheard the exchange. "Duke got rid of his steers yet?" asked thefirst.
"Not yet."
"Slow game."
"The old man sold quite a bunch this time. The way he's playing nowhe'll last twenty-four hours."
De Spain, following the newcomer, strolled into the room and,beginning at one side, proceeded in leisurely fashion from wheel towheel and table to table inspecting the players. Few looked at him andnone paid any attention to his presence. At Tenison's table he saw inthe dealer's chair the large, white, smooth face, dark eyes, andclerical expression of the proprietor, whose presence meant a realgame and explained the interest of the idlers crowded about oneplayer whom de Spain, without getting closer in among the onlookersthan he wanted to, could not see.
Tenison, as de Spain approached, happened to look wearily up; his faceshowed the set lines of a protracted session. He neither spoke nornodded to the newcomer, but recognized him with a mere glance. Then,though his eyes had rested for only an instant on the new face, hespoke in an impassive tone across the intervening heads: "Whathappened to your red tie, Henry?"
De Spain put up his hand to his neck, and looked down at a loose endhanging from his soft cravat. It had been torn by the bullet meant forhis head. He tucked the end inside his collar. "A Calabasas man triedto untie it a few minutes ago. He missed the knot."
Tenison did not hear the answer. He had reverted to his case. De Spainmoved on and, after making the round of the scattered tables, walkedagain through the archway into the anteroom, only to meet, as shestood hesitating and apparently about to enter the room, Nan Morgan.
Nan of Music Mountain Page 8
