by B. M. Bower
CHAPTER II
Wanted: Information
Sulking never yet solved a mystery nor will it accomplish much towardbettering an unpleasant situation. After a day of unmitigated gloom anda night of uneasy dreams, Ford awoke to a white, shifting world of theseason's first blizzard, and to something like his normal outlook uponlife.
That outlook had ever been cheerful, with the cheerfulness which comesof taking life in twenty-four-hour doses only, and of looking not toofar ahead and backward not at all. Plenty of persons live after thatfashion and thereby attain middle life with smooth foreheads and cheeksunlined by thought; and Ford was therefore not much different from hisfellows. Never before had he found himself with anything worse thanbodily bruises to sour life for him after a tumultuous night or two intown, and the sensation of a discomfort which had not sprung from somewell-defined physical sense was therefore sufficiently novel to claimall his attention.
It was not the first time he had fought and forgotten it afterwards. Norwas it a new experience for him to seek information from his friendsafter a night full of incident. Sandy he had always found tolerablyreliable, because Sandy, being of that inquisitive nature so common tosmall persons, made it a point to see everything there was to be seen;and his peculiar digestive organs might be counted upon to keep himsober. It was a real grievance to Ford that Sandy should have chosen thehour he did for indulging in such trivialities as hair-cuts andshampoos, while events of real importance were permitted to transpireunseen and unrecorded. Ford, when the grievance thrust itself keenlyupon him, roused the recreant Sandy by pitilessly thrusting an elbowagainst his diaphragm.
Sandy grunted at the impact and sat bolt upright in bed before he wasfairly awake. He glanced reproachfully down at Ford, who stared back athim from a badly crumpled pillow.
"Get up," growled Ford, "and start a fire going, darn you. You kept meawake half the night, snoring. I want a beefsteak with mushrooms,devilled kidneys, waffles with honey, and four banana fritters forbreakfast. I'll take it in bed; and while I'm waiting, you can bring methe morning paper and a package of Egyptian Houris."
Sandy grunted again, slid reluctantly out into the bitterly cold room,and crept shivering into his clothes. He never quite understood Ford'ssense of humor, at such times, but he had learned that it is morecomfortable to crawl out of bed than to be kicked out, and thatvituperation is a mere waste of time when matched against sheerheartlessness and a superior muscular development.
"Y' ought to make your wife build the fires," he taunted, when he wasclothed and at a safe distance from the bed. He ducked instinctivelyafterwards, but Ford was merely placing a match by itself on the benchclose by.
"That's one," Ford remarked calmly. "I'm going to thrash every misguidedhumorist who mentions that subject to me in anything but a helpfulspirit of pure friendship. I'm going to give him a separate licking forevery alleged joke. I'll want two steaks, Sandy. I'll likely have togive you about seven distinct wallopings. Hand me some more matches tokeep tally with. I don't want to cheat you out of your just dues."
Sandy eyed him doubtfully while he scraped the ashes from the grate.
"You may want a dozen steaks, but that ain't saying you're going to git'em," he retorted, with a feeble show of aggression. "And 's far aslicking me goes--" He stopped to blow warmth upon his fingers, whichwere numbed with their grasp of the poker. "As for licking me, I guessyou'll have to do that on the strength uh bacon and sour-dough biscuits;if you do it at all, which I claim the privilege uh doubting a wholelot."
Ford laughed a little at the covert challenge, made ridiculous bySandy's diminutive stature, pulled the blankets up to his eyes, anddozed off luxuriously; and although it is extremely tiresome to be toldin detail just what a man dreams upon certain occasions, he did dream,and it was something about being married. At any rate, when the sizzlingof bacon frying invaded even his slumber and woke him, he felt adistinct pang of disappointment that it was Sandy's carroty head bentover the frying-pan, instead of a wife with blond hair which wavedbecomingly upon her temples.
"Wonder what color her hair is, anyway," he observed inadvertently,before he was wide enough awake to put the seal of silence on hismusings.
"Hunh?"
"I asked when those banana fritters are coming up," lied Ford, gettingout of bed and yawning so that his swollen jaw hurt him, and relapsedinto his usual taciturnity, which was his wall of defense againstSandy's inquisitiveness.
He ate his breakfast almost in silence, astonishing Sandy somewhat bynot complaining of the excess of soda in the biscuits. Ford was inclinedtoward fastidiousness when he was sober--a trait which caused men tosuspect him of descending from an upper stratum of society; though justwhen, or just where, or how great that descent had been, they had nomeans of finding out. Ford, so far as his speech upon the subject wasconcerned, had no existence previous to his appearance in Montana, fiveor six years before; but he bore certain earmarks of a highercivilization which, in Sandy's mind, rather concentrated upon apronounced distaste for soda-yellowed bread, warmed-over coffee, andscorched bacon. That he swallowed all these things and seemed not tonotice them, struck Sandy as being almost as remarkable as hismatrimonial adventure.
When he had eaten, Ford buttoned himself into his overcoat, pulled hismoleskin cap well down, and went out into the storm without a word toSandy, which was also unusual; it was Ford's custom to wash the dishes,because he objected to Sandy's economy of clean, hot water. Sandyflattened his nose against the window, saw that Ford, leaning wellforward against the drive of the wind, was battling his way toward thehotel, and guessed shrewdly that he would see him no more that day.
"He better keep sober till his knuckles git well, anyway," he mumbleddisapprovingly. "If he goes to fighting, the shape he's in now--"
Ford had no intention of fighting. He went straight up to the bar, it istrue, but that was because he saw that Sam was at that momentunoccupied, save with a large lump of gum. Being at the bar, he drank aglass of whisky; not of deliberate intent, but merely from force ofhabit. Once down, however, the familiar glow of it through his being wasexceedingly grateful, and he took another for good measure.
"H'lo, Ford," Sam bethought him to say, after he had gravely takenmental note of each separate scar of battle, and had shifted his cud tothe other side of his mouth, and had squeezed it meditatively betweenhis teeth. "Feel as rocky as you look?"
"Possibly." Ford's eyes forbade further personalities. "I'm out afterinformation, Sam, and if you've got any you aren't using, I'd advise youto pass it over; I can use a lot, this morning. Were you sober, nightbefore last?"
Sam chewed solemnly while he considered. "Tolerable sober, yes," hedecided at last. "Sober enough to tend to business; why?"
With his empty glass Ford wrote invisible scrolls upon the bar. "I--didyou happen to see--my--the lady I married?" He had been embarrassed atfirst, but when he finished he was glaring a challenge which shifted thedisquiet to Sam's manner.
"No. I was tendin' bar all evenin'--and she didn't come in here."
Ford glanced behind him at the sound of the door opening, saw that itwas only Bill, and leaned over the bar for greater secrecy, lowering hisvoice as well.
"Did you happen to hear who she was?"
Sam stared and shook his head.
"Don't you know anything about her at all--where she came from--and why,and where she went?"
Sam backed involuntarily. Ford's tone made it a crime either to knowthese things or to be guilty of ignorance; which, Sam could notdetermine. Sam was of the sleek, oily-haired type of young men, withpimples and pale eyes and a predilection for gum and gossip. He wasafraid of Ford and he showed it.
"That's just what (no offense, Ford--I ain't responsible) that's whateverybody's wondering. Nobody seems to know. They kinda hoped you'dexplain--"
"Sure!" Ford's tone was growing extremely ominous. "I'll explain a lotof things--if I hear any gabbling going on about my affairs." He wasseized then with an uncomfortable feeling that t
he words were merepuerile blustering and turned away from the bar in disgust.
In disgust he pulled open the door, flinched before the blast of windand snow which smote him full in the face and blinded him, and went outagain into the storm. The hotel porch was a bleak place, with snow sixinches deep and icy boards upon which a man might easily slip and breaka bone or two, and with a whine overhead as the wind sucked under theroof. Ford stood there so long that his feet began to tingle. He was notthinking; he was merely feeling the feeble struggles of a newborndesire to be something and do something worth while--a desire whichmanifested itself chiefly in bitterness against himself as he was, andin a mental nausea against the life he had been content to live.
The mystery of his marriage was growing from a mere untoward incident ofa night's carouse into a baffling thing which hung over him like animpending doom. He was not the sort of man who marries easily. It seemedincredible that he could really have done it; more incredible that hecould have done it and then have wiped the slate of his memory clean;with the crowning impossibility that a strange young woman could comeinto town, marry him, and afterward depart and no man know who she was,whence she had come, or where she had gone. Ford stepped suddenly offthe porch and bored his way through the blizzard toward the depot. Thestation agent would be able to answer the last question, at any rate.
The agent, however, proved disappointingly ignorant of the matter. Hereminded Ford that there had not been time to buy a ticket, and that thegirl had been compelled to run down the platform to reach the trainbefore it started, and that the wheels began to turn before she was upthe steps of the day coach.
"And don't you remember turning around and saying to me: 'I'm a poormarried man, but you can't notice the scar,' or something like that?"The agent was plainly interested and desirous of rendering anyassistance possible, and also rather diffident about discussing sodelicate a matter with a man like Ford.
Ford drummed his fingers impatiently upon the shelf outside the ticketwindow. "I don't remember a darned thing about it," he confessed glumly."I can't say I enjoy running all around town trying to find out who itwas I married, and why I married her, and where she went afterwards, butthat's just the kinda fix I'm in, Lew. I don't suppose she came here anddid it just for fun--and I can't figure out any other reason, unless shewas plumb loco. From all I can gather, she was a nice girl, and it seemsshe thought I was Frank Ford Cameron--which I am not!" He laughed, as aman will laugh sometimes when he is neither pleased nor amused.
"I might ask McCreery--he's conductor on Fourteen. He might rememberwhere she wanted to go," the agent suggested hesitatingly. "And say!What's the matter with going up to Garbin and looking up the record? Shehad to get the license there, and they'd have her name, age, place ofresidence, and--and whether she's white or black." The agent smileduncertainly over his feeble attempt at a joke. "I got a license for afriend once," he explained hastily, when he saw that Ford's face did notrelax a muscle. "There's a train up in forty minutes--"
"Sure, I'll do that." Ford brightened. "That must be what I've beentrying to think of and couldn't. I knew there was some way of findingout. Throw me a round-trip ticket, Lew. Lordy me! I can't afford to leta real, live wife slip the halter like this and leave me stranded andnot knowing a thing about her. How much is it?"
The agent slid a dark red card into the mouth of his office stamp,jerked down the lever, and swung his head quickly toward the sounderchattering hysterically behind him. His jaw slackened as he listened,and he turned his eyes vacantly upon Ford for a moment before he lookedback at the instrument.
"Well, what do you know about that?" he queried, under his breath,released the ticket from the grip of the stamp, and flipped it into thedrawer beneath the shelf as if it were so much waste paper.
"That's my ticket," Ford reminded him levelly.
"You don't want it now, do you?" The agent grinned at him. "Oh, I forgotyou couldn't read that." He tilted his head back toward the instrument."A wire just went through--the court-house at Garbin caught fire in thebasement--something about the furnace, they think--and she's going up insmoke. Hydrants are froze up so they can't get water on it. That fixesyour looking up the record, Ford."
Ford stared hard at him. "Well, I might hunt up the preacher and askhim," he said, his tone dropping again to dull discouragement.
The agent chuckled. "From all I hear," he observed rashly, "you've madethat same preacher mighty hard to catch!"
Ford drummed upon the shelf and scowled at the smoke-blackened window,beyond which the snow was sweeping aslant. Upon his own side of theticket window, the agent pared his nails with his pocket-knife andwatched him furtively.
"Oh, hell! What do I care, anyway?" Revulsion seized Ford harshly. "Iguess I can stand it if she can. She came here and married me--it isn'tmy funeral any more than it is hers. If she wants to be so darnedmysterious about it, she can go plumb--to--New York!" There were a fewdecent traits in Ford Campbell; one was his respect for women, a respectwhich would not permit him to swear about this wife of his, howeverexasperating her behavior.
"That's the sensible way to look at it, of course," assented the agent,who made it a point to agree always with a man of Ford's size andcaliber, on the theory that amiability means popularity, and thatplacation is better than plasters. "You sure ought to let her do thehunting--and the worrying, too. You aren't to blame if she married youunawares. She did it all on her own hook--and she must have known whatshe was up against."
"No, she didn't," flared Ford unexpectedly. "She made a mistake, and Iwanted to point it out to her and help her out of it if I could. Shetook me for some one else, and I was just drunk enough to think it was ajoke, I suppose, and let it go that way. I don't believe she found outshe tied up to the wrong man. It's entirely my fault, for being drunk."
"Well, putting it that way, you're right about it," agreed the adaptableLew. "Of course, if you hadn't been--"
"If whisky's going to let a fellow in for things like this, it's time tocut it out altogether." Ford was looking at the agent attentively.
"That's right," assented the other unsuspectingly. "Whisky is suregiving you the worst of it all around. You ought to climb on thewater-wagon, Ford, and that's a fact. Whisky's the worst enemy you'vegot."
"Sure. And I'm going to punish all of it I can get my hands on!" Heturned toward the door. "And when I'm good and full of it," he added asan afterthought, "I'm liable to come over here and lick you, Lew, justfor being such an agreeable cuss. You better leave your mother's addresshandy." He laughed a little to himself as he pulled the door shut behindhim. "I bet he'll keep the frost thawed off the window to-day, just tosee who comes up the platform," he chuckled.
He would have been more amused if he had seen how the agent duckedanxiously forward to peer through the ticket window whenever the door ofthe waiting room opened, and how he started whenever the snow outsidecreaked under the tread of a heavy step; and he would have beenconvulsed with mirth if he had caught sight of the formidable billet ofwood which Lew kept beside his chair all that day, and had guessed itspurpose, and that it was a mute witness to the reputation which one FordCampbell bore among his fellows. Lew was too wise to consider for amoment the revolver meant to protect the contents of the safe. Even theunintelligent know better than to throw a lighted match into a keg ofgunpowder.
Ford leaned backward against the push of the storm and was swept up tothe hotel. He could not remember when he had felt so completely baffled;the incident of the girl and the ceremony was growing to something verylike a calamity, and the mystery which surrounded it began to fret himintolerably; and the very unusualness of a trouble he could not settlewith his fists whipped his temper to the point of explosion. He caughthimself wavering, nevertheless, before the wind-swept porch of the hotel"office." That, too, was strange. Ford was not wont to hesitate beforeentering a saloon; more often he hesitated about leaving.
"What's the matter with me, anyway?" he questioned himself impatiently."I'm acting like I hadn't
a right to go in and take a drink when I feellike it! If just a slight touch of matrimony acts like that with a man,what can the real thing be like? I always heard it made a fool of afellow." To prove to himself that he was still untrammeled and atliberty to follow his own desire, he stamped across the porch, threwopen the door, and entered with a certain defiance of manner.
Behind the bar, Sam was laughing with his mouth wide open so that hisgum showed shamelessly. Bill and Aleck and Big Jim were leaning heavilyupon the bar, laughing also.
"I'll bet she's a Heart-and-Hander, tryin' a new scheme to git a man.Think uh nabbing a man when he's drunk. That's a new one," Sam broughthis lips close enough together to declare, and chewed vigorously uponthe idea,--until he glanced up and saw Ford standing by the door. Heturned abruptly, caught up a towel, and began polishing the bar with thefrenzy of industry which never imposes upon one in the slightest degree.
Bill glanced behind him and nudged Aleck into caution, and in thesilence which followed, the popping of a piece of slate-veined coal inthe stove sounded like a volley of small-caliber pistol shots.
