CHAPTER XVI
LEVIATT TAKES A STEP
Miss Radford was sitting on the flat rock on the hill where she hadwritten the first page of her novel. The afternoon sun was comingslantwise over the western mountains, sinking steadily toward the riftout of which came the rose veil that she had watched many times. Shehad just completed a paragraph in which the villain appears when shebecame aware of someone standing near. She turned swiftly, withheightened color, to see Leviatt.
His sudden appearance gave her something of a shock, for as he stoodthere, smiling at her, he answered perfectly the description she hadjust written. He might have just stepped from one of her pages. Butthe shock passed, leaving her a little pale, but quite composed--andnot a little annoyed. She had found her work interesting; she hadbecome quite absorbed in it. Therefore she failed to appreciateLeviatt's sudden appearance, and with uptilted chin turned from him andpretended an interest in the rim of hills that surrounded the flat.
For an instant Leviatt stood, a frown wrinkling his forehead. Thenwith a smile he stepped forward and seated himself beside her on therock. She immediately drew her skirts close to her and shot adispleased glance at him from the corners of her eyes. Then seeingthat he still sat there, she moved her belongings a few feet andfollowed them. He could not doubt the significance of this move, buthad he been wise he might have ignored it. A woman's impulses willmove her to rebuke a man, but if he will accept without comment he maybe reasonably sure of her pity, and pity is a path of promise.
But the range boss neglected his opportunity. He made the mistake ofthinking that because he had seen her many times while visiting herbrother he might now with propriety assume an air of intimacy towardher.
"I reckon this rock is plenty big enough for both of us," he saidamiably.
She measured the distance between them with a calculating eye. "Itis," she returned quietly, "if you remain exactly where you are."
He forced a smile. "An' if I don't?" he inquired.
"You may have the rock to yourself," she returned coldly. "I did notask you to come here."
He chose to ignore this hint, telling her that he had been to the cabinto see Ben and, finding him absent, had ridden through the flat. "Isaw you when I was quite a piece away," he concluded, "an' thoughtmebbe you might be lonesome."
"When I am lonesome I choose my own company," she returned coldly.
"Why, sure," he said, his tone slightly sarcastic; "you cert'nly oughtto know who you want to talk to. But you ain't objectin' to me settin'on this hill?" he inquired.
"The hill is not mine," she observed quietly, examining one of thewritten pages of her novel; "sit here as long as you like."
"Thanks." He drawled the word. Leaning back on one elbow he stretchedout as though assured that she would make no further objections to hispresence. She ignored him completely and very deliberately arrangedher papers and resumed writing.
For a time he lay silent, watching the pencil travel the width of thepage--and then back. A mass of completed manuscript lay at her side,the pages covered with carefully written, legible words. She hadalways taken a pardonable pride in her penmanship. For a while hewatched her, puzzled, furtively trying to decipher some of the wordsthat appeared upon the pages. But the distance was too great for himand he finally gave it up and fell to looking at her instead, thoughdetermined to solve the wordy mystery that was massed near her.
Finally finding the silence irksome, he dropped an experimental word,speaking casually. "You must have been to school a heap--writin' likeyou do."
She gave him no answer, being at that moment absorbed in a thoughtwhich she was trying to transcribe before it should take wings and begone forever.
"Writin' comes easy to some people," he persisted.
The thought had been set down; she turned very slightly. "Yes," shesaid looking steadily at him, "it does. So does impertinence."
He smiled easily. "I ain't aimin' to be impertinent," he returned. "Iwouldn't reckon that askin' you what you are writin' would beimpertinent. It's too long for a letter."
"It is a novel," she returned shortly.
He smiled, exulting over this partial concession. "I reckon to write abook you must be some special kind of a woman," he observed admiringly.
She was silent. He sat up and leaned toward her, his eyes flashingwith a sudden passion.
"If that's it," he said with unmistakable significance, "I don't mindtellin' you that I'm some partial to them special kind."
Her chin rose a little. "I am not concerned over your feelings," shereturned without looking at him.
"That kind of a woman would naturally know a heap," he went on,apparently unmindful of the rebuke; "they'd cert'nly know enough to beable to see when a man likes them."
She evidently understood the drift, for her eyes glowed subtly. "It istoo bad that you are not a 'special kind of man,' then," she replied.
"Meanin'?" he questioned, his eyes glinting with eagerness.
"Meaning that if you were a 'special kind of man' you would be able totell when a woman doesn't like you," she said coldly.
"I reckon that I ain't a special kind then," he declared, his facereddening slightly. "Of course, I've seen that you ain't appeared totake much of a shine to me. But I've heard that there's women that canbe won if a man keeps at it long enough."
"Some men like to waste their time," she returned quietly.
"I don't call it wastin' time to be talkin' to you," he declaredrapidly.
"Our opinions differ," she observed shortly, resting the pencil pointon the page that she had been writing.
Her profile was toward him; her cheeks were tinged with color; somestray wisps of hair hung, breeze-blown, over her forehead and temples.She made an attractive picture, sitting there with the soft sunlightabout her, a picture whose beauty smote Leviatt's heart with a pang ofsudden regret and disappointment. She might have been his, but for thecoming of Ferguson. And now, because of the stray-man's wiles, he waslosing her.
A sudden rage seized upon him; he leaned forward, his face bloatingpoisonously. "Mebbe I could name a man who ain't wastin' his time!" hesneered.
She turned suddenly and looked at him, dropping pencil and paper, hereyes flashing with a hitter scorn. "You are one of those sulkingcowards who fawn over men and insult defenseless women!" she declared,the words coming slowly and distinctly.
He had realized before she answered that he had erred, and he smileddeprecatingly, the effort contorting his face.
"I wasn't meanin' just that," he said weakly. "I reckon it's a clearfield an' no favors." He took a step toward her, his voice growingtense. "I've been comin' down to your cabin a lot, sayin' that I wascomin' to see Ben. But I didn't come to see Ben--I wanted to look atyou. I reckon you knowed that. A woman can't help but see when aman's in love with her. But you've never give me a chance to tell you.I'm tellin' you now. I want you to marry me. I'm range boss for theTwo Diamond an' I've got some stock that's my own, an' money in thebank over in Cimarron. I'll put up a shack a few miles down the riveran'----"
"Stop!" commanded Miss Radford imperiously.
Leviatt had been speaking rapidly, absorbed in his subject, assuranceshining in his face. But at Miss Radford's command he broke offsuddenly and stiffened, surprise widening his eyes.
"You have said enough," she continued; "quite enough. I have neverthought of you as a possible admirer. I certainly have done nothingthat might lead you to believe I would marry you. I do not even likeyou--not even respect you. I am not certain that I shall ever marry,but if I do, I certainly shall not marry a man whose every look is aninsult."
She turned haughtily and began to gather up her papers. There had beenno excitement in her manner; her voice had been steady, even, andtempered with a slight scorn.
For a brief space Leviatt stood, while the full significance of herrefusal ate slowly into his consciousness. Whatever hopes he mighthave had had been swept away in those few
short, pithy sentences. Hispassion checked, the structure erected by his imagination toppled toruin, his vanity hurt, he stood before her stripped of the veneer thathad made him seem, heretofore, nearly the man he professed to be.
In her note book had been written:
"Dave Leviatt. . . . One rather gets the impression that the stoop isa reflection of the man's nature, which seems vindictive and suggests alow cunning. His eyes are small, deep set, and glitter when he talks.But they are steady and cold--almost merciless. One's thoughts goinstantly to the tiger. I shall try to create that impression in thereader's mind."
And now as she looked at him she was sure that task would not bedifficult. She had now an impression of him that seemed as though ithad been seared into her mind. The eyes that she had thought mercilesswere now glittering malevolently, and she shuddered at the satyricupward curve of his lips as he stepped close to the rock and placed ahand upon the mass of manuscript lying there, that she had previouslydropped, to prevent her leaving.
"So you don't love me?" he sneered. "You don't even respect me. Why?Because you've taken a shine to that damned maverick that come herefrom Dry Bottom--Stafford's new stray-man!"
"That is my business," she returned icily.
"It sure is," he said, the words writhing venomously through his lips."An' it's my business too. There ain't any damned----"
He had glanced suddenly downward while he had been talking and his gazerested upon an upturned page of the manuscript that lay beside him onthe rock. He broke off speaking and reaching down took up the page,his eyes narrowing with interest. The page he had taken up was onefrom the first chapter and described in detail the shooting match inDry Bottom. It was a truthful picture of what had actually happened.She had even used the real names of the characters. Leviatt saw areference to the "Silver Dollar" saloon, to the loungers, to thestranger who had ridden up and who sat on his pony near the hitchingrail, and who was called Ferguson. He saw his own name; read the storyof how the stranger had eclipsed his feat by putting six bullets intothe can.
He dropped the page to the rock and looked up at Miss Radford with ashort laugh.
"So that's what you're writin'?" he sneered. "You're writin' somethin'that really happened. You're even writin' the real names an' tellin'how Stafford's stray-man butted in an' beat me shootin'. You knowin'this shows that him an' you has been travelin' pretty close together."
For an instant Miss Radford forgot her anger. Her eyes snapped with asudden interest.
"Were you the man who hit the can five times?" she questioned, unableto conceal her eagerness.
She saw a flush slowly mount to his face. Evidently he had said morethan he had intended.
"Well, if I am?" he returned, his lips writhing in a sneer. "Himbeatin' me shootin' that way don't prove nothin'."
She was now becoming convinced of her cleverness. From Ben'sdescription of the man who had won the shooting match she had been ableto lead Ferguson to the admission that he had been the centralcharacter in that incident, and now it had transpired that Leviatt wasthe man he had beaten. This had been the way she had written it in thestory. So far the plot that had been born of her imagination hadproved to be the story of a real occurrence.
She had counted upon none but imaginary characters,--though she haddetermined to clothe these with reality through study--but now, she haddiscovered, she had been the chronicler of a real incident, and two ofher characters had been pitted against each other in a contest in whichthere had been enough bitterness to provide the animus necessary tocarry them through succeeding pages, ready and willing to fly at eachother's throats. She was not able to conceal her satisfaction over thediscovery, and when she looked at Leviatt again she smiled broadly.
"That confession explains a great many things," she said, stooping torecover the page that he had dropped beside her upon the rock.
"Meanin' what?" he questioned, his eyes glittering evilly.
"Meaning that I now know why you are not friendly toward Mr. Ferguson,"she returned. "I heard that he beat you in the shooting match," shewent on tauntingly, "and then when you insulted him afterwards, hetalked very plainly to you."
The moment she had spoken she realized that her words had hurt him, forhe paled and his eyes narrowed venomously. But his voice was cold andsteady.
"Was Mr. Ferguson tellin' you that?" he inquired, succeeding in placingironic emphasis upon the prefix.
She was arranging the contents of her hand bag and she did not look upas she answered him.
"That is my business," she returned quietly. "But I don't mind tellingyou that the man who told me about the occurrence would not lie aboutit."
"It's nice that you've got such a heap of faith in him," he sneered.
It was plain to her that he thought Ferguson had told her about theshooting match, and it was equally plain that he still harbored evilthoughts against the stray-man. And also, he suspected that somethingmore than mere friendship existed between her and Ferguson. She hadlong hoped that one day she might be given the opportunity of meetingin person a man whose soul was consumed with jealousy, in order thatshe might be able to gain some impressions of the intensity of hispassion. This seemed to be her opportunity. Therefore she raised herchin a little and looked at him with a tantalizing smile.
"Of course I have faith in him," she declared, with a slight, bitingemphasis. "I believe in him--absolutely."
She saw his lips twitch. "Sure," he sneered, "you was just beginnin'to believe in him that day when you was holdin' hands with him--justabout here. I reckon he was enjoyin' himself."
She started, but smiled immediately. "So you saw that?" she inquired,knowing that he had, but taking a keen delight in seeing that he stillremembered. But this conversation was becoming too personal; she hadno desire to argue this point with him, even to get an impression ofthe depth of his passion, so she gathered up her belongings andprepared to depart. But he stepped deliberately in front of her,barring the way of escape. His face was aflame with passion.
"I seen him holdin' your hand," he said, his voice trembling; "I seenthat he was holdin' it longer than he had any right. An' I seen youpull your hand away when you thought I was lookin' at you. I reckonyou've taken a shine to him; he's the kind that the women like--withhis slick ways an' smooth palaver--an' his love makin'." He laughedwith his lips only, his eyes narrowed to glittering pin points. Shehad not thought that jealousy could make a person half so repulsive.
"If you're lovin' him," he continued, leaning toward her, his musclestense, his lips quivering with a passion that he was no longer able torepress, "I'm tellin' you that you're wastin' your time. You wouldn'tthink so much of him if you knowed that he come here----"
Leviatt had become aware that Miss Radford was not listening; that shewas no longer looking at him, but at something behind him. At theinstant he became aware of this he turned sharply in his tracks, hisright hand falling swiftly to his holster. Not over half a dozen pacesdistant stood Ben Radford, gravely watching.
"Mebbe you folks are rehearsing a scene from that story," he observedquietly. "I wasn't intending to interrupt, but I heard loud talkingand I thought mebbe it wasn't anything private. So I just got off myhorse and climbed up here, to satisfy my curiosity."
Leviatt's hand fell away from the holster, a guilty grin overspreadinghis face. "I reckon we wasn't rehearsin' any scene," he said, tryingto make the words come easily. "I was just tellin' your sisterthat----"
Miss Radford laughed banteringly. "You have spoiled a chapter in mybook, Ben," she declared with pretended annoyance; "Mr. Leviatt hadjust finished proposing to me and was at the point where he wassupposed to speak bitter words about his rival." She laughed again,gazing at Leviatt with mocking eyes. "Of course, I shall never be ableto tell my readers what he might have said, for you appeared at a mostinopportune time. But he has taught me a great deal--much more, infact, than I ever expected from him."
She bowed mockingly. "I a
m very, very much obliged to you, Mr.Leviatt," she said, placing broad emphasis upon her words. "I promiseto try and make a very interesting character of you--there were timeswhen you were most dramatic."
She bowed to Leviatt and flashed a dazzling smile at her brother. Thenshe walked past Leviatt, picked her way daintily over the loose stoneson the hillside, and descended to the level where she had tethered herpony. Ben stood grinning admiringly after her as she mounted and rodeout into the flat. Then he turned to Leviatt, soberly contemplatinghim.
"I don't think you were rehearsing for the book," he said quietly, anundercurrent of humor in his voice.
"She was funnin' me," returned Leviatt, his face reddening.
"I reckon she was," returned Ben dryly. "She's certainly some cleverat handing it to a man." He smiled down into the flat, where MissRadford could still be seen, riding toward the cabin. "Looks as thoughshe wasn't quite ready to change her name to 'Leviatt'," he grinned.
But there was no humor in Leviatt's reflections. He stood for amoment, looking down into the flat, the expression of his face moroseand sullen. Ben's bantering words only added fuel to the flame of rageand disappointment that was burning fiercely in his heart. Presentlythe hard lines of his lips disappeared and he smiled craftily.
"She's about ready to change her name," he said. "Only she ain'tfiggerin' that it's goin' to be Leviatt."
"You're guessing now," returned Ben sharply.
Leviatt laughed oddly. "I reckon I ain't doin' any guessin'," hereturned. "You've been around her a heap an' been seein' herconsid'able, but you ain't been usin' your eyes."
"Meaning what?" demanded Ben, an acid-like coldness in his voice.
"Meanin' that if you'd been usin' your eyes you'd have seen that she'ssome took up with Stafford's new stray-man."
"Well," returned Ben, "she's her own boss. If she's made friends withFerguson that's her business." He laughed. "She's certainly clever,"he added, "and mebbe she's got her own notion as to why she's madefriends with him. She's told me that she's goin' to make him acharacter in the book she's writing. Likely she's stringing him."
"I reckon she ain't stringin' him," declared Leviatt. "A girl ain'tdoin' much stringin' when she's holdin' a man's hand an' blushin' whensomebody ketches her at it."
There was a slight sneer in Leviatt's voice which drew a sharp glancefrom Radford. For an instant his face clouded and he was about to makea sharp reply. But his face cleared immediately and he smiled.
"I'm banking on her being able to take care of herself," he returned."Her holding Ferguson's hand proves nothing. Likely she was trying toget an impression--she's always telling me that. But she's running herown game, and if she is stringing Ferguson that's her business, and ifshe thinks a good bit of him that's her business, too. If a man ain'tjealous, he might be able to see that Ferguson ain't a half bad sort ofa man."
An evil light leaped into Leviatt's eyes. He turned and faced Radford,words coming from his lips coldly and incisively. "When youinterrupted me," he said, "I was goin' to tell your sister aboutFerguson. Mebbe if I tell you what I was goin' to tell her it'll makeyou see things some different. A while ago Stafford was wantin' tohire a gunfighter." He shot a significant glance at Radford, whoreturned it steadily. "I reckon you know what he wanted a gunfighterfor. He got one. His name's Ferguson. He's gettin' a hundred dollarsa month for the season, to put Ben Radford out of business!"
The smile had gone from Radford's face; his lips were tightly closed,his eyes cold and alert.
"You lying about Ferguson because you think he's friendly with Mary?"he questioned quietly.
Leviatt's right hand dropped swiftly to his holster. But Radfordlaughed harshly. "Quit it!" he said sharply. "I ain't sayin' you're aliar, but what you've said makes you liable to be called that untilyou've proved you ain't. How do you know Ferguson's been hired to putme out of business?"
Leviatt laughed. "Stafford an' me went to Dry Bottom to get agunfighter. I shot a can in the street in front of the Silver Dollarso's Stafford would be able to get a line on anyone tryin' to beat mygame. Ferguson done it an' Stafford hired him."
Radford's gaze was level and steady. "Then you've knowed right alongthat he was lookin' for me," he said coldly. "Why didn't you saysomething about it before. You've been claiming to be my friend."
Leviatt flushed, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other, butwatching Radford with alert and suspicious glances. "Why," he returnedshortly, "I'm range boss for the Two Diamond an' I ain't hired to tellwhat I know. I reckon you'd think I was a hell of a man to be tellin'things that I ain't got no right to tell."
"But you're telling it now," returned Radford, his eyes narrowing alittle.
"Yes," returned Leviatt quietly, "I am. An' you're callin' me a liarfor it. But I'm tellin' you to wait. Mebbe you'll tumble. I reckonyou ain't heard how Ferguson's been tellin' the boys that he went downto your cabin one night claimin' to have been bit by a rattler, becausehe wanted to get acquainted with you an' pot you some day when youwasn't expectin' it. An' then after he'd stayed all night in yourcabin he was braggin' to the boys that he reckoned on makin' a fool ofyour sister. Oh, he's some slick!" he concluded, a note of triumph inhis voice.
Radford started, his face paling a little. He had thought it strangethat an experienced plainsman--as Ferguson appeared to be--should havebeen bitten by a rattler in the manner he had described. And then hehad been hanging around the----
"Mebbe you might think it's onusual for Stafford to hire a two-gun manto look after strays," broke in Leviatt at this point. "Two-gun menain't takin' such jobs regular," he insinuated. "Stray-men is usuallow-down, mean, ornery cusses which ain't much good for anything else,an' so they spend their time mopin' around, doin' work that ain't fitfor any puncher to do."
Radford had snapped himself erect, his lips straightening. He suddenlyheld out a hand to Leviatt. "I'm thanking you," he said steadily."It's rather late for you to be telling me, but I think it's come intime anyway. I'm watching him for a little while, and if things are asyou say----" He broke off, his voice filled with a significantgrimness. "So-long," he added.
He turned and descended the slope of the hill. An instant laterLeviatt saw him loping his pony toward the cabin. For a few minutesLeviatt gazed after him, his eyes alight with satisfaction. Then he,too, descended the slope of the hill and mounted his pony.
The Two-Gun Man Page 16
