'Firebrand' Trevison

“This is an outrage!” he gasped, shuddering. “I know you – you are Trevison. I shall have you punished for this.”

The other laughed lowly and vibrantly. “That’s your affair – if you dare! You say a word about this visit and I’ll feed your scoundrelly old carcass to the coyotes! Justice is abroad tonight and it won’t be balked. I’m after that original land record – and I’m going to have it. You know where it is – you’ve got it. Your face told me that the other day. You’re only half-heartedly in this steal. Be a man – give me the record – and I’ll stand by you until hell freezes over! Quick! Is it in the safe?”

The Judge wavered in agonized indecision. But thoughts of Corrigan’s wrath finally conquered.

“It – it isn’t in the safe,” he said. And then, aware of his error because of the shrill breath the other drew, he added, quaveringly: “There is no – the original record is in my desk – you’ve seen it.”

“Bah!” The big shape backed away – two or three feet, whispering back at the Judge. “Open your mouth and you’re a dead man. I’ve got you covered!”

Cowering on his cot the Judge watched the big shape join the other at the safe. How long it remained there, he did not know. A step sounded in the silence that reigned outside – a third shape loomed in the doorway.

“Judge Lindman!” called a voice.

“Y-es?” quavered the Judge, aware that the big shape in the room was now close to him, menacing him.

“Your door’s open! Where’s Ed? There’s something wrong! Get up and strike a light. There’ll be hell to pay if Corrigan finds out we haven’t been watching your stuff. Damn it! A man can’t steal time for a drink without something happens. Jim and Bill and me just went across the street, leaving Ed here. They’re coming right – ”

He had been entering the room while talking, fingering in his pockets for a match. His voice died in a quick gasp as Trevison struck with the butt of his pistol. The man fell, silently.

Another voice sounded outside. Trevison crouched at the doorway. A form darkened the opening. Trevison struck, missed, a streak of fire split the night – the newcomer had used his pistol. It went off again – the flame-spurt shooting ceilingward, as Levins clinched the man from the rear. A third man loomed in the doorway; a fourth appeared, behind him. Trevison swung at the head of the man nearest him, driving him back upon the man behind, who cursed, plunging into the room. The man whom Levins had seized was shouting orders to the others. But these suddenly ceased as Levins smashed him on the head with the butt of a pistol. Two others remained. They were stubborn and courageous. But it was miserable work, in the dark – blows were misdirected, friend striking friend; other blows went wild, grunts of rage and impotent curses following. But Trevison and Levins were intent on escaping – a victory would have been hollow – for the thud and jar of their boots on the bare floor had been heard; doors were slamming; from across the street came the barking of a dog; men were shouting questions at one another; from the box-car on the railroad tracks issued vociferous yells and curses. Trevison slipped out through the door, panting. His opponent had gone down, temporarily disabled from sundry vicious blows from a fist that had worked like a piston rod. A figure loomed at his side. “I got mine!” it said, triumphantly; “we’d better slope.”

“Another five minutes and I’d have cracked it,” breathed Levins as they ran. “What’s Corrigan havin’ the place watched for?”

“You’ve got me. Afraid of the Judge, maybe. The Judge hasn’t his whole soul in this deal; it looks to me as though Corrigan is forcing him. But the Judge has the original record, all right; and it’s in that safe, too! God! If they’d only given us a minute or two longer!”

They fled down the track, running heavily, for the work had been fast and the tension great, and when they reached the horses and threw themselves into the saddles, Manti was ablaze with light. As they raced away in the darkness a grim smile wreathed Trevison’s face. For though he had not succeeded in this enterprise, he had at least struck a blow – and he had corroborated his previous opinion concerning Judge Lindman’s knowledge of the whereabouts of the original record.

It was three o’clock and the dawn was just breaking when Trevison rode into the Diamond K corral and pulled the saddle from Nigger. Levins had gone home.

Trevison was disappointed. It had been a bold scheme, and well planned, and it would have succeeded had it not been for the presence of the sentries. He had not anticipated that. He laughed grimly, remembering Judge Lindman’s fright. Would the Judge reveal the identity of his early-morning visitor? Trevison thought not, for if the original record were in the safe, and if for any reason the Judge wished to conceal its existence from Corrigan, a hint of the identity of the early-morning visitors – especially of one – might arouse Corrigan’s suspicions.

But what if Corrigan knew of the existence of the original record? There was the presence of the guards to indicate that he did. But there was Judge Lindman’s half-heartedness to disprove that line of reasoning. Also, Trevison was convinced that if Corrigan knew of the existence of the record he would destroy it; it would be dangerous, in the hands of an enemy. But it would be an admirable weapon of self-protection in the hands of a man who had been forced into wrong-doing – in the hands of Judge Lindman, for instance. Trevison opened the door that led to his office, thrilling with a new hope. He lit a match, stepped across the floor and touched the flame to the wick of the kerosene lamp – for it was not yet light enough for him to see plainly in the office – and stood for an instant blinking in its glare. A second later he reeled back against the edge of the desk, his hands gripping it, dumb, amazed, physically sick with a fear that he had suddenly gone insane. For in a big chair in a corner of the room, sleepy-eyed, tired, but looking very becoming in her simple dress with a light cloak over it, the collar turned up, so that it gave her an appearance of attractive negligence, a smile of delighted welcome on her face, was Hester Harvey.

She got up as he stood staring dumfoundedly at her and moved toward him, with an air of artful supplication that brought a gasp out of him – of sheer relief.

“Won’t you welcome me, Trev? I have come very far, to see you.” She held out her hands and went slowly toward him, mutely pleading, her eyes luminous with love – which she did not pretend, for the boy she had known had grown into the promise of his youth – big, magnetic – a figure for any woman to love.

He had been looking at her intently, narrowly, searchingly. He saw what she herself had not seen – the natural changes that ten years had brought to her. He saw other things – that she had not suspected – a certain blasé sophistication; a too bold and artful expression of the eyes – as though she knew their power and the lure of them; the slightly hard curve in the corners of her mouth; a second character lurking around her – indefinite, vague, repelling – the subconscious self, that no artifice can hide – the sin and the shame of deeds unrepented. If there had been a time when he had loved her, its potence could not leap the lapse of years and overcome his repugnance for her kind, and he looked at her coldly, barring her progress with a hand, which caught her two and held them in a grip that made her wince.

“What are you doing here? How did you get in? When did you come?” He fired the questions at her roughly, brutally.

“Why, Trev.” She gulped, her smile fading palely. The conquest was not to be the easy one she had thought – though she really wanted him – more than ever, now that she saw she was in danger of losing him. She explained, earnestly pleading with eyes that had lost their power to charm him.

“I heard you were here – that you were in trouble. I want to help you. I got here night before last – to Manti. Rosalind Benham had written about you to Ruth Gresham – a friend of hers in New York. Ruth Gresham told me. I went directly from Manti to Benham’s ranch. Then I came here – about dusk, last night. There was a man here – your foreman, he said. I explained, and he let me in. Trev – won’t you welcome me?”

“It isn’t the first time I’ve been in trouble.” His laugh was harsh; it made her cringe and cry:

“I’ve repented for that. I shouldn’t have done it; I don’t know what was the matter with me. Harvey had been telling me things about you – ”

“You wouldn’t have believed him – ” He laughed, cynically. “There’s no use of haggling over that– it’s buried, and I’ve placed a monument over it: ‘Here lies a fool that believed in a woman.’ I don’t reproach you – you couldn’t be blamed for not wanting to marry an idiot like me. But I haven’t changed. I still have my crazy ideas of honor and justice and square-dealing, and my double-riveted faith in my ability to triumph over all adversity. But women – Bah! you’re all alike! You scheme, you plot, you play for place; you are selfish, cold; you snivel and whine – There is more of it, but I can’t think of any more. But – let’s face this matter squarely. If you still like me, I’m sorry for you, for I can’t say that the sight of you has stirred any old passion in me. You shouldn’t have come out here.”

“You’re terribly resentful, Trev. And I don’t blame you a bit – I deserve it all. But don’t send me away. Why, I – love you, Trev; I’ve loved you all these years; I loved you when I sent you away – while I was married to Harvey; and more afterwards – and now, deeper than ever; and – ”

He shook his head and looked at her steadily – cynicism, bald derision in his gaze. “I’m sorry; but it can’t be – you’re too late.”

He dropped her hands, and she felt of the fingers where he had gripped them. She veiled the quick, savage leap in her eyes by drooping the lids.

“You love Rosalind Benham,” she said, quietly, looking at him with a mirthless smile. He started, and her lips grew a trifle stiff. “You poor boy!”

“Why the pity?” he said grimly.

“Because she doesn’t care for you, Trev. She told me yesterday that she was engaged to marry a man named Corrigan. He is out here, she said. She remarked that she had found you very amusing during the three or four weeks of Corrigan’s absence, and she seemed delighted because the court out here had ruled that the land you thought was yours belongs to the man who is to be her husband.”

He stiffened at this, for it corroborated Corrigan’s words: “She is heart and soul with me in this deal, She is ambitious.” Trevison’s lips curled scornfully. First, Hester Keyes had been ambitious, and now it was Rosalind Benham. He fought off the bitter resentment that filled him and raised his head, laughing, glossing over the hurt with savage humor.

“Well, I’m doing some good in the world, after all.”

“Trev,” Hester moved toward him again, “don’t talk like that – it makes me shiver. I’ve been through the fire, boy – we’ve both been through it. I wasted myself on Harvey – you’ll do the same with Rosalind Benham. Ten years, boy – think of it! I’ve loved you for that long. Doesn’t that make you understand – ”

“There’s nothing quite so dead as a love that a man doesn’t want to revive,” he said shortly; “do you understand that?”

She shuddered and paled, and a long silence came between them. The cold dawn that was creeping over the land stole into the office with them and found the fires of affection turned to the ashes of unwelcome memory. The woman seemed to realize at last, for she gave a little shiver and looked up at Trevison with a wan smile.

“I – I think I understand, Trev. Oh, I am so sorry! But I am not going away. I am going to stay in Manti, to be near you – if you want me. And you will want me, some day.” She went close to him. “Won’t you kiss me – once, Trev? For the sake of old times?”

“You’d better go,” he said gruffly, turning his head. And then, as she opened the door and stood upon the threshold, he stepped after her, saying: “I’ll get your horse.”

“There’s two of them,” she laughed tremulously. “I came in a buckboard.”

“Two, then,” he said soberly as he followed her out. “And say – ” He turned, flushing. “You came at dusk, last night. I’m afraid I haven’t been exactly thoughtful. Wait – I’ll rustle up something to eat.”

“I – I couldn’t touch it, thank you. Trev – ” She started toward him impulsively, but he turned his back grimly and went toward the corral.

Sunrise found Hester back at the Bar B. Jealous, hurt eyes had watched from an upstairs window the approach of the buckboard – had watched the Diamond K trail the greater part of the night. For, knowing of the absence of women at the Diamond K, Rosalind had anticipated Hester’s return the previous evening – for the distance that separated the two ranches was not more than two miles. But the girl’s vigil had been unrewarded until now. And when at last she saw the buckboard coming, scorn and rage, furious and deep, seized her. Ah, it was bold, brazen, disgraceful!

But she forced herself to calmness as she went down stairs to greet her guest – for there might have been some excuse for the lapse of propriety – some accident – something, anything.

“I expected you last night,” she said as she met Hester at the door. “You were delayed I presume. Has anything happened?”

“Nothing, dearie.” Only the bold significance of Hester’s smile hid its deliberate maliciousness. “Trev was so glad to see me that he simply wouldn’t let me go. And it was daylight before we realized it.”

The girl gasped. And now, looking at the woman, she saw what Trevison had seen – staring back at her, naked and repulsive. She shuddered, and her face whitened.

“There are hotels at Manti, Mrs. Harvey,” she said coldly.

“Oh, very well!” The woman did not change her smile. “I shall be very glad to take advantage of your kind invitation. For Trev tells me that presently there will be much bitterness between your crowd and himself, and I am certain that he wouldn’t want me to stay here. If you will kindly have a man bring my trunks – ”

And so she rode toward Manti. Not until the varying undulations of the land hid her from view of the Bar B ranchhouse did she lose the malicious smile. Then it faded, and furious sobs of disappointment shook her.

CHAPTER XVIII

LAW INVOKED AND DEFIED

As soon as the deputies had gone, two of them nursing injured heads, and all exhibiting numerous bruises, Judge Lindman rose and dressed. In the ghostly light preceding the dawn he went to the safe, his fingers trembling so that he made difficult work with the combination. He got a record from out of the safe, pulled out the bottom drawer, of a series filled with legal documents and miscellaneous articles, laid the record book on the floor and shoved the drawer in over it. An hour later he was facing Corrigan, who on getting a report of the incident from one of the deputies, had hurried to get the Judge’s version. The Judge had had time to regain his composure, though he was still slightly pale and nervous.

The Judge lied glibly. He had seen no one in the courthouse. His first knowledge that anyone had been there had come when he had heard the voice of one, of the deputies, calling to him. And then all he had seen was a shadowy figure that had leaped and struck. After that there had been some shooting. And then the men had escaped.

“No one spoke?”

“Not a word,” said the Judge. “That is, of course, no one but the man who called to me.”

“Did they take anything?”

“What is there to take? There is nothing of value.”

“Gieger says one of them was working at the safe. What’s in there?”

“Some books and papers and supplies – nothing of value. That they tried to get into the safe would seem to indicate that they thought there was money there – Manti has many strangers who would not hesitate at robbery.”

“They didn’t get into the safe, then?”

“I haven’t looked inside – nothing seems to be disturbed, as it would were the men safe-blowers. In their hurry to get away it would seem, if they had come to get into the safe, they would have left something behind – tools, or something of that character.”

“Let’s have a look at the safe. Open it!” Corrigan seemed to be suspicious, and with a pulse of trepidation, the Judge knelt and worked the combination. When the door came open Corrigan dropped on his knees in front of it and began to pull out the contents, scattering them in his eagerness. He stood up after a time, scowling, his face flushed. He turned on the Judge, grasped him by the shoulders, his fingers gripping so hard that the Judge winced.

“Look here, Lindman,” he said. “Those men were not ordinary robbers. Experienced men would know better than to crack a safe in a courthouse when there’s a bank right next door. I’ve an idea that it was some of Trevison’s work. You’ve done or said something that’s given him the notion that you’ve got the original record. Have you?”

“I swear I have said nothing,” declared the Judge.

Corrigan looked at him steadily for a moment and then released him. “You burned it, eh?”

The Judge nodded, and Corrigan compressed his lips. “I suppose it’s all right, but I can’t help wishing that I had been here to watch the ceremony of burning that record. I’d feel a damn sight more secure. But understand this: If you double-cross me in any detail of this game, you’ll never go to the penitentiary for what Benham knows about you – I’ll choke the gizzard out of you!” He took a turn around the room, stopping at last in front of the Judge.

“Now we’ll talk business. I want you to issue an order permitting me to erect mining machinery on Trevison’s land. We need coal here.”

“Graney gave notice of appeal,” protested the Judge.

“Which the Circuit Court denied.”

“He’ll go to Washington,” persisted the Judge, gulping. “I can’t legally do it.”

Corrigan laughed. “Appoint a receiver to operate the mine, pending the Supreme Court decision. Appoint Braman. Graney has no case, anyway. There is no record or deed.”

“There is no need of haste,” Lindman cautioned; “you can’t get mining machinery here for some time yet.”

Corrigan laughed, dragging the Judge to a window, from which he pointed out some flat-cars standing on a siding, loaded with lumber, machinery, corrugated iron, shutes, cables, trucks, “T” rails, and other articles that the Judge did not recognize.

The Judge exclaimed in astonishment. Corrigan grunted.

“I ordered that stuff six weeks ago, in anticipation of my victory in your court. You can see how I trusted in your honesty and perspicacity. I’ll have it on the ground tomorrow – some of it today. Of course I want to proceed legally, and in order to do that I’ll have to have the court order this morning. You do whatever is necessary.”

At daylight he was in the laborers’ camp, skirting the railroad at the edge of town, looking for Carson. He found the big Irishman in one of the larger tent-houses, talking with the cook, who was preparing breakfast amid a smother of smoke and the strong mingled odors of frying bacon and coffee. Corrigan went only to the flap of the tent, motioning Carson outside.

Walking away from the tent toward some small frame buildings down the track, Corrigan said:

“There are several carloads of material there,” pointing to the flat-cars which he had shown to the Judge. “I’ve hired a mining man to superintend the erection of that stuff – it’s mining machinery and material for buildings. I want you to place as many of your men as you can spare at the disposal of the engineer; his name’s Pickand, and you’ll find him at the cars at eight o’clock. I’ll have some more laborers sent over from the dam. Give him as many men as he wants; go with him yourself, if he wants you.”

“What are ye goin’ to mine?”

“Coal.”

“Where?”

“I’ve been looking over the land with Pickand; he says we’ll sink a shaft at the base of the butte below the mesa, where you are laying tracks now. We won’t have to go far, Pickand says. There’s coal – thick veins of it – running back into the wall of the butte.”

“All right, sir,” said Carson. But he scratched his head in perplexity, eyeing Corrigan sidelong. “Ye woudn’t be sayin’ that ye’ll be diggin’ for coal on the railroad’s right av way, wud ye?”

“No!” snapped Corrigan.

“Thin it will be on Trevison’s land. Have ye bargained wid him for it?”

“No! Look here, Carson. Mind your own business and do as you’re told!”

“I’m elicted, I s’pose; but it’s a job I ain’t admirin’ to do. If ye’ve got half the sinse I give ye credit for havin’, ye’ll be lettin’ that mon Trevison alone – I’d a lot sooner smoke a segar in that shed av dynamite than to cross him!”

Corrigan smiled and turned to look in the direction in which the Irishman was pointing. A small, flat-roofed frame building, sheathed with corrugated iron, met his view. Crude signs, large enough to be read hundreds of feet distant, were affixed to the walls:

“CAUTION. DYNAMITE.”

“Do you keep much of it there?”

“Enough for anny blastin’ we have to do. There’s plenty – half a ton, mebbe.”

“Who’s got the key?”

“Meself.”

Corrigan returned to town, breakfasted, mounted a horse and rode out to the dam, where he gave orders for some laborers to be sent to Carson. At nine o’clock he was back in Manti talking with Pickand, and watching the dinky engine as it pulled the loaded flat-cars westward over the tracks. He left Pickand and went to his office in the bank building, where he conferred with some men regarding various buildings and improvements in contemplation, and shortly after ten, glancing out of a window, he saw a buckboard stop in front of the Castle hotel. Corrigan waited a little, then closed his desk and walked across the street. Shortly he confronted Hester Harvey in her room. He saw from her downcast manner that she had failed. His face darkened.

“Wouldn’t work, eh? What did he say?”

The woman was hunched down in her chair, still wearing the cloak that she had worn in Trevison’s office; the collar still up, the front thrown open. Her hair was disheveled; dark lines were under her eyes; she glared at Corrigan in an abandon of savage dejection.

“He turned me down – cold.” Her laugh held the bitterness of self-derision. “I’m through, there, Jeff.”

“Hell!” cursed the man. She looked at him, her lips curving with amused contempt.

“Oh, you’re all right – don’t worry. That’s all you care about, isn’t it?” She laughed harshly at the quickened light in his eyes. “You’d see me sacrifice myself; you wouldn’t give me a word of sympathy. That’s you! That’s the way of all men. Give, give, give! That’s the masculine chorus – the hunting-song of the human wolf-pack!”

“Don’t talk like that – it ain’t like you, kid. You were always the gamest little dame I ever knew.” He essayed to take the hand that was twisted in the folds of her cloak, but she drew it away from him in a fury. And the eagerness in his eyes betrayed the insincerity of his attempt at consolation; she saw it – the naked selfishness of his look – and sneered at him.

“You want the good news, eh? The good for you? That’s all you care about. After you get it, I’ll get the husks of your pity. Well, here it is. I’ve poisoned them both – against each other. I told him she was against him in this land business. And it hurt me to see how gamely he took it, Jeff!” her voice broke, but she choked back the sob and went on, hoarsely: “He didn’t make a whimper. Not even when I told him you were going to marry her – that you were engaged. But there was a fire in those eyes of his that I would give my soul to see there for me!”

“Yes – yes,” said the man, impatiently.

“Oh, you devil!” she railed at him. “I’ve made him think it was a frame-up between you and her – to get information out of him; I told him that she had strung him along for a month or so – amusing herself. And he believes it.”

“Good!”

“And I’ve made her believe that he sent for me,” she went on, her voice leaping to cold savagery. “I stayed all night at his place, and I went back to the Bar B in the morning – this morning – and made Rosalind Benham think – Ha, ha! She ordered me away from the house – the hussy! She’s through with him – any fool could tell that. But it’s different with him, Jeff. He won’t give her up; he isn’t that kind. He’ll fight for her – and he’ll have her!”

The eager, pleased light died out of Corrigan’s face, his lips set in an ugly pout. But he contrived to smile as he got up.