The Award of Justice; Or, Told in the Rockies: A Pen Picture of the West

“But you have a sweet voice,” said Houston, “will you not sing for us?”

“If you will overlook any mistakes, I may,” answered Lyle, “for I probably do not sing correctly, as I know nothing of music.”

“Certainly, Lyle, we would like to hear you,” said Miss Gladden.

As simply, and as free from self-consciousness as a child, Lyle began her song, her eyes fixed on the distant shining peaks, and her only accompaniment the music of the cascades.

“Love is come with a song and a smile,Welcome love with a smile and a song;Love can stay but a little while:Why can not he stay?They call him away;Ye do him wrong, ye do him wrong,Love will stay for a whole life long.”

Whether Lyle sang correctly that night was never known; even the beautiful words of the old song that seemed so appropriate to the occasion, were forgotten before she had sung more than two or three lines, and her listeners sat entranced, spell-bound, by the voice of the singer; a voice of such exquisite sweetness and clearness, and yet possessing such power and depth of expression, that it thrilled the hearts of her listeners, seeming to lift them out of all consciousness of their surroundings, and to transport them to another world; a world

“Where the singers, whose names are deathless,One with another make music, unheard of men.”

As the last note died away, a long, deep sigh from Houston seemed to break the spell, and Miss Gladden looking up, her eyes shining with unshed tears, said, as she pressed Lyle’s hand:

“My dear, we have found our song-queen, our nightingale. We can all learn of you, and never equal you.”

Houston had been strangely moved, and as he spoke, there was a slight tremor in his voice.

“I have heard, in all my life, but one voice like that, and that was one who died when I was a child.”

Lyle looked surprised.

“Has no one ever told you you could sing?” asked Miss Gladden.

“I never sang for any one, excepting once, for Jack,” answered Lyle.

“What did he say of your voice?” inquired Miss Gladden.

“He said, like Mr. Houston, that he had heard but one voice like mine, but that he did not like to hear me, so I have never sung since, excepting by myself.”

“Lyle,” said Miss Gladden suddenly, “how old is this man whom you call Jack?”

“Possibly forty, perhaps a little less,” she answered indifferently.

A new thought had flashed into Miss Gladden’s mind. For some time she had doubted whether Lyle were really a child of Maverick and his wife, she was so utterly unlike them; could it be possible that Jack, whose life seemed so much a mystery, was the father of Lyle? Was that the reason for his interest in her? and had Lyle had some beautiful mother,–unfortunate perhaps,–whose life had suddenly gone out, as the little life had just begun, and whose memory was recalled too vividly by Lyle’s song? Miss Gladden determined, if possible, to find a clue to this mystery.

The boat was now on its homeward way, and a song with which all were familiar having been found, the four voices blended in exquisite harmony.

“It seems to me there are some rare treats in store for us,” was Rutherford’s comment, as the friends separated for the night; then, a few moments later, when alone with Houston, he exclaimed:

“By Jove, Houston! but what a voice that girl has! I never heard anything like it in my life. I didn’t say much before Miss Gladden, for fear she might think I didn’t appreciate her singing, and I certainly did, for she sings magnificently.”

“You need have no fear of any sensitiveness on Miss Gladden’s part,” said Houston quickly, “in the first place, their voices are altogether different, there is no comparison between them; and in addition, Miss Gladden’s regard for Lyle is so disinterested and unselfish, there would be no room for any feeling of that kind. We must all acknowledge that Lyle certainly has a wonderful voice; as I said before, I have heard but one like it.”

“Great Heavens!” said Rutherford, with more feeling than Houston had ever seen him manifest, “I’m sorry for that girl, Houston.”

“Why?” asked Houston quietly.

“Why, only to think of her beauty and intellect, and such a voice as that, and then think of her parents, and the life to which she is tied down here.”

“Granting the parents and present life,” said Houston, “is that any argument that she will always be ‘tied down here’ as you say?”

“I think it would always fetter her in a measure; it will leave its imprint upon her mind, or at least her memory, and although she is not in her proper sphere here, yet her life here, and all its associations, would be likely to make her feel out of place in a higher sphere,”

“I think not,” said Houston, watching Rutherford closely, “I think if she could be removed from here, and given a thorough education, there would remain no trace whatever of the early life.”

“But what about the question of heredity?” asked Rutherford, “there must be bad blood there, when and where would it make its appearance?”

“That would be a serious question,” replied Houston, “providing she is the child of these people; I have always had grave doubts of that, and Miss Gladden has often expressed the same.”

“By Jove! I never thought of that! It seems likely enough, too. What do you think, that she was stolen?”

“No,” said Houston slowly, “that does not seem so probable as that she may have been some child that they were hired to take.”

“In that case,” said Rutherford, “I should think the uncertainty regarding her family and origin, would be almost as bad as the certainty in the other case.”

“It might seem so to some people,” Houston replied, adding with a smile, “especially to a Bostonian, who prided himself upon his ‘blue blood’.”

“Oh,” said Rutherford, coloring, “I’m not pursuing this inquiry on my own account at all, I was only thinking of her prospects generally. I’m not interested in that direction.”

“In what direction are you interested, if I may ask?” said Houston, experiencing, for the first time, a little twinge of jealousy.

“In the direction of the ‘Hub,’ my dear boy,” Rutherford replied, with another blush.

“Spoken like a true Bostonian!” said Houston approvingly.

“Yes, sir,” continued Rutherford, “there’s a little girl belongs back there in Boston, that’s more to me than all the ladies you can produce in this part of the country, or any other, no matter how beautiful they may be; and she’s not bad looking either. Her parents took her to Europe for a little trip this spring, and Boston seemed so lonesome, that was the reason I came west.”

“Good for you, Ned, you have my best wishes,” said Houston, shaking hands with his friend, “but really, you and Lyle had seemed so fond of each other’s society lately, that I thought perhaps it was to be your destiny to rescue her from her unhappy fate.”

“Well, as to each other’s society,” said Rutherford, very slowly, “of late we have been restricted to that or none, for you and Miss Gladden have been growing so unconscious of us, that we’ve had to console with each other; but then, I understood how ’twas, for I’ve been there myself, you know, and I’m ready to offer congratulations and all that sort of thing, whenever they are in order.”

Houston appeared very unconscious of Rutherford’s meaning, as he inquired, “How does Lyle herself regard your attentions? There must be no trifling with her, I have too much regard for her myself, for that.”

“Miss Maverick is not a girl to be trifled with,” replied Rutherford, “I think a good deal of her, since I am better acquainted with her, and respect her and she knows it, but I think she realizes the sort of anomalous position that she occupies, and that is why I say I am sorry for her. She is far too brilliant for her surroundings, and yet not fitted for a much higher place.”

“Not at present,” replied Houston, “but with her natural endowments and her innate delicacy and refinement, comparatively little training and culture would be necessary to fit her for almost any position in life.”

“I wonder what will be her fate.”

“Time will tell,” replied Houston, who had his own plans.

CHAPTER XIX

Houston had been called away to the office at Silver City, a telegram coming one afternoon for him to come down by the next train. Rutherford was at that time expecting to leave in a few days, to continue his pleasure trip to the coast, having already prolonged his stay among the mountains far beyond his first intentions; but at Houston’s request, he agreed to remain over until the latter’s return, which he expected would be in about ten days.

A few days after Houston’s departure, Lyle started out one afternoon for the little cabin, at an hour a little later than she went to pursue her studies, or for reading. She knew that at this time, Jack usually came off his shift, as he and Mike were expert miners, and always completed their task some time in advance of the others.

She had not seen Jack since the visit of the party from the east, although she was at the cabin but a few evenings preceding that event, and had explained her long absence. Now she had special reasons for wishing to meet him, and she hastened on, hoping to find him alone. When she reached the cabin, Jack had just come from the mine, and Mike, fortunately, had gone down to the Y for needed supplies, and would not return for some hours.

After talking a little while, Lyle skillfully brought the conversation around to Mr. Houston, and stated that he was in Silver City.

“What is he doing there?” asked Jack, in a tone of surprise, “Is he going to remain there?”

“No, he has gone over temporarily to assist the company in that office, as he said they needed extra help; he thought he would be back in about ten days.”

“He seems to make a very efficient clerk for the mining company,” said Jack, with a peculiar emphasis which Lyle did not understand, but in which she detected a flavor of sarcasm.

“He seems efficient in whatever he undertakes,” she replied with a light laugh, “clerking, fighting or love-making, he is successful in all.”

“How has he succeeded in love-making?” asked Jack quickly.

“Ask Miss Gladden,” was Lyle’s smiling rejoinder.

“Is he really in love with her, do you think?”

“Judging by indications, it is a case of genuine love on both sides, which, contrary to the old proverb, does run smoothly so far. I think they are engaged.”

“And you are left out in the cold?” asked Jack kindly, but watching her keenly.

“You would not think so, if you could know how kind they are to me,” Lyle answered, “you and they are the only friends I have ever known.”

“How about Mr. Rutherford? Isn’t he a friend of yours, too?”

“Mr. Rutherford is a gentleman,” she replied slowly, “he always treats me with respect, and we have very pleasant times together, but he never forgets that I belong to one station in life, and he to another. He is altogether unlike Mr. Houston and Miss Gladden; I wish you could know them, Jack, and that they could know you.”

“They probably have no desire to form my acquaintance, and I have no need to form theirs. It is rather late in the day for me to make friends now.”

“But Jack,” said Lyle, in almost a pleading tone, “Miss Gladden wishes to meet you, and has repeatedly asked me to inquire if she might come and see you.”

“What is her motive for wishing to see me?”

“I think because I have often spoken of you as my friend; then she said recently, that she would like, if possible, to take me east with her, and give me a musical education, and she would like to talk with you about it.”

“Has she or Mr. Houston heard you sing?”

“Yes.”

“What did they say of your voice?”

“Miss Gladden seems to think I have a wonderful voice, and Mr. Houston said he had heard but one like it in all his life.”

Jack had risen, and was looking out of the window, his back toward Lyle; after a few moments he spoke, in an unusually gentle tone.

“You can say to Miss Gladden, that if she wishes to see me regarding you, she is welcome to come. Though I seldom receive callers, and have no wish to meet strangers, I am willing to meet a true friend of yours.”

“Then, under those conditions,” said Lyle, with almost a tone of triumph in her voice, “you would meet Mr. Houston.”

“Why?” asked Jack, quickly, turning toward her.

“Because he is my friend.”

Jack shook his head, and began pacing the room. “No,” he said, as gently as ever, but very firmly, “I would rather not meet him.”

Lyle looked troubled. “Jack,” she said earnestly, “you have always appeared rather peculiar regarding Mr. Houston; tell me candidly, are you his friend, or his enemy?”

“Why!” he exclaimed in surprise, stopping before her, and looking into her earnest face, with a smile, “How should I be either? Am I not perfectly neutral? Are we not strangers?”

Lyle shook her head decidedly. “I cannot say whether or not you are strangers, but you are not neutral toward him; I have seen all along that you have some strong feeling toward him, but whether of kindness or enmity, I cannot tell, but I must know.”

“Why must you know?” he asked, resuming his walk.

“Perhaps I can tell you later,” she replied, “but, as you are my friend, I must know whether you are, or will be, his friend, or his enemy.”

For some moments Jack was silent, and when he spoke his voice was full of some strong emotion:

“My dear child, I have no reason for any enmity toward him, and if he is the true, honorable man that you think he is, God knows I would stand by him, even to death itself.”

“Then, if he was in difficulty or danger, and needed help, you would help him, would you not?” asked Lyle eagerly.

“My child,” he answered gravely, “you must explain yourself; you certainly can trust me. I promise you this, I will not harm him or betray him, whatever may be the difficulty.”

“You are sure there is no one to hear us?”

“I will make sure,” he answered briefly, and bidding the collie guard the outside door, he then closed the door between the two rooms, and sat down near Lyle.

“You remember,” she began, “the evening you passed our house?” He nodded. “Well, among the strangers there that night, were an English expert, Mr. Lindlay, and a Mr. Van Dorn, who, they said, was an inventor of some mining machinery. A little while after you passed, I took a book and went out by the lake to read, sitting down behind a thick group of small evergreens. I read as long as I could see, and then sat for some time, thinking, and watching the reflection of the moon in the lake. Then the moon went behind that tall peak, you know, across the lake, and it was quite dark; but I remained there thinking so deeply that, although for a few minutes I heard low voices talking, I paid no attention to it, supposing it was simply some people going up the mountain, till suddenly I was aroused by Mr. Houston’s voice, only a few feet from me, saying in a low tone, ‘There may be considerable danger ahead of us, but you are just the one I need, and you will be well compensated,’ and Mr. Van Dorn answered, ‘Hang compensation! if I can help you get the best of these rascals, I’m going to do it, just for the gratification of the thing,’ and then I heard the Englishman, with his peculiar accent, saying something I couldn’t quite catch, but it seemed to be to the effect that he would help Mr. Houston against what he called the ‘domned scoundrels.’

“At first, I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t without their seeing me, and having to make explanations, and making it embarrassing all round; and then the thought flashed through my mind that Mr. Houston was a good friend of mine, and perhaps if I stayed, I might be able to help him if he should be in any danger later, as he spoke of, so I remained there.

“I haven’t time to tell you all I heard, but this is what I learned: He is not a clerk at all, but is out here in the interest of some rich company in the east, with which an uncle of his is connected. This eastern company have for some time suspected crooked work on the part of the company here, and he has come out in the capacity of bookkeeper and clerk to get all the information he can against them. He has obtained all the proofs he can get in this office, and said he was going over in a few days to the main office at Silver City,–and that is where he is now,–to see what he can find against them there. When he returns he is going to examine the mines that this eastern company own, as fast as he can get opportunities, and it seems this Mr. Van Dorn is a mining expert himself, though no one out here knows it, and when Mr. Houston is ready, he is to come out here with some of his mining machinery that he is going to set up in the mills, to show the company his new method of reducing ores, but his real object in coming will be to help Mr. Houston carry on his investigations against the company. Then, when they have obtained all the information and proof they need, they will telegraph Mr. Houston’s uncle,–Mr. Cameron, I think was his name,–and he and the English expert will come out together, unexpectedly to the company, and I think they said they would prosecute the officers of the company for fraud.”

Jack’s face was concealed with one hand, but Lyle could see that he had grown very pale, and beneath the heavy, black beard, his lips were moving under the influence of some deep emotion. She continued:

“My reason for wishing to confide this to you was, that I heard Mr. Van Dorn ask Mr. Houston if there was any one among the miners whom he could trust to help them, as he said without the assistance of some one, familiar with the mines and their different workings, the undertaking would be much more difficult and dangerous; and I thought at once of you, Jack. You have often told me of the dishonesty and fraud practiced by the company, and said that you would like to see some of their schemes exposed, and I thought you would be just the one to help Mr. Houston, and no one would be likely to suspect you either.”

She paused a moment, then added, “He has enemies working against him, and he ought to have some one to help him.”

“Who are his enemies?” asked Jack.

“Haight, for one, and my father and all the men that he can influence; and you know, that if they once suspected what he is doing, they would not hesitate, for one moment, to kill him.”

“They would not,” said Jack, quietly but decidedly, “and among the mines it is a very easy thing to put a man out of the way.”

“Then you will look out for him, and help him, will you not?” said Lyle, rising to go.

“Yes, child,” he answered with unusual tenderness, “you do not know what you are asking, but since hearing what you have told me, no harm shall come to your friend that I can prevent, no matter what it costs me.”

“But Jack,” said Lyle anxiously, going to him and laying her hands in his, “this will not put you in danger, will it? My idea was that you could give him information, and no one would ever suspect you; but you have been too true a friend to me, for me to put you in any danger.”

“You need have no fear,” he answered, “I did not refer to any particular danger of that kind. I am only glad you have told me what you have. Had I learned it in any other way, I would have wished to help your friend. When he returns, say nothing to him of having asked me to help him; I will find him in my own way.” Lyle thanked Jack heartily, and as she looked up into his face, her beautiful eyes unusually bright, and her cheeks flushed with emotion, he seemed strangely touched, and bending over her, kissed her reverently on her forehead, for the first time in their acquaintance.

CHAPTER XX

Nearly a week after the departure of Houston for Silver City, as Morgan was passing the sorting rooms one morning, on his way from the mines to the mills, he heard Haight calling him.

“Hello, there, Morgan, the Sunrise deal is off.”

“Off? who says so? Got a wire from the boss?”

“Yes, she just came, about fifteen minutes ago.”

“What’s the matter? did the old man say?”

“Nothing very definite; ‘party writes property not satisfactory,’ that’s all he says.”

“Hang it! I should think it looked good enough for ’em. Well,” he growled, “there’s so much hard work gone for nothing,” and thrusting his hands deeper into his pockets in his disgust, Morgan started on his way, but Haight detained him.

“Hold on a minute; say, Morgan, you don’t suppose that they caught on to our deal, do you? or that anybody put ’em onto it?”

“Who was there to put ’em onto anything?” asked Morgan.

“Oh, the confidential clerk, may be; he was on such good terms with Johnny Bull and the dude.”

Morgan shook his head. “He’s too much of a sucker for the company, and knows too well which side his bread is buttered, for business of that kind.”

“I don’t know about that,” said Haight, “he’s a dude and a tenderfoot himself, and likes to toady around with those eastern snobs; what else were they hob-nobbing with him for, if they didn’t think they could get some information out of him? I’ve got my own ideas on that subject and I’m going to make some investigations, and if I find I’m correct, he’ll find pretty quick where he will be; I’ve no use for him any way.” “I haven’t any more use for him than you have,” answered Morgan, “but he ain’t a very safe fellow to fool with now, I can tell you, and I don’t think you want to run up against him yourself.”

“I don’t know as I’ve said anything about running up against anybody,” said Haight, “that isn’t my style, but I’ll run him out of this country in one way or another, see if I don’t.”

“You think you’re pretty smooth,” Morgan called over his shoulder, as he started for the mills, “and if you want to undertake the job, all right; for my part, I don’t care to have much to do with him.”

Two or three evenings later, as Lyle sat in her favorite nook beside the lake, book in hand, watching for the return of Miss Gladden who had gone with Rutherford for a short row, she was much surprised to see Haight approaching, wearing his most ingratiating smile. For a day or two, he had, on several occasions, when unobserved by the others, treated her with a marked politeness intended to be very flattering, for the thought had occurred to him that possibly through her he might get some information regarding Houston.

“Ah,” he said now, seating himself at a little distance from her, and with a glance at the book which she had closed and laid aside, “I fear I have interrupted your reading.”

“I was not reading,” she replied, “I was merely glancing over a book of Miss Gladden’s while awaiting her return.”

For a few moments he talked in a light, frivolous manner, but Lyle, suspicious of some ulterior motive in his coming, did not respond very favorably to his efforts at conversation. At last he said, very pleasantly:

“This is a favorite resort of yours, is it not, Miss Maverick?”

“Yes, I come here frequently,” she replied.

“I judged so,” he continued carelessly, “I saw you out here the evening the eastern party was at the house, and I remember the English expert and his friend took a walk in this direction, with Mr. Houston. I suppose they were talking over the mine they had looked at, and took Mr. Houston along thinking he might be able to give them any additional information they needed. I wonder what they thought about that mine,” he added, watching Lyle, “I suppose you must have overheard some of their conversation.”

Lyle was not taken off guard, however, and answered indifferently, “I heard voices, but I was so absorbed in thought I paid little attention to them; it was some time before I even recognized them.”

“But you certainly must have overheard some of their conversation,” said Haight, in his smoothest tones, “can you not recall anything said about the mine?”

“There was nothing whatever said about the mine,” she replied, “and if there had been, I am not in the habit of listening to conversations and repeating them.”

“Of course not, under ordinary circumstances,” Haight rejoined, smiling, “but you know ‘all is fair in love and war’ and in mining deals, and as I am interested in behalf of the company, and we have, as yet, heard nothing from the party, you see I naturally had a little curiosity regarding their conversation that evening. You are sure they said nothing of the mine, or that Mr. Houston gave them no information?”

Lyle rose, her eyes flashing with scorn and indignation, as she replied, “Why should Mr. Houston give them any information? As I have told you, there was nothing said about the mine; so far as I could judge, the gentlemen were talking of their own personal affairs; and it is false that you have received no word from the eastern party, for I heard you and Morgan talking at the table yesterday of the deal having fallen through, and you suspect Mr. Houston of dishonorable conduct only because you judge every one to be like yourself,” and without giving him opportunity to reply, she turned and walked in the opposite direction toward the boat which she saw approaching in the distance.