CHAPTER II--SLICK DUDS
After a time Taylor's lips wreathed into a smile. He searched in hispockets--he had transferred all his effects from the clothing in thesuitcase to his present uncomfortable raiment--and produced a long,faded envelope in danger of imminent disintegration.
The smile faded from his lips as he drew out the contents of theenvelope, and a certain grim pity filled his eyes. He read:
Squint:
That rock falling on me has fixed me. There is no use in me trying to fool myself. I'm going out. There's things a man can't say, even to a friend like you. So I'm writing this. You won't read it until after I'm gone, and then you can't tell me what you think of me for shoving this responsibility on you. But you'll accept, I know; you'll do it for me, won't you?
I've had a lot of trouble--family trouble. It wouldn't interest you. But it made me come West. Maybe I shouldn't have come. I don't know; but it seemed best.
You've been a mighty persevering friend, and I know you from the ground up. You never inquired about my past, but I know you've wondered. Once I mentioned my daughter, and I saw you look sharp at me. Yes, there is a daughter. Her name is Marion. There was a wife and her brother, Elam Parsons. But only Marion counts. The others were too selfish and sneaking.
You won't be interested in that. But I want Marion taken care of. She was fifteen when I saw her last. She looked just like me; thank God for that! She won't have any of the characteristics of the others!
Squint, I want you to take care of her. You'll find her in Westwood, Illinois. You and me have talked of selling the mine. Sell it; take my share and for it give Marion a half-interest in your ranch, the Arrow. If there is any left, put it in land in Dawes--that town is going to boom. Guard it for her, and marry her, Squint; she'll make you a good wife. Tell her I want her to marry you; she'll do it, for she always liked her "dad."
There was more, but Taylor read no further. He stuffed the envelope intoa pocket and sat looking out of the window, regarding morosely thefeatureless landscape. After a time he grinned saturninely:
"Looks to me like a long chance, Larry," he mused. "Considered as amarrying proposition she don't seem to be enthusiastic over me. Now whatin thunder is she doing out here, and why is that man Carrington withher--and where did she pick him up?"
There came no answer to these questions.
Reluctant, after the girl's mocking smile, to seem to intrude, Taylorsat in the smoking-compartment during the long afternoon, until the duskbegan to descend--until through the curtains of the compartment hecaught a glimpse of the girl and her companions returning from thedining-car. Then, after what he considered a decent interval, he emergedfrom the compartment, went to the diner, ate heartily, and returned tothe smoking-room.
He had met Larry Harlan about three years before. Harlan had appeared atthe Arrow one morning, looking for a job. Taylor had hired him, notbecause he needed men, but because he thought Harlan needed work. Afriendship had developed, and when one day Harlan had told Taylor abouta mine he had discovered in the Sangre de Christo Mountains, some milessouthwestward, offering Taylor a half-interest if the latter would helphim get at the gold, Taylor had agreed.
They had found the mine, worked it, and had taken considerable gold outof it, when one day a huge rock had fallen on Harlan. Taylor had donewhat he could, rigging up a drag with which to take Harlan to town and adoctor, but Harlan had died before town could be reached.
That had been the extent of Taylor's friendship for the man. But he hadfollowed Harlan's directions.
Sitting in the smoking-compartment, he again drew out Harlan's note tohim and read further:
Marion will have considerable money, and I don't want no sneak to get hold of it--like the sneak that got hold of the money my wife had, that I saved. There's a lot of them around. If Marion is going to fall in love with one of that kind, I'd rather she wouldn't get what I leave--the man would get it away from her.
Use your own judgment, and I'll be satisfied.
It was not difficult for Taylor to divine what had happened to Harlan,nor was it difficult to understand that the man's distrust of other menamounted to an obsession. However, Taylor had no choice but to assumethe trust and no course but to obey Harlan's wishes in the matter.
Taylor's trip eastward to Kansas City had been for the purpose ofattending to his own financial interests, and incidentally to concludethe deal for the sale of the mine. He had deposited the money in his ownname, but he intended--or had intended--after returning to the Arrow tomake arrangements for his absence, to go to Westwood to find MarionHarlan. The presence of the girl on the train and the certain convictionthat she was bound for Dawes made the trip to Westwood unnecessary.
For Taylor had no doubt that the girl was the daughter of Larry Harlan.That troublesome resemblance of hers to someone of his acquaintancebothered him no longer, for the girl was the living image of LarryHarlan.
Taylor had not anticipated the coming of Carrington into his scheme ofthings. For the first time since Larry Harlan's letter had come into hispossession he realized that deep in his heart was a fugitive desire forthe coming of the girl to the Arrow. He had liked Larry Harlan, and hehad drawn mental pictures of what the daughter would be like; and,though she was not exactly as he had pictured her, she was near enoughto the ideal he had visualized. He wanted, now more than ever, tofaithfully fulfil his obligation to Larry Harlan.
The presence of Carrington on the train, coupled with the inference thatCarrington was a close friend of the girl's, irritated Taylor. For atthe first glance he had felt a subtle antagonism for the man. Yet he wasmore disturbed over the mockery in the girl's eyes when she had lookeddirectly at him when she had caught him listening to her talk withCarrington and the older man.
Still, Taylor was not the type of man who permits the imminence ofdiscord to disturb his mental equanimity, and he grinned into thegrowing darkness of the plains with a grimly humorous twist to his lipsthat promised interesting developments should Carrington oppose him.
When he again looked out of the aperture in the curtains screening thesmoking-compartment from the aisle he saw the porter pass, carryingbedclothing. Later he saw the porter returning, smilingly inspecting abill. After an interval the porter stuck his head through the curtainsand surveyed him with a flashing grin:
"Is you ready to retiah, boss?" he asked.
A quarter of an hour later Taylor was alone in his berth, gazing at hisreflection in the glass while he undressed.
"You wouldn't have the nerve to think she is interested in you, wouldyou--you homely son-of-a-gun?" he queried of his reflection. "Why, no,she ain't, of course," he added; "no woman could be interested in you.You've been all day looking like a half-baked dude--and no woman isinterested in dudes!"
Carefully removing the contents of the several pockets of the despisedwearing apparel in which he had suffered for many days, he got into hisnightclothes and rang for the porter. When the latter appeared with hishuge grin, Taylor gave him the offensive clothing, bundled together toform a large ball.
"George," he said seriously, almost solemnly, "I'm tired of being adude. Some day I may decide to be a dude; but not now. Take these dudsand save them until I ask for them. If you offer them to me before I askfor them, I'll perforate you sure as hell!"
He produced a big Colt pistol from somewhere, and as the weapon glintedin the light the porter's eyes bulged and he backed away, gingerlyholding the bundle of clothing.
"Yassir, boss--yassir! I shuah won't mention it till you does, boss!"
When the porter had gone, Taylor grinned into the glass.
"I sure have felt just what I looked," he said.
Then he got into his berth and dreamed all night of a girl whose mockingeyes seemed to say:
"Well, do you think you have profited by listening?"
"Why, sure," he retorted, in his dreams; "I've seen you, ain't I?"