The Ranchman

  CHAPTER V--THE UNEXPECTED

  The train pulled out again presently, and the water-tank and the cutwere rapidly left in the rear. Taylor returned to the smoking-room andresumed his seat, and while the girl looked out of the window, some menof the train-crew removed the body of the train-robber and obliteratedall traces of the fight. And Carrington and Parsons, noting the girl'sabstractedness, again left her to herself.

  It had been the girl's first glimpse of a man in cowboy raiment, and, asshe reflected, she knew she might have known Taylor was an unusual man.However, she knew it now.

  Cursory glances at drawings she had seen made her familiar with thetype, but the cowboys of those drawings had been magnificently arrayedin leather _chaparajos_, usually fringed with spangles; and withlong-roweled spurs; magnificent wide brims--also bespangled, and variousother articles of personal adornment, bewildering and awe inspiring.

  But this man, though undoubtedly a cow-puncher, was minus themagnificent raiment of the drawings. And, paradoxical as it may seem,the absence of any magnificent trappings made _him_ seem magnificent.

  But she was not so sure that it was the lack of those things that gaveher that impression. He did not _bulge_ in his cowboy clothing; itfitted him perfectly. She was sure it was he who gave magnificence tothe clothing. Anyway, she was certain he was magnificent, and her eyesglowed. She knew, now that she had seen him in clothing to which he wasaccustomed, and which he knew how to wear, that she would have been moreinterested in him yesterday had he appeared before her arrayed as he wasat this moment.

  He had shown himself capable, self-reliant, confident. She would havegiven him her entire admiration had it not been for the knowledge thatshe had caught him eavesdropping. That action had almost damned him inher estimation--it would have completely and irrevocably condemned himhad it not been for her recollection of the stern, almost savageinterest she had seen in his eyes while he had been listening toCarrington and Parsons.

  She knew because of that expression that Carrington and Parsons had beendiscussing something in which he took a personal interest. She had notsaid so much to Carrington, but her instinct told her, warned her, gaveher a presentiment of impending trouble. That was what she had meantwhen she had told Carrington she had seen _fighting_ in Taylor's eyes.

  Taylor confined himself to the smoking-compartment. The negro porter,with pleasing memories of generous tips and a grimmer memory to exacthis worship, hung around him, eager to serve him, and to engage him inconversation; once he grinningly mentioned the incident of the cast-offclothing of the night before.

  "I ain't mentionin' it, boss--not at all! I ain't givin' you them dudstill you ast for them. You done took me by s'prise, boss--you shuah did.I might' near caved when you shoved that gun under ma nose--I shuah did,boss. I don't want to have nothin' to do with your gun, boss--I shuahdon't. She'd go 'pop,' an' I wouldn't be heah no more!

  "I didn't reco'nize you in them heathen clo's you had on yesterday,boss; but I minds you with them duds on. I knows you; you're 'Squint'Taylor, of Dawes. I've seen you on that big black hoss of yourn, aprancin' an' a prancin' through town--more'n once I've seen you. But Ididn't know you in them heathen clo's yesterday, boss--'deed I didn't!"

  Later the porter slipped into the compartment. For a minute or two hefussed around the room, setting things to order, meanwhile chuckling tohimself. Occasionally he would cease his activities long enough to slapa knee with the palm of a hand, with which movement he would seem to beconvulsed with merriment, and then he would resume work, chucklingaudibly.

  For a time Taylor took no notice of his antics, but they assailed hisconsciousness presently, and finally he asked:

  "What's eating you, George?"

  The query was evidently just what "George" had been waiting for. For nowhe turned and looked at Taylor, his face solemn, but a white gleam ofmirth in his eyes belying the solemnity.

  "Tips is comin' easy for George this mornin'," he said; "they shuah is.No trouble at all. If a man wants to get tips all he has to be is adictionary--he, he, he!"

  "So you're a dictionary, eh? Well, explain the meaning of this." And hetossed a silver dollar to the other.

  The dollar in hand, George tilted his head sidewise at Taylor.

  "How on earth you know I got somethin' to tell you?"

  "How do I know I've got two hands?"

  "By lookin' at them, boss."

  "Well, that's how I know you've got something to tell me--by looking atyou."

  The porter chuckled. "I reckon it's worth a dollar to have a young ladyinterested in you," he told himself in a confidential voice, withoutlooking at Taylor; "yassir, it's sure worth a dollar." He slapped hisknee delightedly. "That young lady a heap interested in you, 'pearslike. While ago she pens me in a corner of the platform. 'Porter, who'sthat man in the smoking-compartment--that cowboy? What's his name, an'where does he live?' I hesitates, 'cause I didn't want to betray nosecrets--an' scratch my haid. Then she pop half a dollar in my hand, an'I tole her you are Squint Taylor, an' that you own the Arrow ranch, notfar from Dawes. An' she thank me an' go away, grinnin'."

  "And the young lady, George; do you know her name?"

  "Them men she's travelin' with calls her Marion, boss."

  He peered intently at Taylor for signs of interest. He saw no suchsigns, and after a while, noting that Taylor seemed preoccupied, and wasevidently no longer aware of his presence, he slipped out noiselessly.

  At nine thirty, Taylor, looking out of the car window, noted that thecountry was growing familiar. Fifteen minutes later the porter stuck hishead in between the curtains, saw that Taylor was still absorbed, andwithdrew. At nine fifty-five the porter entered the compartment.

  "We'll be in Dawes in five minutes, boss," he said. "I've toted yourbaggage to the door."

  The porter withdrew, and a little later Taylor got up and went out intothe aisle. At the far end of the car, near the door, he saw MarionHarlan, Parsons, and Carrington.

  He did not want to meet them again after what had occurred in the diner,and he cast a glance toward the door behind him, hoping that the porterhad carried his baggage to that end of the car. But the platform wasempty--his suitcase was at the other end.

  He slipped into a seat on the side of the train that would presentlydisclose to him a view of Dawes's depot, and of Dawes itself, leaned anelbow on the window-sill, and waited. Apparently the three persons atthe other end of the car paid no attention to him, but glancing sidelongonce he saw the girl throw an interested glance at him.

  And then the air-brakes hissed; he felt the train slowing down, and hegot up and walked slowly toward the girl and her companions. At aboutthe same instant she and the others began to move toward the door; sothat when the train came to a stop they were on the car platform by thetime Taylor reached the door. And by the time he stepped out upon thecar platform the girl and her friends were on the station platform,their baggage piled at their feet.

  Dawes's depot was merely a roofless platform; and there was no shelterfrom the glaring white sun that flooded it. The change from the subduedlight of the coach to the shimmering, blinding glare of the sun on thewooden planks of the platform affected Taylor's eyes, and he was forcedto look downward as he alighted. And then, not looking up, he went tothe baggage-car and pulled his two prisoners out.

  Looking up as he walked down the platform with the two men, he saw atransformed Dawes.

  The little, frame station building had been a red, dingy blot beside theglistening rails that paralleled the town. It was now gaily draped withbunting--red, white, and blue--which he recognized as having been usedon the occasion of the town's anniversary celebration.

  A big American flag topped the ridge of the station; other flagsprojected from various angles of the frame.

  Most of the town's other buildings were replicas of the station in thematter of decorations--festoons of bunting ran here and there frombuilding to building; broad bands of it were stretched across the frontsof other buildings; gay loops
of it crossed the street, suspended toform triumphal arches; flags, wreaths of laurel, Japanese lanterns, andother paraphernalia of the decorator's art were everywhere.

  Down the street near the Castle Hotel, Taylor saw transparencies, but hecould not make out the words on them.

  He grinned, for certainly the victor of yesterday's election wasoutdoing himself.

  He looked into the face of a man who stood near him on the platform--whoanswered his grin.

  "Our new mayor is celebrating in style, eh?" he said.

  "Right!" declared the man.

  He was about to ask the man which candidate had been victorious--thoughhe was certain it was Neil Norton--when he saw Marion Harlan, standing alittle distance from him, smiling at him.

  It was a broad, impersonal smile, such as one citizen of a town mightexchange with another when both are confronted with the visibleevidences of political victory; and Taylor responded to it with oneequally impersonal. Whereat the girl's smile faded, and her gaze, stillupon Taylor, became speculative. Its quality told Taylor that he shouldnot presume upon the smile.

  Taylor had no intention of presuming anything. Not even the porter'sstory of the girl's interest in him had affected him to the extent offatuous imaginings. A woman's curiosity, he supposed, had led her toinquire about him. He expected she rarely saw men arrayed as he was--andas he had been arrayed the day before.

  The girl's gaze went from Taylor to the street in the immediate vicinityof the station, and for the first time since alighting on the platformTaylor saw a mass of people near him.

  Looking sharply at them, he saw many faces in the mass that he knew.They all seemed to be looking at him and, with the suddenness of astroke came to him the consciousness that there was no sound--thatsilence, deep and unusual, reigned in Dawes. The train, usually merelystopping at the station and then resuming its trip, was still standingmotionless behind him. With a sidelong glance he saw the train-crewstanding near the steps of the cars, looking at him. The porter and thewaiter with whose faces he was familiar, were grinning at him.

  Taylor felt that his own grin, as he gazed around at the faces that wereall turned toward him, was vacuous and foolish. He _felt_ foolish. Forhe knew something had attracted the attention of all these people tohim, and he had not the slightest idea what it was. For an instant hefeared that through some mental lapse he had forgotten to remove his"dude" clothing; and he looked down at his trousers and felt of hisshirt, to reassure himself. And he gravely and intently looked at hisprisoners, wondering if by any chance some practical joker of the townhad arranged the train robbery for his special benefit. If that were theexplanation it had been grim hoax--for two men had been killed in thefight.

  Looking up again, he saw that the grins on the faces of the peoplearound him had grown broader--and several loud guffaws of laughterreached his ears. He looked at Marion Harlan, and saw a puzzledexpression on her face. Carrington, too, was looking at him, andParsons, whose smile was a smirk of perplexity.

  Taylor reddened with embarrassment. A resentment that grew swiftly to anangry intolerance, seized him. He straightened, squared his shoulders,thrust out his chin, and shoving his prisoners before him, took severallong strides across the station platform.

  This movement brought him close to Marion Harlan and her friends, andhis further progress was barred by a man who placed a hand against hischest.

  This man, too, was grinning. He seized Taylor's shoulders with bothhands and looked into his face, the grin on his own broad and expanding.

  "Welcome home--you old son-of-a-gun!" said the man.

  His grin was infectious and Taylor answered it, dropping his suitcaseand looking the other straight in the eyes.

  "Norton," he said, "what in hell is the cause of all this staring at me?Can't a man leave town for a few days and come back without everybodylooking at him as though he were a curiosity?"

  Norton--a tall, slender, sinewy man with broad shoulders--laughed aloudand deliberately winked at several interested citizens who had followedTaylor's progress across the platform, and who now stood near him,grinning.

  "You are a curiosity, man. You're the first mayor of this man's town!Lordy," he said to the surrounding faces, "he hasn't tumbled to it yet!"

  The color left Taylor's face; he stared hard at Norton; he gazed inbewilderment at the faces near him.

  "Mayor?" he said. "Why, good Lord, man, I wasn't here yesterday!"

  "But your friends were!" yelped the delighted Norton. He raised hisvoice, so that it reached far into the crowd on the street:

  "He's sort of fussed up, boys; this honor being conferred on him sosudden; but give him time and he'll talk your heads off!" He leaned overto Taylor and whispered in his ear.

  "Grin, man, for God's sake! Don't stand there like a wooden man; they'llthink you don't appreciate it! It's the first time I ever saw you loseyour nerve. Buck up, man; why, they simply swamped Danforth; wiped himclean off the map!"

  Norton was whispering more into Taylor's ear, but Taylor could notfollow the sequence of it, nor get a coherent meaning out of it. He evendoubted that he heard Norton. He straightened, and looked around at thecrowd that now was pressing in on him, and for the first time in hislife he knew the mental panic and the physical sickness that overtakesthe man who for the first time faces an audience whose eyes are focusedon him.

  For a bag of gold as big as the mountains that loomed over the distantsouthern horizon he could not have said a word to the crowd. But he didsucceed in grinning at the faces around him, and at that the crowdyelled.

  And just before the crowd closed in on him and he began to shake handswith his delighted supporters, he glanced at Marion Harlan. She waslooking at him with a certain sober interest, though he was sure thatback in her eyes was a sort of humorous malice--which had, however, asoftening quality of admiration and, perhaps, gratitude.

  His gaze went from her to Carrington. The big man was watching him witha veiled sneer which, when he met Taylor's eyes, grew open andunmistakable.

  Taylor grinned broadly at him, for now it occurred to him that he wouldbe able to thwart Carrington's designs of "getting hold of the reins."His grin at Carrington was a silent challenge, and so the otherinterpreted it, for his sneer grew positively venomous.

  The girl caught the exchange of glances between them, for Taylor heardher say to Parsons, just before the noise of the crowd drowned hervoice:

  "Now I _know_ he overheard you!"

  Meanwhile, the two prisoners were standing near Taylor. Taylor hadalmost forgotten them. He was reminded of their presence when he sawKeats, the sheriff, standing near him. At just the instant Taylor lookedat Keats, the latter was critically watching the prisoners.

  Keats and Taylor had had many differences of opinion, for the sheriff'sofficial actions had not merited nor received Taylor's approval.Taylor's attitude toward the man had always been that of good-naturedbanter, despite the disgust he felt for the man. And now, pursuing hiscustomary attitude, Taylor called to him:

  "Specimens, eh! Picked them up at Toban's this morning. They yearned tohold up the train. There were four, all together, but we had to put twoout of business. I came pretty near forgetting them. If I hadn't seenyou just now, maybe I would have walked right off and left them here.Take them to jail, Keats."

  Keats advanced. He met Taylor's eyes and his lips curved with a sneer:

  "Pullin' off a little grand-stand play, eh! Well, it's a mighty cleveridea. First you get elected mayor, an' then you come in here, draggin'along a couple of mean-lookin' hombres, an' say they've tried to hold upthe train at Toban's. It sounds mighty fishy to me!"

  Taylor laughed. He heard a chuckle behind him, and he turned, to seeCarrington grinning significantly at Keats. Taylor's eyes chilled as hisgaze went from one man to the other, for the exchange of glances toldhim that between the men there was a common interest, which would linkthem together against him. And in the dead silence that followed Keats'swords, Taylor drawled, grinning coldly:

&nbs
p; "Meaning that I'm a liar, Keats?"

  His voice was gentle, and his shoulders seemed to droop a little asthough in his mind was a desire to placate Keats. But there were men inDawes who had seen Taylor work his guns, and these held their breath andbegan to shove backward. That slow, drooping of Taylor's shoulders was adanger signal, a silent warning that Taylor was ready for action, swiftand violent.

  And faces around Taylor whitened as the man stood there facing Keats,his shoulders drooping still lower, the smile on his face becoming oneof cold, grim mockery.

  The discomfiture of Keats was apparent. Indecision and fear were in theset of his head--bowed a little; and a dread reluctance was in hisshifting eyes and the pasty-white color of his face. It was plain thatKeats had overplayed; he had not intended to arouse the latent tiger inTaylor; he had meant merely to embarrass him.

  "Meaning that I'm a liar, Keats?"

  Again Taylor's voice was gentle, though this time it carried a subtletaunt.

  Desperately harried, Keats licked his hot lips and cast a sullen glancearound at the crowd. Then his gaze went to Taylor's face, and he drew aslow breath.

  "I reckon I wasn't meanin' just that," he said.

  "Of course," smiled Taylor; "that's no way for a sheriff to act. Takethem in, Keats," he added, waving a hand at the prisoners; "it's been solong since the sheriff of this county arrested a man that the jail'sgettin' tired, yawning for somebody to get into it."

  He turned his back on Keats and looked straight at Carrington:

  "Have you got any ideas along the sheriff's line?" he asked.

  Carrington flushed and his lips went into a sullen pout. He did notspeak, merely shaking his head, negatively.

  Keats's glance at Taylor was malignant with hate; and Carrington'ssullen, venomous look was not unnoticed by the crowd. Keats steppedforward and seized the two prisoners, hustling them away, mutteringprofanely.

  And then Taylor was led away by Norton and a committee of citizens,leaving Carrington, the girl and Parsons alone on the platform.

  "Looks like we're going to have trouble lining things up," remarkedParsons. "Danforth----"

  "You shut up!" snapped Carrington. "Danforth's an ass and so are you!"