CHAPTER XII
EXPOSED TO THE SUNLIGHT
It was a month before Trevison went to town, again. Only once during thattime did he see Rosalind Benham, for the Blakeleys had vacated, and goodsand servants had arrived from the East and needed attention. Rosalindpresided at the Bar B ranchhouse, under Agatha's chaperonage, and she hadinvited Trevison to visit her whenever the mood struck him. He had been inthe mood many times, but had found no opportunity, for the variousactivities of range work claimed his attention. After a critical survey ofManti and vicinity, J. C. had climbed aboard his private car to be whiskedto New York, where he reported to his Board of Directors that Manti wouldone day be one of the greatest commercial centers of the West.
Vague rumors of a legal tangle involving the land around Manti had reachedTrevison's ears, and this morning he had jumped on Nigger, determined torun the rumors down. He made a wide swing, following the river, which tookhim miles from his own property and into the enormous basin which one daythe engineers expected to convert into a mammoth lake from which thethirst of many dry acres of land was to be slaked; and halting Nigger nearthe mouth of the gorge, watched the many laborers, directed by variousgrades of bosses, at work building the foundation of the dam. Later, hecrossed the basin, followed the well-beaten trail up the slope to thelevel, and shortly he was in Hanrahan's saloon across the street fromBraman's bank, listening to the plaint of Jim Lefingwell, the Circle Crossowner, whose ranch was east of town. Lefingwell was big, florid, andafflicted with perturbation that was almost painful. So exercised was hethat he was at times almost incoherent.
"She's boomin', ain't she? Meanin' this man's town, of course. An' a man'sgot a right to cash in on a boom whenever he gits the chance. Well, I'dfiggered to cash in. I ain't no hawg an' I got savvy enough to perceivewithout the aid of any damn fortune-teller that cattle is done in thiscountry--considered as the main question. I've got a thousand acres ofland--which I paid for in spot cash to Dick Kessler about eight years ago.If Dick was here he'd back me up in that. But he ain't here--the doggonefool went an' died about four years ago, leavin' me unprotected. Well,now, not digressin' any, I gits the idea that I'm goin' to unloadconsid'able of my thousand acres on the sufferin' fools that's yearnin' tocome into this country an' work their heads off raisin' alfalfa an' hawgs,an' cabbages an' sons with Pick-a-dilly collars to be eddicated East an'come back home some day an' lift the mortgage from the oldhomestead--which job they always falls down on--findin' it more to theirlikin' to mortgage their souls to buy jew'l'ry for fast wimmin. Well, notdigressin' any, I run a-foul of a guy last week which was dead set oninvestin' in ten acres of my land, skirtin' one of the irrigation ditcheswhich they're figgerin' on puttin' in. The price I wanted was a heapsatisfyin' to the guy. But he suggests that before he forks over the coinwe go down to the courthouse an' muss up the records to see if my title isclear. Well, not digressin' any, she ain't! She ain't even nowheres cleara-tall--she ain't even there! She's wiped off, slick an' clean! Thereain't a damned line to show that I ever bought my land from Dick Kessler,an' there ain't nothin' on no record to show that Dick Kessler ever ownedit! What in hell do you think of that?
"Now, not digressin' any," he went on as Trevison essayed to speak; "thatain't the worst of it. While I was in there, talkin' to Judge Lindman,this here big guy that you fit with--Corrigan--comes in. I gathers fromthe trend of his remarks that I never had a legal title to my land--thatit belongs to the guy which bought it from the Midland Company--which ishim. Now what in hell do you think of that?"
"I knew Dick Kessler," said Trevison, soberly. "He was honest."
"Square as a dollar!" violently affirmed Lefingwell.
"It's too bad," sympathized Trevison. "That places you in a mighty badfix. If there's anything I can do for you, why--"
"Mr. 'Brand' Trevison?" said a voice at Trevison's elbow. Trevison turned,to see a short, heavily built man smiling mildly at him.
"I'm a deputy from Judge Lindman's court," announced the man. "I've got asummons for you. Saw you coming in here--saves me a trip to your place."He shoved a paper into Trevison's hands, grinned, and went out. For aninstant Trevison stood, looking after the man, wondering how, since theman was a stranger to him, he had recognized him--and then he opened thepaper to discover that he was ordered to appear before Judge Lindman thefollowing day to show cause why he should not be evicted from certaindescribed property held unlawfully by him. The name, Jefferson Corrigan,appeared as plaintiff in the action.
Lefingwell was watching Trevison's face closely, and when he saw itwhiten, he muttered, understandingly:
"You've got it, too, eh?"
"Yes." Trevison shoved the paper into a pocket. "Looks like you're notgoing to be skinned alone, Lefingwell. Well, so-long; I'll see youlater."
He strode out, leaving Lefingwell slightly stunned over his abruptleave-taking. A minute later he was in the squatty frame courthouse,towering above Judge Lindman, who had been seated at his desk and who hadrisen at his entrance.
Trevison shoved the summons under Lindman's nose.
"I just got this," he said. "What does it mean?"
"It is perfectly understandable," the Judge smiled with forced affability."The plaintiff, Mr. Jefferson Corrigan, is a claimant to the title of theland now held by you."
"Corrigan can have no claim on my land; I bought it five years ago fromold Buck Peters. He got it from a man named Taylor. Corrigan isbluffing."
The Judge coughed and dropped his gaze from the belligerent eyes of theyoung man. "That will be determined in court," he said. "The entire landtransactions in this county, covering a period of twenty-five years, arerecorded in that book." And the Judge indicated a ledger on his desk.
"I'll take a look at it." Trevison reached for the ledger, seized it, theJudge protesting, half-heartedly, though with the judicial dignity thathad become habitual from long service in his profession.
"This is a high-handed proceeding, young man. You are in contempt ofcourt!" The Judge tried, but could not make his voice ring sincerely. Itseemed to him that this vigorous, clear-eyed young man could see the guiltthat he was trying to hide.
Trevison laughed grimly, holding the Judge off with one hand while hesearched the pages of the book, leaning over the desk. He presently closedthe book with a bang and faced the Judge, breathing heavily, his musclesrigid, his eyes cold and glittering.
"There's trickery here!" He took the ledger up and slammed it down on thedesk again, his voice vibrating. "Judge Lindman, this isn't a truerecord--it is not the original record! I saw the original record fiveyears ago, when I went personally to Dry Bottom with Buck Peters to havemy deed recorded! This record is a fake--it has been substituted for theoriginal! I demand that you stay proceedings in this matter until a searchcan be made for the original record!"
"This is the original record." Again the Judge tried to make his voicering sincerely, and again he failed. His one mistake had not hardened himand judicial dignity could not help him to conceal his guilty knowledge.He winced as he felt Trevison's burning gaze on him, and could not meetthe young man's eyes, boring like metal points into his consciousness.Trevison sprang forward and seized him by the shoulders.
"By God--you know it isn't the original!"
The Judge succeeded in meeting Trevison's eyes, but his age, hisvacillating will, his guilt, could not combat the overpowering force andvirility of this volcanic youth, and his gaze shifted and fell.
He heard Trevison catch his breath--shrilling it into his lungs in onegreat sob--and then he stood, white and shaking, beside the desk, lookingat Trevison as the young man went out of the door--a laugh on his lips,mirthless, bitter, portending trouble and violence.
* * * * *
Corrigan was sitting at his desk in the bank building when Trevisonentered the front door. The big man seemed to have been expecting hisvisitor, for just before the latter appeared at the door Corrigan took apistol from a pocket and laid it on the desk
beside him, placing a sheetof paper over it. He swung slowly around and faced Trevison, cold interestin his gaze. He nodded shortly as Trevison's eyes met his.
In a dozen long strides Trevison was at his side. The young man was pale,his lips were set, he was breathing fast, his nostrils were dilated--hewas at that pitch of excitement in which a word, a look or a movementbrings on action, instantaneous, unrecking of consequences. But heexercised repression that made the atmosphere of the room tingle withtension of the sort that precedes the clash of mighty forces--hedeliberately sat on one corner of Corrigan's desk, one leg dangling, theother resting on the floor, one hand resting on the idle leg, his bodybent, his shoulders drooping a little forward. His voice was dry andlight--Patrick Carson would have said his grin was tiger-like.
"So that's the kind of a whelp you are!" he said.
Corrigan caught his breath; his hands clenched, his face reddened darkly.He shot a quick glance at the sheet of paper under which he had placed thepistol. Trevison interpreted it, brushed the paper aside, disclosing theweapon. His lips curled; he took the pistol, "broke" it, tossed cartridgesand weapon into a corner of the desk and laughed lowly.
"So you were expecting me," he said. "Well, I'm here. You want my land,eh?"
"I want the land that I'm entitled to under the terms of my purchase--theoriginal Midland grant, consisting of one-hundred thousand acres. Itbelongs to me, and I mean to have it!"
"You're a liar, Corrigan," said the young man, holding the other's gazecoldly; "you're a lying, sneaking crook. You have no claim to the land,and you know it!"
Corrigan smiled stiffly. "The record of the deal I made with Jim Marchmontyears before any of you people usurped the property is in my pocket atthis minute. The court, here, will uphold it."
Trevison narrowed his eyes at the big man and laughed, bitter humor in thesound. It was as though he had laughed to keep his rage from leaping,naked and murderous, into this discussion.
"It takes nerve, Corrigan, to do what you are attempting; it does, byHeaven--sheer, brazen gall! It's been done, though, by little,pettifogging shysters, by piking real-estate crooks--thousands of parcelsof property scattered all over the United States have been filched in thatmanner. But a hundred-thousand acres! It's the biggest steal that ever hasbeen attempted, to my knowledge, short of a Government grab, and yourimagination does you credit. It's easy to see what's been done. You've gota fake title from Marchmont, antedating ours; you've got a crooked judgehere, to befuddle the thing with legal technicalities; you've got themoney, the power, the greed, and the cold-blooded determination. But Idon't think you understand what you're up against--do you? Nearly everyman who owns this land that you want has worked hard for it. It's beenbought with work, man--work and lonesomeness and blood--and souls. And nowyou want to sweep it all away with one stroke. You want to step in hereand reap the benefit; you want to send us out of here, beggars." His voiceleaped from its repression; it now betrayed the passion that was consuminghim; it came through his teeth: "You can't hand me that sort of a rawdeal, Corrigan, and make me like it. Understand that, right now. You'rebucking the wrong man. You can drag the courts into it; you can wrigglearound a thousand legal corners, but damn you, you can't avert what'sbound to come if you don't lay off this deal, and that's a fight!" Helaughed, full-throated, his voice vibrating from the strength of thepassion that blazed in his eyes. He revealed, for an instant to Corriganthe wild, reckless untamed youth that knew no law save his own impulses,and the big man's eyes widened with the revelation, though he gave noother sign. He leaned back in his chair, smiling coldly, idly flecking abit of ash from his shirt where it had fallen from his cigar.
"I am prepared for a fight. You'll get plenty of it before you'rethrough--if you don't lie down and be good." There was malice in his look,complacent consciousness of his power. More, there was an impulse toreveal to this young man whom he intended to ruin, at least one of themotives that was driving him. He yielded to the impulse.
"I'm going to tell you something. I think I would have let you out of thisdeal, if you hadn't been so fresh. But you made a grand-stand play beforethe girl I am going to marry. You showed off your horse to make a bid forher favor. You paraded before her window in the car to attract herattention. I saw you. You rode me down. You'll get no mercy. I'm going tobreak you. I'm going to send you back to your father, Brandon, senior, inworse condition than when you left, ten years ago." He sneered as Trevisonstarted and stepped on the floor, rigid.
"How did you recognize me?" Curiosity had dulled the young man's passion;his tone was hoarse.
"How?" Corrigan laughed, mockingly. "Did you think you could repose anyconfidence in a woman you have known only about a month? Did you think shewouldn't tell me--her promised husband? She has told me--everything thatshe succeeded in getting out of you. She is heart and soul with me in thisdeal. She is ambitious. Do you think she would hesitate to sacrifice aclod-hopper like you? She's very clever, Trevison; she's deep, and morethan a match for you in wits. Fight, if you like, you'll get no sympathythere."
Trevison's faith in Miss Benham had received a shock; Corrigan's words hadnot killed it, however.
"You're a liar!" he said.
Corrigan flushed, but smiled icily. "How many people know that you havecoal on your land, Trevison?"
He saw Trevison's hands clench, and he laughed in grim amusement. Itpleased him to see his enemy writhe and squirm before him; the grimnesscame because of a mental picture, in his mind at this minute, of Trevisonconfiding in the girl. He looked up, the smile freezing on his lips, forwithin a foot of his chest was the muzzle of Trevison's pistol. He saw thetrigger finger contracting; saw Trevison's free hand clenched, the musclescorded and knotted--he felt the breathless, strained, unreal calm thatprecedes tragedy, grim and swift. He slowly stiffened, but did not shrinkan inch. It took him seconds to raise his gaze to Trevison's face, andthen he caught his breath quickly and smiled with straight lips.
"No; you won't do it, Trevison," he said, slowly; "you're not that kind."He deliberately swung around in the chair and drew another cigar from abox on the desk top, lit it and leaned back, again facing the pistol.
Trevison restored the pistol to the holster, brushing a hand uncertainlyover his eyes as though to clear his mental vision, for the shock that hadcome with the revelation of Miss Benham's duplicity had made his brainreel with a lust to kill. He laughed hollowly. His voice came cold andhard:
"You're right--it wouldn't do. It would be plain murder, and I'm not quiteup to that. You know your men, don't you--you coyote's whelp! You knowI'll fight fair. You'll do yours underhandedly. Get up! There's your gun!Load it! Let's see if you've got the nerve to face a gun, with one in yourown hand!"
"I'll do my fighting in my own way." Corrigan's eyes kindled, but he didnot move. Trevison made a gesture of contempt, and wheeled, to go. As heturned he caught a glimpse of a hand holding a pistol, as it vanished intoa narrow crevice between a jamb and the door that led to the rear room. Hedrew his own weapon with a single movement, and swung around to Corrigan,his muscles tensed, his eyes alert and chill with menace.
"I'll bore you if you wink an eyelash!" he warned, in a whisper.
He leaped, with the words, to the door, lunging against it, sending itcrashing back so that it smashed against the wall, overbalancing someboxes that reposed on a shelf and sending them clattering. He stood in theopening, braced for another leap, tall, big, his muscles swelling andrippling, recklessly eager. Against the partition, which was stillswaying, his arms outstretched, a pistol in one hand, trying to crowdstill farther back to escape the searching glance of Trevison's eyes, wasBraman.
He had overheard Trevison's tense whisper to Corrigan. The cold savageryin it had paralyzed him, and he gasped as Trevison's eyes found him, andthe pistol that he tried to raise dangled futilely from his nervelessfingers. It thudded heavily upon the boards of the floor an instant later,a shriek of fear mingling with the sound as he went down in a heap from avicious, deadening blow fro
m Trevison's fist.
Trevison's leap upon Braman had been swift; he was back in the doorwayinstantly, looking at Corrigan, his eyes ablaze with rage, wild, reckless,bitter. He laughed--the sound of it brought a grayish pallor to Corrigan'sface.
"That explains your nerve!" he taunted. "It's a frame-up. You sent thedeputy after me--pointed me out when I went into Hanrahan's! That's how heknew me! You knew I'd come in here to have it out with you, and youfigured to have Braman shoot me when my back was turned! Ha, ha!" He swunghis pistol on Corrigan; the big man gripped the arms of his chair and satrigid, staring, motionless. For an instant there was no sound. And thenTrevison laughed again.
"Bah!" he said; "I can't use your methods! You're safe so long as youdon't move." He laughed again as he looked down at the banker. Reachingdown, he grasped the inert man by the scruff of the neck and dragged himthrough the door, out into the banking room, past Corrigan, who watchedhim wonderingly and to the front, there he dropped him and turning,answered the question that he saw shining in Corrigan's eyes:
"I don't work in the dark! We'll take this case out into the sunlight, sothe whole town can have a look at it!"
He stooped swiftly, grasped Braman around the middle, swung him aloft andhurled him through the window, into the street, the glass, shattered,clashing and jangling around him. He turned to Corrigan, laughing lowly:
"Get up. Manti will want to know. I'm going to do the talking!"
He forced Corrigan to the front door, and stood on the threshold behindhim, silent, watching.
A hundred doorways were vomiting men. The crash of glass had carried far,and visions of a bank robbery filled many brains as their owners racedtoward the doorway where Trevison stood, the muzzle of his pistol jammedfirmly against Corrigan's back.
The crowd gathered, in the manner peculiar to such scenes, coming from alldirections and converging at one point, massing densely in front of thebank building, surrounding the fallen banker, pushing, jostling,straining, craning necks for better views, eager-voiced, curious.
No one touched Braman. On the contrary, there were many in the frontfringe that braced their bodies against the crush, shoving backward,crying that a man was hurt and needed breathing space. They were unheeded,and when the banker presently recovered consciousness he was lifted to hisfeet and stood, pressed close to the building, swaying dizzily, pale, weakand shaken.
Word had gone through the crowd that it was not a robbery, for there weremany there who knew Trevison; they shouted greetings to him, and heanswered them, standing back of Corrigan, grim and somber.
Foremost in the crowd was Mullarky, who on another day had seen a fight atthis same spot. He had taken a stand directly in front of the door of thebank, and had been using his eyes and his wits rapidly since his coming.And when two or three men from the crowd edged forward and tried to pushtheir way to Corrigan, Mullarky drew a pistol, leaped to the door landingbeside Trevison and trained his weapon, on them.
"Stand back, or I'll plug you, sure as I'm a foot high! There's hell topay here, an' me friend gets a square deal--whatever he's done!"
"Right!" came other voices from various points in the crowd; "a squaredeal--no interference!"
Judge Lindman came out into the street, urged by curiosity. He had steppeddown from the doorway of the courthouse and had instantly been carriedwith the crowd to a point directly in front of Corrigan and Trevison,where he stood, bare-headed, pale, watching silently. Corrigan saw him,and smiled faintly at him. The easterner's eye sought out several faces inthe crowd near him, and when he finally caught the gaze of a certainindividual who had been eyeing him inquiringly for some moments, he slowlyclosed an eye and moved his head slightly toward the rear of the building.Instantly the man whistled shrilly with his fingers, as though to summonsomeone far down the street, and slipping around the edge of the crowdmade his way around to the rear of the bank building, where he was joinedpresently by other men, roughly garbed, who carried pistols. One of themclimbed in through a window, opened the door, and the others--numberingnow twenty-five or thirty, dove into the room.
Out in front a silence had fallen. Trevison had lifted a hand and thecrowd strained its ears to hear.
"I've caught a crook!" declared Trevison, the frenzy of fight stillsurging through his veins. "He's not a cheap crook--I give him credit forthat. All he wants to do is to steal the whole county. He'll do it, too,if we don't head him off. I'll tell you more about him in a minute.There's another of his stripe." He pointed to Braman, who cringed. "Ithrew him out through the window, where the sunlight could shine on him.He tried to shoot me in the back--the big crook here, framed up on me. Iwant you all to know what you're up against. They're after all the land inthis section; they've clouded every title. It's a raw, dirty deal. I seenow, why they haven't sold a foot of the land they own here; why they'veshoved the cost of leases up until it's ruination to pay them. They'reland thieves, commercial pirates. They're going to euchre everybody outof--"
Trevison caught a gasp from the crowd--concerted, sudden. He saw the masssway in unison, stiffen, stand rigid; and he turned his head quickly, tosee the door behind him, and the broken window through which he had thrownBraman--the break running the entire width of the building--filled withmen armed with rifles.
He divined the situation, sensed his danger--the danger that faced thecrowd should one of its members make a hostile movement.
"Steady there, boys!" he shouted. "Don't start anything. These men arehere through prearrangement--it's another frame-up. Keep your guns out ofsight!" He turned, to see Corrigan grinning contemptuously at him. He metthe look with naked exultation and triumph.
"Got your body-guard within call, eh?" he jeered. "You need one. You'vecut me short, all right; but I've said enough to start a fire that willrage through this part of the country until every damned thief is burnedout! You've selected the wrong man for a victim, Corrigan."
He stepped down into the street, sheathing his pistol. He heard Corrigan'svoice, calling after him, saying:
"Grand-stand play again!"
Trevison turned; the gaze of the two men met, held, their hatred glowingbitter in their eyes; the gaze broke, like two sharp blades rasping apart,and Corrigan turned to his deputies, scowling; while Trevison pushed hisway through the crowd.
Five minutes later, while Corrigan was talking with the deputies andBraman in the rear room of the bank building, Trevison was standing in thecourthouse talking with Judge Lindman. The Judge stared out into thestreet at some members of the crowd that still lingered.
"This town will be a volcano of lawlessness if it doesn't get a squaredeal from you, Lindman," said Trevison. "You have seen what a mob lookslike. You're the representative of justice here, and if we don't getjustice we'll come and hang you in spite of a thousand deputies! Rememberthat!"
He stalked out, leaving behind him a white-faced, trembling old man whowas facing a crisis which made the future look very black and dismal. Hewas wondering if, after all, hanging wouldn't be better than the sunlightshining on a deed which each day he regretted more than on the precedingday. And Trevison, riding Nigger out of town, was estimating the probableeffect of his crowd-drawing action upon Judge Lindman, and consideringbitterly the perfidy of the woman who had cleverly drawn him on, to betrayhim.