CHAPTER XVII
JUSTICE VS. LAW
Impatience, intolerable and vicious, gripped Trevison as he rode homewardafter his haunting vigil at Manti. The law seemed to him to be like ahouse with many doors, around and through which one could play hide andseek indefinitely, with no possibility of finding one of the doors locked.Judge Graney had warned him to be cautious, but as he rode into the duskof the plains the spirit of rebellion seized him. Twice he halted Niggerand wheeled him, facing Manti, already agleam and tumultuous, almostyielding to his yearning to return and force his enemy to some sort ofphysical action, but each time he urged the horse on, for he could thinkof no definite plan. He was half way to the Diamond K when he suddenlystarted and sat rigid and erect in the saddle, drawing a deep breath, hisnerves tingling from excitement. He laughed lowly, exultingly, as menlaugh when under the stress of adversity they devise sudden, bold plans ofaction, and responding to the slight knee press Nigger turned, reared, andthen shot like a black bolt across the plains at an angle that would nottake him anywhere near the Diamond K.
Half an hour later, in a darkness which equaled that of the night on whichhe had carried the limp and drink-saturated Clay Levins to his wife,Trevison was dismounting at the door of the gun-man's cabin. A littlelater, standing in the glare of lamplight that shone through the opendoorway, he was reassuring Mrs. Levins and asking for her husband. Shortlyafterward, he was talking lowly to Levins as the latter saddled his ponyout at the stable.
"I'll do it--for you," Levins told him. And then he chuckled. "It'll seemlike old times."
"It's Justice versus Law, tonight," laughed Trevison; "it's a case of 'theend justifying the means.'"
Manti never slept. At two o'clock in the morning the lights in thegambling rooms of the _Belmont_ and the _Plaza_ were still flickeringstreams out into the desert night; weak strains of discord were beingdrummed out of a piano in a dance hall; the shuffling of feet smote thedead, flat silence of the night with an odd, weird resonance. Here andthere a light burned in a dwelling or store, or shone through the wall ofa tent-house. But Manti's one street was deserted--the only peace thatManti ever knew, had descended.
Two men who had dismounted at the edge of town had hitched their horses inthe shadow of a wagon shed in the rear of a store building, and weremaking their way cautiously down the railroad tracks toward the center oftown. They kept in the shadows of the buildings as much as possible--forspace was valuable now and many buildings nuzzled the railroad tracks; butwhen once they were forced to pass through a light from a window theirfaces were revealed in it for an instant--set, grim and determined.
"We've got to move quickly," said one of the men as they neared thecourthouse; "it will be daylight soon. Damn a town that never sleeps!"
The other laughed lowly. "I've said the same thing, often," he whispered."Easy now--here we are!"
They paused in the shadow of the building and whispered together briefly.A sound reached their ears as they stood. Peering around the cornernearest them they saw the bulk of a man appear. He walked almost to thecorner of the building where they crouched, and they held their breath,tensing their muscles. Just when it seemed they must be discovered, theman wheeled, walked away, and vanished into the darkness toward the otherside of the building. Presently he returned, and repeated the maneuver. Ashe vanished the second time, the larger man of the two in wait, whisperedto the other:
"He's the sentry! Stand where you are--I'll show Corrigan--"
The words were cut short by the reappearance of the sentry. He came closeto the corner, and wheeled, to return. A lithe black shape leaped like ahuge cat, and landed heavily on the sentry's shoulders, bringing a painedgrunt from him. The grunt died in a gurgle as iron fingers closed on histhroat; he was jammed, face down, into the dust and held there,smothering, until his body slacked and his muscles ceased rippling. Then ahandkerchief was slipped around his mouth and drawn tightly. He was rolledover, still unconscious, his hands tied behind him. Then he was borne awayinto the darkness by the big man, who carried him as though he were achild.
"Locked in a box-car," whispered the big man, returning: "They'll get him;they're half unloaded."
Without further words they returned to the shadow of the building.
Judge Lindman had not been able to sleep until long after his usual hourfor retiring. The noise, and certain thoughts, troubled him. It was aftermidnight when he finally sought his cot, and he was in a heavy doze untilshortly after two, when a breath of air, chilled by its clean sweep overthe plains, searched him out and brought him up, sitting on the edge ofthe cot, shivering.
The rear door of the courthouse was open. In front of the iron safe at therear of the room he saw a man, faintly but unmistakably outlined in thecross light from two windows. He was about to cry out when his throat wasseized from behind and he was borne back on the cot resistlessly. Heldthus, a voice which made him strain his eyes in an effort to see theowner's face, hissed in his ear:
"I don't want to kill you, but I'll do it if you cry out! I mean business!Do you promise not to betray us?"
The Judge wagged his head weakly, and the grip on his throat relaxed. Hesat up, aware that the fingers were ready to grip his throat again, for hecould feel the big shape lingering beside him.
"This is an outrage!" he gasped, shuddering. "I know you--you areTrevison. 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 carcassto the coyotes! Justice is abroad tonight and it won't be balked. I'mafter that original land record--and I'm going to have it. You know whereit is--you've got it. Your face told me that the other day. You're onlyhalf-heartedly in this steal. Be a man--give me the record--and I'll standby you until hell freezes over! Quick! Is it in the safe?"
The Judge wavered in agonized indecision. But thoughts of Corrigan's wrathfinally conquered.
"It--it isn't in the safe," he said. And then, aware of his error becauseof the shrill breath the other drew, he added, quaveringly: "There isno--the original record is in my desk--you've seen it."
"Bah!" The big shape backed away--two or three feet, whispering back atthe 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 thesafe. How long it remained there, he did not know. A step sounded in thesilence 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 nowclose to him, menacing him.
"Your door's open! Where's Ed? There's something wrong! Get up and strikea light. There'll be hell to pay if Corrigan finds out we haven't beenwatching your stuff. Damn it! A man can't steal time for a drink withoutsomething 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 fora match. His voice died in a quick gasp as Trevison struck with the buttof his pistol. The man fell, silently.
Another voice sounded outside. Trevison crouched at the doorway. A formdarkened the opening. Trevison struck, missed, a streak of fire split thenight--the newcomer had used his pistol. It went off again--theflame-spurt shooting ceilingward, as Levins clinched the man from therear. 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 uponthe man behind, who cursed, plunging into the room. The man whom Levinshad seized was shouting orders to the others. But these suddenly ceased asLevins smashed him on the head with the butt of a pistol. Two othersremained. They were stubborn and courageous. But it was miserable work, inthe dark--blows were misdirected, friend striking friend; other blows wentwild, grunts of rage and impotent curses following. But Trevison andLevins were intent on escaping--a victory would have been hollow--for thethud and jar of their boots on the bare floor had
been heard; doors wereslamming; from across the street came the barking of a dog; men wereshouting questions at one another; from the box-car on the railroad tracksissued vociferous yells and curses. Trevison slipped out through the door,panting. His opponent had gone down, temporarily disabled from sundryvicious blows from a fist that had worked like a piston rod. A figureloomed at his side. "I got mine!" it said, triumphantly; "we'd betterslope."
"Another five minutes and I'd have cracked it," breathed Levins as theyran. "What's Corrigan havin' the place watched for?"
"You've got me. Afraid of the Judge, maybe. The Judge hasn't his wholesoul in this deal; it looks to me as though Corrigan is forcing him. Butthe 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 andthe tension great, and when they reached the horses and threw themselvesinto the saddles, Manti was ablaze with light. As they raced away in thedarkness a grim smile wreathed Trevison's face. For though he had notsucceeded in this enterprise, he had at least struck a blow--and he hadcorroborated his previous opinion concerning Judge Lindman's knowledge ofthe whereabouts of the original record.
It was three o'clock and the dawn was just breaking when Trevison rodeinto the Diamond K corral and pulled the saddle from Nigger. Levins hadgone 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 thesentries. He had not anticipated that. He laughed grimly, rememberingJudge Lindman's fright. Would the Judge reveal the identity of hisearly-morning visitor? Trevison thought not, for if the original recordwere in the safe, and if for any reason the Judge wished to conceal itsexistence from Corrigan, a hint of the identity of the early-morningvisitors--especially of one--might arouse Corrigan's suspicions.
But what if Corrigan knew of the existence of the original record? Therewas the presence of the guards to indicate that he did. But there wasJudge Lindman's half-heartedness to disprove that line of reasoning. Also,Trevison was convinced that if Corrigan knew of the existence of therecord he would destroy it; it would be dangerous, in the hands of anenemy. But it would be an admirable weapon of self-protection in the handsof a man who had been forced into wrong-doing--in the hands of JudgeLindman, for instance. Trevison opened the door that led to his office,thrilling with a new hope. He lit a match, stepped across the floor andtouched the flame to the wick of the kerosene lamp--for it was not yetlight enough for him to see plainly in the office--and stood for aninstant blinking in its glare. A second later he reeled back against theedge of the desk, his hands gripping it, dumb, amazed, physically sickwith a fear that he had suddenly gone insane. For in a big chair in acorner of the room, sleepy-eyed, tired, but looking very becoming in hersimple dress with a light cloak over it, the collar turned up, so that itgave her an appearance of attractive negligence, a smile of delightedwelcome 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--ofsheer relief.
"Won't you welcome me, Trev? I have come very far, to see you." She heldout her hands and went slowly toward him, mutely pleading, her eyesluminous with love--which she did not pretend, for the boy she had knownhad grown into the promise of his youth--big, magnetic--a figure for anywoman to love.
He had been looking at her intently, narrowly, searchingly. He saw whatshe herself had not seen--the natural changes that ten years had broughtto her. He saw other things--that she had not suspected--a certain blasesophistication; a too bold and artful expression of the eyes--as thoughshe knew their power and the lure of them; the slightly hard curve in thecorners of her mouth; a second character lurking around her--indefinite,vague, repelling--the subconscious self, that no artifice can hide--thesin and the shame of deeds unrepented. If there had been a time when hehad loved her, its potence could not leap the lapse of years and overcomehis repugnance for her kind, and he looked at her coldly, barring herprogress with a hand, which caught her two and held them in a grip thatmade her wince.
"What are you doing here? How did you get in? When did you come?" He firedthe questions at her roughly, brutally.
"Why, Trev." She gulped, her smile fading palely. The conquest was not tobe the easy one she had thought--though she really wanted him--more thanever, 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. Igot here night before last--to Manti. Rosalind Benham had written aboutyou to Ruth Gresham--a friend of hers in New York. Ruth Gresham told me. Iwent 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, andhe let me in. Trev--won't you welcome me?"
"It isn't the first time I've been in trouble." His laugh was harsh; itmade her cringe and cry:
"I've repented for that. I shouldn't have done it; I don't know what wasthe matter with me. Harvey had been telling me things about you--"
"You wouldn't have believed him--" He laughed, cynically. "There's no useof 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--youcouldn't be blamed for not wanting to marry an idiot like me. But Ihaven't changed. I still have my crazy ideas of honor and justice andsquare-dealing, and my double-riveted faith in my ability to triumph overall adversity. But women--Bah! you're all alike! You scheme, you plot, youplay for place; you are selfish, cold; you snivel and whine--There is moreof it, but I can't think of any more. But--let's face this mattersquarely. If you still like me, I'm sorry for you, for I can't say thatthe sight of you has stirred any old passion in me. You shouldn't havecome out here."
"You're terribly resentful, Trev. And I don't blame you a bit--I deserveit all. But don't send me away. Why, I--love you, Trev; I've loved you allthese years; I loved you when I sent you away--while I was married toHarvey; and more afterwards--and now, deeper than ever; and--"
He shook his head and looked at her steadily--cynicism, bald derision inhis 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 grippedthem. She veiled the quick, savage leap in her eyes by drooping the lids.
"You love Rosalind Benham," she said, quietly, looking at him with amirthless smile. He started, and her lips grew a trifle stiff. "You poorboy!"
"Why the pity?" he said grimly.
"Because she doesn't care for you, Trev. She told me yesterday that shewas engaged to marry a man named Corrigan. He is out here, she said. Sheremarked that she had found you very amusing during the three or fourweeks of Corrigan's absence, and she seemed delighted because the courtout here had ruled that the land you thought was yours belongs to the manwho is to be her husband."
He stiffened at this, for it corroborated Corrigan's words: "She is heartand soul with me in this deal, She is ambitious." Trevison's lips curledscornfully. First, Hester Keyes had been ambitious, and now it wasRosalind Benham. He fought off the bitter resentment that filled him andraised 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 meshiver. I've been through the fire, boy--we've both been through it. Iwasted myself on Harvey--you'll do the same with Rosalind Benham. Tenyears, boy--think of it! I've loved you for that long. Doesn't that makeyou understand--"
"There's nothing quite so dead as a love that a man doesn't want torevive," he said shortly; "do you understand that?"
She shuddered and paled, and a long silence came between them. The colddawn that was creeping over the land stole into the office with them andfound the fires of affection turned to the ashes of unwelcome memory. Thewoman see
med to realize at last, for she gave a little shiver and lookedup at Trevison with a wan smile.
"I--I think I understand, Trev. Oh, I am _so_ sorry! But I am not goingaway. I am going to stay in Manti, to be near you--if you want me. And youwill 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 sheopened 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--" Heturned, flushing. "You came at dusk, last night. I'm afraid I haven't beenexactly thoughtful. Wait--I'll rustle up something to eat."
"I--I couldn't touch it, thank you. Trev--" She started toward himimpulsively, but he turned his back grimly and went toward the corral.
Sunrise found Hester back at the Bar B. Jealous, hurt eyes had watchedfrom an upstairs window the approach of the buckboard--had watched theDiamond K trail the greater part of the night. For, knowing of the absenceof women at the Diamond K, Rosalind had anticipated Hester's return theprevious evening--for the distance that separated the two ranches was notmore 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 anddeep, seized her. Ah, it was bold, brazen, disgraceful!
But she forced herself to calmness as she went down stairs to greet herguest--for there might have been some excuse for the lapse ofpropriety--some accident--something, anything.
"I expected you last night," she said as she met Hester at the door. "Youwere delayed I presume. Has anything happened?"
"Nothing, dearie." Only the bold significance of Hester's smile hid itsdeliberate maliciousness. "Trev was so glad to see me that he simplywouldn'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 hadseen--staring back at her, naked and repulsive. She shuddered, and herface 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 gladto take advantage of your kind invitation. For Trev tells me thatpresently 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 kindlyhave a man bring my trunks--"
And so she rode toward Manti. Not until the varying undulations of theland hid her from view of the Bar B ranchhouse did she lose the malicioussmile. Then it faded, and furious sobs of disappointment shook her.