CHAPTER XIX
A WOMAN RIDES IN VAIN
Out of Rosalind Benham's resentment against Trevison for the Hester Harveyincident grew a sudden dull apathy--which presently threatened to becomean aversion--for the West. Its crudeness, the uncouthness of its people;the emptiness, the monotony, began to oppress her. Noticing the waning ofher enthusiasm, Agatha began to inject energetic condemnations of thecountry into her conversations with the girl, and to hint broadly of thecontrasting allurements of the East.
But Rosalind was not yet ready to desert the Bar B. She had been hurt, andher interest in the country had dulled, but there were memories over whichone might meditate until--until one could be certain of some things. Thiswas hope, insistently demanding delay of judgment. The girl could notforget the sincere ring in Trevison's voice when he had told her that hewould never go back to Hester Harvey. Arrayed against this declaration wasthe cold fact of Hester's visit, and Hester's statement that Trevison hadsent for her. In this jumble of contradiction hope found a fertile field.
If Corrigan had anticipated that the knowledge of Hester's visit toTrevison would have the effect of centering Rosalind's interest on him, hehad erred. Corrigan was magnetic; the girl felt the lure of him. In hispresence she was continually conscious of his masterfulness, with adismayed fear that she would yield to it. She knew this sensation was notlove, for it lacked the fire and the depth of the haunting, breathlesssurge of passion that she had felt when she had held Trevison off the daywhen he had declared his love for her--that she felt whenever she thoughtof him. But with Trevison lost to her--she did not know what would happen,then. For the present her resentment was sufficient to keep her mindoccupied.
She had a dread of meeting Corrigan this morning. Also, Agatha's continueddeprecatory speeches had begun to annoy her, and at ten o'clock sheordered one of the men to saddle her horse.
She rode southward, following a trail that brought her to Levins' cabin.The cabin was built of logs, smoothly hewn and tightly joined, situated atthe edge of some timber in a picturesque spot at a point where a shallowcreek doubled in its sweep toward some broken country west of Manti.
Rosalind had visited Mrs. Levins many times. The warmth of her welcome onher first visit had resulted in a quick intimacy which, with an immediateestimate of certain needs by Rosalind, had brought her back in the role ofLady Bountiful. "Chuck" and "Sissy" Levins welcomed her vociferously asshe splashed across the river to the door of the cabin this morning.
"You're clean spoilin' them, Miss Rosalind!" declared the mother, watchingfrom the doorway; "they've got so they expect you to bring them a presentevery time you come."
Sundry pats and kisses sufficed to assuage the pangs of disappointmentsuffered by the children, and shortly afterward Rosalind was inside thecabin, talking with Mrs. Levins, and watching Clay, who was painstakinglymending a breach in his cartridge belt.
Rosalind had seen Clay once only, and that at a distance, and she stoleinterested glances at him. There was a certain attraction in Clay's leanface, with its cold, alert furtiveness, but it was an attraction that bredchill instead of warmth, for his face revealed a wild, reckless,intolerant spirit, remorseless, contemptuous of law and order. Severaltimes she caught him watching her, and his narrowed, probing glancesdisconcerted her. She cut her visit short because of his presence, andwhen she rose to go he turned in his chair.
"You like this country, ma'am?"
"Well--yes. But it is much different, after the East."
"Some smoother there, eh? Folks are slicker?"
She eyed him appraisingly, for there was an undercurrent of significancein his voice. She smiled. "Well--I suppose so. You see, competition iskeener in the East, and it rather sharpens one's wits, I presume."
"H'm. I reckon you're right. This railroad has brought some _mighty_ slickones here. Mighty slick an' gally." He looked at her truculently."Corrigan's one of the slick ones. Friend of yours, eh?"
"Clay!" remonstrated his wife, sharply.
He turned on her roughly. "You keep out of this! I ain't meanin' nothin'wrong. But I reckon when anyone's got a sneakin' coyote for a friend an'don't know it, it's doin' 'em a good turn to spit things right out, frankan' fair.
"This Corrigan ain't on the level, ma'am. Do you know what he's doin'?He's skinnin' the folks in this country out of about a hundred thousandacres of land. He's clouded every damn title. He's got a fake bill of saleto show that he bought the land years ago--which he didn't--an' he's got alittle beast of a judge here to back him up in his play. They've done awaywith the original record of the land, an' rigged up another, which makesCorrigan's title clear. It's the rankest robbery that any man ever triedto pull off, an' if he's a friend of yourn you ought to cut him off yourvisitin' list!"
"How do you know that? Who told you?" asked the girl, her face whitening,for the man's vehemence and evident earnestness were convincing.
"'Brand' Trevison told me. It hits him mighty damned hard. He had a deedto his land. Corrigan broke open his office an' stole it. Trevison'scertain sure his deed was on the record, for he went to Dry Bottom withBuck Peters--the man he bought the land from--an' seen it wrote down onthe record!" He laughed harshly. "There's goin' to be hell to pay here.Trevison won't stand for it--though the other gillies are advisin'caution. Caution hell! I'm for cleanin' the scum out! Do you know whatCorrigan done, yesterday? He got thirty or so deputies--pluguglies thathe's hired--an' hid 'em behind some flat-cars down on the level wherethey're erectin' some minin' machinery. He laid a trap for 'Firebrand,'expectin' him to come down there, rippin' mad because they was puttin' theminin' machinery up on his land, wi'out his permission. They was goin' toshoot him--Corrigan put 'em up to it. That Carson fello' heard it an' put'Firebrand' wise. An' the shootin' didn't come off. But that's only thebeginnin'!"
"Did Trevison tell you to tell me this?" The girl was stunned, amazed,incredulous. For her father was concerned in this, and if he had anyknowledge that Corrigan was stealing land--if he _was_ stealing it--he wasguilty as Corrigan. If he had no knowledge of it, she might be able toprevent the steal by communicating with him.
"Trevison tell me?" laughed Levins, scornfully; "'Firebrand' ain't nopussy-kitten fighter which depends on women standin' between him an'trouble. I'm tellin' you on my own hook, so's that big stiff Corriganwon't get swelled up, thinkin' he's got a chance to hitch up with you inthe matrimonial wagon. That guy's got murder in his heart, girl. Did youhear of me shootin' that sneak, Marchmont?" The girl had heard rumors ofthe affair; she nodded, and Levins went on. "It was Corrigan that hired meto do it--payin' me a thousand, cash." His wife gasped, and he spokegently to her. "That's all right, Ma; it wasn't no cold-bloodedaffair--Jim Marchmont knowed a sister of mine pretty intimate, when he wasout here years ago, an' I settled a debt that I thought I owed to her,that's all. I ain't none sorry, neither--I knowed him soon as Corriganmentioned his name. But I hadn't no time to call his attention tothings--I had to plug him, sudden. I'm sorry I've said this, ma'am, nowthat it's out," he said in a changed voice, noting the girl's distress;"but I felt you ought to know who you're dealin' with."
Rosalind went out, swaying, her knees shaking. She heard Levins' wifereproving him; heard the man replying gruffly. She felt that it _must_ beso. She cared nothing about Corrigan, beyond a certain regret, but a waveof sickening fear swept over her at the growing conviction that her father_must_ know something of all this. And if, as Levins said, Corrigan wasattempting to defraud these people, she felt that common justice requiredthat she head him off, if possible. By defeating Corrigan's aim she would,of course, be aiding Trevison, and through him Hester Harvey, whom she hadgrown to despise, but that hatred should not deter her. She mounted herhorse in a fever of anxiety and raced it over the plains toward Manti,determined to find Corrigan and force him to tell her the truth.
Half way to town she saw a rider coming, and she slowed her own horse,taking the rider to be Corrigan, coming to the Bar B. She saw her mistakewhen the rider was within a
hundred feet of her. She blushed, then paled,and started to pass the rider without speaking, for it was Trevison. Shelooked up when he urged Nigger against her animal, blocking the trail,frowning.
"Look here," he said; "what's wrong? Why do you avoid me? I saw you on theDiamond K range the other day, and when I started to ride toward you youwhipped up your horse. You tried to pass me just now. What have I done todeserve it?"
She could not tell him about Hester Harvey, of course, and so she wassilent, blushing a little. He took her manner as an indication of guilt,and gritted his teeth with the pain that the discovery caused him, for hehad been hoping, too--that his suspicions of her were groundless.
"I do not care to discuss the matter with you." She looked fairly at him,her resentment flaming in her eyes, fiercely indignant over his effronteryin addressing her in that manner, after his affair with Hester Harvey. Shewas going to help him, but that did not mean that she was going to blindherself to his faults, or to accept them mutely. His bold confidence inhimself--which she had once admired--repelled her now; she saw in it thebrazen egotism of the gross sensualist, seeking new victims.
"I am in a hurry," she said, stiffly; "you will pardon me if I proceed."
He jumped Nigger off the trail and watched with gloomy, disappointed eyes,her rapid progress toward Manti. Then he urged Nigger onward, towardLevins' cabin. "I'll have to erect another monument to my faith in women,"he muttered. And certain reckless, grim thoughts that had rioted in hismind since the day before, now assumed a definiteness that made his bloodleap with eagerness.
Later, when Rosalind sat opposite Corrigan at his desk, she found it hardto believe Levins' story. The big man's smooth plausibility made Levins'recital seem like the weird imaginings of a disordered mind, goaded todesperation by opposition. And again, his magnetism, his politeconsideration for her feelings, his ingenuous, smiling deference--sosharply contrasted with Trevison's direct bluntness--swayed her, and shesat, perplexed, undecided, when he finished the explanation she had coldlydemanded of him.
"It is the invariable defense of these squatters," he added; "that theyare being robbed. In this case they have embellished their hackneyed talesomewhat by dragging the court into it, and telling you that absurd storyabout the shooting of Marchmont. Could you tell me what possible interestI could have in wanting Marchmont killed? Don't you think, Miss Rosalind,that Levins' reference to his sister discloses the real reason for theman's action? Levins' story that I paid him a thousand dollars is afabrication, pure and simple. I paid Jim Marchmont a thousand dollars thatmorning, which was the balance due him on our contract. The transactionwas witnessed by Judge Lindman. After Marchmont was shot, Levins took themoney from him."
"Why wasn't Levins arrested?"
"It seems that public opinion was with Levins. A great many people hereknew of the ancient trouble between them." He passed from that, quickly."The tale of the robbery of Trevison's office is childlike, for the reasonthat Trevison had no deed. Judge Lindman is an honored and respectedofficial. And--" he added as a last argument "--your father is therespected head of a large and important railroad. Is it logical to supposethat he would lend his influence and his good name to any such ridiculousscheme?"
She sighed, almost convinced. Corrigan went on, earnestly:
"This man Trevison is a disturber--he has always been that. He has norespect for the law or property. He associates with the self-confessedmurderer, Levins. He is a riotous, reckless, egotistical fool who, becausethe law stands in the way of his desires, wishes to trample it under footand allow mob rule to take its place. Do you remember you mentioned thathe once loved a woman named Hester Keyes? Well, he has brought Hesterhere--"
She got up, her chin at a scornful angle. "I do not care to hear about hispersonal affairs." She went out, mounted her horse, and rode slowly outthe Bar B trail. From a window Corrigan watched her, and as she vanishedinto the distance he turned back to his desk, meditating darkly.
"Trevison put Levins up to that. He's showing yellow."