'Firebrand' Trevison

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  THE DREGS

  When the Benham private car came to a stop on the switch, Rosalind swungup the steps and upon the platform just as J. C., ruddy, smiling andbland, opened the door. She was in his arms in an instant, murmuring herjoy. He stroked her hair, then held her off for a good look at her, andinquired, unctuously:

  "What are you doing in town so early, my dear?"

  "Oh!" She hid her face on his shoulder, reluctant to tell him. But sheknew he must be told, and so she steeled herself, stepping back andlooking at him, her heart pounding madly.

  "Father; these people have discovered that Corrigan has been trying tocheat them!"

  She would have gone on, but the sickly, ghastly pallor of his facefrightened her. She swayed and leaned against the railing of the platform,a sinking, deadly apprehension gnawing at her, for it seemed from theexpression of J. C.'s face that he had some knowledge of Corrigan'sintentions. But J. C. had been through too many crises to surrender at thefirst shot in this one. Still he got a good grip on himself before heattempted to answer, and then his voice was low and intoned with casualsurprise:

  "Trying to cheat them? How, my dear?"

  "By trying to take their land from them. You had no knowledge of it,Father?"

  "Who has been saying that?" he demanded, with a fairly good pretense ofrighteous anger.

  "Nobody. But I thought--I--Oh, thank God!"

  "Well, well," he bluffed with faint reproach; "things are coming to apretty pass when one's own daughter is the first to suspect him ofwrong-doing."

  "I didn't, Father. I was merely--I don't know what I _did_ think! Therehas been so much excitement! Everything is _so_ upset! They have blown upthe mining machinery, burned the bank and the courthouse; Judge Lindmanwas abducted and found; Braman was killed--choked to death; the Vigilantesare--"

  "Good God!" Benham interrupted her, staggering back against the rear ofthe coach. "Who has been at the bottom of all this lawlessness?"

  "Trevison."

  He gasped, in spite of the fact that he had suspected what her answerwould be.

  "Where is Corrigan? Where's Trevison?" He demanded, his hands shaking."Answer me! Where are they?"

  "I don't know," the girl returned, dully. "They say Trevison is hiding ina pueblo not far from the Bar B. And that Corrigan left here early thismorning, with a number of deputies, to try to capture him. And thosemen--" She indicated the horsemen gathered in front of the _Belmont_, whomhe had not seen, "are organizing to go to Trevison's rescue. They havediscovered that Corrigan murdered Braman, though Corrigan accusedTrevison."

  J. C. flattened himself against the rear wall of the coach and looked withhorror upon the armed riders. There were forty or fifty of them now, andothers were joining the group. "Where's Judge Lindman?" he faltered."Can't this lawlessness be stopped?"

  "It is only a few minutes ago that Judge Lindman was dragged from a shedinto which he had been forced by Corrigan--after being beaten by him. Hemade a public confession of his part in the attempted fraud, and chargedCorrigan with coercing him. Those men are aroused, Father. I don't knowwhat the end will be, but I am afraid--I'm afraid they'll--"

  "I shall give the engineer orders to pull my car out of here!" J. C.'sface was chalky white.

  "No, no!" cried the girl, sharply. "That would make them think youwere--Don't _run_, Father!" she begged, omitting the word which shedreaded to think might become attached to him should he go away, now thatsome of them had seen him. "We'll stand our ground, Father. If Corriganhas done those things he deserves to be punished!" Her lips, white andstiff, closed firmly.

  "Yes, yes," he said; "that's right--we won't run." But he drew her inside,despite her objections, and from a window they watched the members of theVigilantes gathering, bristling with weapons, a sinister and ominous armof that law which is the dread and horror of the evil-doer.

  There came a movement, concerted, accompanied by a low rumble as of wavesbreaking on a rocky shore. It brought the girl out of her chair, throughthe door and upon the car platform, where she stood, her hands claspedover her breast, her breath coming gaspingly. His knees knocking together,his face the ashen gray of death, Benham stumbled after her. He did notwant to go; did not care to see this thing--what might happen--what histerror told him _would_ happen; but he was forced out upon the platform bythe sheer urge of a morbid curiosity that there was no denying; it hadlaid hold of his soul, and though he cringed and shivered and tottered, hewent out, standing close to the iron rail, gripping it with hands thatgrew blueish-white around the knuckles; watching with eyes that bulged,his lips twitching over soundless words. For he could not hold himselfguiltless in this thing; it could not have happened had he tempered hissmug complacence with thoughts of justice. He groaned, gibbering, for hestood on the brink at this minute, looking down at the lashing sea ofretribution.

  The girl paid no attention to him. She was watching the men down thestreet. The concerted movement had come from them. Nearly a hundred riderswere on the move. Lefingwell, huge, grim, led them down the street towardthe private car. For an instant the girl felt a throb of terror, thinkingthat they might have designs on the man who stood at the railing near her,unable to move--for he had the same thought. She murmured thankfully whenthey wheeled, and without looking in her direction loped their horsestoward a wide, vacant space between some buildings, which led out into theplains, and through which she had ridden often when entering Manti.Watching the men, shuddering at the ominous aspect they presented, she sawa tremor run through them--as though they all formed one body. They cameto a sudden stop. She heard a ripple of sound arise from them, amazementand anticipation. And then, as though with preconcerted design, though shehad heard no word spoken, the group divided, splitting asunder with aprecision that deepened the conviction of preconcertedness, rangingthemselves on each side of the open space, leaving it gaping barrenly,unobstructed--a stretch of windrowed alkali dust, deep, light andfeathery.

  Silence, like a stroke, fell over the town. The girl saw people runningtoward the open space, but they seemed to make no noise--they might havebeen dream people. And then, noting that they all stared in one direction,she looked over their heads. Not more than four or five hundred feet fromthe open space, and heading directly toward it, thundered a rider on atall, strong, rangy horse. The beast's chest was foam-flecked, the whitelather that billowed around its muzzle was stained darkly. But it came onwith heart-breaking effort, giving its rider its all. Behind the firstrider came a second, not more than fifty feet distant from the other, on ablack horse which ran with no effort, seemingly, sliding along with great,smooth undulations, his mighty muscles flowing like living things underhis glossy, somber coat.

  The girl saw the man on his back leaning forward, a snarling, terriblegrin on his face. She saw the first rider wheel when he reached the edgeof the open space near the waiting Vigilantes, bring his horse to asliding halt and face toward his pursuer. He clawed at a hip pocket,drawing a pistol that flashed in the first rays of the morning sun--itbelched fire and smoke in a continuous stream, seemingly straight at therider of the black horse. One--two--three--four--five--six times! The girlcounted. But the first man's hand wabbled, and the rider of the blackhorse came on like a demon astride a black bolt, a laugh of bitterderision on his lips. The black did not swerve. Straight and true in hisheadlong flight he struck the other horse. They went down in a smother ofdust, the two horses grunting, scrambling and kicking. The girl had seenthe rider of the black horse lunge forward at the instant of impact; hehad thrown himself at the other man as she had seen football playerslaunch themselves at players of the opposition, and they had both reeledout of their saddles to disappear in the smother of dust.

  Men left the fringe of the living wall flanking the open space and seizedthe two horses, leading them away. The smother drifted, and the girlscreamed at sight of the two raging things that rolled and burrowed in thedeep dust of the street.

  * * *
* *

  They got up as she watched them, springing apart hesitating for an awfulinstant to sob breath into their lungs; then they rushed together,striking bitter, sledge-hammer blows that sounded like the smashing offlat rocks, falling from a great height, on the surface of water. Sheshrieked once, wildly, beseeching someone to stop them, but no man paidany attention to her cry. They sat on their horses, silent, tense, grim,and she settled into a coma of terror, an icy paralysis gripping her. Sheheard her father muttering incoherently at her side, droning and pulingsomething over and over in a wailing monotone--she caught it after awhile; he was calling upon his God--in an hour that could not have beenwere it not for his own moral flaccidness.

  The dust under the feet of the fighting men leveled under their shifting,dragging feet; it bore the print of their bodies where they had lain androlled in it; erupting volcanoes belched it heavily upward; it caught andgripped their legs to the ankles, making their movements slow and sodden.This condition favored the larger man. He lashed out a heavy fist thatcaught Trevison full and fair on the jaw, and the latter's face turnedashy white as he sank to his knees. Corrigan stopped to catch his breathbefore he hurled himself forward, and this respite, brief as it was,helped the other to shake off the deadening effect of the blow. He movedhis head slightly as Corrigan swung at it, and the blow missed, its forcepulling the big man off his feet, so that he tumbled headlong over hisadversary. He was up again in a flash though, for he was fresher than hisenemy. They clinched, and stood straining, matching strength againststrength, sheer, without trickery, for the madness of murder was in theheart of one and the desperation of fear in the soul of the other, andthey thought of nothing but to crush and batter and pound.

  Corrigan's strength was slightly the greater, but it was offset by theother's fury. In the clinch the big man's right hand came up, the heel ofthe palm shoved with malignant ferocity against Trevison's chin.Corrigan's left arm was around Trevison's waist, squeezing it like a vise,and the whole strength of Corrigan's right arm was exerted to force theother's head back. Trevison tried to slip his head sideways to escape thehold, but the effort was fruitless. Changing his tactics, his breathlagging in his throat from the terrible pressure on it, Trevison workedhis right hand into the other's stomach with the force and regularity of apiston rod. The big man writhed under the punishment, dropping his handfrom Trevison's chin to his waist, swung him from his feet and threw himfrom him as a man throws a bag of meal.

  He was after him before he landed, but the other writhed and wriggled inthe air like a cat, and when the big man reached for him, trying again toclinch, he evaded the arm and landed a crushing blow on the other's chinthat snapped his head back as though it were swung from a hinge, and senthim reeling, to his knees in the dust.

  The watching girl saw the ring of men around the fighters contract; shesaw Trevison dive headlong at the kneeling man; with fingers working in afury of impotence she swayed at the iron rail, leaning far over it, hereyes strained, her breath bated, constricting her lungs as though a steelband were around them. For she seemed to feel that the end was near.

  She saw them, locked in each other's embrace, stagger to their feet.Corrigan's head was wabbling. He was trying to hold the other to him thathe might escape the lashing blows that were driven at his head. The girlsaw his hold broken, and as he reeled, catching another blow in the mouth,he swung toward her and she saw that his lips were smashed, the blood fromthem trickling down over his chin. There was a gleam of wild, despairingterror in his eyes--revealing the dawning consciousness of approachingdefeat, complete and terrible. She saw Trevison start another blow,swinging his fist upward from his knee. It landed with a sodden squish onthe big man's jaw. His eyes snapped shut, and he dropped soundlessly, facedown in the dust.

  For a space Trevison stood, swaying drunkenly, looking down at his beatenenemy. Then he drew himself erect with a mighty effort and swept the crowdwith a glance, the fires of passion still leaping and smoldering in hiseyes. He seemed for the first time to see the Vigilantes, to realize thesignificance of their presence, and as he wheeled slowly his lips partedin a grin of bitter satisfaction. He staggered around the form of hisfallen enemy, his legs bending at the knees, his feet dragging in thedust. It seemed to the girl that he was waiting for Corrigan to get upthat he might resume the fight, and she cried out protestingly. He wheeledat the sound of her voice and faced her, rocking back and forth on hisheels and toes, and the glow of dull astonishment in his eyes told herthat he was now for the first time aware of her presence. He bowed to her,gravely, losing his balance in the effort, reeling weakly to recover it.

  And then a crush of men blotted him out--the ring of Vigilantes had closedaround him. She saw Barkwell lunging through the press to gain Trevison'sside; she got a glimpse of him a minute later, near Trevison. The streethad become a sea of jostling, shoving men and prancing horses. She wantedto get away--somewhere--to shut this sight from her eyes. For though onehorror was over, another impended. She knew it, but could not move. Avoice boomed hoarsely, commandingly, above the buzz of many others--it wasLefingwell's, and she cringed at the sound of it. There was a concertedmovement; the Vigilantes were shoving the crowd back, clearing a space inthe center. In the cleared space two men were lifting Corrigan to hisfeet. He was reeling in their grasp, his chin on his chest, his facedust-covered, disfigured, streaked with blood. He was conquered, hisspirit broken, and her heart ached with pity for him despite her horrorfor his black deeds. The loop of a rope swung out as she watched; it fellwith a horrible swish over Corrigan's head and was drawn taut, swiftly,and a hoarse roar of approval drowned her shriek.

  She heard Trevison's voice, muttering in protest, but his words, like hershriek, were lost in the confusion of sound. She saw him fling his armswide, sending Barkwell and another man reeling from him; he reached forthe pistol at his side and leveled it at the crowd. Those nearest himshrank, their faces blank with fear and astonishment. But the man with therope stood firm, as did Lefingwell, grim, his face darkening with wrath.

  "This is the law actin' here, 'Firebrand,'" he said, his voice level."You've done your bit, an' you're due to step back an' let justice take ahand. This here skunk has outraged every damned rule of decency an' honor.He's tried to steal all our land; he's corrupted our court, nearly guzzledJudge Lindman to death, killed Braman--an' Barkwell says the bunch ofpluguglies he hired to pose as deputies, has killed Clay Levins an' fouror five of the Diamond K men. That's plenty. We'd admire to give in toyou. We'll do anything else you say. But this has got to be done."

  While Lefingwell had been talking two of the Vigilantes had slipped to therear of Trevison. As Lefingwell concluded they leaped. The arms of one manwent around Trevison's neck; the other man lunged low and pinned his armsto his sides, one hand grasping the pistol and wrenching it from his hand.The crowd closed again. The girl saw Corrigan lifted to the back of ahorse, and she shut her eyes and hung dizzily to the railing, while tumultand confusion raged around her.

  She opened her eyes a little later, to see Barkwell and another manleading Trevison into the front door of the _Castle_. The street aroundthe car was deserted, save for two or three men who were watching hercuriously. She felt her father's arms around her, and she was led into thecar, her knees shaking, her soul sick with the horror of it all.

  Half an hour later, as she sat at one of the windows, staring stonily outin the shimmering sunlight of the street, she saw some of the Vigilantesreturning. She shrank back from the window, shuddering.