Desert Dust

  CHAPTER III

  I RISE IN FAVOR

  With that he went forward. So did I; but the barricade at the end of MyLady's seat was intact, and I sat down in my own seat, to keep expectanteye upon her profile--a decided relief amidst that crude melange of peoplein various stages of hasty dressing after a night of cramped postures.

  The brakeman's words, although mysterious in part, had concludedreassuringly. My Lady, he said, would prove a valuable friend in Benton. Afriend at hand means a great deal to any young man, stranger in a strangeland.

  The conductor came back--a new conductor; stooped familiarly over thebarricade and evidently exchanged pleasantries with her.

  "Sidney! Sidney! Twenty minutes for breakfast!" the brakeman bawled, fromthe door.

  There was the general stir. My Lady shot a glance at me, with invitingeyes, but arose in response to the proffered arm of the conductor, and Iwas late. The aisle filled between us as he ushered her on and the trainslowed to grinding of brakes and the tremendous clanging of a gong.

  Of Sidney there was little to see: merely a station-house and the smallRailroad Hotel, with a handful of other buildings forming a singlestreet--all squatting here near a rock quarry that broke the expanse ofuninhabited brown plains. The air, however, was wonderfully invigorating;the meal excellent, as usual; and when I emerged from the dining-room,following closely a black figure crowned with gold, I found her strollingalone upon the platform.

  Therefore I caught up with her. She faced me with ready smile.

  "You are rather slow in action, sir," she lightly accused. "We might havebreakfasted together; but it was the conductor again, after all."

  "I plead guilty, madam," I admitted. "The trainmen have an advantage overme, in anticipating events. But the next meal shall be my privilege. Westop again before reaching Benton?"

  "For dinner, yes; at Cheyenne."

  "And after that you will be home."

  "Home?" she queried, with a little pucker between her brows.

  "Yes. At Benton."

  "Of course." She laughed shortly. "Benton is now home. We have moved sofrequently that I have grown to call almost no place home."

  "I judge then that you are connected, as may happen, with a flexiblebusiness," I hazarded. "If you are in the army I can understand."

  "No, I'm not an army woman; but there is money in following the railroad,and that is our present life," she said frankly. "A town springs up, youknow, at each terminus, booms as long as the freight and passengers pileup--and all of a sudden the go-ahead business and professional men pullstakes for the next terminus as soon as located. That has been the custom,all the way from North Platte to Benton."

  "Which accounts for your acquaintance along the line. The trainmen seem toknow you."

  "Trainmen and others; oh, yes. It is to be expected. I have no objectionsto that. I am quite able to take care of myself, sir."

  We were interrupted. A near-drunken rowdy (upon whom I had kept an uneasycorner of an eye) had been careening over the platform, a whiskey bottleprotruding from the hip pocket of his sagging jeans, a large revolverdangling at his thigh, his slouch hat cocked rakishly upon his tousledhead. His language was extremely offensive--he had an ugly mood on, butnobody interfered. The crowd stood aside--the natives laughing, thetourists like myself viewing him askance, and several Indians watchingonly gravely.

  He sighted us, and staggered in.

  "Howdy?" he uttered, with an oath. "Shay--hello, stranger. Have a smile.Take two, one for lady. Hic!" And he thrust his bottle at me.

  My Lady drew back. I civilly declined the "smile."

  "Thank you. I do not drink."

  "What?" He stared blearily. His tone stiffened. "The hell you say. Tootony, eh? Too--'ic! Have a smile, I ask you, one gent to 'nother. Have asmile, you (unmentionable) pilgrim; fer if you don't----"

  "Train's starting, Jim," she interposed sharply. "If you want to getaboard you'd better hurry."

  The engine tooted, the bell was ringing, the passengers were hurrying,incited by the conductor's shout: "All 'board!"

  Without another word she tripped for the car steps. I gave the fellow onefirm look as he stood stupidly scratching his thatch as if to harrow hisideas; and perforce left him. By the cheers he undoubtedly made in thesame direction. I was barely in time myself. The train moved as I plantedfoot upon the steps of the nearest car--the foremost of the two. The traincontinued; halted again abruptly, while cheers rang riotous; and when Icrossed the passageway between this car and ours the conductor andbrakeman were hauling the tipsy Jim into safety.

  My Lady was ensconced.

  "Did they get him?" she inquired, when I paused.

  "By the scruff of the neck. The drunken fellow, you mean."

  "Yes; Jim."

  "You know him?"

  "He's from Benton. I suppose he's been down here on a little pasear, asthey say."

  "If you think he'll annoy you----?" I made bold to suggest, for I greatlycoveted the half of her seat.

  "Oh, I'm not afraid of Jim. But yes, do sit down. You can put these thingsback in your seat. Then we can talk."

  I had no more than settled triumphantly, when the brakeman ambled through,his face in a broad grin. He also paused, to perch upon the seat end, hisarm extended friendlily along the back.

  "Well, we got him corralled," he proclaimed needlessly. "That t'rantularjuice nigh broke his neck for him."

  "Did you take his bottle away, Jerry?" she asked.

  "Sure thing. He'll be peaceable directly. Soused to the guards. Reckonhe's inclined to be a trifle ugly when he's on a tear, ain't he? They'dshipped him out of Benton on a down train. Now he's going back up."

  "He's safe, you think?"

  "Sewed tight. He'll sleep it off and be ready for night." The brakemanwinked at her. "You needn't fear. He'll be on deck, right side up withcare."

  "I've told this gentleman that I'm not afraid," she answered quickly.

  "Of course. And he knows what's best for him, himself." The brakemanslapped me on the shoulder and good-naturedly straightened. "So does thisyoung gentleman, I rather suspicion. I can see his fortune's made. Youbet, if he works it right. I told him if you cottoned to him----"

  "Now you're talking too much, Jerry," she reproved. "The gentleman and Iare only traveling acquaintances."

  "Yes, ma'am. To Benton. Let 'er roar. Cheyenne's the closest I can get,myself, and Cheyenne's a dead one--blowed up, busted worse'n a galvanizedYank with a pocket full o' Confed wall-paper." He yawned. "Guess I'll takeforty winks. Was up all night, and a man can stand jest so much, Injuns orno Injuns."

  "Did you expect to meet with Indians, sir, along the route?" I asked.

  "Hell, yes. Always expect to meet 'em between Kearney and Julesburg. It'sabout time they were wrecking another train. Well, so long. Be good toeach other." With this parting piece of impertinence he stumped out.

  "A friendly individual, evidently," I hazarded, to tide her over herpossible embarrassment.

  Her laugh assured me that she was not embarrassed at all, which proved hergood sense and elevated her even farther in my esteem.

  "Oh, Jerry's all right. I don't mind Jerry, except that his tongue ishung in the middle. He probably has been telling you some tall yarns?"

  "He? No, I don't think so. He may have tried it, but his Westernexpressions are beyond me as yet. In fact, what he was driving at on therear platform I haven't the slightest idea."

  "Driving at? In what way, sir?"

  "He referred to the green in his eye and in the moon, as I recall; and toa mysterious 'system'; and gratuitously offered me a 'steer.'"

  Her face hardened remarkably, so that her chin set as if tautened by ironbands. Those eyes glinted with real menace.

  "He did, did he? Along that line of talk! The clapper-jaw! He's altogethertoo free." She surveyed me keenly. "And naturally you couldn't understandsuch lingo."

  "I was not curious enough to try, my dear madam. He talked rather atrandom; likely enjoyed
bantering me. But," I hastily placated in hisbehalf, "he recommended Benton as a lively place, and you as a friend ofvalue in case that you honored me with your patronage."

  "My patronage, for you?" she exclaimed. "Indeed? To what extent? Are yougoing into business, too? As one of--us?"

  "If I should become a Bentonite, as I hope," I gallantly replied, "then ofcourse I should look to permanent investment of some nature. And before mytraveling funds run out I shall be glad of light employment. The brakemangave me to understand merely that by your kindly interest you might bedisposed to assist me."

  "Oh!" Her face lightened. "I dare say Jerry means well. But when you spokeof 'patronage'---- That is a current term of certain import along therailroad." She leaned to me; a glow emanated from her. "Tell me ofyourself. You have red blood? Do you ever game? For if you are not afraidto test your luck and back it, there is money to be made very easily atBenton, and in a genteel way." She smiled bewitchingly. "Or are you aQuaker, to whom life is deadly serious?"

  "No Quaker, madam." How could I respond otherwise to that pair of dancingblue eyes, to that pair of derisive lips? "As for gaming--if you meancards, why, I have played at piquet and romp, in a social way, for smallstakes; and my father brought Old Sledge back from the army, to the familytable."

  "You are lucky. I can see it," she alleged.

  "I am, on this journey," I asserted.

  She blushed.

  "Well said, sir. And if you choose to make use of your luck, in Benton, byall means----"

  Whether she would have shaped her import clearly I did not know. There wasa commotion in the forward part of the car. That same drunken wretch Jimhad appeared; his bottle (somehow restored to him) in hand, his hatpushed back from his flushed greasy forehead.

  "Have a smile, ladies an' gents," he was bellowing thickly. "Hooray! Havea smile on me. Great an' gloryus 'casion--'ic! Ever'body smile. Drink toop'nin' gloryus Pac'fic--'ic--Railway. Thash it. Hooray!" Thus he camereeling down the aisle, thrusting his bottle right and left, to be deniedwith shrinkings or with bluff excuses.

  It seemed inevitable that he should reach us. I heard My Lady utter alittle gasp, as she sat more erect; and here he was, espying us readilyenough with that uncanny precision of a drunken man, his bottle to thefore.

  "Have a smile, you two. Wouldn't smile at station; gotto smile now. Yep.'Ic! 'Ray for Benton! All goin' to Benton. Lesh be good fellers."

  "You go back to your seat, Jim," she ordered tensely. "Go back, if youknow what's good for you."

  "Whash that? Who your dog last year? Shay! You can't come no highty-tightyover me. Who your new friend? Shay!" He reeled and gripped the seat,flooding me with his vile breath. "By Gawd, I got the dead-wood on you,you----!" and he had loosed such a torrent of low epithets that they areinconceivable.

  "For that I'd kill you in any other place, Jim," she said. "You know I'mnot afraid of you. Now get, you wolf!" Her voice snapped like a whip-lashat the close; she had made sudden movement of hand--it was extended and Isaw almost under my nose the smallest pistol imaginable; nickeled, of twobarrels, and not above three inches long; projecting from her palm, thetwin hammers cocked; and it was as steady as a die.

  Assuredly My Lady did know how to take care of herself. Still, that wasnot necessary now.

  "No!" I warned. "No matter. I'll tend to him."

  The fellow's face had convulsed with a snarl of redder rage, his mouthopened as if for fresh abuse--and half rising I landed upon it with myfist.

  "Go where you belong, you drunken whelp!"

  I had struck and spoken at the same time, with a rush of wrath thatsurprised me; and the result surprised me more, for while I was notconscious of having exerted much force he toppled backward clear acrossthe aisle, crashed down in a heap under the opposite seat. His bottleshattered against the ceiling. The whiskey spattered in a sickening showerover the alarmed passengers.

  "Look out! Look out!" she cried, starting quickly. Up he scrambled,cursing, and wrenching at his revolver. I sprang to smother him, but therewas a flurry, a chorus of shouts, men leaped between us, the brakeman andconductor both had arrived, in a jiffy he was being hustled forward,swearing and blubbering. And I sank back, breathless, a degree ashamed, adegree rather satisfied with my action and my barked knuckles.

  Congratulations echoed dully.

  "The right spirit!"

  "That'll l'arn him to insult a lady."

  "You sartinly rattled him up, stranger. Squar' on the twitter!"

  "Shake, Mister."

  "For a pilgrim you're consider'ble of a hoss."

  "If he'd drawn you'd have give him a pill, I reckon, lady. I know yorekind. But he won't bother you ag'in; not he."

  "Oh, what a terrible scene!"

  To all this I paid scant attention. I heard her, as she sat composedly,scarcely panting. The little pistol had disappeared.

  "The play has been made, ladies and gentlemen," she said. And to me:"Thank you. Yes," she continued, with a flash of lucent eyes and adimpling smile, "Jim has lost his whiskey and has a chance to sober up.He'll have forgotten all about this before we reach Benton. But I thankyou for your promptness."

  "I didn't want you to shoot him," I stammered. "I was quite able to tendto him myself. Your pistol is loaded?"

  "To be sure it is." And she laughed gaily. Her lips tightened, her eyesdarkened. "And I'd kill him like a dog if he presumed farther. In thiscountry we women protect ourselves from insult. I always carry myderringer, sir."

  The brakeman returned with a broom, to sweep up the chips of brokenbottle. He grinned at us.

  "There's no wind in him now," he communicated. "Peaceful as a baby. Wetook his gun off him. I'll pass the word ahead to keep him safe, on fromCheyenne."

  "Please do, Jerry," she bade. "I'd prefer to have no more trouble withhim, for he might not come out so easily next time. He knows that."

  "Surely ought to, by golly," the brakeman agreed roundly. "And he ought toknow you go heeled. But that there tanglefoot went to his head. Looks nowas if he'd been kicked in the face by a mule. Haw haw! No offense, friend.You got me plumb buffaloed with that fivespot o' yourn." And finishing hisjob he retired with dust-pan and broom.

  "You're going to do well in Benton," she said suddenly, to me, with a nod."I regret this scene--I couldn't help it, though, of course. When Jim'ssober he has sense, and never tries to be familiar."

  She was amazingly cool under the epithets that he had applied. I admiredher for that as she gazed at me pleadingly.

  "A drunken man is not responsible for words or actions, although he shouldbe made so," I consoled her. "Possibly I should not have struck him. Inthe Far West you may be more accustomed to these episodes than we are inthe East."

  "I don't know. There is a limit. You did right. I thank you heartily.Still"--and she mused--"you can't always depend on your fists alone. Youcarry no weapon, neither knife nor gun?"

  "I never have needed either," said I. "My teaching has been that a manshould be able to rely upon his fists."

  "Then you'd better get 'heeled,' as we say, when you reach Benton. Fistsare a short-range weapon. The men generally wear a gun somewhere. It isthe custom."

  "And the women, too, if I may judge," I smiled.

  "Some of us. Yes," she repeated, "you're likely to do well, out here, ifyou'll permit me to advise you a little."

  "Under your tutelage I am sure I shall do well," I accepted. "I may callupon you in Benton? If you will favor me with your address----?"

  "My address?" She searched my face in manner startled. "You'll have nodifficulty finding me; not in Benton. But I'll make an appointment withyou in event"--and she smiled archly--"you are not afraid of strangewomen."

  "I have been taught to respect women, madam," said I. "And my respect isbeing strengthened."

  "Oh!" I seemed to have pleased her. "You have been carefully brought up,sir."

  "To fear God, respect woman, and act the man as long as I breathe," Iasserted. "My mother is a saint, my father a nobl
eman, and what I may havelearned from them is to their credit."

  "That may go excellently in the East," she answered. "But we in the Westfavor the Persian maxim--to ride, to shoot, and to tell the truth. Withthose three qualities even a tenderfoot can establish himself."

  "Whether I can ride and shoot sufficient for the purpose, time will show,"I retorted. "At least," and I endeavored to speak with proper emphasis,"you hear the truth when I say that I anticipate much pleasure as well asrenewed health, in Benton."

  "Were we by ourselves we would seal the future in another 'smile'together," she slyly promised. "Unless that might shock you."

  "I am ready to fall in with the customs of the country," I assured. "Icertainly am not averse to smiles, when fittingly proffered."

  So we exchanged fancies while the train rolled over a track remarkable forits smoothness and leading ever onward across the vast, empty plains baresave for the low shrubs called sage-brush, and rising here and there intolong swells and abrupt sandstone pinnacles.

  We stopped near noon at the town of Cheyenne, in Wyoming Territory.Cheyenne, once boasting the title (I was told) "The Magic City of thePlains," was located upon a dreary flatness, although from it one mightsee, far southwest, the actual Rocky Mountains in Colorado Territory,looking, at this distance of one hundred miles, like low dark clouds. Theup grade in the west promised that we should soon cross over theirnorthern flanks, of the Black Hills.

  Last winter, Cheyenne, I was given to understand, had ten thousandinhabitants; but the majority had followed the railroad west, so that nowthere remained only some fifteen hundred. After dinner we, too, wentwest.

  We overcame the Black Hills Mountains about two o'clock, having climbed tothe top with considerable puffing of the engine but otherwise almostimperceptibly to the passengers. When we were halted, upon the crown, atSherman Station, to permit us to alight and see for ourselves, I scarcelymight believe that we were more than eight thousand feet in air. There wasnothing to indicate, except some little difficulty of breath; not so muchas I had feared when in Cheyenne, whose six thousand feet gave me aslightly giddy sensation.

  My Lady moved freely, being accustomed to the rarity; and she assured methat although Benton was seven thousand feet I would soon grow wonted tothe atmosphere. The habitues of this country made light of the spot; thestrangers on tour picked flowers and gathered rocks as mementoes of the"Crest of the Continent"--which was not a crest but rather a levelplateau, wind-swept and chilly while sunny. Then from this Sherman Summitof the Black Hills of Wyoming the train swept down by its own momentumfrom gravity, for the farther side.

  The fellow Jim had not emerged, as yet, much to my relief. The scenery wasincreasing in grandeur and interest, and the play of my charming companionwould have transformed the most prosaic of journeys into a trip throughParadise.

  I hardly noted the town named Laramie City, at the western base of theBlack Hills; and was indeed annoyed by the vendors hawking what theytermed "mountain gems" through the train. Laramie, according to My Lady,also once had been, as she styled it, "a live town," but had deceased infavor of Benton. From Laramie we whirled northwest, through a broad valleyenlivened by countless antelope scouring over the grasses; thence weissued into a wilder, rougher country, skirting more mountains very gloomyin aspect.

  However, of the panorama outside I took but casual glances; the phenomenonof blue and gold so close at hand was all engrossing, and my heart beathigh with youth and romance. Our passage was astonishingly short, but thesun was near to setting beyond distant peaks when by the landmarks thatshe knew we were approaching Benton at last.

  We crossed a river--the Platte, again, even away in here; briefly pausedat a military post, and entered upon a stretch of sun-baked,reddish-white, dusty desert utterly devoid of vegetation.

  There was a significant bustle in the car, among the travel-wornoccupants. The air was choking with the dust swirled through every creviceby the stir of the wheels--already mobile as it was from the efforts ofthe teams that we passed, of six and eight horses tugging heavy wagons.Plainly we were within striking distance of some focus of human energies.

  "Benton! Benton in five minutes. End o' track," the brakeman shouted.

  "My valise, please."

  I brought it. The conductor, who like the other officials knew My Lady,pushed through to us and laid hand upon it.

  "I'll see you out," he announced. "Come ahead."

  "Pardon. That shall be my privilege," I interposed. But she quicklydenied.

  "No, please. The conductor is an old friend. I shall need no otherhelp--I'm perfectly at home. You can look out for yourself."

  "But I shall see you again--and where? I don't know your address; fact is,I'm even ignorant of your name," I pleaded desperately.

  "How stupid of me." And she spoke fast and low, over her shoulder."To-night, then, at the Big Tent. Remember."

  I pressed after.

  "The Big Tent! Shall I inquire there? And for whom?"

  "You'll not fail to see me. Everybody knows the Big Tent, everybody goesthere. So au revoir."

  She was swallowed in the wake of the conductor, and I fain must gather myown belongings before following. The Big Tent, she said? I had notmisunderstood; and I puzzled over the address, which impinged as ratherbizarre, whether in West or East.

  We stopped with a jerk, amidst a babel of cries.

  "Benton! All out!" Out we stumbled. Here I was, at rainbow's end.