Claim Number One

  CHAPTER XIV

  "LIKE A WOLF"

  Agnes had been on her homestead almost a week. She was making a brave"stagger," as Smith described all amateurish efforts, toward cutting upsome dry cottonwood limbs into stove-lengths before her tent on theafternoon that Jerry Boyle rode across the ford.

  While she had not forgotten him, she had begun to hope that he had goneback to Comanche, and his sudden appearance there gave her an unpleasantshock. He drew up near her with a friendly word, and dismounted with acowboy swing to his long body and legs.

  "Well, Agnes, you dodged me in Meander," said he. "You've located quitea piece up the river and off the stage-road, haven't you?"

  "But not far enough, it seems," she answered, a little weariness in hervoice, as of one who turns unwillingly to face at last something whichhas been put away for an evil day.

  "No need for us to take up old quarrels, Agnes," he chided with a showof gentleness.

  "I don't want to quarrel with you, Jerry; I never did quarrel with you,"she disclaimed.

  "'Misunderstandings' would be a better word then, I suppose," hecorrected. "But you could have knocked me over with a feather when yourepudiated me over there at Comanche that day. I suppose I should haveknown that you were under an alias before I made that break, but Ididn't know it, Agnes, believe _me_."

  "How could you?" she said, irritably. "That was nothing; let it rest.But you understand that it was for the sake of others that the aliaswas--and is--used; not for my own."

  "Of course, Agnes. But what do you want to be wasting yourself on thisrough country for? There are more suitable places in Wyoming for youthan this lonesome spot. What's the object, anyhow?"

  "I am building here the City of Refuge," said she, "and its solitudewill be its walls."

  "Ready for the time when _he_ comes back, I suppose?"

  She nodded assent slowly, as if grudging him that share of the knowledgeof her inner life.

  "Poor old kid, you've got a job ahead of you!" he commiserated.

  A resentful flush crept into her face, but she turned aside, gatheringher sticks as if to hide her displeasure. Boyle laughed.

  "Pardon the familiarity--'vulgar familiarity' you used to callit--Agnes. But 'what's bred in the bone,' you know."

  "It doesn't matter so much when there's no one else around, but it'sawkward before people."

  "You wouldn't marry me on account of my tongue!" said he with sourreminiscence.

  "It wasn't so much that, Jerry," she chided, "and you know it perfectlywell."

  "Oh, well, if a man does take a drink now and then----" he discounted.

  "But many drinks, and frequently, are quite different," she reproved.

  "We'll not fuss about it."

  "Far from it," she agreed.

  "I didn't come down to open old matters, although I suppose you thoughtthat was my intention when you dodged me and stuck so close to thattin-horn doctor up at Meander."

  "It's comforting to know you haven't come for--_that_," said she,ignoring his coarse reference to Slavens.

  "No; things change a good deal in four years' time, even sentiment--andnames."

  "But it wouldn't be asking too much to expect you to respect some of thechanges?"

  "I don't suppose," he mused, "that many people around here care whethera man's name is the one he goes by, or whether it's the one he gets hismail under at the post-office at Comanche. That's generally believed tobe a man's own business. Of course, he might carry it too far, butthat's his own lookout."

  "Are you on your way to Comanche?" she asked.

  Boyle motioned her to the trunk of the cottonwood whose branches she hadbeen chopping into fuel, with graceful and unspoken invitation to sitdown and hear the tale of his projected adventures.

  "I've been wearing a pair of these high-heeled boots the past few daysfor the first time since I rode the range," he explained, "and they makemy ankles tired when I stand around."

  He seated himself beside her on the fallen log.

  "No, I'm not going to Comanche," said he. "I came down here to see you.They gave me the worst horse in the stable at Meander, and he'll neverbe able to carry me back there without a long rest. I'll have to makecamp by the river."

  She glanced at his horse, on the saddle of which hung, cowboy fashion, abag of grub which also contained a frying-pan and coffeepot, she knew,from having seen many outfits like it in the stores at Comanche. Ablanket was rolled behind the high cantle. As for the horse, it seemedas fresh and likely as if it had come three miles instead of thirty. Shebelieved from that evidence that Jerry's talk about being forced to makecamp was all contrived. He had come prepared for a stay.

  "I got into the habit of carrying those traps around with me when I wasa kid," he explained, following her eyes, "and you couldn't drive me twomiles away from a hotel without them. They come in handy, too, in apinch like this, I'm here to tell you."

  "It's something like a wise man taking his coat, I suppose."

  "Now you've got it," commended Boyle.

  "But Smith, who used to drive the stage, could have fixed you up allright," she told him. "He's got a tent to lodge travelers in down by hisnew store. You must have seen it as you passed?"

  "Yes; and there's another crook!" said Boyle with plain feeling on thematter. "But I didn't come down here to see Smith or anybody else butyou. It's business."

  He looked at her with severity in his dark face, as if to show her thatall thoughts of tenderness and sentiment had gone out of his mind.

  "I'm listening," said she.

  "There's a man down here a few miles spreadin' himself around on a pieceof property that belongs to me," declared Boyle, "and I want you to helpme get him off."

  She looked at him in amazement.

  "I don't understand what you mean," said she.

  "Slavens."

  "Dr. Slavens? Why, he's on his own homestead, which he filed uponregularly. I can't see what you mean by saying it belongs to you."

  "I mean that he stole the description of that land at the point of agun, that's what I mean. It belongs to me; I paid money for it; and I'mhere to take possession."

  "You've got your information wrong," she denied indignantly. "Dr.Slavens didn't steal the description. More than that, he could make itpretty uncomfortable for certain people if he should bring charges ofassault and intended murder against them, Mr. Jerry Boyle!"

  "Oh, cut out that high-handshake stuff, Miss Agnes Horton-Gates, orGates-Horton, and come down to brass tacks! The time was when you couldwalk up and down over me like a piece of hall carpet, and I'd lie thereand smile. That day's gone by. I've got wool on me now like abellwether, and I'm shaggy at the flanks like a wolf. I can be as meanas a wolf, too, when the time comes. You can't walk up and down over meany more!"

  "Nobody wants to walk up and down over you!" she protested. "But if youwant to put Dr. Slavens off that homestead, go and do it. You'll notdraw me into any of your schemes and murderous plots, and you'll findDr. Slavens very well able to take care of himself, too!"

  "Oh, sure he can!" scoffed Boyle. "You didn't seem to think so the timeyou turned Comanche inside out hunting him, when he was layin' drunkunder a tent. I don't know what kind of a yarn he put up when he cameback to you, but I've got the goods on that quack, I'll give you tounderstand!"

  Boyle was dropping his polish, which was only a superficial coating atthe best. In the bone he was a cowboy, belonging to the type of thosewho, during the rustlers' war, hired themselves out at five dollars aday, and five dollars a head for every man they could kill. Boylehimself had been a stripling in those days, and the roughness of histraining among a tribe of as desperate and unwashed villains as everdisgraced the earth underlay his fair exterior, like collar-welts on ahorse which has been long at pasture.

  "I'm not under obligations to keep anybody's secrets in this countrywhen it comes to that," Boyle reminded her.

  "It couldn't be expected of you," she sighed.

  "You're close to that
feller," he pursued, "and he's as soft as cheeseon you. All right; pool your troubles and go on off together for all Icare, but before you turn another wheel you'll put the crowbar underthat man that'll lift him off of that land; savvy? Well, that's whatyou'll do!"

  "You can spread it all up and down the river that I'm living here underan assumed name, and you may tell them anything else--all that istrue--that you think you ought to tell, just as soon as you want tobegin," she said, rising and moving away from him in scorn. "I'll nothelp you; I couldn't help you if I would."

  Boyle got up, his face in a scowl, and as she retreated toward her tent,followed her in his peggy, forward-tilting cowboy walk.

  "Say," he hailed, unveiling at once all the rudeness of his character,"come back here a minute and take your medicine!"

  She paused while he came up.

  "Jerry," said Agnes gently, turning upon him eyes full of sadness andlost hope, "get on your horse and go away. Don't force me to think worseof you than I have thought. Go away, Jerry; go away!"

  Boyle's face was flushed, and his naturally pop-eyed expression wasgreatly aggravated by his anger. It seemed that his eyes were strainingto leap out, and had forced themselves forward until the whites showedbeyond the lids.

  "Yes, that Slavens is one of these men that'd eat hot rocks for thewoman he loves," he sneered. "Well, it's up to him to show how far he'llgo for you."

  "It's unworthy of even you, Jerry, to talk like that," she reproved. "Asfar as I know, I am nothing more to Dr. Slavens than any other friend.If you want his claim, why don't you go down there and buy it, as youwere ready to buy it from Peterson if you could have filed him on it?"

  "Because I can get it cheaper," said Boyle. "I'll not give him ten centsfor it. It's your job to go and tell him that I want him to go over toMeander and pay up on that land, and I'll furnish the money for it, butbefore he pays he must sign a relinquishment to me."

  "I'll not do it!" she declared.

  "If you won't lead, I'll have to try spurs, and I don't like to do that,Agnes, for the sake of old days."

  "Forget the old days."

  "I'll go you," said he.

  "There's nothing that you can tell these people about me that will lowerme much in their estimation. None of them, except Smith, knows me verywell, anyhow. I don't care so much for their opinion, for I'm not hereto please them."

  Boyle placed his hand on her shoulder and looked gravely into her face.

  "But if I was to show proof to the land commissioner that you'd gotpossession of a homestead here through fraud and perjury, then wherewould you land?" he asked.

  "It isn't true!" she cried, fear rising within her and driving away thecolor of courage which to that moment had flown in her face.

  "It is true, Agnes," he protested. "You registered under the name ofAgnes Horton and made affidavit that it was your lawful name; youentered this land under the same name, and took title to it in thepreliminaries, and that's fraud and perjury, if I know anything aboutthe definition of either term."

  "Do you mean to tell me, Jerry," she faltered, "that I'd have to go toprison if Dr. Slavens wouldn't consent to save me by giving up his claimto you?"

  "Well, the disgrace of it would amount to about the same, even if a juryrefused to send you up," said he brutally, grinning a little over thesight of her consternation. "You'd be indicted, you see, by the Federalgrand jury, and arrested by the United States marshal, and locked up.Then you'd be tried, and your picture would be put in the papers, andthe devil would be to pay all around. You'd lose your homestead anyhow,and your right to ever take another. Then where would the City of Refugebe?"

  "But you wouldn't do it," she appealed, placing her hand on his arm,looking into his face beseechingly, the sudden weight of her troublemaking her look old. "You wouldn't do it, Jerry, would you?"

  "Wouldn't I?" he mocked disdainfully. "Well, you watch me!"

  "It's a cowardly way to use an advantage over a woman!"

  "Never mind," grinned Boyle. "I'll take care of that. If that tin-horndoctor wants to toe the line and do what I say to keep you out of aFederal pen, then let him step lively. If he does it, then you can stayhere in peace as long as you live, for anything I'll ever say or do.You'll be Agnes Horton to me as long as my tongue's in workin' order,and I'll never know any more about where you came from or what passedbefore in your history than Smith down there."

  Agnes stood with her head drooping, as if the blackmailer's words hadtaken away the last shoring prop of her ambition and hope. After a whileshe raised her white, pained face.

  "And if I refuse to draw the doctor into this to save myself?" sheasked.

  "Then I guess you'll have to suffer, old kid!" said he.

  Boyle saw the little tremor which ran over her shoulders like a chill,and smiled when he read it as the outward signal of inward terror. Hehad no doubt in the world that she would lay hold of his alternative tosave herself and her plans for others, as quickly as he, coward atheart, would sacrifice a friend for his own comfort or gain.

  Yet Agnes had no thought in that moment of sacrificing Dr. Slavens andhis prospects, which the unmasking of Boyle's hand now proved to bevaluable, to save herself. There must be some other way, she thought,and a few hours to turn it in her mind, and reflect and plan, might showher the road to her deliverance. She did not doubt that the penalty forwhat she had done would be as heavy as Boyle threatened.

  "So it's up to you, handle first," exulted Boyle, breaking herreflections. "I'll ride off down the river a little piece and go intocamp, and tomorrow evening I'll come up for your answer from Slavens.It's about twenty miles from here to his claim, and you can make itthere and back easy if you'll start early in the morning. So it's all upto you, and the quicker the sooner, as the man said."

  With that, Boyle rode away. According to her newly formed habit, Agnesgathered her wood and made a fire in the little stove outside her tent,for the day was wasting and the shadow of the western hills was reachingacross the valley.

  Life had lost its buoyancy for her in that past unprofitable hour. Itlay around her now like a thing collapsed, which she lacked the warmbreath to restore. Still, the evening was as serene as past evenings;the caress of the wind was as soft as any of the south's slow breathingsof other days. For it is in the heart that men make and dismantle theirparadises, and from the heart that the fountain springs which lends itscolor to every prospect that lies beyond.

  Boyle's dust had not settled before Smith came by, jangling aroad-scraper behind his team. He was coming from his labor of leveling aclaim, skip one, up the river. He drew up, his big red face as refulgentas the setting sun, a smile on it which dust seemed only to soften andsweat to illumine. He had a hearty word for her, noting the depressionof her spirit.

  After passing the commonplaces, a ceremony which must be done with Smithwhether one met him twice or twenty times a day, he waved his hand downthe river in the direction that Boyle had gone.

  "Feller come past here a little while ago?" he asked, knowing very wellthat Boyle had left but a few minutes before.

  "He has just gone," she told him.

  "Jerry Boyle," nodded Smith; "the Governor's son. He ain't got no usefor me, and I tell you, if I had a woman around the place----"

  Smith hung up his voice there as if something had crossed his mind. Hestood looking down the valley in a speculative way.

  "Yes?" she inquired, respectfully recalling him.

  "Yes," repeated Smith. "If I had a woman around the house I'd take ashot at that feller as quick as I would at a lobo-wolf!"

  Smith jangled on, his scraper making toadish hops and tortoise-like tipsand amblings over the inequalities in the way. She looked after him, anew light shining from her eyes, a new passion stirring her bosom, wherehis words had fallen like a spark upon tinder.

  So that was the estimation in which men held Jerry Boyle--men likeSmith, who moved along the lower levels of life and smoothed over therough places for others to pass by and by! It must be but th
e reflectionof thought in higher planes--"If I had a woman around the place!" Suchthen was the predatory reputation of Jerry Boyle, who was capable ofdishonorable acts in more directions than one, whose very presence was ataint.

  And he would ride back there tomorrow evening, perhaps after the sun hadset, perhaps after darkness had fallen, to receive the answer to hisdishonorable proposal that she sacrifice her friend to save herself fromhis spite, and the consequences of her own misguided act.

  "If I had a woman around the place!"

  The spark in the tinder was spreading, warming, warming, glowing into afierce, hot flame. Like a wolf--like a wolf--Smith would take a shot athim--like a wolf! Smith had compared him to a wolf; had said he could beas mean as a wolf--and if there was a woman around the place!

  She went into the tent, the blood rising hot to her temples, beating,singing in her ears. The revolver which she had brought with her on thedoctor's advice hung at the head of her cot. With it strapped around hershe went back to her stove, which she fed with a wild vigor, exulting inseeing the flames pour out of the pipe and the thin sides grow red.

  "Like a wolf--like a wolf!"

  The words pounded in her mind, leaped through her circulation likequickening fire.

  "Like a wolf--if there was a woman around the house----"

  And a man like that was coming back, perhaps when the darkness had letdown over that still valley, expecting her to say that she had killedthe hope of her dearest friend to shield herself from his smirched andguilty hand!