'Firebrand' Trevison by Charles Alden Seltzer (ebook reader library TXT) đ
- Author: Charles Alden Seltzer
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Some legal records of the county were on the table between the two men. The Judge had objected when Corrigan had secured them from the compartment where the others were piled.
âIt isnât regular, Mr. Corrigan,â he had said; âno one except a legally authorized person has the right to look over those books.â
âWeâll say that I am legally authorized, then,â grinned Corrigan. The look in his eyes was one of amused contempt. âIt isnât the only irregular thing you have done, Lindman.â
The Judge subsided, but back in his eyes was a slumbering hatred for this man, who was forcing him to complicity in another crime. He regretted that other crime; why should this man deliberately remind him of it?
After looking over the records, Corrigan outlined a scheme of action that made the Judgeâs face blanch.
âI wonât be a party to any such scurrilous undertaking!â he declared when, he could trust his voice; âIâI wonât permit it!â
Corrigan stretched his legs out under the table, shoved his hands into his trousersâ pockets and laughed.
âWhy the high moral attitude, Judge? It doesnât become you. Refuse if you like. When we get to Manti I shall wire Benham. Itâs likely heâll feel pretty sore. Heâs got his heart set on this. And I have no doubt that after he gets my wire heâll jump the next train for Washington, andââ
The Judge exclaimed with weak incoherence, and a few minutes later he was bending over the records with Corriganâthe latter making sundry copies on a pad of paper, which he placed in a pocket when the work was completed.
At noon the special car was in Manti. Corrigan, the Judge, and Braman, carried the Judgeâs effects and stored them in the rear room of the bank building. âIâll build you a courthouse, tomorrow,â he promised the Judge; âbig enough for you and a number of deputies. Youâll need deputies, you know.â He grinned as the Judge shrank. Then, leaving the Judge in the room with his books and papers, Corrigan drew Braman outside.
âI got hell from Benham for destroying Trevisonâs checkâhe wired me to attend to my other deals and let him run the railroadâthe damned old fool! You must have taken the cash to TrevisonâI see the gangâs working again.â
âThe cash went,â said the banker, watching Corrigan covertly, âbut I didnât take it. J. C. wired explicit orders for his daughter to act.â
Corrigan cursed viciously, his face dark with wrath as he turned to look at the private car, on the switch. The banker watched him with secret, vindictive enjoyment. Miss Benham had judged Braman correctlyâhe was cold, crafty, selfish, and wholly devoid of sympathy. He was for Braman, first and lastâand in the interim.
âMiss Benham went to the cutâso I hear,â he went on, smoothly. âTrevison wasnât there. Miss Benham went to the Diamond K.â His eyes gleamed as Corriganâs hands clenched. âTrevison rode back to the car with herâwhich she had ordered taken to the cut,â went on the banker. âAnd this morning about ten oâclock Trevison came here with a led horse. He and Miss Benham rode away together. I heard her tell her aunt they were going to Blakeleyâs ranchâitâs about eight miles from here.â
Corriganâs face went white. âIâll kill him for that!â he said.
âJealous, eh?â laughed the banker. âSo, thatâs the reasonââ
Corrigan turned and struck bitterly. The bankerâs jaws clacked sharplyâotherwise he fell silently, striking his head against the edge of the step and rolling, face down, into the dust.
When he recovered and sat up, Corrigan had gone. The banker gazed foolishly around at a world that was still reelingâfelt his jaw carefully, wonder and astonishment in his eyes.
âWhat do you know about that?â he asked of the surrounding silence. âIâve kidded him about women before, and he never got sore. He must be in love!â
Riding through a saccaton basin, the green-brown tips so high that they caught at their stirrups as they rode slowly along; a white, smiling sky above them and Blakeleyâs still three miles away, Miss Benham and Trevison were chatting gayly at the instant the banker had received Corriganâs blow.
Miss Benham had spent the night thinking of Trevison, and she had spent much of her time during the present ride stealing glances at him. She had discovered something about him that had eluded her the day beforeâan impulsive boyishness. It was hidden behind the manhood of him, so that the casual observer would not be likely to see it; men would have failed to see it, because she was certain that with men he would not let it be seen. But she knew the recklessness that shone in his eyes, the energy that slumbered in them ready to be applied any moment in response to any whim that might seize him, were traits that had not yet yielded to the stern governors of manhoodânor would they yield in many years to comeâthey were the fountains of virility that would keep him young. She felt the irresistible appeal of him, responsive to the youth that flourished in her own heartâand Corrigan, older, more ponderous, less addicted to impulse, grew distant in her thoughts and vision. The day before yesterday her sympathies had been with Corriganâshe had thought. But as she rode she knew that they were threatening to desert him. For this man of heroic mold who rode beside her was disquietingly captivating in the bold recklessness of his youth.
They climbed the far slope of the basin and halted their horses on the crest. Before them stretched a plain so big and vast and inviting that it made the girl gasp with delight.
âOh,â she said, awed; âisnât it wonderful?â
âI knew youâd like it.â
âThe East has nothing like this,â she said, with a broad sweep of the hand.
âNo,â he said.
She turned on him triumphantly. âThere!â she declared; âyou have committed yourself. You are from the East!â
âWell,â he said; âIâve never denied it.â
Something vague and subtle had drawn them together during the ride, bridging the hiatus of strangeness, making them feel that they had been acquainted long. It did not seem impertinent to her that she should ask the question that she now put to himâshe felt that her interest in him permitted it:
âYou are an easterner, and yet you have been out here for about ten years. Your house is big and substantial, but I should judge that it has no comforts, no conveniences. You live there alone, except for some men, and you have male servantsâif you have any. Why should you bury yourself here? You are educated, you are young. There are great opportunities for you in the East!â
She paused, for she saw a cynical expression in his eyes.
âWell?â she said, impatiently, for she had been very much in earnest.
âI suppose Iâve got to tell you,â he said, soberly. âI donât know what has come over meâyou seem to have me under a spell. Iâve never spoken about it before. I donât know why I should now. But youâve got to know, I presume.â
âYes.â
âOn your head rest the blame,â he said, his grin still cynical; âand upon mine the consequences. It isnât a pretty story to tell; itâs only virtue is its brevity. I was fired out of college for fighting. The fellows I licked deserved what they gotâand I deserved what I got for breaking rules. Iâve always broken rules. I may have broken lawsâmost of us have. My father is wealthy. The last time I saw him he said I was incorrigible and a dunce. I admit the former, but Iâm going to make him take the other back. I told him so. He replied that he was from Missouri. He gave me an opportunity to make good by cutting off my allowance. There was a girl. When my allowance was cut off she made me feel cold as an Eskimo. Told me straight that she had never liked me in the way sheâd led me to believe she did, and that she was engaged to a real man. She made the mistake of telling me his name, and it happened to be one of the fellows Iâd had trouble with at college. The girl lost her temper and told me things heâd said about me. I left New York that night, but before I hopped on the train I stopped in to see my rival and gave him the bulliest trimming that I had ever given anybody. I came out here and took up a quarter-section of land. I bought moreâafter a while. I own five thousand acres, and about a thousand acres of it is the best coal land in the United States. I wouldnât sell it for love or money, for when your father gets his railroad running, Iâm going to cash in on ten of the leanest and hardest and lonesomest years that any man ever put in. Iâm going back some day. But I wonât stay. Iâve lived in this country so long that itâs got into my heart and soul. Itâs a golden paradise.â
She did not share his enthusiasmâher thoughts were selfishly personal, though they included him.
âAnd the girl!â she said. âWhen you go back, would youââ
âNever!â he scoffed, vehemently. âThat would convince me that I am the dunce my father said I was!â
The girl turned her head and smiled. And a little later, when they were riding on again, she murmured softly:
âTen years of lonesomeness and bitterness to save his pride! I wonder if Hester Keyes knows what she has missed?â
After Agatha retired that night Rosalind sat for a long time writing at a little desk in the private car. She was tingling with excitement over a discovery she had made, and was yearning for a confidante. Since it had not been her habit to confide in Agatha, she did the next best thing, which was to indite a letter to her chum, Ruth Gresham. In one place she wrote:
âDo you remember Hester Keyesâ love affair of ten years ago? You certainly must remember it! If you cannot, permit me to brush the dust of forgetfulness away. You cannot forget the night you met William Kinkaid? Of course you cannot forget that, for when you are Mrs. KinkaidâBut there! I wonât poke fun at you. But I think every married person needs to treasure every shred of romance against inevitable hum-drum days. Isnât that a sad sentiment? But I want to get ahead with my reminder.â
There followed much detail, having to do with Hester Keyesâ party, to which neither Rosalind nor Ruth Gresham had been invited, for reasons which Rosalind presently made obvious. She continued:
âOf course, custom does not permit girls of fourteen to figure prominently at âcoming-outâ parties, but after one is there and is relegated to a stair-landing, one may use oneâs eyes without restriction. Do you remember my pointing out Hester Keyesâ âfellowâ? But of course you didnât pay much attention to him after Billy Kinkaid sailed into your vision! But I envied Hester Keyes her eighteen yearsâand Trevison Brandon! He had the blackest eyes and hair! And he simply adored
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