CHAPTER XIII
ANOTHER LETTER
That afternoon, Corrigan rode to the Bar B. The ranchhouse was of thebetter class, big, imposing, well-kept, with a wide, roofed porch runningacross the front and partly around both sides. It stood in a grove offir-balsam and cottonwood, on a slight eminence, and could be seen formiles from the undulating trail that led to Manti. Corrigan arrivedshortly after noon, to find Rosalind gone, for a ride, Agatha told him,after she had greeted him at the edge of the porch.
Agatha had not been pleased over Rosalind's rides with Trevison as acompanion. She was loyal to her brother, and she did not admire the boldrecklessness that shone so frankly and unmistakably in Trevison's eyes.Had she been Rosalind she would have preferred the big, sleek,well-groomed man of affairs who had called today. And because of herpreference for Corrigan, she sat long on the porch with him and told himmany things--things that darkened the big man's face. And when, as theywere talking, Rosalind came, Agatha discreetly retired, leaving the twoalone.
For a time after the coming of Rosalind, Corrigan sat in a big rockingchair, looking thoughtfully down the Manti trail, listening to the girltalk of the country, picturing her on a distant day--not too distant,either, for he meant to press his suit--sitting beside him on the porch ofanother house that he meant to build when he had achieved his goal. Thesethoughts thrilled him as they had never thrilled him until the entrance ofTrevison into his scheme of things. He had been sure of her then. And nowthe knowledge that he had a rival, filled him with a thousand emotions,the most disturbing of which was jealousy. The rage in him was deep andmalignant as he coupled the mental pictures of his imagination with thematerial record of Rosalind's movements with his rival, as related byAgatha. It was not his way to procrastinate; he meant to exert every forceat his command, quickly, resistlessly, to destroy Trevison, to blacken himand damn him, in the eyes of the girl who sat beside him. But he knew thatin the girl's presence he must be wise and subtle.
"It's a great country, isn't it?" he said, his eyes on the broad reachesof plain, green-brown in the shimmering sunlight. "Look at it--almost asbig as some of the Old-world states! It's a wonderful country. I feel likea feudal baron, with the destinies of an important principality in theclutch of my hand!"
"Yes; it must give one a feeling of great responsibility to know that onehas an important part in the development of a section like this."
He laughed, deep in his throat, at the awe in her voice. "I ought to haveseen its possibilities years ago--I should have been out here, preparingfor this. But when I bought the land I had no idea it would one day be sovaluable."
"Bought it?"
"A hundred thousand acres of it. I got it very cheap." He told her aboutthe Midland grant and his purchase from Marchmont.
"I never heard of that before!" she told him.
"It wasn't generally known. In fact, it was apparently generallyconsidered that the land had been sold by the Midland Company to variouspeople--in small parcels. Unscrupulous agents engineered the sales, Isuppose. But the fact is that I made the purchase from the Midland Companyyears ago--largely as a personal favor to Jim Marchmont, who needed moneybadly. And a great many of the ranch-owners around here really have notitle to their land, and will have to give it up."
She breathed deeply. "That will be a great disappointment to them, nowthat there exists the probability of a great advance in the value of theland."
"That was the owners' lookout. A purchaser should see that his deed isclear before closing a deal."
"What owners will be affected?" She spoke with a slight breathlessness.
"Many." He named some of them, leaving Trevison to the last, and thenwatching her furtively out of the corners of his eyes and noting, withstraightened lips, the quick gasp she gave. She said nothing; she wasthinking of the great light that had been in Trevison's eyes on the day hehad told her of his ten years of exile; she could remember his words, theyhad been vivid fixtures in her mind ever since: "I own five thousandacres, and about a thousand acres of it is the best coal land in theUnited States. I wouldn't sell it for love or money, for when your fathergets his railroad running, I'm going to cash in on ten of the leanest andhardest and lonesomest years that any man ever put in."
How hard it would be for him to give it all up; to acknowledge defeat, tofeel those ten wasted years behind him, empty, unproductive; full ofshattered hopes and dreams changed to nightmares! She sat, white of face,gripping the arms of her chair, feeling a great, throbbing sympathy forhim.
"You will take it all?"
"He will still hold one hundred and sixty acres--the quarter-sectiongranted him by the government, which he has undoubtedly proved on."
"Why--" she began, and paused, for to go further would be to inject herpersonal affairs into the conversation.
"Trevison is an evil in the country," he went on, speaking in a judicialmanner, but watching her narrowly. "It is men like him who retardcivilization. He opposes law and order--defies them. It is a shock, Iknow, to learn that the title to property that you have regarded as yourown for years, is in jeopardy. But still, a man can play the man and notyield to lawless impulses."
"What has happened?" She spoke breathlessly, for something in Corrigan'svoice warned her.
"Very little--from Trevison's viewpoint, I suppose," he laughed. "He cameinto my office this morning, after being served with a summons from JudgeLindman's court in regard to the title of his land, and tried to kill me.Failing in that, he knocked poor, inoffensive little Braman down--who hadinterfered in my behalf--and threw him bodily through the front window ofthe building, glass and all. It's lucky for him that Braman wasn't hurt.After that he tried to incite a riot, which Judge Lindman nipped in thebud by sending a number of deputies, armed with rifles, to the scene. Itwas a wonderful exhibition of outlawry. I was very sorry to have ithappen, and any more such outbreaks will result in Trevison's beingjailed--if not worse."
"My God!" she panted, in a whisper, and became lost in deep thought.
They sat for a time, without speaking. She studied the profile of the manand compared its reposeful strength with that of the man who had riddenwith her many times since her coming to Blakeley's. The turbulent spiritof Trevison awed her now, frightened her--she feared for his future. Butshe pitied him; the sympathy that gripped her made icy shivers run overher.
"From what I understand, Trevison has always been a disturber," resumedCorrigan. "He disgraced himself at college, and afterwards--to such anextent that his father cut him off. He hasn't changed, apparently; he isstill doing the same old tricks. He had some sort of a love affair beforecoming West, your father told me. God help the girl who marries him!"
The girl flushed at the last sentence; she replied to the preceding one:
"Yes. Hester Keyes threw him over, after he broke with his father."
She did not see Corrigan's eyes quicken, for she was wondering if, afterall, Hester Keyes had not acted wisely in breaking with Trevison.Certainly, Hester had been in a position to know him better than some ofthose critics who had found fault with her for her action--herself, forinstance. She sighed, for the memory of her ideal was dimming. A figurethat represented violence and bloodshed had come in its place.
"Hester Keyes," said Corrigan, musingly. "Did she marry a fellow namedHarvey--afterwards? Winslow Harvey, if I remember rightly. He died soonafter?"
"Yes--do you know her?"
"Slightly." Corrigan laughed. "I knew her father. Well, well. So Trevisonworshiped there, did he? Was he badly hurt--do you know?"
"I do not know."
"Well," said Corrigan, getting up, and speaking lightly, as thoughdismissing the subject from his mind; "I presume he was--and still is, forthat matter. A person never forgets the first love." He smiled at her."Won't you go with me for a short ride?"
The ride was taken, but a disturbing question lingered in Rosalind's mindthroughout, and would not be solved. Had Trevison forgotten Hester Keyes?Did he think of her as--as--well, as she
, herself, sometimes thought ofTrevison--as she thought of him now--with a haunting tenderness that madehis faults recede, as the shadows vanish before the sunshine?
What Corrigan thought was expressed in a satisfied chuckle, as later, heloped his horse toward Manti. That night he wrote a letter and sent itEast. It was addressed to Mrs. Hester Harvey, and was subscribed: "Yourold friend, Jeff."