CHAPTER XXII
A MAN ERRS--AND PAYS
For a time Trevison stood on the gallery, watching the woman as she fadedinto the darkness toward Manti, and then he laughed mirthlessly and wentinto the house, emerging with a rifle and saddle. A few minutes later herode Nigger out of the corral and headed him southwestward. Shortly aftermidnight he was at the door of Levins' cabin. The latter grinned withfeline humor after they held a short conference.
"That's right," he said; "you don't need any of the boys to help you pull_that_ off--they'd mebbe go to actin' foolish an' give the whole snapaway. Besides, I'm a heap tickled to be let in on that sort of ajamboree!" There followed an interval, during which his grin faded. "Soshe peached on you, eh? She told my woman she wouldn't. That's a woman,ain't it? How's a man to tell about 'em?"
"That's a secret of my own that I am not ready to let you in on. Don'ttell your wife where you are going _tonight_."
"I ain't reckonin' to. I'll be with you in a jiffy!" He vanished into thecabin, reappeared, ran to the stable, and rode out to meet Trevison.Together they were swallowed up by the plains.
At eight o'clock in the morning Corrigan came out of the dining-room ofhis hotel and stopped at the cigar counter. He filled his case, lit one,and stood for a moment with an elbow on the glass of the show case,smoking thoughtfully.
"That was quite an accident you had at your mine. Have you any idea whodid it?" asked the clerk, watching him furtively.
Corrigan glanced at the man, his lips curling.
"You might guess," he said through his teeth.
"That fellow Trevison is a bad actor," continued the clerk. "And say," hewent on, confidentially; "not that I want to make you feel bad, but themajority of the people of this town are standing with him in this deal.They think you are not giving the land-owners a square deal. Not that I'm'knocking' _you_," the clerk denied, flushing at the dark look Corriganthrew him. "That's merely what I hear. Personally, I'm for you. This townneeds men like you, and it can get along without fellows like Trevison."
"Thank you," smiled Corrigan, disgusted with the man, but feeling that itmight be well to cultivate such ingratiating interest. "Have a cigar."
"I'll go you. Yes, sir," he added, when he had got the weed going; "thistown can get along without any Trevisons. These sagebrush rummies out heregive me a pain. What this country needs is less brute force and morebrains!" He drew his shoulders erect as though convinced that he was notlacking in the particular virtue to which he had referred.
"You are right," smiled Corrigan, mildly. "Brains are all important. Ahotel clerk must be well supplied. I presume you see and hear a great manythings that other people miss seeing and hearing." Corrigan thought thisthermometer of public opinion might have other information.
"You've said it! We've got to keep our wits about us. There's very littleescapes us." He leered at Corrigan's profile. "That's a swell Moll innumber eleven, ain't it?"
"What do you know about her?" Corrigan's face was inexpressive.
"Oh say now!" The clerk guffawed close to Corrigan's ear without makingthe big man wink an eyelash. "You don't mean to tell me that you ain't_on_! I saw you steer to her room one night--the night she came here. Andonce or twice, since. But of course us hotel clerks don't see anything!She is down on the register as Mrs. Harvey. But say! You don't see anymarried women running around the country dressed like her!"
"She may be a widow."
"Well, yes, maybe she might. But she shows speed, don't she?" Hewhispered. "You're a pretty good friend of mine, now, and maybe if I'dgive you a tip you'd throw something in my way later on--eh?"
"What?"
"Oh, you might start a hotel here--or something. And I'm thinking ofblowing this joint. This town's booming, and it can stand a swell hotel ina few months."
"You're on--if I build a hotel. Shoot!"
The clerk leaned closer, whispering: "She receives other men. You're notthe only one."
"Who?"
The clerk laughed, and made a funnel of one hand. "The banker across thestreet--Braman."
Corrigan bit his cigar in two, and slowly spat that which was left in hismouth into a cuspidor. He contrived to smile, though it cost him aneffort, and his hands were clenched.
"How many times has he been here?"
"Oh, several."
"When was he here last?"
"Last night." The clerk laughed. "Looked half stewed when he left. Kindahectic, too. Him and her must have had a tiff, for he left early. Andafter he'd gone--right away after--she sent one of the waiters out for ahorse."
"Which way did she go?"
"West--I watched her; she went the back way, from here."
Corrigan smiled and went out. The expression of his face was such as tocause the clerk to mutter, dazedly: "He didn't seem to be a whole lotinterested. I guess I must have sized him up wrong."
Corrigan stopped at his office in the bank, nodding curtly to Braman.Shortly afterward he got up and went to the courthouse. He had orderedJudge Lindman to issue a warrant for Carson the previous morning, and hadintended to see that it was served. But a press of other matters hadoccupied his attention until late in the night.
He tried the front door of the courthouse, to find it locked. The reardoor was also locked. He tried the windows--all were fastened securely.Thinking the Judge still sleeping he went back to his office and spent anhour going over some correspondence. At the end of that time he visitedthe courthouse again. Angered, he went around to the side and burst theflimsy door in, standing in the opening, glowering, for the Judge's cotwas empty, and the Judge nowhere to be seen.
Corrigan stalked through the building, cursing. He examined the cot, anddiscovered that it had been slept in. The Judge must have risen early.Obviously, there was nothing to do but to wait. Corrigan did that,impatiently. For a long time he sat in the chair at his desk, watchingBraman, studying him, scowling, rage in his heart. "If he's up to anydirty work, I'll choke him until his tongue hangs out a yard!" was amental threat that he repeated many times. "But he's just mush-headed overthe woman, I guess--he's that kind of a fool!"
At ten o'clock Corrigan jumped on his horse and rode out to the buttewhere the laborers were working, clearing away the debris from theexplosion. No one there had seen Judge Lindman. Corrigan rode back totown, fuming with rage. Finding some of the deputies he sent them out tosearch for the Judge. One by one they came in and reported their failure.At six-thirty, after the arrival of the evening train from Dry Bottom,Corrigan was sitting at his desk, his face black with wrath, reading forthe third or fourth time a letter that he had spread out on the deskbefore him:
"MR. JEFFERSON CORRIGAN:
"I feel it is necessary for me to take a short rest. Recent excitement in Manti has left me very nervous and unstrung. I shall be away from Manti for about two weeks, I think. During my absence any pending litigation must be postponed, of course."
The letter was signed by Judge Lindman, and postmarked "Dry Bottom."
Corrigan got up after a while and stuffed the letter into a pocket. Hewent out, and when he returned, Braman had gone out also--to supper,Corrigan surmised. When the banker came in an hour later, Corrigan wasstill seated at his desk. The banker smiled at him, and Corrigan motionedto him.
Corrigan's voice was silky. "Where were you last night, Braman?"
The banker's face whitened; his thoughts became confused, but instantlycleared when he observed from the expression of the big man's face thatthe question was, apparently, a casual one. But he drew his breathtremulously. One could never be sure of Corrigan.
"I spent the night here--in the back room."
"Then you didn't see the Judge last night--or hear him?"
"No."
Corrigan drew the Judge's letter from the pocket and passed it over toBraman, watching his face steadily as he read. He saw a quick stain appearin the banker's cheeks, and his own lips tightened.
The banker coughed before he spoke. "Wasn't that a rather abrup
tleave-taking?"
"Yes--rather," said Corrigan, dryly. "You didn't hear him walking aboutduring the night?"
"No."
"You're rather a heavy sleeper, eh? There is only a thin board partitionbetween this building and the courthouse."
"He must have left after daylight. Of course, any noise he might have madeafter that I wouldn't have noticed."
"No, of course not," said Corrigan, passionlessly. "Well--he's gone." Heseemed to have dismissed the matter from his mind and Braman sighed withrelief. But he watched Corrigan narrowly during the remainder of the timehe stayed in the office, and when he went out, Braman shook a vindictivefist at his back.
"Worry, damn you!" he sneered. "I don't know what was in Judge Lindman'smind, but I hope he never comes back! That will help to repay you for thatknockdown!"
Corrigan went over to the _Castle_ and ate supper. He was preoccupied anddeliberate, for he was trying to weave a complete fabric out of thethreads of Braman's visits to Hester Harvey; Hester's ride westward, andJudge Lindman's abrupt departure. He had a feeling that they were in someway connected.
At a little after seven he finished his meal, went upstairs and knocked atthe door of Hester Harvey's room. He stepped inside when she opened thedoor, and stood, both hands in the pockets of his trousers, looking at herwith a smile of repressed malignance.
"Nice night for a ride, wasn't it?" he said, his lips parting a verylittle to allow the words to filter through.
The woman flashed a quick, inquiring look at him, saw the passion in hiseyes, the gleam of malevolent antagonism, and she set herself against it.For her talk with Trevison last night had convinced her of the futility ofhope. She had gone out of his life as a commonplace incident slips intothe oblivion of yesteryear. Worse--he had refused to recall it. It hurther, this knowledge--his rebuff. It had aroused cold, wanton passions inher--she had become a woman who did not care. She met Corrigan's gaze witha look of defiant mockery.
"Swell. I enjoyed every minute of it. Won't you sit down?"
He held himself back, grinning coldly, for the woman's look had goaded himto fury.
"No," he said; "I'll stand. I won't be here a minute. You saw Trevisonlast night, eh? You warned him that I was going to have Carson arrested."He had hazarded this guess, for it had seemed to him that it must be thesolution to the mystery, and when he caught the quick, triumphant light inthe woman's eyes at his words he knew he had not erred.
"Yes," she said; "I saw him, and I told him--what Braman told me." She sawhis eyes glitter and she laughed harshly. "That's what you wanted to know,isn't it, Jeff--what Braman told me? Well, you know it. I knew youcouldn't play square with me. You thought you could dupe me--_again_,didn't you? Well, you didn't, for I snared Braman and pumped him dry. He'skept me posted on your movements; and his little board telephone--Ha, ha!that makes you squirm, doesn't it? But it was all wasted effort--Trevisonwon't have me--he's through. And I'm through. I'm not going to try anymore. I'm going back East, after I get rested. You fight it out withTrevison. But I warn you, he'll beat you--and I wish he would! As for thatbeast, Braman, I wish--Ah, let him go, Jeff," she advised, noting the coldfury in his eyes.
"That's all right," he said with a dry laugh. "You and Braman have donewell. It hasn't done me any harm, and so we'll forget about it. What doyou say to having a drink--and a talk. As in old times, eh?" He seemedsuddenly to have conquered his passion, but the queer twitching of hislips warned the woman, and when he essayed to move toward her, smilingpallidly, she darted to the far side of a stand near the center of theroom, pulled out a drawer, produced a small revolver and leveled it athim, her eyes wide and glittering with menace.
"Stay where you are, Jeff!" she ordered. "There's murder in your heart,and I know it. But I don't intend to be the victim. I'll shoot if you comeone step nearer!"
He smirked at her, venomously. "All right," he said. "You're wise. But getout of town on the next train."
"I'll go when I get ready--you can't scare me. Let me alone or I'll go toRosalind Benham and let her in on the whole scheme."
"Yes you will--not," he laughed. "If I know anything about you, you won'tdo anything that would give Miss Benham to Trevison."
"That's right; I'd rather see her married to you--that would be therefinement of cruelty!"
He laughed sneeringly and stepped out of the door. Waiting a short time,the woman heard his step in the hall. Then she darted to the door, lockedit, and leaned against it, panting.
"I've done it now," she murmured. "Braman--Well, it serves him right!"
* * * * *
Corrigan stopped in the barroom and got a drink. Then he walked to thefront door and stood in it for an instant, finally stepping down into thestreet. Across the street in the banking room he saw a thin streak oflight gleaming through a crevice in the doorway that led from the bankingroom to the rear. The light told him that Braman was in the rear room.Selecting a moment when the street in his vicinity was deserted, Corrigandeliberately crossed, standing for a moment in the shadow of the bankbuilding, looking around him. Then he slipped around the building andtapped cautiously on the rear door. An instant later he was standinginside the room, his back against the door. Braman, arrayed as he had beenthe night before, had opened the door. He had been just ready to go whenhe heard Corrigan's knock.
"Going out, Croft?" said Corrigan pleasantly, eyeing the other intently."All lit up, too! You're getting to be a gay dog, lately."
There was nothing in Corrigan's bantering words to bring on that suddenqualm of sickening fear that seized the banker. He knew it was his guiltthat had done it--guilt and perhaps a dread of Corrigan's rage if he_should_ learn of his duplicity. But that word "lately"! If it had beenuttered with any sort of an accent he might have been suspicious. But ithad come with the bantering ring of the others, with no hint of specialsignificance. And Braman was reassured.
"Yes, I'm going out." He turned to the mirror on the wall. "I'm gettingrather stale, hanging around here so much."
"That's right, Croft. Have a good time. How much money is there in thesafe?"
"Two or three thousand dollars." The banker turned from the glass. "Wantsome? Ha, ha!" he laughed at the other's short nod; "there are other gaydogs, I guess! How much do you want?"
"All you've got?"
"All! Jehoshaphat! You must have a big deal on tonight!"
"Yes, big," said Corrigan evenly. "Get it."
He followed the banker into the banking room, carefully closing the doorbehind him, so that the light from the rear room could not penetrate."That's all right," he reassured the banker as the latter noticed theaction; "this isn't a public matter."
He stuffed his pockets with the money the banker gave him, and when theother tried to close the door of the safe he interposed a restraininghand, laughing:
"Leave it open, Croft. It's empty now, and a cracksman trying to get intoit would ruin a perfectly good safe, for nothing."
"That's right."
They went into the rear room again, Corrigan last, closing the door behindhim. Braman went again to the glass, Corrigan standing silently behindhim.
Standing before the glass, the banker was seized with a repetition of thesickening fear that had oppressed him at Corrigan's words upon hisentrance. It seemed to him that there was a sinister significance behindCorrigan's present silence. A tension came between them, portentous ofevil. Braman shivered, but the silence held. The banker tried to think ofsomething to say--his thoughts were rioting in chaos, a dumb, paralyzingterror had seized him, his lips stuck together, the facial musclesrefusing their office. He dropped his hands to his sides and stared intothe glass, noting the ghastly pallor that had come over his face--thedull, whitish yellow of muddy marble. He could not turn, his legs werequivering. He knew it was conscience--only that. And yet Corrigan'sominous silence continued. And now he caught his breath with a shudderinggasp, for he saw Corrigan's face reflected in the glass, looking over hisshoulder--a mir
thless smirk on it, the eyes cold, and dancing with amerciless and cunning purpose. While he watched, he saw Corrigan's lipsopen:
"Where's the board telephone, Braman?"
The banker wheeled, then. He tried to scream--the sound died in a gaspinggurgle as Corrigan leaped and throttled him. Later, he fought to loosenthe grip of the iron fingers at his throat, twisting, squirming, threshingabout the room in his agony. The grip held, tightened. When the banker wasquite still Corrigan put out the light, went into the banking room, wherehe scattered the papers and books in the safe all around the room. Then hetwisted the lock off the door, using an iron bar that he had noticed in acorner when he had come in, and stepped out into the shadow of thebuilding.