CHAPTER XVII
TREASON AT HEART'S DESIRE
_Showing the Dilemma of Dan Anderson, the Doubt of Leading Citizens,and the Artless Performance of a Pastoral Prevaricator_
"Learned Counsel," said Dan Anderson on the morning following thepreliminary survey of Heart's Desire, "I want you to take my case."
"What's up?" asked Learned Counsel. Dan Anderson pointed down thestreet, where a group stood talking among themselves, castingoccasional side-long glances in his direction. "They're milling like abunch of scared longhorns," he said. "Something's wrong, and I know itmighty well. I want you to take my case. Come along."
Contrary to the ancient custom of the forum at Whiteman's corral, thegroup did not move apart to admit them to the circle. "The gentlemanfrom Kansas was addressing the meeting," said Dan Anderson. DocTomlinson continued speaking, but still the circle made no move.
"Say it!" burst out Dan Anderson. "Tell it out! What's on your minds,you fellows?"
"We don't like to believe it," McKinney began, facing toward him. "Wehope it ain't true."
"What's not true?" he demanded, looking from one averted face toanother. At length Doc Tomlinson resumed his office as spokesman."They say you've sold us out. They say you're bought by the railroadto clean us out; that the scheme is to steal the town, and you're inthe steal. Is that so?"
"Is it true?" asked McKinney.
"We want to _know_ if it's true," insisted Doc Tomlinson. "You wasall over town with them fellers. Now they've let it out they're goin'to grab the town site and make a re-survey."
"We know there wasn't ever any town site here," added Uncle JimBrothers, "but what need was there? Wasn't there plenty of room foreverybody?"
"You can't try any hurrah game on us fellers here," said McKinney,facing Dan Anderson squarely.
"Nor you with me," retorted Dan Anderson. "Don't any of you undertakethat."
"Hold on there," called Learned Counsel, lifting his hand forattention. "This man is my client! You're not hearing both sides."
"Tell the other side, Dan," said Uncle Jim Brothers. Dan Andersonshook his head.
"Why can't you?" asked Uncle Jim.
"I can't!" broke from Dan Andersen's dry lips. "If you knew, youwouldn't ask me to."
"That's no argument," exclaimed Doc Tomlinson. "What we do know isthat you were figurin' to run the street right past here, maybe throughmy store and Uncle Jim's place, maybe takin' Tom's place for depotyards. That outfit's been all over the hills lookin' for claims tojump. It's a case of gobble and steal. They say you're hired to helpit on, and are gettin' a share of the steal. Now, if that's so, whatwould you do if you was in our place?"
"I'd run the fellow out of town," said Dan Anderson. "If there wasthat sort of a traitor here, by God! I'd kill him."
"We never did have no man go back on us here," Uncle Jim Brothersremarked.
"Don't say that to me!" Dan Andersen's voice was shaken. "You've fedme, Uncle Jim. Don't say that to me."
"Then what _shall_ we say, man?" replied Uncle Jim. "We want to befair with you. But let me tell you, _you_ don't own this valley._We_ own it. There's other places in the world besides the States,and don't you forget that. We didn't think you'd ever try to bringStates ways in here."
"To hell with the States!" said McKinney, tersely.
"And States ways with them!" added Doc Tomlinson. "I'd like to see anyrailroad, or any States, or any United States government, try to runthis place." Unconsciously he slapped his hand upon the worn scabbardat his hip, and without thought others in the group eased their pistolbelts. It was the Free State of Heart's Desire.
"Well, by God!" said Uncle Jim Brothers, snapping and throwing away thepinon twig which he had been fumbling, "if we don't want no railroad,we don't _have_ it, and that goes!"
"Of course," broke in Learned Counsel. "We all know that. That's asmall thing. The big question is whether or not we've been fair to myclient. I've not had time yet to go fully into his case. We'll haveto continue this trial. We've got to have fair play."
"That's right enough," assented McKinney, and the others nodded.
"Then wait a while. You can't settle this thing until my client hashad time to talk with me. I'll find out what he ought to tell."
"All right for that, too," agreed Uncle Jim Brothers. "But about thatrailroad, we'll hold court right here. We'll send out a summons tothem folks, and have a meetin' here, and we'll see which is which andwhat is what in this town."
"That's fair enough," assented Learned Counsel. "We'll try therailroad, and we'll try my client at the same time."
"Write out the summons," said Doc Tomlinson. "Send word down to themrailroad folks to come up here and be tried. It's time we knew who wasboss, them or us. Go ahead, you're a lawyer; fix it up."
They ignored Dan Anderson, their long-time leader in all matters ofpublic interest! Eventually it was Doc Tomlinson himself who draftedthe document, one of the most interesting of the Territorial records--asummons whereby civilization was called before the bar of primitiveman. These presents being signed and sealed, a messenger was soughtfor their delivery. None better offered than a half-witted sheepherdercommonly known as Willie, who chanced to be in town by buckboard fromthe lower country. This much accomplished, the meeting at Whiteman'scorral broke up.
Learned Counsel took his client by the arm and led him away. "You neednot say much to your lawyer," he remarked; "but while I don't ask youto incriminate yourself even with your counsel, I only want to say thata Girl is, in a great many decisions of the upper courts, held to be anextenuating circumstance." He watched the twitch of Dan Anderson'sface, but the latter would not speak.
"I don't know just where the girl exists now in this case," went onLearned Counsel, "or how; but she's somewhere. It is not whollynecessary that you should specify."
"My God!" broke out Dan Anderson. "I wanted--I hoped so much? It wasmy opportunity, my first--"
"That's enough," said Learned Counsel. "You needn't say any more.Every fellow has something of that sort in his life. What broughtMcKinney here, and Doc Tomlinson, and all the rest?"
"Ribbons!" said Dan Anderson. "Tintypes!"
"Precisely. And who shall cast the first stone? If the boys knew--"
"But they don't know, they can't know. Do you think I'd uncover hername, even among my friends--make her affairs public? No."
"Then your only defence cannot be brought into court."
"No. So what do you advise?"
"What do you advise your counsel to advise you?" asked Learned Counsel,bitterly.
"Nothing. I'm done for, either way it goes."
Dan Anderson turned a drawn face. "What shall I do?" he asked atlength again.
For once Learned Counsel was wise. "In this sort of crisis," said he,"one does not consult a lawyer. He decides for himself, and he livesor dies, succeeds or fails, wins or loses forever, for himself and byhimself, without aid of counsel or benefit of clergy." He stood andwatched the iron go home into the soul of a game man. Dan Anderson waswhite, but his reply came sharp and stern.
"You're right! Leave me alone. I'll take the case now myself."
They shook hands and separated, not to meet again for days; for DanAnderson shut himself up in his cabin and denied himself to all. Gloomand uncertainty reigned among his friends. That a crisis of some sortwas imminent now became generally understood. At length the crisiscame.
There arrived in town, obedient to the summons of Heart's Desire, thedusty buckboard driven by Willie the sheepherder. Upon the front seatwith him was Mr. Ellsworth; on the back seat sat Porter Barkley andConstance. The chief actors in the impending drama were now upon thestage, and all Heart's Desire knew that action of some sort mustpresently follow.
With due decorum, however, all Heart's Desire stood apart, while thethree travellers, dusty and weary, buried themselves in the privacy ofUncle Jim Brothers's best spare rooms. Then Heart's Desire sou
ght outWillie the sheepherder.
"Now, Willie," said Doc Tomlinson, "look here--you tell us the truthfor once. There's a heap of trouble goin' on here, and we want to getat the bottom of it. Maybe you heard something. Now, say, is thishere railroad figurin' on comin' in here, or not?"
"Shore it'll come," said Willie, sagely. "Them folks has got money todo just what they want. Railroad'll be here in a few days if they feellike it."
"Maybe _we_ don't feel like it," said Doc Tomlinson, grimly. "We'llsee about that to-night."
"The girl, she's the one," said Willie, vaguely.
"What's that you mean?" commanded Doc Tomlinson.
"The funniest thing," said Willie, "is how things is mixed. Lord John,he rides on the front seat; and Lord Peter Berkeley,--that's the lawyerfor the railroad,--he rides on the back seat with her, and he sues forher hand, he does, all the way up from the Sacramentos. Says he toLord John, says he, 'Gimme the hand of this fair daughter of thine, andthe treasure shall be yours,' says he."
"Ah, ha!" said Doc Tomlinson. "I shore thought that girl was mixed upin this somehow. But I didn't understand. Wonder if Dan Anderson toldus everything he knew?"
"They set on the back seat," continued Willie, glancing importantly atthe listeners to his romance, "a-lookin' into each other's eyes. Andsays the bold juke, to her, says he, 'Constance!' like that.'Constance,' says he, 'I've loved you these many years agone.'"
"What did she say then?"
"I didn't ketch what she said. But by'm by the proud earl--"
"You said the bold juke."
"It's the same thing. The proud earl laughs, scornful of restraint,like earls always is, and says he agin, 'Lord John, the treasure shallbe thine, but the proudest treasure of me life is this fair daughter ofthine that sets here by me side, Lord John,' says he. From that Ithought maybe the Lady Constance had said something I didn't ketch. Ofcourse, I was busy drivin' the coach."
The men of Heart's Desire looked from one to the other. "Well, I'll bedamned!" said Doc Tomlinson.
Curly chewed tobacco vigorously. "To me," he said, "it looks like Danwas throwed down. That girl was over to my house, too; and I didn'tthink that of her."
"Throwed down hard," affirmed Uncle Jim Brothers; "but now, hold ontill we get all this straight. Maybe Dan wouldn't work for this outfitif he knew all that's goin' on. Seems to me like, one way or another,the girl's kind of up at auction. If she's part of the railroad'scomin' into Heart's Desire, why, then, we want to know about it. Iwish 't Dan Anderson was here,"
But Dan Anderson was not there, neither was he to be found at his_casita_ across the _arroyo_. As fate would have it, he had caughtWillie in his wanderings and had done some questioning on his ownaccount. Willie escaped alive, and presently left town. WhereafterDan Anderson, half dazed, walked out into the foot-hills, seeking thecourt of old Carrizo, to try there his own case, as he had promised;and that of the woman as well.
At first his fairness, his fatal fairness, had its way with him.Resolutely he slurred over in his own mind the consequences to himself,and set himself to the old, old task of renunciation. Then, in hisloneliness and bitterness, there came to him thoughts unworthy of him,conclusions unsupported by fair evidence.
Far up on the flank of Carrizo he sat and looked down upon the littlestraggling town in the valley below. These hills, he thought, with alltheir treasures, were to be sold and purchased for a price, for atreasure greater than all their worth,--the hand of the woman whom heloved. She had consented to the bargain. She had been true to theStates, and not to Heart's Desire. She had been true to her class, andnot to him, who had left her class. She had been true to her sex, andnot to him, her unready lover. Ah, he had not deserved herremembrance; but still she ought to have remembered him! He had notbeen worthy of her, but still she ought to have loved him! He hadoffered her nothing, he had evaded her, shunned her, slighted her--butin spite of that she ought to have waited for him, and to have lovedhim through all, and believed in him in spite of all!
He sat, befooled and befuddled, arguing, accusing, denying, doubting,until he knew not where treachery began or faith had ended. It waslate when he descended the mountain and walked dully down the street.
All this time Constance, in ignorance of everything except the absolutetruth, sat in the meagre room of the little stone hotel. She wonderedif there would ever be any change in her manner of life, if there wouldever be anything but this continuous following of her father from onecommercial battle into another. She wondered why Dan Anderson did notcome. Surely he was here. Surely his business was with his employers;and more surely than all, and in spite of all, his place was here withher; because her heart cried out for him. In spite of all, he was herheart's desire. Why did he not come?
She arose, her hands clenched; she hated him, as much as she had longedfor him.