118CHAPTER VIIII STAKE ON THE QUEEN
Jim had disappeared; until when we had made way to another monte table there he was, his hands in his pockets, his cigar half smoked.
More of a crowd was here; the voice of the spieler more insistent, yet low-pitched and businesslike. He was a study—a square-shouldered, well set-up, wiry man of olive complexion, finely chiseled features save for nose somewhat cruelly beaked, of short black moustache, dead black long wavy hair, and, placed boldly wide, contrastive hard gray eyes that lent atmosphere of coldness to his face. His hat was pulled down over his forehead, he held an unlighted cigar between his teeth while he mechanically spoke and shifted the three cards (a diamond flashing from a finger) upon the baize-covered little table.
Money had been wagered. He had just raked in a few notes, adding them to his pile. His monotone droned on.
“Next, ladies and gentlemen. Sometimes I win, sometimes I lose. That is my business. The play is yours. You may think I have two chances to your119one; that is not so. You make the choice. Always the queen, always the queen. You have only to watch the queen, one card. I have to watch three cards. You have your two eyes, I have my two hands. You spot the card only when you think you can. I meet all comers. It is an even gamble.”
Jim remarked us as we joined.
“How you comin’ now?” he greeted of me.
“We won a dollar,” My Lady responded.
“Not I. She did the choosing,” I corrected.
“But you would have chosen the same card, you said,” she prompted. “You saw how easy it was.”
“Easy if you know how,” Jim asserted. “Think to stake a leetle here? I’ve been keepin’ cases and luck’s breaking ag’in the bank to-night, by gosh. Made several turns, myself, already.”
“We’ll wait a minute till we get his system,” she answered.
“Are you watching, ladies and gentlemen?” bade the dealer, in that even tone. “You see the eight of clubs, the eight of spades, the queen of hearts. The queen is your card. My hand against your eyes, then. You are set? There you are. Pick the queen, some one of you. Put your money on the queen of hearts. You can turn the card yourself. What? Nobody? Don’t be pikers. Let us have a little sport. Stake a dollar. Why, you’d toss a dollar down your throat—you’d lay a dollar on a cockroach race—you’d bet that much on a yellow dog if you owned him, just to show120your spirit. And here I’m offering you a straight proposition.”
With a muttered “I’ll go you another turn, Mister,” Jim stepped closer and planked down a dollar. The dealer cast a look up at him as with pleased surprise.
“You, sir? Very good. You have spirit. Money talks. Here is my dollar. Now, to prove to these other people what a good guesser you are, which is the queen?”
“Here,” Jim said confidently; and sure enough he faced up the queen of hearts.
“The money’s yours. You never earned a dollar quicker, I’ll wager, friend,” the dealer acknowledged, imperturbable—for he evidently was one who never evinced the least emotion, whether he won or lost. “Very good. Now——”
From behind him a man—a newcomer to the spot, who looked like any respectable Eastern merchant, being well dressed and grave of face—touched him upon the shoulder. He turned ear; while he inclined farther they whispered together, and I witnessed an arm steal swiftly forward at my side, and a thumb and finger slightly bend up the extreme corner of the queen. The hand and arm vanished; when the dealer fronted us again the queen was apparently just as before. Only we who had seen would have marked the bent corner.
The act had been so clever and so audacious that I121fairly held my breath. But the gambler resumed his flow of talk, while he fingered the cards as if totally unaware that they had been tampered with.
“Now, again, ladies and gentlemen. You see how it is done. You back your eyes, and you win. I find that I shall have to close early to-night. Make your hay while the sun shines. Who’ll be in on this turn? Watch the queen of hearts. I place her here. I coax the three cards a little——” he gave a swift flourish. “There they are.”
His audience hesitated, as if fearful of a trick, for the bent corner of the queen, raising this end a little, was plain to us who knew. It was absurdly plain.
“I’ll go you another, Mister,” Jim responded. “I’ll pick out the queen ag’in for a dollar.”
The gambler smiled grimly and shrugged his shoulders.
“Oh, pshaw, sir. These are small stakes. You’ll never get rich at that rate and neither shall I.”
“I reckon I can set my own limit,” Jim grumbled.
“Yes, sir. But let’s have action. Who’ll join this gentleman in his guess? Who’ll back his luck? He’s a winner, I admit that.”
The gray eyes dwelt upon face and face of our half circle; and still I, too, hesitated, although my dollar was burning a hole in my pocket.
My Lady whispered to me.
“All’s fair in love and war. Here—put this on,122with yours, for me.” She slipped a dollar of her own into my hand.
Another man stepped forward. He was, I judged, a teamster. His clothes, of flannel shirt, belted trousers and six-shooter and dusty boots, so indicated. And his beard was shaggy and unkempt, almost covering his face underneath his drooping slouch hat.
“I’ll stake you a dollar,” he said.
“Two from me,” I heard myself saying, and I saw my hand depositing them.
“You’re all on this gentleman’s card, remember?”
We nodded. The bearded man tipped me a wink.
“You, sir, then, turn the queen if you can,” the gambler challenged of Jim.
With quick movement Jim flopped the bent-corner card, and the queen herself seemed to wink jovially at us.
The gambler exclaimed.
“By God, gentlemen, but you’ve skinned me again. I’m clumsy to-night. I’d better quit.” And he scarcely varied his level tone despite the chuckles of the crowd. “You must let me try once more. But I warn you, I want action. I’m willing to meet any sum you stack up against me, if it’s large enough to spell action. Shall we go another round or two before I close up?” He gathered the three cards. “You see the queen—my unlucky queen of hearts. Here she is.” He stowed the card between thumb and123finger. “Here are the other two.” He held them up in his left hand—the eight of clubs, the eight of spades. He transferred them—with his rapid motion he strewed the three. “Choose the queen. I put the game to you fair and square. There are the cards. Maybe you can read their backs. That’s your privilege.” He fixed his eyes upon the teamster. “You, sir; where’s your money, half of which was mine?” He glanced at Jim. “And you, sir? You’ll follow your luck?” Lastly he surveyed me with a flash of steely bravado. “And you, young gentleman. You came in before. I dare you.”
The bent corner was more pronounced than ever, as if aggravated by the manipulations. It could not possibly be mistaken by the knowing. And a sudden shame possessed me—a glut of this crafty advantage to which I was stooping; an advantage gained not through my own wit, either, but through the dishonorable trick of another.
“There’s your half from me, if you want it,” said Jim, slapping down two dollars. “This is my night to howl.”
The teamster backed him.
“I’m on the same card,” said he.
And not to be outdone—urged, I thought, by a pluck at my sleeve—I boldly followed with my own two dollars, reasoning that I was warranted in partially recouping, for Benton owed me much.
The gambler laughed shortly. His gaze, cool and124impertinent, enveloped our front. He leaned back, defiant.
“Give me a chance, gentlemen. I shall not proceed with the play for that picayune sum before me. This is my last deal and I’ve been loser. It’s make or break. Who else will back that gentleman’s luck? I’ve placed the cards the best I know how. But six or eight dollars is no money to me. It doesn’t pay for floor space. Is nobody else in? What? Come, come; let’s have some sport. I dare you. This time is my revenge or your good fortune. Play up, gentlemen. Don’t be crabbers.” He smiled sarcastically; his words stung. “This isn’t pussy-in-a-corner. It’s a game of wits. You wouldn’t bet unless you felt cock-sure of winning. I’ll give you one minute, gentlemen, before calling all bets off unless you make the pot worth while.”
The threat had effect. Nobody wished to let the marked card get away. That was not human nature. Bets rained in upon the table—bank notes, silver half dollars, the rarer dollar coins, and the common greenbacks. He met each wager, while he sat negligent and half smiled and chewed his unlighted cigar.
“This is the last round, gentlemen,” he reminded. “Are you all in? Don’t leave with regrets. You,” he said, direct to me. “Are you in such short circumstances that you have no spunk? Why did you come here, sir, if not to win? Why, the stakes you play would not buy refreshment for the lady!”125
That was too much. I threw scruples aside. He had badgered me—he was there to win if he could; I now was hot with the same design. I extracted my twenty-dollar note, and deaf to a quickly breathed “Wait the turn” from My Lady I planked it down before him. She should know me for a man of decision.
“There, sir,” said I. “I am betting twenty-two dollars in all, which is my limit to-night, on the same right-end card as I stand.”
I thought that I had him. Forthwith he straightened alertly, spoke tartly.
“The game is closed, gentlemen. Remember, you are wagering on the first turn. There are no splits in monte. Not at this table. Our friend says the right-end card. You, sir,” and he addressed Jim. “They are backing you. Which do you say is the queen? Lay your finger on her.”
Jim so did, with a finger stubby, and dirty under the nail.
“That is the card, is it? You are agreed?” he queried us, sweeping his cold gray eyes from face to face. “We’ll have no crabbing.”
We nodded, intently eying the card, fearful yet, some of us, that it might be denied us.
“You, sir, then.” And he addressed me. “You are the heaviest better. Suppose you turn the card for yourself and those other gentlemen.”
I obediently reached for it. My hand trembled.126There were sixty or seventy dollars upon the table, and my own contribution was my last cent. As I fumbled I felt the strain of bodies pressing against mine, and heard the hiss of feverish breaths, and a foolish laugh or two. Nevertheless the silence seemed overpowering.
I turned the card—the card with the bent corner, of which I was as certain as of my own name; I faced it up, confidently, my capital already doubled; and amidst a burst of astonished cries I stared dumbfounded.
It was the eight of clubs! My fingers left it as though it were a snake. It was the eight of clubs! Where I had seen, in fancy, the queen of hearts, there lay like a changeling the eight of clubs, with corner bent as only token of the transformation.
The crowd elbowed about me. With rapid movement the gambler raked in the bets—a slender hand flashed by me—turned the next card. The queen that was, after all.
The gambler darkened, gathering the pasteboards.
“We can’t both win, gentlemen,” he said, tone passionless. “But I am willing to give you one more chance, from a new deck.”
What the response was I did not know, nor care. My ears drummed confusedly, and seeing nothing I pushed through into the open, painfully conscious that I was flat penniless and that instead of having127played the knave I had played the fool, for the queen of hearts.
The loss of some twenty dollars might have been a trivial matter to me once—I had at times cast that sum away as vainly as Washington had cast a dollar across the Potomac; but here I had lost my all, whether large or small; and not only had I been bilked out of it—I had bilked myself out of it by sinking, in pretended smartness, below the level of a more artful dodger.
I heard My Lady speaking beside me.
“I’m so sorry.” She laid hand upon my sleeve. “You should have been content with small sums, or followed my lead. Next time——”
“There’ll be no next time,” I blurted. “I am cleaned out.”
“You don’t mean——?”
“I was first robbed at the hotel. Now here.”
“No, no!” she opposed. Jim sidled to us. “That was a bungle, Jim.”
He ruefully scratched his head.
“A wrong steer for once, I reckon. I warn’t slick enough. Too much money on the table. But it looked like the card; I never took my eyes off’n it. We’ll try ag’in, and switch to another layout. By thunder, I want revenge on this joint and I mean to get it. So do you, don’t you, pardner?” he appealed to me.
As with mute, sickly denial I turned away it seemed128to me that I sensed a shifting of forms at the monte table—caught the words “You watch here a moment”; and close following, a slim white hand fell heavily upon My Lady’s shoulder. It whirled her about, to face the gambler. His smooth olive countenance was dark with a venom of rage incarnate that poisoned the air; his syllables crackled.
“You devil! I heard you, at the table. You meddle with my come-ons, will you?” And he slapped her with open palm, so that the impact smacked. “Now get out o’ here or I’ll kill you.”
She flamed red, all in a single rush of blood.
“Oh!” she breathed. Her hand darted for the pocket in her skirt, but I sprang between the two. Forgetful of my revolver, remembering only what I had witnessed—a woman struck by a man—with a blow I sent him reeling backward.
He recovered; every vestige of color had left his face, except for the spot where I had landed; his hat had sprung aside from the shock—his gray eyes, contrasted with his black hair, fastened upon my eyes almost deliberately and his upper lip lifted over set white teeth. With lightning movement he thrust the fingers of his right hand into his waistcoat pocket.
I heard a rush of feet, a clamor of voices; and all the while, which seemed interminable, I was tugging, awkward with deadly peril, at my revolver. His fingers had whipped free of the pocket, I glimpsed as with second sight (for my eyes were held strongly by129his) the twin little black muzzles of a derringer concealed in his palm; a spasm of fear pinched me; they spurted, with ringing report, but just at the instant a flanneled arm knocked his arm up, the ball had sped ceiling-ward and the teamster of the gaming table stood against him, revolver barrel boring into his very stomach.
“Stand pat, Mister. I call you.”
In a trice all entry of any unpleasant emotion vanished from my antagonist’s handsome face, leaving it olive tinted, cameo, inert. He steadied a little, and smiled, surveying the teamster’s visage, close to his.
“You have me covered, sir. My hand is in the discard.” He composedly tucked the derringer into his waistcoat pocket again. “That gentleman struck me; he was about to draw on me, and by rights I might have killed him. My apologies for this little disturbance.”
He bestowed a challenging look upon me, a hard unforgiving look upon the lady; with a bow he turned for his hat, and stepping swiftly went back to his table.
Now in the reaction I fought desperately against a trembling of the knees; there were congratulations, a hubbub of voices assailing me—and the arm of the teamster through mine and his bluff invitation:
“Come and have a drink.”
“But you’ll return. You must. I want to speak with you.”130
It was My Lady, pleading earnestly. I still could scarcely utter a word; my brain was in a smother. My new friend moved me away from her. He answered for me.
“Not until we’ve had a little confab, lady. We’ve got matters of importance jest at present.”
I saw her bite her lips, as she helplessly flushed; her blue eyes implored me, but I had no will of my own and I certainly owed a measure of courtesy to this man who had saved my life.
131CHAPTER IXI ACCEPT AN OFFER
We found a small table, one of the several devoted to refreshments for the dancers, in a corner and unoccupied. The affair upon the floor was apparently past history—if it merited even that distinction. The place had resumed its program of dancing, playing and drinking as though after all a pistol shot was of no great moment in the Big Tent.
“You had a narrow shave,” my friend remarked as we seated ourselves—I with a sigh of gratitude for the opportunity. “If you can’t draw quicker you’d better keep your hands in your pockets. Let’s have a dose of t’rant’lar juice to set you up.” Whereupon he ordered whiskey from a waiter.
“But I couldn’t stand by and see him strike a woman,” I defended.
“Wall, fists mean guns, in these diggin’s. Where you from?”
“Albany, New York State.”
“I sized you up as a pilgrim. You haven’t been long in camp, either, have you?”
“No. But plenty long enough,” I miserably replied.132
“Long enough to be plucked, eh?”
We had drunk the whiskey. Under its warming influence my tongue loosened. Moreover there was something strong and kindly in the hearty voice and the rough face of this rudely clad plainsman, black bearded to the piercing black eyes.
“Yes; of my last cent.”
“All at gamblin’, mebbe?”
“No. Only a little, but that strapped me. The hotel had robbed me of practically everything else.”
“Had, had it? Wall, what’s the story?”
I told him of the hotel part; and he nodded.
“Shore. You can’t hold the hotel responsible. You can leave stuff loose in regular camp; nobody enters flaps without permission. But a room is a different proposition. I’d rather take chances among Injuns than among white men. Why, you could throw in with a Sioux village for a year and not be robbed permanent if the chief thought you straight; but in a white man’s town—hell! Now, how’d you get tangled up with this other outfit?”
“Which?” I queried.
“That brace outfit I found you with.”
“The fellow is a stranger to me, sir,” said I. “I simply was foolish enough to stake what little I had on a sure thing—I was bamboozled into following the lead of the rest of you,” I reminded. “Now I see that there was a trick, although I don’t yet understand. After that the fellow assaulted the lady, my133companion, and you stepped in—for which, sir, I owe you more thanks than I can utter.”
“A trick, you think?” He opened his hairy mouth for a gust of short laughter. “My Gawd, boy! We were nicely took in, and we desarved it. When you buck the tiger, look out for his claws. But I reckoned he’d postpone the turn till next time. He would have, if you fellers hadn’t come down so handsome with the dust. I stood pat, at that. So, you notice, did the capper, your other friend.”
“The capper? Which was he, sir?”
“Why, Lord bless you, son. You’re the greenest thing this side of Omyha. A capper touched him on the shoulder, a capper bent that there card, a capper tolled you all on with a dollar or two, and another capper fed the come-ons to his table. Aye, she’s a purty piece. Where’d you meet up with her?”
“With her?” I gasped.
“Yes, yes. The woman; the main steerer. That purty piece who damn nigh lost you your life as well as losin’ you your money.”
“You mean the lady with the blue eyes, in black?”
“Yes, the golden hair. Lady! Oh, pshaw! Where’d she hook you? At the door?”
“You shall not speak of her in that fashion, sir,” I answered. “We were together on the train from Omaha. She has been kindness itself. The only part she has played to-night, as far as I can see, was to chaperon me here in the Big Tent; and whatever134small winnings I had made, for amusement, was due to her and the skill of an acquaintance named Jim.”
“Jim Daily, yep. O’ course. And she befriended you. Why, d’you suppose?”
“Perhaps because I was of some assistance to her on the way out West. I had a little setto with Mr. Daily, when he annoyed her while he was drunk. But sobered up, he seemed to wish to make amends.”
“Oh, Lord!” My friend’s mouth gaped. “Amends? Yep. That’s his nature. Might call it mendin’ his pocket and his lip. And you don’t yet savvy that your ’lady’ ’s Montoyo’s wife—his woman, anyhow?”
“Montoyo? Who’s Montoyo?”
“The monte thrower. That same spieler who trimmed us,” he rapped impatiently.
The light that broke upon me dazed. My heart pounded. I must have looked what I felt: a fool.
“No,” I stammered in my thin small voice of the hotel. “I imagined—I had reason to suspect that she might be married. But I didn’t know to whom.”
“Married? Wall, mebbe. Anyhow, she’s bound to Montoyo. He’s a breed, some Spanish, some white, like as not some Injun. A devil, and as slick as they make ’em. She’s a power too white for him, herself, but he uses her and some day he’ll kill her. You’re not the fust gudgeon she’s hooked, to feed to him. Why, she’s known all back down the line.135They two have been followin’ end o’ track from North Platte, along with Hell on Wheels. Had a layout in Omyha, and in Denver. They’re not the only double-harness outfit hyar, either. You can meet a friendly woman any time, but this one got hold you fust.”
I writhed to the words.
“And that fellow Jim?” I asked.
“He’s jest a common roper. He alluz wins, to encourage suckers like you. ’Tisn’t his money he plays with; he’s on commish. Beginnin’ to understand, ain’t you?”
“But the bent card?” I insisted. “That is the mystery. It was the queen. What became of the queen?”
“Ho ho!” And again he laughed. “A cute trick, shore. That’s what we got for bein’ so plumb crooked ourselves. Why, o’ course it was the queen, once. You see ’twas this way. That she-male and the capper in cahoots with her tolled you on straight for Montoyo’s table; teased you a leetle along the trail, no doubt, to keep you interested.” I nodded. “They promised you winnin’s, easy winnin’s. Then at Montoyo’s table the game was a leetle slack; so one capper touched him on the shoulder and another marked the card. O’ course a gambler like him wouldn’t be up to readin’ his own cards. Oh, no! You sports were the smart ones.”
“How about yourself?” I retorted, nettled.136
“Me? I know them tricks, but I reckoned I was smart, too. Then that capper Jim led out and we all made a small winnin’, to prove the system. And Montoyo, he gets tired o’ losin’—but still he’s blind to a card that everybody else can see, and he calls for real play so he can go broke or even up. I didn’t look for much of a deal on that throw myself. Usu’ly it comes less promisc’yus, with the gudgeon stakin’ the big roll, and then I pull out. But you-all slapped down the stuff in a stampede, sartin you had him buffaloed. On his last shuffle he’d straightened the queen and turned down the eight, usin’ an extra finger or two. Them card sharps have six fingers on each hand and several in their sleeve, and he was slicker’n I thought. He might have refused all bets and got your mad up for the next pass; but you’d come down as handsome as you would, he figgered. So he let go. ’Twas fair and squar’, robber eat robber, and we none of us have any call to howl. But you mind my word: Don’t aim to put something over on a professional gamblin’ sharp. It can’t be done. As for me, I broke even and I alluz expect to lose. When I look to be skinned I leave most my dust behind me where I can’t get at it.”
Now I saw all, or enough. I had received no more than I deserved. Such a wave of nausea surged into my mouth—but he was continuing.
“Jest why he struck his woman I don’t know. Do you?”137
“Yes. She had cautioned me and he must have heard her. And she showed which was the right card. I don’t understand that.”
“To save her face, and egg you on. Shore! Your twenty dollars was nothin’. She didn’t know you were busted. Next time she’d have steered you to the tune of a hundred or two and cleaned you proper. You hadn’t been worked along, yet, to the right pitch o’ smartness. Montoyo must ha’ mistook her. She encouraged you, didn’t she?”
“Yes, she did.” I arose unsteadily, clutching the table. “If you’ll excuse me, sir, I think I’d better go. I—I—I thank you. I only wish I’d met you before. You are at liberty to regard me as a saphead. Good-night, sir.”
“No! Hold on. Sit down, sit down, man. Have another drink.”
“I have had enough. In fact, since arriving in Benton I’ve had more than enough of everything.” But I sat down.
“Where were you goin’?”
“To the hotel. I am privileged to stay there until to-morrow. Thank Heaven I was obliged to pay in advance.”
“Alluz safer,” said he. “And then what?”
“To-morrow?”
“Yes. To-morrow.”
“I don’t know. I must find employment, and earn enough to get home with.” To write for funds was138now impossible through very shame. “Home’s the only place for a person of my greenness.”
“Why did you come out clear to end o’ track?” he inquired.
“I was ordered by my physician to find a locality in the Far West, high and dry.” I gulped at his smile. “I’ve found it and shall go home to report.”
“With your tail between your legs?” He clapped me upon the shoulder. “Stiffen your back. We all have to pay for eddication. You’re not wolf meat yet, by a long shot. You’ve still got your hair, and that’s more than some men I know of. You look purty healthy, too. Don’t turn for home; stick it out.”
“I shall have to stick it out until I raise the transportation,” I reminded. “My revolver should tide me over, for a beginning.”
“Sell it?” said he. “Sell your breeches fust. Either way you’d be only half dressed. No!”
“It would take me a little way. I’ll not stay in Benton—not to be pointed at as a dupe.”
“Oh, pshaw!” he laughed. “Nobody’ll remember you, specially if you’re known to be broke. Busted, you’re of no use to the camp. Let me make you a proposition. I believe you’re straight goods. Can’t believe anything else, after seein’ your play and sizin’ you up. Let me make you a proposition. I’m on my way to Salt Lake with a bull outfit and I’m in need of another man. I’ll give you a dollar and a139half a day and found, and it will be good honest work, too.”
“You are teaming west, you mean?” I asked.
“Yes, sir. Freightin’ across. Mule-whackin’.”
“But I never drove spans in my life; and I’m not in shape to stand hardships,” I faltered. “I’m here for my health. I have——”
“Stow all that, son,” he interrupted more tolerantly than was my due. “Forget your lungs, lights and liver and stand up a full-size man. In my opinion you’ve had too much doctorin’. A month with a bull train, and a diet of beans and sowbelly will put a linin’ in your in’ards and a heart in your chest. When you’ve slept under a wagon to Salt Lake and l’arned to sling a bull whip and relish your beans burned, you can look anybody in the eye and tell him to go to hell, if you like. This roarin’ town life—it’s no life for you. It’s a bobtail, wide open in the middle. I’ll be only too glad to get away on the long trail myself. So you come with me,” and he smiled winningly. “I hate to see you ruined by women and likker. Mule-skinnin’ ain’t all beer and skittles, as they say; but this job’ll tide you over, anyhow, and you’ll come out at the end with money in your pocket, if you choose, and no doctor’s bill to pay.”
“Sir,” I said gratefully, “may I think it over to-night, and let you know in the morning? Where will I find you?”
“The train’s camped near the wagon trail, back at140the river. You can’t miss it. It’s mainly a Mormon train, that some of us Gentiles have thrown in with. Ask for Cap’n Hyrum Adams’ train. My name’s Jenks—George Jenks. You’ll find me there. I’ll hold open for you till ten o’clock—yes, till noon. I mean that you shall come. It’ll be the makin’ of you.”
I arose and gave him my hand; shook with him.
“And I hope to come,” I asserted with glow of energy. “You’ve set me upon my feet, Mr. Jenks, for I was desperate. You’re the first honest man I’ve met in Benton.”
“Tut, tut,” he reproved. “There are others. Benton’s not so bad as you think it. But you were dead ripe; the buzzards scented you. Now you go straight to your hotel, unless you’ll spend the night with me. No? Then I’ll see you in the mornin’. I’ll risk your gettin’ through the street alone.”
“You may, sir,” I affirmed. “At present I’m not worth further robbing.”
“Except for your gun and clothes,” he rejoined. “But if you’ll use the one you’ll keep the other.”
Gazing neither right nor left I strode resolutely for the exit. Now I had an anchor to windward. Sometimes just one word will face a man about when for lack of that mere word he was drifting. Of the games and the people I wished only to be rid forever; but at the exit I was halted by a hand laid upon my arm, and a quick utterance.141
“Not going? You will at least say good-night.”
I barely paused, replying to her.
“Good-night.”
Still she would have detained me.
“Oh, no, no! Not this way. It was a mistake. I swear to you I am not to be blamed. Please let me help you. I don’t know what you’ve heard—I don’t know what has been said about me—you are angry——”
I twitched free, for she should not work upon me again. With such as she, a vampire and yet a woman, a man’s safety lay not in words but in unequivocal action.
“Good-night,” I bade thickly, half choked by that same nausea, now hot. Bearing with me a satisfying but somehow annoyingly persistent imprint of moist blue eyes under shimmering hair, and startled white face plashed on one cheek with vivid crimson, and small hand left extended empty, I roughly stalked on and out, free of her, free of the Big Tent, her lair.
All the way to the hotel, through the garish street, I nursed my wrath while it gnawed at me like the fox in the Spartan boy’s bosom; and once in my room, which fortuitously had no other tenants at this hour, I had to lean out of the narrow window for sheer relief in the coolness. Surely pride had had a fall this night.
There “roared” Benton—the Benton to which, as to prosperity, I had hopefully purchased my ticket142ages ago. And here cowered I, holed up—pillaged, dishonored, worthless in even this community: a young fellow in jaunty frontier costume, new and brave, but really reduced to sackcloth and ashes; a young fellow only a husk, as false in appearance as the Big Tent itself and many another of those canvas shells.
The street noises—shouts, shots, music, songs, laughter, rattle of dice, whirr of wheel and clink of glasses—assailed me discordant. The scores of tents and shacks stretching on irregularly had become pocked with dark spots, where lights had been extinguished, but the street remained ablaze and the desert without winked at the stars. There were moving gleams at the railroad yards where switch engines puffed back and forth; up the grade and the new track, pointing westward, there were sparks of camp-fires; and still in other directions beyond the town other tokens redly flickered, where overland freighters were biding till the morning.
Two or three miles in the east (Mr. Jenks had said) was his wagon train, camped at the North Platte River; and peering between the high canopy of stars and the low stratum of spectrally glowing, earthy—yes, very earthy—Benton, I tried to focus upon the haven, for comfort.
I had made up my mind to accept the berth. Anything to get away. Benton I certainly hated with the rage of the defeated. So in a fling I drew back, wrestled143out of coat and boots and belt and pantaloons, tucked them in hiding against the wall at the head of my bed and my revolver underneath my stained pillow; and tried to forget Benton, all of it, with the blanket to my ears and my face to the wall, for sleep.
When once or twice I wakened from restless dreaming the glow and the noise of the street seemed scarcely abated, as if down there sleep was despised. But when I finally aroused, and turned, gathering wits again, full daylight had paled everything else.
Snores sounded from the other beds; I saw tumbled coverings, disheveled forms and shaggy heads. In my own corner nothing had been molested. The world outside was strangely quiet. The trail was open. So with no attention to my roommates I hastily washed and dressed, buckled on my armament, and stumped freely forth, down the somnolent hall, down the creaking stairs, and into the silent lobby.
Even the bar was vacant. Behind the office counter a clerk sat sunk into a doze. At my approach he unclosed blank, heavy eyes.
“I’m going out,” I said shortly. “Number Three bed in Room Six.”
“For long, sir?” he stammered. “You’ll be back, or are you leaving?”
“I’m leaving. You’ll find I’m paid up.”
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” He rallied to the problem. “Just a moment. Number Three, Room Six, you say. Pulling your freight, are you?” He144scanned the register. “You’re the gentleman from New York who came in yesterday and met with misfortune?”
“I am,” said I.
“Well, better luck next time. We’ll see you again?” He quickened. “Here! One moment. Think I have a message for you.” And reaching behind him into a pigeonhole he extracted an envelope, which he passed to me. “Yours, sir?” I stared at the fine slanting script of the address:
Please deliver to
Frank R. Beeson, Esqr.,
At the Queen Hotel.
Arrived from Albany, N. Y.
145CHAPTER XI CUT LOOSE
I nodded; rebuffing his attentive eyes I stuffed the envelope into my pantaloons pocket.
“Good-bye, sir.”
“Good luck. When you come back remember the Queen.”
“I’ll remember the Queen,” said I; and with the envelope smirching my flesh I stepped out, holding my head as high as though my pockets contained something of more value.
The events of yesterday had hardened, thank Heaven; and so had I, into an obstinacy that defied this mocking Western country. I was down to the ground and was going to scratch. To make for home like a whipped dog, there to hang about, probably become an invalid and die resistless, was unthinkable. Already the Far West air and vigor had worked a change in me. In the fresh morning I felt like a fighting cock, or a runner recruited by a diet of unbolted flour and strong red meat.
The falsity of the life here I looked upon as only an incident. The gay tawdry had faded; I realized how much more enduring were the rough, uncouth146but genuine products like my friend Mr. Jenks and those of that ilk, who spoke me well instead of merely fair. Health of mind and body should be for me. Hurrah!
But the note! It could have been sent by only one person—the superscription, dainty and feminine, betrayed it. That woman was still pursuing me. How she had found out my name I did not know; perhaps from the label on my bag, perhaps through the hotel register. I did not recall having exchanged names with her—she never had proffered her own name. At all events she appeared determined to keep a hold upon me, and that was disgusting.
Couldn’t she understand that I was no longer a fool—that I had wrenched absolutely loose from her and that she could do nothing with me? So in wrath renewed by her poor estimate of my common sense I was minded to tear the note to fragments, unread, and contemptuously scatter them. Had she been present I should have done so, to show her.
Being denied the satisfaction I saw no profit in wasting that modicum of spleen, when I might double it by deliberately reading her effusion and knowingly casting it into the dust. One always can make excuses to oneself, for curiosity. Consequently I halted, around a corner in this exhausted Benton; tore the envelope open with gingerly touch. The folded paper within contained a five-dollar bank note.
That was enough to pump the blood to my face147with a rush. It was an insult—a shame, first hand. A shoddy plaster, applied to me—to me, Frank Beeson, a gentleman, whether to be viewed as a plucked greenhorn or not. With cheeks twitching I managed to read the lines accompanying the dole:
Sir:You would not permit me to explain to you to-night, therefore I must write. The recent affair was a mistake. I had no intention that you should lose, and I supposed you were in more funds. I insist upon speaking with you. You shall not go away in this fashion. You will find me at the Elite Café, at a table, at ten o’clock in the morning. And in case you are a little short I beg of you to make use of the enclosed, with my best wishes and apologies. You may take it as a loan; I do not care as to that. I am utterly miserable.E.To Frank Beeson, Esquire.
Sir:
You would not permit me to explain to you to-night, therefore I must write. The recent affair was a mistake. I had no intention that you should lose, and I supposed you were in more funds. I insist upon speaking with you. You shall not go away in this fashion. You will find me at the Elite Café, at a table, at ten o’clock in the morning. And in case you are a little short I beg of you to make use of the enclosed, with my best wishes and apologies. You may take it as a loan; I do not care as to that. I am utterly miserable.
E.
E.
To Frank Beeson, Esquire.
Faugh! Had there been a sewer near I believe that I should have thrown the whole enclosure in, and spat. But half unconsciously wadding both money and paper in my hand as if to squeeze the last drop of rancor from them I swung on, seeing blindly, ready to trample under foot any last obstacle to my passage out.
Then, in the deserted way, from a lane among the straggling shacks, a figure issued. I disregarded it, only to hear it pattering behind me and its voice:
“Mr. Beeson! Wait! Please wait.”148
I had to turn about to avoid the further degradation of acting the churl to her, an inferior. And as I had suspected, she it was, arriving breathless and cloak inwrapped, only her white face showing.
“You have my note?” she panted.
There were dark half circles under her eyes, pinch lines about her mouth, all her face was wildly strained. She simulated distress very well indeed.
“Here it is, and your money. Take them.” And I thrust my unclosed fist at her.
“No! And you were going? You didn’t intend to reply?”
“Certainly not. I am done with you, and with Benton, madam. Good-morning. I have business.”
She caught at my sleeve.
“You are angry. I don’t blame you, but you have time to talk with me and you shall talk.” She spoke almost fiercely. “I demand it, sir. If not at the café, then here and now. Will you stand aside, please, where the whole town shan’t see us; or do you wish me to follow you on? I’m risking already, but I’ll risk more.”
I sullenly stepped aside, around the corner of a sheet-iron groggery (plentifully punctured, I noted, with bullet holes) not yet open for business and faced by the blank wall of a warehouse.
“I’ve been waiting since daylight,” she panted, “and watching the hotel. I knew you were still there; I found out. I was afraid you wouldn’t answer149my note, so I slipped around and cut in on you. Where are you going, sir?”
“That, madam, is my private affair,” I replied. “And all your efforts to influence me in the slightest won’t amount to a row of pins. And as I am in a hurry, I again bid you good-morning. I advise you to get back to your husband and your beauty sleep, in order to be fresh for your Big Tent to-night.”
“My husband? You know? Oh, of course you know.” She gazed affrightedly upon me. “To Montoyo, you say? Him? No, no! I can’t! Oh, I can’t, I can’t.” She wrung her hands, she held me fast. “And I know where you’re going. To that wagon train. Mr. Jenks has engaged you. You will bull-whack to Salt Lake? You? Don’t! Please don’t. There’s no need of it.”
“I am done with Benton, and with Benton’s society, madam,” I insisted. “I have learned my lesson, believe me, and I’m no longer a ‘gudgeon.’”
“You never were,” said she. “Not that. And you don’t have to turn bull-whacker or mule-skinner either. It’s a hard life; you’re not fitted for it—never, never. Leave Benton if you will. I hate it myself. And let us go together.”
“Madam!” I rapped; and drew back, but she clung to me.
“Listen, listen! Don’t mistake me again. Last night was enough. I want to go. I must go. We150can travel separately, then; I will meet you anywhere—Denver, Omaha, Chicago, New York, anywhere you say—anywhere——”
“Your husband, madam,” I prompted. “He might have objections to parting with you.”
“Montoyo? That snake—you fear that snake? He is no husband to me. I could kill him—I will do it yet, to be free from him.”
“My good name, then,” I taunted. “I might fear for my good name more than I’d fear a man.”
“I have a name of my own,” she flashed, “although you may not know it.”
“I have been made acquainted with it,” I answered roundly.
“No, you haven’t. Not the true. You know only another.” Her tone became humbler. “But I’m not asking you to marry me,” she said. “I’m not asking you to love me as a paramour, sir. Please understand. Treat me as you will; as a sister, a friend, but anything human. Only let me have your decent regard until I can get ’stablished in new quarters. I can help you,” she pursued eagerly. “Indeed I can help you if you stay in the West. Yes, anywhere, for I know life. Oh, I’m so tired of myself; I can’t run true, I’m under false colors. You saw how the trainmen curried favor all along the line, how familiar they were, how I submitted—I even dropped that coin a-purpose in the Omaha station, foryou, just to test you. Those things are expected of me and I’ve felt151obliged to play my part. Men look upon me as a tool to their hands, to make them or break them. All they want is my patronage and the secrets of the gaming table. And there is Montoyo—bullying me, cajoling me, watching me. But you were different, after I had met you. I foolishly wished to help you, and last night the play went wrong. Why did I take you to his table? Because I think myself entitled, sir,” she said on, bridling a little, defiant of my gaze, “to promote my friends when I have any. I did not mean that you should wager heavily for you. Montoyo is out for large stakes. There is safety in small and I know his system. You remember I warned you? I did warn you. I saw too late. You shall have all your money back again. And Montoyo struck me—me, in public! That is the end. Oh, why couldn’t I have killed him? But if you stayed here, so should I. Not with him, though. Never with him. Maybe I’m talking wildly. You’ll say I’m in love with you. Perhaps I am—quién sabe? No matter as to that. I shall be no hanger-on, sir. I only ask a kind of partnership—the encouragement of some decent man near me. I have money; plenty, till we both get a footing. But you wouldn’t live on me; no! I don’t fancy that of you for a moment. I would be glad merely to tide you over, if you’d let me. And I—I’d be willing to wash floors in a restaurant if I might be free of insult. You, I’m sure, would at least protect me. Wouldn’t you? You would, wouldn’t you? Say something,152sir.” She paused, out of breath and aquiver. “Shall we go? Will you help me?”
For an instant her appeal, of swimming blue eyes, upturned face, tensed grasp, breaking voice, swayed me. But what if she were an actress, an adventuress? And then, my parents, my father’s name! I had already been cozened once, I had resolved not to be snared again. The spell cleared and I drew exultant breath.
“Impossible, madam,” I uttered. “This is final. Good-morning.”
She staggered and with magnificent but futile last flourish clapped both hands to her face. Gazing back, as I hastened, I saw her still there, leaning against the sheet-iron of the groggery and ostensibly weeping.
Having shaken her off and resisted contrary temptation I looked not again but paced rapidly for the clean atmosphere of the rough-and-honest bull train. As a companion, better for me Mr. Jenks. When my wrath cooled I felt that I might have acted the cad but I had not acted the simpleton.
The advance of the day’s life was stirring all along the road, where under clouds of dust the four and six horse-and-mule wagons hauled water for the town, pack outfits of donkeys and plodding miners wended one way or the other, soldiers trotted in from the military post, and Overlanders slowly toiled for the last supply depot before creaking onward into the desert.
Along the railway grade likewise there was activity,153of construction trains laden high with rails, ties, boxes and bales, puffing out, their locomotives belching pitchy black smoke that extended clear to the ridiculous little cabooses; of wagon trains ploughing on, bearing supplies for the grading camps; and a great herd of loose animals, raising a prodigious spume as they were driven at a trot—they also heading westward, ever westward, under escort of a protecting detachment of cavalry, riding two by two, accoutrements flashing.
The sights were inspiring. Man’s work at empire building beckoned me, for surely the wagoning of munitions to remote outposts of civilization was very necessary. Consequently I trudged best foot forward, although on empty stomach and with empty pockets; but glad to be at large, and exchanging good-natured greetings with the travelers encountered.
Nevertheless my new boots were burning, my thigh was chafed raw from the swaying Colt’s, and my face and throat were parched with the dust, when in about an hour, the flag of the military post having been my landmark, I had arrived almost at the willow-bordered river and now scanned about for the encampment of my train.
Some dozen white-topped wagons were standing grouped in a circle upon the trampled dry sod to the south of the road. Figures were busily moving among them, and the thin blue smoke of their fires was a welcoming signal. I marked women, and children.154The whole prospect—they, the breakfast smoke, the grazing animals, the stout vehicles, a line of washed clothing—was homy. So I veered aside and made for the spot, to inquire my way if nothing more.
First I addressed a little girl, tow-headed and barelegged, in a single cotton garment.
“I am looking for the Captain Adams wagon train. Do you know where it is?”
She only pointed, finger of other hand in her mouth; but as she indicated this same camp I pressed on. Mr. Jenks himself came out to meet me.
“Hooray! Here you are. I knew you’d do it. That’s the ticket. Broke loose, have you?”
“Yes, sir. I accept your offer if it’s still open,” I said.
We shook hands.
“Wide open. Could have filled it a dozen times. Come in, come on in and sit. You fetched all your outfit?”
“What you see,” I confessed. “I told you my condition. They stripped me clean.”
He rubbed his beard.
“Wall, all you need is a blanket. Reckon I can rustle you that. You can pay for it out of your wages or turn it in at the end of the trip. Fust I’d better make you acquainted to the wagon boss. There he is, yonder.”
He conducted me on, along the groups and fires and155bedding outside the wagon circle, and halted where a heavy man, of face smooth-shaven except chin, sat upon a wagon-tongue whittling a stick.
“Mornin’, Cap’n. Wall, I’m filled out. I’ve hired this lad and can move whenever you say the word. You——” he looked at me. “What’s your name, you say?”
“Frank Beeson,” I replied.
“Didn’t ketch it last night,” he apologized. “Shake hands with Cap’n Hyrum Adams, Frank. He’s the boss of the train.”
Captain Adams lazily arose—a large figure in his dusty boots, coarse trousers and flannel shirt, and weather-beaten black slouch hat. The inevitable revolver hung at his thigh. His pursed lips spurted a jet of tobacco juice as he keenly surveyed me with small, shrewd, china-blue eyes squinting from a broad flaccid countenance. But the countenance was unemotional while he offered a thick hand which proved singularly soft and flatulent under the callouses.
“Glad to meet you, stranger,” he acknowledged in slow bass. “Set down, set down.”
He waved me to the wagon-tongue, and I thankfully seated myself. All of a sudden I seemed utterly gone; possibly through lack of food. My sigh must have been remarked.
“Breakfasted, stranger?” he queried passively.
“Not yet, sir. I was anxious to reach the train.”
“Pshaw! I was about to ask you that,” Mr. Jenks156put in. “Come along and I’ll throw together a mess for you.”
“Nobody goes hungry from the Adams wagon, stranger,” Captain Adams observed. He slightly raised his voice, peremptory. “Rachael! Fetch our guest some breakfast.”
“But as Mr. Jenks has invited me, Captain, and I am in his employ——” I protested. He cut me short.
“I have said that nobody, man, woman or child, or dog, goes hungry from the Adams wagon. The flesh must be fed as well as the soul.”
There were two women in view, busied with domestic cares. I had sensed their eyes cast now and then in my direction. One was elderly, as far as might be judged by her somewhat slatternly figure draped in a draggled snuff-colored, straight-flowing gown, and by the merest glimpse of her features within her faded sunbonnet. The other promptly moved aside from where she was bending over a wash-board, ladled food from a kettle to a platter, poured a tin cupful of coffee from the pot simmering by the fire, and bore them to me; her eyes down, shyly handed them.
I thanked her but was not presented. To the Captain’s “That will do, Rachael,” she turned dutifully away; not so soon, however, but that I had seen a fresh young face within the bonnet confines—a round rosy face according well with the buxom curves of her as she again bent over her wash-board.157
“Our fare is that of the tents of Abraham, stranger,” spoke the Captain, who had resumed his whittling. “Such as it is, you are welcome to. We are a plain people who walk in the way of the Lord, for that is commanded.”
His sonorous tones were delivered rather through the nose, but did not fail of hospitality.
“I ask nothing better, sir,” I answered. “And if I did, my appetite would make up for all deficiencies.”
“A healthy appetite is a good token,” he affirmed. “Show me a well man who picks at his victuals and I will show you a candidate for the devil. His thoughts will like to be as idle as his knife.”
The mess of pork and beans and the black unsweetened coffee evidently were what I needed, for I began to mend wonderfully ere I was half through the course. He had not invited me to further conversation—only, when I had drained the cup he called again: “Rachael! More coffee,” whereupon the same young woman advanced, without glancing at me, received my cup, and returned it steaming.
“You are from the East, stranger?” he now inquired.
“Yes, sir. I arrived in Benton only yesterday.”
“A Sodom,” he growled harshly. “A tented sepulcher. And it will perish. I tell you, you do well to leave it, you do well to yoke yourself with the appointed of this earth, rather than stay in that sink-pit of the eternally damned.”158
“I agree with you, sir,” said I. “I did not find Benton to be a pleasant place. But I had not known, when I started from Omaha.”
“Possibly not,” he moodily assented. “The devil is attentive; he is present in the stations, and on the trains; he will ride in those gilded palaces even to the Jordan, but he shall not cross. In the name of the Lord we shall face him. What good there shall come, shall abide; but the evil shall wither. Not,” he added, “that we stand against the railroad. It is needed, and we have petitioned without being heard. We are strong but isolated, we have goods to sell, and the word of Brigham Young has gone forth that a railroad we must have. Against the harpies, the gamblers, the loose women and the lustful men and all the Gentile vanities we will stand upon our own feet by the help of Almighty God.”
At this juncture, when I had finished my platter of pork and beans and my second cup of coffee, a tall, double-jointed youth of about my age, carrying an ox goad in his hand, strolled to us as if attracted by the harangue. He was clad in the prevalent cowhide boots, linsey-woolsey pantaloons tucked in, red flannel shirt, and battered hat from which untrimmed flaxen hair fell down unevenly to his shoulder line. He wore at his belt butcher-knife and gun.
By his hulk, his light blue eyes, albeit a trifle crossed, and the general lineaments of his stolid, square, high-cheeked countenance I conceived him159to be a second but not improved edition of the Captain.
A true raw-bone he was; and to me, as I casually met his gaze, looked to be obstinate, secretive and small minded. But who can explain those sudden antagonisms that spring up on first sight?
“My son Daniel,” the Captain introduced. “This stranger travels to Zion with us, Daniel, in the employ of Mr. Jenks.”
The youth had the grip of a vise, and seemed to enjoy emphasizing it while cunningly watching my face.
“Haowdy?” he drawled. With that he twanged a sentence or two to his father. “I faound the caow, Dad. Do yu reckon to pull aout to-day?”
“I have not decided. Go tend to your duties, Daniel.”
Daniel bestowed upon me a parting stare, and lurched away, snapping the lash of his goad.
“And with your permission I will tend to mine, sir,” I said. “Mr. Jenks doubtless has work for me. I thank you for your hospitality.”
“We are commanded by the prophet to feed the stranger, whether friend or enemy,” he reproved. “We are also commanded by the Lord to earn our bread by the sweat of our brow. As long as you are no trifler you will be welcome at my wagon. Good-day to you.”
As I passed, the young woman, Rachael—whom I judged to be his daughter, although she was evidently160far removed from parent stock—glanced quickly up. I caught her gaze full, so that she lowered her eyes with a blush. She was indeed wholesome if not absolutely pretty. When later I saw her with her sunbonnet doffed and her brown hair smoothly brushed back I thought her more wholesome still.
Mr. Jenks received me jovially.
“Got your belly full, have you?”
“I’m a new man,” I assured.
“Wall, those Mormons are good providers. They’ll share with you whatever they have, for no pay, but if you rub ’em the wrong way or go to dickerin’ with ’em they’re closer’n the hide on a cold mule. You didn’t make sheep’s eyes at ary of the women?”
“No, sir. I am done with women.”
“And right you are.”
“However, I could not help but see that the Captain’s daughter is pleasing to look upon. I should be glad to know her, were there no objections.”
“How? His daughter?”
“Miss Rachael, I believe. That is the name he used.”
“The young one, you mean?”
“Yes, sir. The one who served me with breakfast. Rosy-cheeked and plump.”
“Whoa, man! She’s his wife, and not for Gentiles. They’re both his wives; whether he has more in Utah I don’t know. But you’d best let her alone. She’s been j’ined to him.”161
This took me all aback, for I had no other idea than that she was his daughter, or niece—stood in that kind of relation to him. He was twice her age, apparently. Now I could only stammer:
“I’ve no wish to intrude, you may be sure. And Daniel, his son—is he married?”
“That whelp? Met him, did you? No, he ain’t married, yet. But he will be, soon as he takes his pick ’cordin’ to law and gospel among them people. You bet you: he’ll be married plenty.”