"'Brand' Trevison told me. It hits him mighty d.a.m.ned hard. He had a deed to his land. Corrigan broke open his office an' stole it. Trevison's certain sure his deed was on the record, for he went to Dry Bottom with Buck Peters--the man he bought the land from--an' seen it wrote down on the record!" He laughed harshly. "There's goin' to be h.e.l.l to pay here.

Trevison won't stand for it--though the other gillies are advisin'

caution. Caution h.e.l.l! I'm for cleanin' the sc.u.m out! Do you know what Corrigan done, yesterday? He got thirty or so deputies--pluguglies that he's hired--an' hid 'em behind some flat-cars down on the level where they're erectin' some minin' machinery. He laid a trap for 'Firebrand,'

expectin' him to come down there, rippin' mad because they was puttin' the minin' machinery up on his land, wi'out his permission. They was goin' to shoot him--Corrigan put 'em up to it. That Carson fello' heard it an' put 'Firebrand' wise. An' the shootin' didn't come off. But that's only the beginnin'!"

"Did Trevison tell you to tell me this?" The girl was stunned, amazed, incredulous. For her father was concerned in this, and if he had any knowledge that Corrigan was stealing land--if he _was_ stealing it--he was guilty as Corrigan. If he had no knowledge of it, she might be able to prevent the steal by communicating with him.

"Trevison tell me?" laughed Levins, scornfully; "'Firebrand' ain't no p.u.s.s.y-kitten fighter which depends on women standin' between him an'

trouble. I'm tellin' you on my own hook, so's that big stiff Corrigan won't get swelled up, thinkin' he's got a chance to hitch up with you in the matrimonial wagon. That guy's got murder in his heart, girl. Did you hear of me shootin' that sneak, Marchmont?" The girl had heard rumors of the affair; she nodded, and Levins went on. "It was Corrigan that hired me to do it--payin' me a thousand, cash." His wife gasped, and he spoke gently to her. "That's all right, Ma; it wasn't no cold-blooded affair--Jim Marchmont knowed a sister of mine pretty intimate, when he was out here years ago, an' I settled a debt that I thought I owed to her, that's all. I ain't none sorry, neither--I knowed him soon as Corrigan mentioned his name. But I hadn't no time to call his attention to things--I had to plug him, sudden. I'm sorry I've said this, ma'am, now that it's out," he said in a changed voice, noting the girl's distress; "but I felt you ought to know who you're dealin' with."

Rosalind went out, swaying, her knees shaking. She heard Levins' wife reproving him; heard the man replying gruffly. She felt that it _must_ be so. She cared nothing about Corrigan, beyond a certain regret, but a wave of sickening fear swept over her at the growing conviction that her father _must_ know something of all this. And if, as Levins said, Corrigan was attempting to defraud these people, she felt that common justice required that she head him off, if possible. By defeating Corrigan's aim she would, of course, be aiding Trevison, and through him Hester Harvey, whom she had grown to despise, but that hatred should not deter her. She mounted her horse in a fever of anxiety and raced it over the plains toward Manti, determined to find Corrigan and force him to tell her the truth.

Half way to town she saw a rider coming, and she slowed her own horse, taking the rider to be Corrigan, coming to the Bar B. She saw her mistake when the rider was within a hundred feet of her. She blushed, then paled, and started to pa.s.s the rider without speaking, for it was Trevison. She looked up when he urged n.i.g.g.e.r against her animal, blocking the trail, frowning.

"Look here," he said; "what's wrong? Why do you avoid me? I saw you on the Diamond K range the other day, and when I started to ride toward you you whipped up your horse. You tried to pa.s.s me just now. What have I done to deserve it?"

She could not tell him about Hester Harvey, of course, and so she was silent, blushing a little. He took her manner as an indication of guilt, and gritted his teeth with the pain that the discovery caused him, for he had been hoping, too--that his suspicions of her were groundless.

"I do not care to discuss the matter with you." She looked fairly at him, her resentment flaming in her eyes, fiercely indignant over his effrontery in addressing her in that manner, after his affair with Hester Harvey. She was going to help him, but that did not mean that she was going to blind herself to his faults, or to accept them mutely. His bold confidence in himself--which she had once admired--repelled her now; she saw in it the brazen egotism of the gross sensualist, seeking new victims.

"I am in a hurry," she said, stiffly; "you will pardon me if I proceed."

He jumped n.i.g.g.e.r off the trail and watched with gloomy, disappointed eyes, her rapid progress toward Manti. Then he urged n.i.g.g.e.r onward, toward Levins' cabin. "I'll have to erect another monument to my faith in women,"

he muttered. And certain reckless, grim thoughts that had rioted in his mind since the day before, now a.s.sumed a definiteness that made his blood leap with eagerness.

Later, when Rosalind sat opposite Corrigan at his desk, she found it hard to believe Levins' story. The big man's smooth plausibility made Levins'

recital seem like the weird imaginings of a disordered mind, goaded to desperation by opposition. And again, his magnetism, his polite consideration for her feelings, his ingenuous, smiling deference--so sharply contrasted with Trevison's direct bluntness--swayed her, and she sat, perplexed, undecided, when he finished the explanation she had coldly demanded of him.

"It is the invariable defense of these squatters," he added; "that they are being robbed. In this case they have embellished their hackneyed tale somewhat by dragging the court into it, and telling you that absurd story about the shooting of Marchmont. Could you tell me what possible interest I could have in wanting Marchmont killed? Don't you think, Miss Rosalind, that Levins' reference to his sister discloses the real reason for the man's action? Levins' story that I paid him a thousand dollars is a fabrication, pure and simple. I paid Jim Marchmont a thousand dollars that morning, which was the balance due him on our contract. The transaction was witnessed by Judge Lindman. After Marchmont was shot, Levins took the money from him."

"Why wasn't Levins arrested?"

"It seems that public opinion was with Levins. A great many people here knew of the ancient trouble between them." He pa.s.sed from that, quickly.

"The tale of the robbery of Trevison's office is childlike, for the reason that Trevison had no deed. Judge Lindman is an honored and respected official. And--" he added as a last argument "--your father is the respected head of a large and important railroad. Is it logical to suppose that he would lend his influence and his good name to any such ridiculous scheme?"

She sighed, almost convinced. Corrigan went on, earnestly:

"This man Trevison is a disturber--he has always been that. He has no respect for the law or property. He a.s.sociates with the self-confessed murderer, Levins. He is a riotous, reckless, egotistical fool who, because the law stands in the way of his desires, wishes to trample it under foot and allow mob rule to take its place. Do you remember you mentioned that he once loved a woman named Hester Keyes? Well, he has brought Hester here--"

She got up, her chin at a scornful angle. "I do not care to hear about his personal affairs." She went out, mounted her horse, and rode slowly out the Bar B trail. From a window Corrigan watched her, and as she vanished into the distance he turned back to his desk, meditating darkly.

"Trevison put Levins up to that. He's showing yellow."

CHAPTER XX

AND RIDES AGAIN--IN VAIN

Rosalind's reflections as she rode toward the Bar B convinced her that there had been much truth in Corrigan's arraignment of Trevison. Out of her own knowledge of him, and from his own admission to her on the day they had ridden to Blakeley's the first time, she adduced evidence of his predilection for fighting, of his utter disregard for accepted authority--when that authority disagreed with his conception of justice; of his lawlessness when his desires were in question. His impetuosity was notorious, for it had earned him the sobriquet "Firebrand," which he could not have acquired except through the exhibition of those traits that she had enumerated.

She was disappointed and spiritless when she reached the ranchhouse, and very tired, physically. Agatha's questions irritated her, and she ate sparingly of the food set before her, eager to be alone. In the isolation of her room she lay dumbly on the bed, and there the absurdity of Levins'

story a.s.sailed her. It must be as Corrigan had said--her father was too great a man to descend to such despicable methods. She dropped off to sleep.

When she awoke the sun had gone down, and her room was cheerless in the semi-dusk. She got up, washed, combed her hair, and much refreshed, went downstairs and ate heartily, Agatha watching her narrowly.

"You are distraught, my dear," ventured her relative. "I don't think this country agrees with you. Has anything happened?"

The girl answered evasively, whereat Agatha compressed her lips.

"Don't you think that a trip East--"

"I shall not go home this summer!" declared Rosalind, vehemently. And noting the flash in the girl's eyes, belligerent and defiant; her swelling breast, the warning brilliance of her eyes, misty with pent-up emotion, Agatha wisely subsided and the meal was finished in a strained silence.

Later, Rosalind went out, alone, upon the porch where, huddled in a big rocker, she gazed gloomily at the lights of Manti, dim and distant.

Something of the turmoil and the tumult of the town in its young strength and vigor, a.s.sailed her, contrasting sharply with the solemn peace of her own surroundings. Life had been a very materialistic problem to her, heretofore. She had lived it according to her environment, a mere onlooker, detached from the scheme of things. Something of the meaning of life trickled into her consciousness as she sat there watching the flickering lights of the town--something of the meaning of it all--the struggle of these new residents tw.a.n.ged a hidden chord of sympathy and understanding in her. She was able to visualize them as she sat there.

Faces flashed before her--strong, stern, eager; the owner of each a-thrill with his ambition, going forward in the march of progress with definite aim, planning, plotting, scheming--some of them winning, others losing, but all obsessed with a feverish desire of success. The railroad, the town, the ranches, the new dam, the people--all were elements of a conflict, waged ceaselessly. She sat erect, her blood tingling. Blows were being struck, taken.

"Oh," she cried, sharply; "it's a game! It's the spirit of the nation--to fight, to press onward, to win!" And in that moment she was seized with a throbbing sympathy for Trevison, and filled with a yearning that he might win, in spite of Corrigan, Hester Harvey, and all the others--even her father. For he was a courageous player of this "game." In him was typified the spirit of the nation.

Rosalind might have added something to her thoughts had she known of the pa.s.sions that filled Trevison when, while she sat on the porch of the Bar B ranchhouse, he mounted n.i.g.g.e.r and sent him scurrying through the mellow moonlight toward Manti. He was playing the "game," with justice as his goal. The girl had caught something of the spirit of it all, but she had neglected to grasp the all-important element of the relations between men, without which laws, rules, and customs become farcical and ridiculous. He was determined to have justice. He knew well that Judge Graney's mission to Washington would result in failure unless the deed to his property could be recovered, or the original record disclosed. Even then, with a weak and dishonest judge on the bench the issue might be muddled by a ma.s.s of legal technicalities. The court order permitting Braman to operate a mine on his property goaded him to fury.

He stopped at Hanrahan's saloon, finding Lefingwell there and talking with him for a few minutes. Lefingwell's docile att.i.tude disgusted him--he said he had talked the matter over with a number of the other owners, and they had expressed themselves as being in favor of awaiting the result of his appeal. He left Lefingwell, not trusting himself to argue the question of the man's att.i.tude, and went down to the station, where he found a telegram awaiting him. It was from Judge Graney:

Coming home. Case sent back to Circuit Court for hearing. Depend on you to get evidence.

Trevison crumpled the paper and shoved it savagely into a pocket. He stood for a long time on the station platform, in the dark, glowering at the lights of the town, then started abruptly and made his way into the gambling room of the _Plaza_, where he somberly watched the players. The rattle of chips, the whir of the wheel, the monotonous drone of the faro dealer, the hum of voices, some eager, some tense, others exultant or grumbling, the incessant jostling, irritated him. He went out the front door, stepped down into the street, and walked eastward. Pa.s.sing an open s.p.a.ce between two buildings he became aware of the figure of a woman, and he wheeled as she stepped forward and grasped his arm. He recognized her and tried to pa.s.s on, but she clung to him.

"Trev!" she said, appealingly; "I want to talk with you. It's very important--really. Just a minute, Trev. Won't you talk _that_ long! Come to my room--where--"

"Talk fast," he admonished, holding her off,"--and talk here."

She struggled with him, trying to come closer, twisting so that her body struck his, and the contact brought a grim laugh out of him. He seized her by the shoulders and held her at arm's length. "Talk from there--it's safer. Now, if you've anything important--"

"O Trev--please--" She laughed, almost sobbing, but forced the tears back when she saw derision blazing in his eyes.

"I told you it was all over!" He pushed her away and started off, but he had taken only two steps when she was at his side again.

"I saw you from my window, Trev. I--I knew it was you--I couldn't mistake you, anywhere. I followed you--saw you go into the _Plaza_. I came to warn you. Corrigan has planned to goad you into doing some rash thing so that he will have an excuse to jail or kill you!"

"Where did you hear that?"

"I--I just heard it. I was in the bank today, and I overheard him talking to a man--some officer, I think. Be careful, Trev--very careful, won't you?"

"Careful as I can," he laughed, lowly. "Thank you." He started on again, and she grasped his arm. "Trev," she pleaded.