"You might have sent a man here in your place--Braman, for instance; he could be trusted. You came yourself, eager for adventure--you came on a borrowed horse. When you were looking at the country from the horse in front of my house, I saw you sigh."

"Well," she said, with flushed face and glowing eyes; "I _have_ decided to live out here--for a time, at least. So you were watching me?"

"Just a glance," he defended, grinning; "I couldn't help it. Please forgive me."

"I suppose I'll have to," she laughed, delighted, reveling in this freedom of speech, in his directness. His manner touched a spark somewhere in her, she felt strangely elated, exhilarated. When she reflected that this was only their second meeting and that she had not been conventionally introduced to him, she was amazed. Had a stranger of her set talked to her so familiarly she would have resented it. Out here it seemed to be perfectly natural.

"How do you know I borrowed a horse to come here?" she asked.

"That's easy," he grinned; "there's the Diamond K brand on his hip."

"Oh."

They rode on a little distance in silence, and then she remembered that she was still curious about him. His frankness had affected her; she did not think it impertinent to betray curiosity.

"How long have you lived out here?" she asked.

"About ten years."

"You weren't born here, of course--you have admitted that. Then where did you come from?"

"This is a large country," he returned, unsmilingly.

It was a reproof, certainly--Rosalind could go no farther in that direction. But her words had brought a mystery into existence, thus sharpening her interest in him. She was conscious, though, of a slight pique--what possible reason could he have for evasion? He had not the appearance of a fugitive from justice.

"So you're going to live out here?" he said, after an interval. "Where?"

"I heard father speak of buying Blakeley's place. Do you know where it is?"

"It adjoins mine." There was a leaping note in his voice, which she did not fail to catch. "Do you see that dark line over there?" He pointed eastward--a mile perhaps. "That's a gully; it divides my land from Blakeley's. Blakeley told me a month ago that he was d.i.c.kering with an eastern man. If you are thinking of looking the place over, and want a trustworthy escort I should be pleased to recommend--myself." And he grinned widely at her.

"I shall consider your offer--and I thank you for it," she returned. "I feel positive that father will buy a ranch here, for he has much faith in the future of Manti--he is obsessed with it."

He looked sharply at her. "Then your father is going to have a hand in the development of Manti? I heard a rumor to the effect that some eastern company was interested, had, in fact, secured the water rights for an enormous section."

She remembered what Corrigan had told her, and blushingly dissembled:

"I put no faith in rumor--do you? Mr. Corrigan is the head of the company which is to develop Manti. But of course _that_ is an eastern company, isn't it?"

He nodded, and she smiled at a thought that came to her. "How far is it to Blakeley's ranchhouse?" she asked.

"About two parasangs," he answered gravely.

"Well," she said, mimicking him; "I could _never_ walk there, could I? If I go, I shall have to borrow a horse--or buy one. Could you recommend a horse that would be as trustworthy as the escort you have promised me?"

"We shall go to Blakeley's tomorrow," he told her. "I shall bring you a trustworthy horse at ten o'clock in the morning."

They were approaching the cut, and she nodded an acceptance. An instant later he was talking to his men, and she sat near him, watching them as they raced over the plains toward the Diamond K ranchhouse. One man remained; he was without a mount, and he grinned with embarra.s.sment when Rosalind's gaze rested on him.

"Oh," she said; "you are waiting for your horse! How stupid of me!" She dismounted and turned the animal over to him. When she looked around, Trevison had also dismounted and was coming toward her, leading the black, the reins looped through his arm. Rosalind flushed, and thought of Agatha, but offered no objection.

It was a long walk down the slope of the hill and around its base to the private car, but they made it still longer by walking slowly and taking the most roundabout way. Three persons saw them coming--Agatha, standing rigid on the platform; the negro attendant, standing behind Agatha in the doorway, his eyes wide with interest; and Carson, seated on a boulder a little distance down the cut, grinning broadly.

"Bedad," he rumbled; "the bhoy's made a hit wid her, or I'm a sinner! But didn't I know he wud? The two bulldogs is goin' to have it now, sure as I'm a foot high!"

CHAPTER VI

A JUDICIAL PUPPET

Bowling along over the new tracks toward Manti in a special car secured at Dry Bottom by Corrigan, one compartment of which was packed closely with books, papers, ledger records, legal doc.u.ments, blanks, and even office furniture, Judge Lindman watched the landscape unfold with mingled feelings of trepidation, reluctance, and impotent regret. The Judge's face was not a strong one--had it been he would not have been seated in the special car, talking with Corrigan. He was just under sixty-five years, and their weight seemed to rest heavily upon him. His eyes were slightly bleary, and had a look of weariness, as though he had endured much and was utterly tired. His mouth was flaccid, the lips pouting when he compressed his jaws, giving his face the sullen, indecisive look of the brooder lacking the mental and physical courage of independent action and initiative. The Judge could be led; Corrigan was leading him now, and the Judge was reluctant, but his courage had oozed, back in Dry Bottom, when Corrigan had mentioned a culpable action which the Judge had regretted many times.

Some legal records of the county were on the table between the two men.

The Judge had objected when Corrigan had secured them from the compartment where the others were piled.

"It isn't regular, Mr. Corrigan," he had said; "no one except a legally authorized person has the right to look over those books."

"We'll say that I am legally authorized, then," grinned Corrigan. The look in his eyes was one of amused contempt. "It isn't the only irregular thing you have done, Lindman."

The Judge subsided, but back in his eyes was a slumbering hatred for this man, who was forcing him to complicity in another crime. He regretted that other crime; why should this man deliberately remind him of it?

After looking over the records, Corrigan outlined a scheme of action that made the Judge's face blanch.

"I won't be a party to any such scurrilous undertaking!" he declared when, he could trust his voice; "I--I won't permit it!"

Corrigan stretched his legs out under the table, shoved his hands into his trousers' pockets and laughed.

"Why the high moral att.i.tude, Judge? It doesn't become you. Refuse if you like. When we get to Manti I shall wire Benham. It's likely he'll feel pretty sore. He's got his heart set on this. And I have no doubt that after he gets my wire he'll jump the next train for Washington, and--"

The Judge exclaimed with weak incoherence, and a few minutes later he was bending over the records with Corrigan--the latter making sundry copies on a pad of paper, which he placed in a pocket when the work was completed.

At noon the special car was in Manti. Corrigan, the Judge, and Braman, carried the Judge's effects and stored them in the rear room of the bank building. "I'll build you a courthouse, tomorrow," he promised the Judge; "big enough for you and a number of deputies. You'll need deputies, you know." He grinned as the Judge shrank. Then, leaving the Judge in the room with his books and papers, Corrigan drew Braman outside.

"I got h.e.l.l from Benham for destroying Trevison's check--he wired me to attend to my other deals and let him run the railroad--the d.a.m.ned old fool! You must have taken the cash to Trevison--I see the gang's working again."

"The cash went," said the banker, watching Corrigan covertly, "but I didn't take it. J. C. wired explicit orders for his daughter to act."

Corrigan cursed viciously, his face dark with wrath as he turned to look at the private car, on the switch. The banker watched him with secret, vindictive enjoyment. Miss Benham had judged Braman correctly--he was cold, crafty, selfish, and wholly devoid of sympathy. He was for Braman, first and last--and in the interim.

"Miss Benham went to the cut--so I hear," he went on, smoothly. "Trevison wasn't there. Miss Benham went to the Diamond K." His eyes gleamed as Corrigan's hands clenched. "Trevison rode back to the car with her--which she had ordered taken to the cut," went on the banker. "And this morning about ten o'clock Trevison came here with a led horse. He and Miss Benham rode away together. I heard her tell her aunt they were going to Blakeley's ranch--it's about eight miles from here."

Corrigan's face went white. "I'll kill him for that!" he said.

"Jealous, eh?" laughed the banker. "So, that's the reason--"

Corrigan turned and struck bitterly. The banker's jaws clacked sharply--otherwise he fell silently, striking his head against the edge of the step and rolling, face down, into the dust.