CHAPTER IX
I ACCEPT AN OFFER
We found a small table, one of the several devoted to refreshments for thedancers, in a corner and unoccupied. The affair upon the floor wasapparently past history--if it merited even that distinction. The placehad resumed its program of dancing, playing and drinking as though afterall a pistol shot was of no great moment in the Big Tent.
"You had a narrow shave," my friend remarked as we seated ourselves--Iwith a sigh of gratitude for the opportunity. "If you can't draw quickeryou'd better keep your hands in your pockets. Let's have a dose oft'rant'lar juice to set you up." Whereupon he ordered whiskey from awaiter.
"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, haveyou?"
"No. But plenty long enough," I miserably replied.
"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 therough face of this rudely clad plainsman, black bearded to the piercingblack eyes.
"Yes; of my last cent."
"All at gamblin', mebbe?"
"No. Only a little, but that strapped me. The hotel had robbed me ofpractically 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 inregular camp; nobody enters flaps without permission. But a room is adifferent proposition. I'd rather take chances among Injuns than amongwhite men. Why, you could throw in with a Sioux village for a year and notbe robbed permanent if the chief thought you straight; but in a whiteman'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 foolishenough to stake what little I had on a sure thing--I was bamboozled intofollowing the lead of the rest of you," I reminded. "Now I see that therewas a trick, although I don't yet understand. After that the fellowassaulted the lady, my companion, and you stepped in--for which, sir, Iowe you more thanks than I can utter."
"A trick, you think?" He opened his hairy mouth for a gust of shortlaughter. "My Gawd, boy! We were nicely took in, and we desarved it. Whenyou buck the tiger, look out for his claws. But I reckoned he'd postponethe turn till next time. He would have, if you fellers hadn't come down sohandsome with the dust. I stood pat, at that. So, you notice, did thecapper, your other friend."
"The capper? Which was he, sir?"
"Why, Lord bless you, son. You're the greenest thing this side of Omyha. Acapper touched him on the shoulder, a capper bent that there card, acapper tolled you all on with a dollar or two, and another capper fed thecome-ons to his table. Aye, she's a purty piece. Where'd you meet up withher?"
"With her?" I gasped.
"Yes, yes. The woman; the main steerer. That purty piece who damn nighlost 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 thedoor?"
"You shall not speak of her in that fashion, sir," I answered. "We weretogether on the train from Omaha. She has been kindness itself. The onlypart she has played to-night, as far as I can see, was to chaperon me herein the Big Tent; and whatever small 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. Ihad 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 thatyour 'lady' 's Montoyo's wife--his woman, anyhow?"
"Montoyo? Who's Montoyo?"
"The monte thrower. That same spieler who trimmed us," he rappedimpatiently.
The light that broke upon me dazed. My heart pounded. I must have lookedwhat I felt: a fool.
"No," I stammered in my thin small voice of the hotel. "I imagined--I hadreason 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, someSpanish, some white, like as not some Injun. A devil, and as slick as theymake 'em. She's a power too white for him, herself, but he uses her andsome day he'll kill her. You're not the fust gudgeon she's hooked, to feedto him. Why, she's known all back down the line. They two have beenfollowin' end o' track from North Platte, along with Hell on Wheels. Had alayout in Omyha, and in Denver. They're not the only double-harness outfithyar, either. You can meet a friendly woman any time, but this one gothold 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 gotfor 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 withher tolled you on straight for Montoyo's table; teased you a leetle alongthe trail, no doubt, to keep you interested." I nodded. "They promised youwinnin's, easy winnin's. Then at Montoyo's table the game was a leetleslack; so one capper touched him on the shoulder and another marked thecard. O' course a gambler like him wouldn't be up to readin' his owncards. Oh, no! You sports were the smart ones."
"How about yourself?" I retorted, nettled.
"Me? I know them tricks, but I reckoned I was smart, too. Then that capperJim led out and we all made a small winnin', to prove the system. AndMontoyo, he gets tired o' losin'--but still he's blind to a card thateverybody else can see, and he calls for real play so he can go broke oreven up. I didn't look for much of a deal on that throw myself. Usu'ly itcomes less promisc'yus, with the gudgeon stakin' the big roll, and then Ipull out. But you-all slapped down the stuff in a stampede, sartin you hadhim buffaloed. On his last shuffle he'd straightened the queen and turneddown the eight, usin' an extra finger or two. Them card sharps have sixfingers on each hand and several in their sleeve, and he was slicker'n Ithought. He might have refused all bets and got your mad up for the nextpass; but you'd come down as handsome as you would, he figgered. So he letgo. 'Twas fair and squar', robber eat robber, and we none of us have anycall to howl. But you mind my word: Don't aim to put something over on aprofessional gamblin' sharp. It can't be done. As for me, I broke even andI alluz expect to lose. When I look to be skinned I leave most my dustbehind me where I can't get at it."
Now I saw all, or enough. I had received no more than I deserved. Such awave of nausea surged into my mouth--but he was continuing.
"Jest why he struck his woman I don't know. Do you?"
"Yes. She had cautioned me and he must have heard her. And she showedwhich 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 thetune of a hundred or two and cleaned you proper. You hadn't been workedalong, 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 excuseme, sir, I think I'd better go. I--I--I thank you. I only wish I'd met youbefore. 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 thanenough of everything." But I sat down.
"Where were you goin'?"
"To the hotel. I am privileged to stay there until to-morrow. Thank HeavenI 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 was now impossible through very shame. "Home's theonly 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, highand dry." I gulped at his smile. "I've found it and shall go home toreport."
"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 wolfmeat yet, by a long shot. You've still got your hair, and that's more thansome 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," Ireminded. "My revolver should tide me over, for a beginning."
"Sell it?" said he. "Sell your breeches fust. Either way you'd be onlyhalf dressed. No!"
"It would take me a little way. I'll not stay in Benton--not to be pointedat as a dupe."
"Oh, pshaw!" he laughed. "Nobody'll remember you, specially if you'reknown to be broke. Busted, you're of no use to the camp. Let me make you aproposition. 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 anotherman. I'll give you a dollar and a half a day and found, and it will begood 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 standhardships," 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 myopinion you've had too much doctorin'. A month with a bull train, and adiet of beans and sowbelly will put a linin' in your in'ards and a heartin your chest. When you've slept under a wagon to Salt Lake and l'arned tosling a bull whip and relish your beans burned, you can look anybody inthe eye and tell him to go to hell, if you like. This roarin' townlife--it's no life for you. It's a bobtail, wide open in the middle. I'llbe only too glad to get away on the long trail myself. So you come withme," and he smiled winningly. "I hate to see you ruined by women andlikker. Mule-skinnin' ain't all beer and skittles, as they say; but thisjob'll tide you over, anyhow, and you'll come out at the end with money inyour 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 knowin the morning? Where will I find you?"
"The train's camped near the wagon trail, back at the river. You can'tmiss it. It's mainly a Mormon train, that some of us Gentiles have thrownin 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, tillnoon. 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 uponmy feet, Mr. Jenks, for I was desperate. You're the first honest man I'vemet in Benton."
"Tut, tut," he reproved. "There are others. Benton's not so bad as youthink it. But you were dead ripe; the buzzards scented you. Now you gostraight to your hotel, unless you'll spend the night with me. No? ThenI'll see you in the mornin'. I'll risk your gettin' through the streetalone."
"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 oneyou'll keep the other."
Gazing neither right nor left I strode resolutely for the exit. Now I hadan anchor to windward. Sometimes just one word will face a man about whenfor lack of that mere word he was drifting. Of the games and the people Iwished only to be rid forever; but at the exit I was halted by a hand laidupon my arm, and a quick utterance.
"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 beblamed. Please let me help you. I don't know what you've heard--I don'tknow 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 inunequivocal action.
"Good-night," I bade thickly, half choked by that same nausea, now hot.Bearing with me a satisfying but somehow annoyingly persistent imprint ofmoist blue eyes under shimmering hair, and startled white face plashed onone cheek with vivid crimson, and small hand left extended empty, Iroughly 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 wrathwhile it gnawed at me like the fox in the Spartan boy's bosom; and once inmy room, which fortuitously had no other tenants at this hour, I had tolean out of the narrow window for sheer relief in the coolness. Surelypride had had a fall this night.
There "roared" Benton--the Benton to which, as to prosperity, I hadhopefully purchased my ticket ages ago. And here cowered I, holedup--pillaged, dishonored, worthless in even this community: a young fellowin jaunty frontier costume, new and brave, but really reduced to sackclothand ashes; a young fellow only a husk, as false in appearance as the BigTent 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 oftents and shacks stretching on irregularly had become pocked with darkspots, where lights had been extinguished, but the street remained ablazeand the desert without winked at the stars. There were moving gleams atthe railroad yards where switch engines puffed back and forth; up thegrade and the new track, pointing westward, there were sparks ofcamp-fires; and still in other directions beyond the town other tokensredly 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 ofstars and the low stratum of spectrally glowing, earthy--yes, veryearthy--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 Icertainly hated with the rage of the defeated. So in a fling I drew back,wrestled out of coat and boots and belt and pantaloons, tucked them inhiding against the wall at the head of my bed and my revolver underneathmy stained pillow; and tried to forget Benton, all of it, with the blanketto my ears and my face to the wall, for sleep.
When once or twice I wakened from restless dreaming the glow and the noiseof the street seemed scarcely abated, as if down there sleep was despised.But when I finally aroused, and turned, gathering wits again, fulldaylight had paled everything else.
Snores sounded from the other beds; I saw tumbled coverings, disheveledforms and shaggy heads. In my own corner nothing had been molested. Theworld outside was strangely quiet. The trail was open. So with noattention to my roommates I hastily washed and dressed, buckled on myarmament, and stumped freely forth, down the somnolent hall, down thecreaking stairs, and into the silent lobby.
Even the bar was vacant. Behind the office counter a clerk sat sunk into adoze. 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?" Hescanned the register. "You're the gentleman from New York who came inyesterday 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 intoa 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.
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