CHAPTER XI
HALF-CONFIDENCES
Whatever Stutter Brown may secretly have thought concerning this newarrangement of his affairs, he indulged in no outward manifestations.Not greatly gifted in speech, he was nevertheless sufficiently promptin action. The swift, nervous orders of the impulsive Mexican dancerhad sufficiently impressed him with one controlling idea, thatsomething decidedly serious was in the air; and, as she flitted acrossthe room, looking not unlike a red bird, he watched her make directlytoward a man who was leaning negligently back in a chair against thefarther wall. For a moment he continued to gaze through the obscuringhaze of tobacco smoke, uncertain as to the other's identity, his eyesgrowing angry, his square jaw set firm.
"W-who is the f-f-feller?" he questioned gruffly. "Wh-what 's shem-mean l-leavin' me to go over th-thar ter h-him?"
Beth Norvell glanced up frankly into his puzzled face.
"She has gone to keep him away from me," she explained quietly. "Hisname is Farnham."
Brown's right hand swung back to his belt, his teeth gripped like thoseof a fighting dog.
"Hell!" he ejaculated, forgetting to stutter. "Is that him? BiffFarnham? An' he 's after you is he, the damned Mormon?"
She nodded, her cheeks growing rosy from embarrassment. Brown cast aquick, comprehensive glance from the face of the woman to where the manwas now leaning lazily against the wall.
"All r-right, little g-girl," he said slowly, and with gravedeliberation. "I-I reckon I n-never went b-back on any p-pard yet.B-blamed if y-y-you hate thet c-cuss any worse th-than I do. Y-youbet, I 'll take you out o' h-h-here safe 'nough."
He drew her more closely against his side, completely shielding herslender figure from observation by the intervention of his giant body,and thus they passed out together into the gloomy but still riotousstreet. A block or more down, under the glaring light of a noisysaloon, the girl looked up questioningly into his boyish face.
"Are you Stutter Brown, of the 'Little Yankee'?" she asked doubtfully.
"I-I reckon you've c-c-called the t-turn, Miss."
She hesitated a moment, but there was something about this big, awkwardfellow, with his sober eyes and good-natured face, which gave herconfidence.
"Do--do you know a Mr. Ned Winston?"
He shook his head, the locks of red hair showing conspicuously underthe wide hat-brim.
"I r-reckon not. Leastwise, don't s-s-sorter seem to r-recall no suchn-name, Miss. Was the g-gent a f-friend o' your 'n?"
"Y-yes. He is a mining engineer, and, I have been told, is underengagement at the 'Little Yankee.'"
Brown's eyes hardened, looking down into the upturned face, and hishands clinched in sudden awakening suspicion.
"You d-did, hey?" he questioned sullenly. "Wh-who told you that r-rot?"
"Farnham."
The man uttered an unrestrained oath, fully believing now that he wasbeing led into a cunningly devised trap. His mental operations wereslow, but he was swift and tenacious enough in prejudice. He stoppedstill, and the two stood silently facing each other, the same vaguespectre of suspicion alive in the minds of both.
"Farnham," the man muttered, for one instant thrown off his guard fromsurprise. "How th-the hell d-d-did he g-git hold o' that?"
"I don't know; but is n't it true?"
He turned her face around toward the light, not roughly, yet with anunconscious strength which she felt irresistible, and looked at hersearchingly, his own eyes perceptibly softening.
"Y-you sure l-l-look all right, little g-girl," he admitted, slowly,"but I 've h-heard th-th-that feller was hell with w-women. I-I reckonyou b-better go b-back to Farnham an' find out."
He paused, wiping his perspiring face with the back of his hand, hischeeks reddening painfully under her unfaltering gaze. Finally heblurted out:
"Say, w-who are you, anyhow?"
"Beth Norvell, an actress."
"You kn-kn-know Farnham?"
She bent her head in regretful acknowledgment.
"An' you kn-kn-know the senorita?"
"Yes, a very little."
Stutter Brown wet his lips, shifting awkwardly.
"Well, y-you 'll excuse me, M-Miss," he stuttered in an excess ofembarrassment, yet plunging straight ahead with manly determination tohave it out. "I-I ain't much used t-t-to this sorter th-thing, an'maybe I-I ain't got no r-r-right ter be a-botherin' you with m-myaffairs, nohow. But you s-see it's th-this way. I 've sorter t-took abig l-l-likin' to that dancin' girl. Sh-she 's a darn sight n-n-nearermy s-style than anything I 've been up a-against fer s-some time. I-Idon't just kn-know how it h-h-happened, it was so blame s-sudden, b-butshe 's got her l-l-lasso 'bout me all r-right. But Lord! sh-she 's allfun an' laugh; sh-sh-she don't seem to take n-nothin' serious like, an'you c-can't make much ou-ou-out o' that kind; you n-never know just howto t-take 'em; leastwise, I don't. N-now, I 'm a plain s-s-sorter man,an' I m-make bold ter ask ye a m-mighty plain sorter qu-question--isthat there M-M-Mercedes on the squar?"
He stood there motionless before her, a vast, uncertain bulk in the dimlight, but he was breathing hard, and the deep earnestness of his voicehad impressed her strongly.
"Why do you ask me that?" she questioned, for the moment uncertain howto answer him. "I scarcely know her; I know almost nothing regardingher life."
"Y-you, you are a w-woman, Miss," he insisted, doggedly, "an', I t-takeit, a woman who will u-understand such th-th-things. T-tell me, is sheon the squar?"
"Yes," she responded, warmly. "She has not had much chance, I think,and may have made a mistake, perhaps many of them, but I believe she 'son the square."
"Did--did sh-she come out t-to our m-m-mine spying for Farnham?"
"Really, I don't know."
His grave face darkened anxiously; she could perceive the change evenin that shadow, and distinguish the sharp grind of his teeth.
"Damn him," he muttered, his voice bitter with hate. "It w-would bel-l-like one of his l-low-lived tricks. Wh-what is that g-girl to him,anyhow?"
It was no pleasant task to hurt this man deliberately, yet, perhaps, itwould be best. Anyway, it was not in Beth Norvell's nature either tolie or to be afraid.
"He has been her friend; there are some who say her lover."
He stared fixedly at her, as though she had struck him a stinging,unexpected blow.
"Him? A-an' you s-s-say she 's on the squar?"
"Yes; I say she is on the square, because I think so. It's a hard lifeshe 's had to live, and no one has any right to judge her by strictrules of propriety. I may not approve, neither do I condemn. Goodwomen have been deceived before now--have innocently done wrong in theeyes of the world--and this Mercedes is a woman. I know him also, knowhim to be a cold-blooded, heartless brute. She is merely a girl,pulsating with the fiery blood of the South, an artist to her fingers'tips, wayward and reckless. It would not be very difficult for one ofthat nature to be led astray by such a consummate deceiver as he is. Ipity her, but I do not reproach. Yet God have mercy on him when sheawakes from her dream, for that time is surely coming, perhaps is herealready; and the girl is on the square. I believe it, she is on thesquare."
For a silent, breathless moment Brown did not stir, did not once takehis eyes from off her face. She saw his hand slip down and close hardover the butt of his dangling revolver. Then he drew a deep breath,his head thrown back, his great shoulders squared.
"D-damn, but that helps me," he said soberly. "It--it sure does.G-good-night, little g-girl."
"Are you going to leave me now?"
"Why, sure. Th-this yere is the h-h-hotel, ain 't it? W-well, I 'vegot t-to be back to th-the 'Little Yankee' afore d-d-daylight, or thar'll be h-hell to pay, an' I sure m-mean to see her first,an'--an'--maybe h-him."
She stood there in thoughtful perplexity, oblivious to all else in herstrange surroundings, watching the dark shadow of his burly figuredisappear through the dim light. There was a strength of purpose, agrim, unchangea
ble earnestness about the man which impressed hergreatly, which won her admiration. He was like some great faithfuldog, ready to die at his master's bidding. Down in her heart shewondered what would be the tragic end of this night's confidence.
"There goes a good friend," she said slowly, under her breath, "and abad enemy." Then she turned away, aroused to her own insistent missionof warning, and entered the silent hotel.
The night clerk, a mere boy with pallid cheeks and heavy eyesbespeaking dissipation, reclined on a couch behind the rough counter,reading a Denver paper. He was alone in the room, excepting a drunkenman noisily slumbering in an arm-chair behind the stove. Miss Norvell,clasping her skirts tightly, picked her way forward across the litteredfloor, the necessity for immediate action rendering her supremelycallous to all ordinary questions of propriety.
"Can you inform me if Mr. Winston is in his room?" she questioned,leaning across the counter until she could see the clerk's surprisedface.
The young fellow smiled knowingly, rising instantly to his feet.
"Not here at all," he returned pleasantly. "He left just before noonon horseback. Heard him say something 'bout an engineering job he hadup Echo Canyon. Reckon that 's where he 's gone. Anything important,Miss Norvell?"
Beth Norvell: A Romance of the West Page 11