by Rex Beach
Adding to her mental torment was the constant vision of that face in the curtains at the Northern. It was her brother, yet what mystery shrouded this affair, also? What kept him from her? What caused him to slink away like a thief discovered? She grew dizzy and hysterical.
Struve turned in his chair as the door to his private office opened, then leaped to his feet at sight of the gray-eyed girl standing there.
“I came for the papers,” she said.
“I knew you would.” The blood went out of his cheeks, then surged back up to his eyes. “It’s a bargain, then?”
She nodded. “Give them to me first.”
He laughed unpleasantly. “What do you take me for? I’ll keep my part of the bargain if you’ll keep yours. But this is no place, nor time. There’s riot in the air, and I’m busy preparing for to-night. Come back to-morrow when it’s all over.”
But it was the terror of to-night’s doings that led her into his power.
“I’ll never come back,” she said. “It is my whim to know to-day—yes, at once.”
He meditated for a time. “Then to-day it shall be. I’ll shirk the fight, I’ll sacrifice what shreds of duty have clung to me, because the fever for you is in my bones, and it seems to me I’d do murder for it. That’s the kind of a man I am, and I have no pride in myself because of it. But I’ve always been that way. We’ll ride to the Sign of the Sled. It’s a romantic little road-house ten miles from here, perched high above the Snake River trail. We’ll take dinner there together.”
“But the papers?”
“I’ll have them with me. We’ll start in an hour.”
“In an hour,” she echoed, lifelessly, and left him.
He chuckled grimly and seized the telephone. “Central—call the Sled road-house—seven rings on the Snake River branch. Hello! That you, Shortz? This is Struve. Anybody at the house? Good. Turn them away if they come and say that you’re closed. None of your business. I’ll be out about dark, so have dinner for two. Spread yourself and keep the place clear. Good-bye.”
Strengthened by Glenister’s note, Helen went straight to the other woman and this time was not kept waiting nor greeted with sneers, but found Cherry cloaked in a shy dignity, which she clasped tightly about herself. Under her visitor’s incoherence she lost her diffidence, however, and, when Helen had finished, remarked, with decision: “Don’t go with him. He’s a bad man.”
“But I must. The blood of those men will be on me if I don’t stop this tragedy. If those papers tell the tale I think they do, I can call off my uncle and make McNamara give back the mines. You said Struve told you the whole scheme. Did you see the proof?”
“No, I have only his word, but he spoke of those documents repeatedly, saying they contained his instructions to tie up the mines in order to give a foothold for the lawsuits. He bragged that the rest of the gang were in his power and that he could land them in the penitentiary for conspiracy. That’s all.”
“It’s the only chance,” said Helen. “They are sending soldiers to the Midas to lie in ambush, and you must warn the Vigilantes.” Cherry paled at this and ejaculated:
“Good Lord! Roy said he’d lead an attack tonight.” The two stared at each other.
“If I succeed with Struve I can stop it all—all of this injustice and crime—everything.”
“Do you realize what you’re risking?” Cherry demanded. “That man is an animal. You’ll have to kill him to save yourself, and he’ll never give up those proofs.”
“Yes, he will,” said Helen, fiercely, “and I defy him to harm me. The Sign of the Sled is a public road-house with a landlord, a telephone, and other guests. Will you warn Mr. Glenister about the troops?”
“I will, and bless you for a brave girl. Wait a moment.” Cherry took from the dresser her tiny revolver. “Don’t hesitate to use this. I want you to know also that I’m sorry for what I said yesterday.”
As she hurried away, Helen realized with a shock the change that the past few months had wrought in her. In truth, it was as Glenister had said, his Northland worked strangely with its denizens. What of that shrinking girl who had stepped out of the sheltered life, strong only in her untried honesty, to become a hunted, harried thing, juggling with honor and reputation, in her heart a half-formed fear that she might kill a man this night to gain her end? The elements were moulding her with irresistible hands. Roy’s contact with the primitive had not roughened him more quickly than had hers.
She met her appointment with Struve, and they rode away together, he talkative and elated, she silent and icy.
Late in the afternoon the cloud banks to the eastward assumed alarming proportions. They brought with them an early nightfall, and when they broke let forth a tempest which rivalled that of the previous night. During the first of it armed men came sifting into McNamara’s office from the rear and were hidden throughout the building. Whenever he descried a peculiarly desperate ruffian the boss called him aside for private instruction and gave minute description of. a wide-shouldered, erect youth in white hat and half-boots. Gradually he set his trap with the men Voorhees had raked from the slums, and when it was done smiled to himself. As he thought it over he ceased to regret the miscarriage of last night’s plan, for it had served to goad his enemies to the point he desired, to the point where they would rush to their own undoing. He thought with satisfaction of the r61e he would play in the United States press when the sensational news of this night’s adventure came out. A court official who dared to do his duty despite a lawless mob. A receiver who turned a midnight attack into a rout and shambles. That is what they would say. What if he did exceed his authority thereafter? What if there were a scandal? Who would question? As to soldiers—no, decidedly no. He wished no help of soldiers at this time.
The sight of a ship in the offing towards dark caused him some uneasiness, for, notwithstanding the assurance that the course of justice in the San Francisco courts had been clogged, he knew Bill Wheaton to be a resourceful lawyer and a determined man. Therefore, it relieved him to note the rising gale, which precluded the possibility of interference from that source. Let them come to-morrow if they would. By that time some of the mines would be ownerless and his position strengthened a hundredfold.
He telephoned the mines to throw out guards, although he reasoned that none but madmen would think of striking there in the face of the warning which he knew must have been transmitted through Helen. Putting on his rain-coat he sought Stillman.
“Bring your niece over to my place to-night. There’s trouble in the air and I’m prepared for it.”
“She hasn’t returned from her ride yet. I’m afraid she’s caught in the storm.” The Judge gazed anxiously into the darkness.
During all the long day the Vigilantes lay in hiding, impatient at their idleness and wondering at the lack of effort made towards their discovery, not dreaming that McNamara had more cleverly hidden plans behind. When Cherry’s note of warning came they gathered in the back room and gave voice to their opinions.
“There’s only one way to clear the atmosphere,” said the chairman.
“You bet,” chorussed the others. “They’ve garrisoned the mines, so let’s go through the town and make a clean job of it. Let’s hang the whole outfit to one post.”
This met with general approval, Glenister alone demurring. Said he: “I have reasoned it out differently, and I want you to hear me through before deciding. Last night I got word from Wheaton that the California courts are against us. He attributes it to influence, but, whatever the reason, we are cut off from all legal help either in this court or on appeal. Now, suppose we lynch these officials to-night—what do we gain? Martial law in two hours, our mines tied up for another year, and who knows what else? Maybe a corrupter court next season. Suppose, on the ether hand, we fail—and somehow I feel that we will, for that boss is no fool. What then? Those of us who don’t find the morgue will end in jail. You say we can’t meet the soldiers. I say we can and must. We must carry this
row to them. We must jump it past the courts of Alaska, past the courts of California, and up to the White House, where there’s one honest man, at least. We must do something to wake up the men in Washington. We must get out of politics, for McNamara can beat us there. Although he’s a strong man he can’t corrupt the President. We have one shot left, and it must reach the Potomac. When Uncle Sam takes a hand we’ll get a square deal, so I say let us strike at the Midas to-night and take her if we can. Some of us will go down, but what of it?”
Following this harangue, he outlined a plan which in its unique daring took away their breaths, and as he filled in detail after detail they brightened with excitement and that love of the long chance which makes gamblers of those who thread the silent valleys or tread the edge of things. His boldness stirred them and enthusiasm did the rest.
“All I want for myself,” he said, “is the chance to run the big risk. It’s mine by right.”
Dextry spoke, breathlessly, to Slapjack in the pause which ensued:
“Ain’t he a heller?”
“We’ll go you,” the miners chimed to a man. And the chairman added: “Let’s have Glenister lead this forlorn hope. I am willing to stand or fall on his judgment.” They acquiesced without a dissenting voice, and with the firm hands of a natural leader the young man took control.
“Let’s hurry up,” said one. “It’s a long ‘mush’ and the mud is knee-deep.”
“No walking for us,” said Roy. “We’ll go by train.”
“By train? How can we get a train?”
“Steal it,” he answered, at which Dextry grinned delightedly at his loose-jointed companion, and Slapjack showed his toothless gums in answer, saying:
“He sure is.”
A few more words and Glenister, accompanied by these two, slipped out into the whirling storm, and a half-hour later the rest followed. One by one the Vigilantes left, the blackness blotting them up an arm’s-length from the door, till at last the big, bleak warehouse echoed hollowly to the voice of the wind and water.
Over in the eastern end of town, behind dark windows upon which the sheeted rain beat furiously, other armed men lay patiently waiting—waiting some word from the bulky shadow which stood with folded arms close against a square of gray, while over their heads a wretched old man paced back and forth, wringing his hands, pausing at every turn to peer out into the night and to mumble the name of his sister’s child.
CHAPTER XIX
DYNAMITE
EARLY in the evening Cherry Malotte opened her door to find the Bronco Kid on her step. He entered and threw off his rubber coat. Knowing him well, she waited for his disclosure of his errand. His sallow skin was without trace of color, his eyes were strangely tired, deep lines had gathered about his lips, while his hands kept up constant little nervous explorations as though for days and nights he had not slept and now hovered on the verge of some hysteria. He gave her the impression of a smouldering mine with the fire eating close up to the powder. She judged that his body had been racked by every passion till now it hung jaded and weary, yielding only to the spur of his restless, revengeful spirit.
After a few objectless remarks, he began, abruptly:
“Do you love Roy Glenister?” His voice, like his manner, was jealously eager, and he watched her carefully as she replied, without quibble or deceit:
“Yes, Kid; and I always shall. He is the only true man I have ever known, and I’m not ashamed of my feelings.”
For a long time he studied her, and then broke into rapid speech, allowing her no time for interruption.
“I’ve held back and held back because I’m no talker. I can’t be, in my business; but this is my last chance, and I want to put myself right with you. I’ve loved you ever since the Dawson days, not in the way you’d expect from a man of my sort, perhaps, but with the kind of love that a woman wants. I never showed my hand, for what was the use? That man outheld me. I’d have quit faro years back only I wouldn’t leave this country as long as you were a part of it, and up here I’m only a gambler, fit for nothing else. I’d made up my mind to let you have him till something happened a couple of months ago, but now it can’t go through. I’ll have to down him. It isn’t concerning you—I’m not a welcher. No, it’s a thing I can’t talk about, a thing that’s made me into a wolf, made me skulk and walk the alleys like a dago. It’s put murder into my heart. I’ve tried to assassinate him. I tried it here last night—but—I was a gentleman once—till the cards came. He knows the answer now, though, and he’s ready for me—so one of us will go out like a candle when we meet. I felt that I had to tell you before I cut him down or before he got me.”
“You’re talking like a madman, Kid,” she replied, “and you mustn’t turn against him now. He has troubles enough. I never knew you cared for me. What a tangle it is, to be sure. You love me, I love him, he loves that girl, and she loves a crook. Isn’t that tragedy enough without your adding to it? You come at a bad time, too, for I’m half insane. There’s something dreadful in the air to-night—”
“I’ll have to kill him,” the man muttered, doggedly, and, plead or reason as she would, she could get nothing from him except those words, till at last she turned upon him fiercely.
“You say you love me. Very well—let’s see if you do. I know the kind of a man you are and I know what this feud will mean to him, coming just at this time. Put it aside and I’ll marry you.”
The gambler rose slowly to his feet. “You do love him, don’t you?” She bowed her face, and he winced, but continued: “I wouldn’t make you my wife that way. I didn’t mean it that way.”
At this she laughed bitterly. “Oh, I see. Of course not. How foolish of me to expect it of a man like you. I understand what you mean now, and the bargain will stand just the same, if that is what you came for. I wanted to leave this life and be good, to go away and start over and play the game square, but I see it’s no use. I’ll pay. I know how relentless you are, and the price is low enough. You can have me—and that—marriage talk—I’ll not speak of again. I’ll stay what I am for his sake.”
“Stop!” cried the Kid. “You’re wrong. I’m not that kind of a sport.” His voice broke suddenly, its vehemence shaking his slim body. “Oh, Cherry, I love you the way a man ought to love a woman. It’s one of the two good things left in me, and I want to take you away from here where we can both hide from the past, where we can start new, as you say.”
“You would marry me?” she asked.
“In an hour, and give my heart’s blood for the privilege; but I can’t stop this thing, not even if your own dear life hung upon it. I must kill that man.”
She approached him and laid her arms about his neck, every line of her body pleading, but he refused steadfastly, while the sweat stood out upon his brow.
She begged: “They’re all against him, Kid. He’s fighting a hopeless fight. He laid all he had at that girl’s feet, and I’ll do the same for you.”
The man growled savagely. “He got his reward. He took all she had—”
“Don’t be a fool. I guess I know. You’re a faro-dealer, but you haven’t any right to talk like that about a good woman, even to a bad one like me.”
Into his dark eyes slowly crept a hungry look, and she felt him begin to tremble the least bit. He undertook to speak, paused, wet his lips, then carefully chose these words:
“Do you mean—that he did not—that she is—a good girl?”
“Absolutely.”
He sat down weakly and passed a shaking hand over his face, which had begun to twitch and jerk again as it had on that night when his vengeance was thwarted.
“I may as well tell you that I know she’s more than that. She’s honest and high-principled. I don’t know why I’m saying this, but it was on my mind and I was half distracted when you came. She’s in danger tonight, though—at this minute. I don’t dare to think of what may have happened, for she’s risked everything to make reparation to Roy and his friends.”
“Wha
t?”
“She’s gone to the Sign of the Sled alone with Struve.”
“Struve!” shouted the gambler, leaping to his feet. “Alone with Struve on a night like this?” He shook her fiercely, crying: “What for? Tell me quick!”
She recounted the reasons for Helen’s adventure, while the man’s face became terrible.
“Oh, Kid, I am to blame for letting her go. Why did I do it? I’m afraid—afraid.”
“The Sign of the Sled belongs to Struve, and the fellow who runs it is a rogue.” The Bronco looked at the clock, his eyes bloodshot and dull like those of a goaded, fly-maddened bull. “It’s eight o’clock now—ten miles—two hours. Too late!”
“What ails you?” she questioned, baffled by his strange demeanor. “You called me the one woman just now, and yet—”
He swung towards her heavily. “She’s my sister.”
“Your—sister? Oh, I—I’m glad. I’m glad—but don’t stand there like a wooden man, for you’ve work to do. Wake up. Can’t you hear? She’s in peril!” Her words whipped him out of his stupor so that he drew himself somewhat under control. “Get into your coat. Hurry! Hurry! My pony will take you there.” She snatched his garment from the chair and held it for him while the life ran back into his veins. Together they dashed out into the storm as she and Roy had done, and as he flung the saddle on the buckskin, she said:
“I understand it all now. You heard the talk about her and Glenister; but it’s wrong. I lied and schemed and intrigued against her, but it’s over now. I guess there’s a little streak of good in me somewhere, after all.”
He spoke to her from the saddle. “It’s more than a streak, Cherry, and you’re my kind of people.” She smiled wanly back at him under the lantern-light.