by B. M. Bower
*CHAPTER II*
*REFRESHED MEMORIES*
The dusty, grimy, almost paintless accommodation train, composed ofengine, combination smoking-baggage car, and one day coach, rumbled andrattled, jerked and swayed over the uneven roadbed, the clicking at therail joints sensible both to tactual and auditory nerves, and callingattention to the disrepair into which the whole line had fallen. In thesmoking compartment of the baggage car sat Tex Ewalt, sincerely wishingthat he had followed his first promptings and chosen the saddle inpreference to this swifter method of traveling.
All day he had suffered heat, dust, cinders, and smoke after a night ofthe same. It had been bad enough on the main line, but after leavingthe junction conditions had grown steadily worse. All day he hadcrossed a yellow gray desolation, flat and unending, under a dirty bluesky and a dust-filled air shimmering with heat waves. He had peered ata drab, distant horizon which seemed hardly to change as it crepteastward past him, at all times barely more than a thin circle about asinteresting and colorful as a bleached hoop from some old,weather-beaten barrel. Wherever he had looked, it had been to seesun-burned grass and clouds of imponderable dust, the latter sucked upby the train and sent whirling into every crack and crevice; occasionalwhite spots darting rearward he knew to be the grim, limy skulls ofherbiverous animals; arrow-like trails cut deep into the drought-cursedearth, and not too frequently a double line of straggling, dispiritedwillows, cottonwoods, and box elders, marked the course of some prairiecreek, whose characteristic, steep earth banks, often undermined, nowenclosed sun-dried mud, curling like heated scales, with here and therepools of noisome water hidden under scabs of scum. Mile after mile ofthis had dulled him, familiar as he had once been with the sight, and hesat apathetic, dispirited and glum, too miserable to accept the pressinginvitation of a traveling cardsharp to sit into a game of draw poker.Gradually the mild, long swells of the prairie had grown shorter,sharper, and higher; gradually the soil had become rockier and the creekbeds deeper below the rims of their banks. The track wound more andmore as it twisted and turned among the hills, and for some hours he hadnoticed a constant rising, which now became more and more apparent asthe top of the watershed drew nearer.
He dozed fitfully at times and once the sharper had roused him bytouching his shoulder to ask him again to take cards in a game. To thisinvitation Tex had opened his eyes, looked up at the smiling pokerdevotee and made a slight motion, dozing off again as the surprisedgambler moved away from one he now knew to be of the same calling ashimself. Towns had followed each other at increasingly long intervals,insensibly changing in their aspect, and the horizon steadily had beennarrowing. Here and there along the dried beds of the creeks were rudecabins and shacks, each not far from an abandoned sluice and cradle.Between the hills the pastures grew smaller and smaller, their sidesmore precipitous, but as they shrunk, the number of cattle on themseemed to increase. Rough buildings of wood or stone began to replacethe low sod dugouts of a few hours ago, and he knew that he was rapidlynearing his destination.
Suddenly a ribbon-like scar on the horizon caught his eye. It ranobliquely from a northeastern point of his vista southwesterly acrossthe pastures, hills, and valleys, like a lone spoke in some great wheel,of which the horizon was both felloe and tire. At this he sat up with ashow of interest. Judging from its direction, and from what heremembered of it at this section of its length, it would cross the tracksome miles farther on. He nodded swiftly at this old-time friend of hiscattle-driving days--he had been a fool not to have remembered it andthe cow-town not far ahead, but the names of all the mushroom towns hehad been in during his career in the West had not remained in hismemory. Years rolled backward in a flash. He could see the distant,plodding caravans of homesteaders, or the long, disciplined trains ofthe freighters, winding over the hills and across the flats, their whitecanvas wagon covers flashing against the sky, the old, dirty coversemphasizing the newness and whiteness of their numerous patches. But onthis nearing trail, winding into the southwest there had been adifferent migration. He almost could see the spread-out herd movingdeliberately forward, the idling riders, the point and swing men, andthe plodding, bumping chuck wagon with its bumptious cook. This trail,a few hundred yards wide, beaten by countless hoofs, had deepened anddeepened as the wind carried away the dust, and if left to itself wouldbe discernible after the passing of many years.
The name of the town ahead and on this old trail brought a smile to hislips, a smile that was pleasantly reminiscent; but with the name of thetown came nearly forgotten names of men, and the smile changed into onethat was not pleasant to look upon. There was Williams, Gus Williams,often referred to as "Muttonhead." He had been a bully, a sure-thinggambler, herd trimmer, and cattle thief in a small way, but he had beenonly a petty pilferer of hoofed property, for his streak of caution waswell developed. Tex had not seen him, or heard of him, for twentyyears, never since he had shot a gun out of Williams' hand and beat himup in a corner of his own saloon.
The rapidly enlarging ribbon drew nearer and more distinct, and soon itcrossed the track and ran into the south. He remembered the wide,curving bend it took here: there had been a stampede one rainy nightwhen he was off trick and rolled up in his blanket under the chuckwagon. They had reason to suspect that the cattle were sent off intheir mad flight through the dark by human agency. Two days had beenspent in combing the rough plain and in rounding up the scattered herd,and there had been a sizable number lost.
A deeper tone leaped into the dull roar of the train and told of a gullypassing under the track. It ran off at a slight angle, the dried bedshowing more numerous signs of human labors and habitations, and whenthe train came to a bumping, screeching stop at a ramshackle one-roomstation he knew that he was at the end of his ride and within threestations from the end of the line, which here turned sharply toward thenorthwest, baffled by the treacherous sands of the river, whose bank itparalleled for sixty miles. Had he gone on in the train he would havecome no closer to his objective and would have to face a harder countryfor man and horse. Gunsight, where his three friends were located, layabout a hundred miles southwest of the bend in the track; but because ofthe sharp bend it lay farther from the station beyond. From where henow was, the riding would not be unpleasant and the ford across theriver was shallower, the greater width of the stream offset by a moresluggish current. This ford was treacherous in high water and notpassable after sudden rises for a day or two, because the force of theswollen current stirred up the unstable sands of the bottom. As aveteran of the old cattle trails he knew what a disturbed river bottomoften meant.
The wheezing exhaust and the complaining panting of the all butdiscarded engine added dismal sounds to a dismal view. He stifflydescended the steps, a bulging gunny sack over his shoulder and a rolledblanket and a sheathed rifle fully utilized his other arm and hand.Dropping his burdens to the ground he paused to look around him.
It was just a frontier town, ugly, patched, sprawling, barely existent,and an eyesore even to the uncritical; and cursed further by Kansaspolitics which at this time were not as stalwart as they once had been,reminding one of the mediocre sons of famous fathers. In place of theold daring there now were trickery and subtle meannesses; in place ofhot hatreds were now smoldering grudges; where once old-time politicians"shot it out" in the middle of the street, there now were furtivecrawlings and treacherous shots from the dark. Like all towns it had aname--it will suffice if we know it as Windsor. Being neither in themining country nor on the cattle range, and being in an out-of-the-wayposition even on the merging strip between the two, it undoubtedly wouldhave died a natural death except for the fortuitous chance which had ledthe branch-line railroad to reach its site. The shifting cattle drivesand a short-lived townsite speculation had been the causes for the railscoming; then the drives stopped at nearer terminals and the speculationblew up--but the rails remained. This once flamboyantly heralded"artery of commerce" s
wiftly had atrophied and now was hardly more thana capillary, and its diurnal pulsation was just sufficient to keep thetown about one degree above coma.
Tex sneered openly, luxuriously, aggressively, and for all the world tosee. He promised himself that he would not remain here very long.Before him lay the squalid dirt street with its cans and rubbish, thebloated body of a dog near the platform, a dead cat farther along.There were several two-story frame buildings, evidently built while thetownsite game was on. The rest were one-story shacks, and he rememberedmost of them.
He picked up his belongings and sauntered into the station to wait untilthe agent had finished his business with the train crew, and that didnot take long.
The agent stepped into the dusty, dirty room, coughed, nodded, andpassed into his partitioned office. In a moment he was out again,looked closely at the puncher and decided to risk a smile and a word:"Is there anything I can do for you?" he hazarded.
Tex put his sombrero beside him on the bench and wiped his forehead witha sleeve. He saw that his companion was slight, not too healthy, andappeared to be friendly and intelligent; but in his eyes lay the shadowof fear.
"Mebby you can tell me th' best place to eat an' sleep; an' th' bestplace to buy a horse," he replied.
"Williams' hotel is the best in town, and I'd ask him about the horse.You might do better if you didn't say I recommended him to you."
"Not if you don't want me to," responded Tex, smiling sardonically forsome inexplicable reason. "Reckon he'd eat you because yo're sendin'him trade? Don't worry; I won't say you told me."
"So far as I am concerned it don't matter. It's you I'm thinkingabout."
Tex stretched, crossed his legs, and smiled. "In that case I'll use myown judgment," he replied. "Been workin' for th' railroad very long?"
"Little too long, I'm afraid," answered the agent, coughing again, "butI've been out here only two months." He hesitated, looked a littleself-conscious, and continued. "It's my lungs, you know. I got atransfer for my health. If I can stick it out here I have hopes ofslowly improving, and perhaps of getting entirely well."
"If you can stick it out? Meanin' yo're findin' it too monotonous an'lonely?" queried Tex.
The agent laughed shortly, the look of fear again coming into his eyes."Anything but the first; and so far as being lonely is concerned, I findthat my sister is company enough."
Tex cogitated and recrossed his legs. "From what I have already seen ofthis town I'd gamble she is; but a man's allus a little better off if hecan herd with his own sex once in a while. So it ain't monotonous?Have many trains a day?" he asked, knowing from his perusal of thetime-table that there were but two.
"One in and one out. You passed the other on the siding at Willow, ifyou've come from beyond there."
"Reckon I remember it. Much business here to keep you busy?"
"Not enough to tire even a--lunger!" He said the word bitterly anddefiantly.
"That's a word I never liked," said Tex. "It's too cussed brutal. Somepeople derive a great deal of satisfaction in calling a spade a spade,and that is quite proper so far as spades are concerned; but why gofurther? A man can't allus help a thing like tuberculosis--especiallyif he's makin' a livin' for two. Yo're not very high up here, but Ireckon th' air's right. It's th' winter that's goin' to count ag'in'you. You got to watch that. You might do better across th' westboundary. Any doctor in town?"
"There's a man who calls himself a doctor. His favorite prescription iswhiskey."
"Yeah? For his patients?"
"For his patients and himself, too."
"Huh," grunted the puncher. He cleared his throat. "I once read aboutyore trouble--in a dictionary," he explained, grinning. "It said milkan' aigs, among other things; open air, both capitalized, day an' night;plenty of sleep, no worryin', an' no excitement. Have many heavy boxesto rustle?"
"No," answered the agent, looking curiously at his companion. "I hadplenty of milk and eggs, but the milk is getting scarce and the eggs arefalling off. I--" he stopped abruptly, shrugging his shoulders. "D--nit, man! It isn't so much for myself!"
"No," said Tex, slowly arising. "A man usually feels that way about it.I'm goin' up to th' hotel. May drop around to see you tomorrow if I'min town."
"I'll be mighty glad to see you; but there's no use for you to makeenemies," replied the agent, leading the way outside. He stopped andtook hold of a trunk, to roll it into the building.
"Han's off," said Tex, smiling and pushing him aside. "You forgot whatth' dictionary said. Of course this wouldn't kill you, but I'm stifffrom ridin' in yore palatial trains, mile after weary mile." Rollingthe trunk through the door and against the wall, he picked up hisbelongings, gravely saluted and went on his way whistling cheerily.
The agent looked after him wistfully, shook his head and retired intohis coop.
Tex rambled down the street and entered Williams' hotel, held a briefconversation with the clerk, took up his key, and followed instructions.The second door on the right-hand side, upstairs, let him into a smallroom which contained a chair, bed, and washstand. There was a rag rugbefore the bed, and this touch of high life and affluence received fromhim a grave and dignified bow. "Charmed, I'm sure," he said, and wentover to the window to view the roofs of the shacks below it. He sniffedand decided that somewhere near there was a stable. Putting hisbelongings in a corner, he took out his shaving kit and went to workwith it, after which he walked downstairs, bought a drink and treatedits dispenser to a cigar, which he knew later would be replaced and themoney taken instead.
"Hot," said Tex as though he had made a discovery. "An' close," he addedin an effort not to overlook anything.
"Very," replied the bartender. This made the twenty-third time he hadsaid that word in reply to this undoubted statement of fact sincemorning. He did not know that his companion had used it because it wascolorless and would stamp him, sub-consciously, as being no differentfrom the common human herd in town. "Hottest summer since last year,"said the bartender, also for the twenty-third time. He grinnedexpectantly.
Tex turned the remark over in his mind and laughed suddenly,explosively. "That's a good un! Cussed if it didn't nearly get pastme! 'Hottest summer since last year!' Ha-ha-ha! Cuss it, it is good!"He was on the proper track to make a friend of the second man he hadmet. "Have another cigar," he urged. Good-will and admiration shone onhis face. "Gosh! Have to spring that un on th' boys! Ha-ha-ha!"
"Better spring it before fall--it might not last through th' winter,though some'r tougher'n others," rejoined the bartender, his grinthreatening to inconvenience his ears.
Tex choked and coughed up some of the liquor, the tears starting fromhis eyes. He had meant it for an imitation choke, but misjudged.Coughing and laughing at once he hung onto the bar by his elbows andwrithed from side to side. "Gosh! You oughter--warn a fel--ler!" hereproved. "How'd'y think of 'em like that?"
"Come easy, somehow," chuckled the pleased dispenser of liquor."Stayin' in town long?" he asked.
"Cussed if I know," frankly answered Tex. He became candid andconfidential. "Expectin' a letter, an' I can't leave till it comes.Where's th' post office? Yeah? Guess I can find it, then. Reckon I'lldrift along an' see if there's anythin' come in for me. See youtonight."
Crossing the street he sauntered along it until he came to the buildingwhich sheltered the post office, and he stopped, regarded the sign overits door with open approval, and then gravely salaamed.
"'Williams's Mecca,'" he read. "Sign painters are usually generous withtheir esses. Wonder why? Must be a secret sign of th' guild. Why aremonument works usually called 'monumental'? Huh: Wonder if it is th'same Williams? If it is, where did he ever hear of 'Mecca'?" It was arefreshing change from the names so common to stores in towns of thiskind and size. "An' cussed if it ain't appropriate, too!" he muttered."In a place like this what could more deserve that name than the generalstore and post office, unless it be the saloons, hotels, and gam
blinghouses?" He started for the door, eager to see whom he would meet.
A burly, dark-visaged individual looked up at his entry. He would havebeen amazed had he known that a score of years had slipped from him andthat he was a callow, furtive-eyed man in his early twenties, cringingin a corner with his present visitor standing contemptuously over himand daring him to get up again.
Tex's face remained unchanged, except for a foolish smile which creptover it as he gave greeting. "Though I ain't goin' to pray, I shore amturnin' my face to th' birthplace of th' Prophet," he said. "Yeah, I'meven enterin' its sacred portals." He watched closely for any signs ofrecognition in the other, but failed to detect any; and he was notsurprised.
The heavy face stared at him and a tentative smile tried to change it.The attempt was abortive and the expression shifted to one of alertsuspicion, shaded by one of pugnacity. He was not accustomed to levityat his expense. "What you talkin' about?" he slowly asked.
"Why, th' faith of all true believers: _There is but one God, andMohammed is his Prophet_. May th' blessin's of Allah be on thee.Incidentally I'm askin' if there's a letter for th' pilgrim, Tex Jones?"He cast a careless glance at a cold-eyed individual who lounged in theshadow of a corner, and instantly classified him. Besides the low-slungholster, the man had the face of a cool, paid killer. Tex's interest inhim was not to be correctly judged by the careless glance he gave him.
"Then why in h--l didn't you say so in th' first place, 'stead ofwastin' my valuable time?" growled the proprietor, reluctantly shufflingtoward the mail rack in a corner. He wet his thumb generously, notcaring about the color given to it by the tobacco in his mouth, andclumsily ran through the modest packet of mail. Shaking his head heturned. "There ain't nothin'," he grunted.
"It is Allah's will," muttered Tex in pious resignation. He would havefallen over had there been anything for him.
"Look here, stranger," ominously remarked the proprietor, "if yo'reaimin' to be smart at my expense, look out it don't become yourn. Justwhat's th' meanin' of all these fool remarks?"
"Why, yore emporium is named 'Mecca,' ain't it?" asked Tex innocently,but realizing that he somehow had got on the wrong trail.
"What's that got to do with it?" demanded Williams, who could talk asmean as he cared to while the quiet, cold man sat in the corner.
"Everythin'. Ain't you th' proprietor, like th' barkeep of th' hotelsaid? Ain't you Mr. Williams?"
"I am."
Tex scratched his head, frankly puzzled. "Well," he said, "Mohammedcame out of Mecca to startle th' world, an'----"
"He didn't do nothin' of th' kind!" interrupted the proprietor. "Meccawas out of Prophet, by Mohammed; an' a cussed good hoss she was, too.Though she didn't startle no world, she was my filly, an' plenty goodenough for this part of th' country. Of course, mebby back from whereyou came from, mebby she wouldn't have amounted to much," he sneered."Now, if you got any more smart-Aleck remarks to make, you'll be wise ifyou save 'em till you get outside."
Tex burst out laughing. "It's all my mistake, Mr. Williams. I thoughtyou named yore store after a poem I read once, that's all. No offenseon my part, sir. Are you th' Mr. Williams that keeps th' ho-tel?"
"I am: what about it?"
"I'm puttin' up there," answered Tex. "If a letter comes for me, wouldyou mind puttin' it in yore pocket an' bringin' it over when you gothere? It'll save me from botherin' you every day. Yore friend at th'station said I'd find you right obligin'. An' he knows a good ho-telwhen he sees it. He sent me there."
"That scut!" bellowed Williams, his face growing red. "You'll come afteryore own mail, my man; an' you'll do it polite. There ain't no mailhere for you. Good day!"
"I'm patient an' I can wait. I didn't hardly expect to get any letterso quick, anyhow. After th' recent experience of reasonin' right fromth' wrong premises, however, I'll not be a heap surprised if I get aletter on tomorrow's train. Thank you kindly, sir. I bid you goodday."
"An' mind you don't call that cussed agent no friend of mine, th' jobstealer!"
"Whatever you say; but, don't forget to bring over that letter when itcomes," sweetly replied Tex, and he carefully slammed the door as hewent out. Going down the street he grinned expansively and snapped hisfingers because of a strange elation.
"Th' old thief!" he muttered. "Heavier, more ill tempered, anddownright autocratic--an' how he has prospered! Regular, solid citizen,the bulwark of the commonwealth. An' cussed if he ain't got himself abodyguard; a regular, no-mistake gunman with as mean an eye as any Iever saw. Of course, his brains have improved with the years, for theycouldn't go the other way and keep him out of an asylum. 'Muttonhead'Williams! All right: once a sheep, always a sheep. I'm going to enjoymy stay in Windsor. Good Lord!" he exclaimed as a sudden fancy hit him."Wouldn't it be funny if the old fool has been working hard and savinghard all these years for his old enemy, Tex Ewalt? He always was crazyto play poker, and I got a notion to make it come true. Gosh, if a manever was tempted, I'm tempted now! Muttonhead Williams, allus stuck onhis poker playing. Get behind me, Satan!"