by Max Brand
16
His plan, grown to full stature so swiftly, and springing out ofnothing, well nigh, had come out of his first determination to bringJack Landis back to Lou Macon; for he could interpret those blank, mistyeyes with which she had sat after the departure of Landis in only oneway. Yet to rule even the hand of big Jack Landis would be hard enoughand to rule his heart was quite another story. Remembering Nelly Lebrun,he saw clearly that the only way in which he could be brought back toLou was first to remove Nelly as a possibility in his eyes. But howremove Nelly as long as it was her cue from her father to play Landisfor his money? How remove her, unless it were possible to sweep Nellyoff her feet with another man? She might, indeed, be taken by storm, andif she once slighted Landis for the sake of another, his boyish pridewould probably do the rest, and his next step would be to return to LouMacon.
All this seemed logical, but where find the man to storm the heart ofNelly and dazzle her bright, clever eyes? His own rags had made himshrug his shoulders; and it was the thought of clothes which had madehim fasten his attention so closely on the man of the linen suit inLebrun's. Donnegan with money, with well-fitted clothes, and with a fewnotorious escapades behind him--yes, Donnegan with such a flying startmight flutter the heart of Nelly Lebrun for a moment. But he must havethe money, the clothes, and then he must deliberately set out to startleThe Corner, make himself a public figure, talked of, pointed at, known,feared, respected, and even loved by at least a few. He must accomplishall these things beginning at a literal zero.
It was the impossible nature of this that tempted Donnegan. But theparadoxical picture of the ragged skulker in Milligan's actually sittingat the same table with Nelly Lebrun and receiving her smiles stayed withhim. He intended to rise, literally Phoenixlike, out of ashes. And thenext morning, in the red time of the dawn, he sat drinking the coffeewhich George Washington Green had made for him and considering thedetails of the problem. Clothes, which had been a main obstacle, werenow accounted for, since, as he had suspected, the packs of Godwincontained a luxurious wardrobe of considerable compass. At that moment,for instance, Donnegan was wrapped in a dressing gown of padded silk andhis feet were encased in slippers.
But clothes were the least part of his worries. To startle The Corner,and thereby make himself attractive in the eyes of Nelly Lebrun,overshadowing Jack Landis--that was the thing! But to startle TheCorner, where gold strikes were events of every twenty-four hours, justnow--where robberies were common gossip, and where the killings nowaveraged nearly three a day--to startle The Corner was like trying tostartle the theatrical world with a sensational play. Indeed, thisparallel could have been pursued, for Donnegan was the nameless actorand the mountain desert was the stage on which he intended to become aheadliner. No wonder, then, that his lean face was compressed inthought. Yet no one could have guessed it by his conversation. At themoment he was interrupted, his talk ran somewhat as follows.
"George, Godwin taught you how to make coffee?"
"Yes, sir," from George. Since the night before he had appeared totallysubdued. Never once did he venture a comment. And ever Donnegan wasconscious of big, bright eyes watching him in a reverent fear notuntinged by superstition. Once, in the middle of the night, he hadwakened and seen the vast shadow of George's form leaning over the sackof money. Murder by stealth in the dark had been in the giant's mind, nodoubt. But when, after that, he came and leaned over Donnegan's bunk,the master closed his eyes and kept on breathing regularly, and finallyGeorge returned to his own place--softly as a gigantic cat. Even in themaster's sleep he found something to be dreaded, and Donnegan knew thathe could now trust the fellow through anything. In the morning, at thefirst touch of light, he had gone to the stores and collectedprovisions. And a comfortable breakfast followed.
"Godwin," resumed Donnegan, "was talented in many ways."
The big man showed his teeth in silence; for since Godwin proposed thesacrifice of the servant to preserve himself, George had apparentlyaltered his opinion of the gambler.
"A talented man, George, but he knew nothing about coffee. It shouldnever boil. It should only begin to cream through the crust. Let thathappen; take the pot from the fire; put it back and let the surfacecream again. Do this three times, and then pour the liquid from thegrounds and you have the right strength and the right heating. Youunderstand?"
"Yes, sir."
"And concerning the frying of bacon--"
At this point the interruption came in the shape of four men at the opendoor; and one of these Donnegan recognized as the real estate dealer,who had shrewdly set up tents and shacks on every favorable spot in TheCorner and was now reaping a rich harvest. Gloster was his name. It waspatent that he did not see in the man in the silk dressing robe theunshaven miscreant of the day before who had rented the two tents.
"How'dee," he said, standing on the threshold, with the other three inthe background.
Donnegan looked at him and through him.
"My name is Gloster. I own this shack and I've come to find out whyyou're in it."
"George," said Donnegan, "speak to him. Tel! him that I know houses arescarce in The Corner; that I found this place by accident vacant; that Iintend to stay in it on purpose."
George Washington Green instantly rose to the situation; he swallowed avast grin and strode to the door. And though Mr. Gloster's facecrimsoned with rage at such treatment he controlled his voice. In TheCorner manhood was apt to be reckoned by the pound, and George was agiant.
"I heard what your boss said, buddie," said Gloster. "But I've rentedthis cabin and the next one to these three gents and their party, andthey want a home. Nothing to do but vacate. Which speed is the thing Iwant. Thirty minutes will--"
"Thirty minutes don't change nothing," declared George in his deep, softvoice.
The real estate man choked. Then: "You tell your boss that jumping acabin is like jumping a claim. They's a law in The Corner for gents likehim."
George made a gesture of helplessness; but Gloster turned to the three.
"Both shacks or none at all," said the spokesman. "One ain't big enoughto do us any good. But if this bird won't vamoose--"
He was a tolerably rough-appearing sort and he was backed by two of akind. No doubt dangerous action would have followed had not George shownhimself capable of rising to a height. He stepped from the door; heapproached Gloster and said in a confidential whisper that reachedeasily to the other three: "They ain't any call for a quick play,mister. Watch yo'selves. Maybe you don't know who the boss is?"
"And what's more, I don't care," said Gloster defiantly but with hisvoice instinctively lowered. He stared past George, and behold, the manin the dressing gown still sat in quiet and sipped his coffee.
"It's Donnegan," whispered George.
"Don--who's he?"
"You don't know Donnegan?"
The mingled contempt and astonishment of George would have moved a thingof stone. It certainly troubled Gloster. And he turned to the three.
"Gents," he said, "they's two things we can do. Try the law--and law's alame lady in these parts--or throw him out. Say which?"
The three looked from Gloster to the shack; from the shack to Donnegan,absently sipping his coffee; from Donnegan to George, who stoodexhibiting a broad grin of anticipated delight. The contrast was toomuch for them.
There is one great and deep-seated terror in the mountain desert, andthat is for the man who may be other than he seems. The giant with therough voice and the boisterous ways is generally due for a stormypassage west of the Rockies; but the silent man with the gentle mannersreceives respect. Traditions live of desperadoes with exteriors ofwomanish calm and the action of devils. And Donnegan sipping his morningcoffee fitted into the picture which rumor had painted. The three lookedat one another, declared that they had not come to fight for a house butto rent one, that the real estate agent could go to the devil for all ofthem, and that they were bound elsewhere. So they departed and leftGloster both relieved and gloomy.
"Now," said Donnegan to George, "tell him that we'll take both theshacks, and he can add fifty per cent to his old price."
The bargain was concluded on the spot; the money was paid by George.Gloster went down the hill to tell The Corner that a mystery had hit thetown and George brought the canvas bag back to Donnegan with the topstill untied--as though to let it be seen that he had not pocketed anyof the gold.
"I don't want to count it," said Donnegan. "Keep the bag, George. Keepmoney in your pocket. Treat both of us well. And when that's gone I'llget more."
If the manner in which Donnegan had handled the renting of the cabinshad charmed George, he was wholly entranced by this last touch of freespending. To serve a man who was his master was one thing; to serve onewho trusted him so completely was quite another. To live under the sameroof with a man who was a riddle was sufficiently delightful; but to beallowed actually to share in the mystery was a superhappiness. He wassinging when he started to wash the dishes, and Donnegan went across thehill to the tent of Lou Macon.
She was laying the fire before the tent; and the morning freshness hadcleared from her face any vestige of the trouble of the night before;and in the slant light her hair was glorious, all ruffling gold,semitransparent. She did not smile at him; but she could give the effectof smiling while her face remained grave; it was her inward calm contentof which people were aware.
"You missed me?"
"Yes."
"You were worried?"
"No."
He felt himself put quietly at a distance. So he took her up the hill toher new home--the shack beside his own; and George cooked her breakfast.When she had been served, Donnegan drew the big man to one side.
"She's your mistress," said Donnegan. "Everything you do for her isworth two things you do for me. Watch her as if she were in your eye.And if a hair of her head is ever harmed--you see that fire burningyonder--the bed of coals?"
"Sir?"
"I'll catch you and make a fire like that and feed you into it--byinches!"
And the pale face of Donnegan became for an instant the face of a demon.George Washington Green saw, and never forgot.
Afterward, in order that he might think, Donnegan got on one of thehorses he had taken from Godwin and rode over the hills. They were bothleggy chestnuts, with surprising signs of blood' and all the earmarks ofsprinters; but in Godwin's trade sharp getaways were probably oftennecessary. The pleasure he took in the action of the animal kept himfrom getting into his problem.
How to startle The Corner? How follow up the opening gun which he hadfired at the expense of Gloster and the three miners?
He broke off, later in the day, to write a letter to Colonel Macon,informing him that Jack Landis was tied hard and fast by Nelly Lebrunand that for the present nothing could be done except wait, unless thecolonel had suggestions to offer.
The thought of the colonel, however, stimulated Donnegan. And beforemidafternoon he had thought of a thing to do.