'Firebrand' Trevison by Charles Alden Seltzer (ebook reader for manga .TXT) đ
But Miss Benham had caught her first glimpse of Manti and the surrounding country from a window of her berth in the car that morning just at dawn, and she loved it. She had lain for some time cuddled up in her bed, watching the sun rise over the distant mountains, and the breath of the sage, sweeping into the half-opened window, had carried with it something stronger--the lure of a virgin country.
Aunt Agatha Benham, chaperon, forty--maiden lady from choice--various uncharitable persons hinted humorously of pursued eligibles--found Rosalind gazing ecstatically out of the berth window when she stirred and awoke shortly after nine. Agatha climbed out of her berth and sat on its edge, yawning sleepily.
"This is Manti, I suppose," she said acridly, shov
Read free book «'Firebrand' Trevison by Charles Alden Seltzer (ebook reader for manga .TXT) đ» - read online or download for free at americanlibrarybooks.com
- Author: Charles Alden Seltzer
- Performer: -
Read book online «'Firebrand' Trevison by Charles Alden Seltzer (ebook reader for manga .TXT) đ». Author - Charles Alden Seltzer
Corriganâs smile was bitter as he again walked into the rear room and surveyed his reflection in the glass. Disgusted, he turned to one of the windows and looked out. From where he stood he could see straight down the railroad tracks to the cut, down the wall of which, some hours before, Trevison had ridden the black horse. The dinky engine, with its train of flat-cars, was steaming toward him. As he watched, engine and cars struck the switch and ran onto the siding, where they came to a stop. Corrigan frowned and looked at his watch. It lacked fully three hours to quitting time, and the cars were empty, save for the laborers draped on them, their tools piled in heaps. While Corrigan watched, the laborers descended from the cars and swarmed toward their quartersâa row of tent-houses near the siding. A big manâCorrigan knew him later as Patrick Carsonâswung down from the engine-cab and lumbered toward the little frame station house, in a window of which the telegrapher could be seen, idly scanning a week-old newspaper. Carson spoke shortly to the telegrapher, at which the latter motioned toward the bank building and the private car. Then Carson came toward the bank building. An instant later, Carson came in the front door and met Corrigan at the wire netting.
âHullo,â said the Irishman, without preliminaries; âthe agent was tellinâ me Iâd find a mon named Corrigan here. Youâre in charge, eh?â he added at Corriganâs affirmative. âWell, bedad, somebodyâs got to be in charge from now on. The Willie-boy engineer from who Iâve been takinâ me orders has sneaked away to Dry Bottom for a couple av days, shovinâ the raysponsibility on meâanâ I ainât feelinâ up to it. Iâm a daisy construction boss, if I do say it meself, but I ainât enough of a fightinâ mon to buck the business end av a six-shooter.â
âWhatâs up?â
âMebbe youâd knowâhe said youâd be sure to. Iâve been parleyinâ wid a felloâ named âFirebrandâ Trevison, anâ Iâm that soaked wid perspiration that me boots is full av it, after me thryinâ to urge him to be dacently careful wid his gun!â
âWhat happened?â asked Corrigan, darkly.
âThis mon Trevison came down through the cut this morninâ, goinâ to town. He was pleasant as a mon whoâs had a raise in wages, anâ he was joshinâ wid us. A while ago he comes back from town, anâ heâs that cold anâ polite that heâd freeze ye while heâs takinâ his hat off to ye. One av his arms is busted, anâ heâs got a welt or two on his face. But outside av that heâs all right. He rides down into the cut where weâre all workinâ fit to kill ourselves. He halts his big black horse about forty or fifty feet away from the olâ rattle-box that runs the steam shovel, anâ he grins like a tiger at me anâ says:
ââCarson, Iâm wantinâ you to pull your min off. I canât permit anny railroad min on the Diamond K property. Youâre a friend av mine, anâ all that, but youâll have to pull your freight. Youâve got tin minutes.â
ââIâve got me orders to do this work,â I saysâbegging his pardon.
ââHereâs your orders to stop doinâ it!â he comes back. Anâ I was inspectinâ the muzzle av his six-shooter.
ââYe wudnât shoot a mon for doinâ his duthy?â I says.
ââThry me,â he says. âYouâre trespassers. The railroad company didnât come through wid the coin for the right-of-way. Your mon, Corrigan, has got an idee that heâs goinâ to bluff me. Iâm callinâ his bluff. Youâve got tin minutes to get out av here. At the end av that time I begin to shoot. Iâve got six cattridges in the gun, anâ fifty more in the belt around me middle. Anâ I seldom miss whin I shoot. Itâs up to you whether I start a cemetery here or not,â he says, cold anâ caâmlike.
âThe ginneys knowed somethinâ was up, anâ they crowded around. I thought Trevison was thryinâ to run a bluff on me, anâ I give orders for the ginneys to go back to their work.
âTrevison didnât say another word, but at the end av the tin minutes he grins that tiger grin av his anâ busts the safety valve on the rattle-box wid a shot from his pistol. He smashes the water-gauge wid another, anâ jammed one shot in the olâ rattle-boxâs entrails, anâ she starts to blow off steamââshriekinâ like a soul in hell. The ginneys throwed down their tools anâ started to climb up the walls of the cut like a gang av monkeys, Trevison watchinâ thim with a grin as cold as a barrow ful ov icicles. Murphâ, the engineer av the dinky, anâ his fireman, ducks for the engine-cab, lâavinâ me standinâ there to face the music. Trevison yells at the engineer av the rattle-box, anâ he disappears like a rat into a hole. Thin Trevison swings his gun on me, anâ I câuâd feel me knees knockinâ together. âCarson,â he says, âI hate like blazes to do it, but youâre the boss here, anâ these min will do what you tell thim to do. Tell thim to get to hell out of here anâ not come back, or Iâll down you, sure as me nameâs Trevison!â
âIâm old enough to know from lookinâ at a mon whether he manes business or not, anâ Trevison wasnât foolinâ. So I got the bhoys away, anâ here we are. If youâre in charge, itâs up to you to smooth things out. Though from the looks av your mug âFirebrandâsâ been maulinâ you some, too!â
Corriganâs answer was a cold glare. âYou quit without a fight, eh?â he taunted; âyou let one man bluff half a hundred of you!â
Carsonâs eyes brightened. âMy recollection is that âFirebrandâ is still holdinâ the forrt. Whin I got me last look at him he was sittinâ on the top av the cut, like he was intendinâ to stay there indefinite. If ye think heâs bluffinâ, mebbe itâd be quite an idee for you to go out there yourself, anâ call it. Iâd be willinâ to give ye me moral support.â
âIâll call him when I get ready.â Corrigan went to the desk and sat in the chair, ignoring Carson, who watched him narrowly. Presently he turned and spoke to the man:
âPut your men at work trueing up the roadbed on the next section back, until further orders.â
âAnâ let âFirebrandâ hold the forrt?â
âDo as youâre told!â
Carson went out to his men. Near the station platform he turned and looked back at the bank building, grinning. âThereâs two bulldogs cominâ to grips in this deal or Iâm a domn poor prophet!â he said.
When Braman returned from his errand he found Corrigan staring out of the window. The banker announced that Miss Benham had received Corriganâs message with considerable equanimity, and was rewarded for his levity with a frown.
âWhatâs Carson and his gang doing in town?â he queried.
Corrigan told him, briefly. The banker whistled in astonishment, and his face grew long. âI told you he is a tough one!â he reminded.
Corrigan got to his feet. âYesâheâs a tough one,â he admitted. âIâm forced to alter my plans a littleâthatâs all. But Iâll get him. Hunt up something to eat,â he directed; âIâm hungry. Iâm going to the station for a few minutes.â
He went out, and the banker watched him until he vanished around the corner of a building. Then Braman shook his head. âJeffâs resourceful,â he said. âBut Trevisonââ His face grew solemn. âWhat a damned fool I was to trip him with that broom!â He drew a pistol from a pocket and examined it intently, then returned it to the pocket and sat, staring with unseeing eyes beyond the station at the two lines of steel that ran out upon the plains and stopped in the deep cut on the crest of which he could see a man on a black horse.
Down at the station Corrigan was leaning on a rough wooden counter, writing on a yellow paper pad. When he had finished he shoved the paper over to the telegrapher, who had been waiting:
J. Chalfant Benham, Bâ Building, New York.
Unexpected opposition developed. Trevison. Give Lindman removal order immediately. Communicate with me at Dry Bottom tomorrow morning. Corrigan.
Corrigan watched the operator send the message and then he returned to the bank building, where he found Braman setting out a meager lunch in the rear room. The two men talked as they ate, mostly about Trevison, and the bankerâs face did not lose its worried expression. Later they smoked and talked and watched while the afternoon sun grew mellow; while the somber twilight descended over the world and darkness came and obliterated the hill on which sat the rider of the black horse.
Shortly after dark Corrigan sent the banker on another errand, this time to a boarding-house at the edge of town. Braman returned shortly, announcing: âHeâll be ready.â Then, just before midnight Corrigan climbed into the cab of the engine which had brought the private car, and which was waiting, steam up, several hundred feet down the track from the car.
âAll right!â said Corrigan briskly, to the engineer, as he climbed in and a flare from the fire-box suffused his face; âpull out. But donât make any fuss about itâI donât want those people in the car to know.â And shortly afterwards the locomotive glided silently away into the darkness toward that town in which a judge of the United States Court had, a few hours before, received orders which had caused him to remark, bitterly: âSo does the past shape the future.â
Banker Braman went to bed on the cot in the back room shortly after Corrigan departed from Manti. He stretched himself out with a sigh, oppressed with the conviction that he had done a bad dayâs work in antagonizing Trevison. The Diamond K owner would repay him, he knew. But he knew, too, that he need have no fear that Trevison would sneak about it. Therefore he did not expect to feel Trevison at his throat during the night. That was some satisfaction.
He dropped to sleep, thinking of Trevison. He awoke about dawn to a loud hammering on the rear door, and he scrambled out of bed and opened the door upon the telegraph agent. That gentleman gazed at him with grim reproof.
âHoly Moses!â he said; âyouâre a hell of a tight sleeper! Iâve been pounding on this door for an age!â He shoved a sheet of paper under Bramanâs nose. âHereâs a telegram for you.â
Braman took the telegram, scanning it, while the agent talked on, ramblingly. A sickly smile came over Bramanâs face when he finished reading, and then he listened to the agent:
âI got a wire a little after midnight, asking me if that man, Corrigan, was still in Manti. The engineer told me he was taking Corrigan back to Dry Bottom at midnight, and so I knew he wasnât here, and I clicked back âNo.â It was from J. C. He must have connected with Corrigan at Dry Bottom. That guy Trevison must have old Benhamâs goat, eh?â
Braman re-read the telegram; it was directed to him:
Send my daughter to Trevison with cash in amount of check destroyed by Corrigan yesterday. Instruct her to say mistake made. No offense intended. Hustle. J. C. Benham.
Braman slipped his clothes on and ran down the track to the private car. He had known J. C. Benham several years and was aware that when he issued an order he wanted it obeyed, literally. The
Comments (0)