'Firebrand' Trevison
"Wait!" Trevison had conquered the first surge of passion; his grin was
cold and bitter as he crossed glances with his foreman. "Don't do
anything--yet. I'm going to play the peace string out. If it doesn't work,
why then--" He tapped his pistol holster significantly.
"You get a few of the boys and stay here with them. It isn't probable that
they'll try anything like that again, because they've got what they
wanted. But if they happen to come again, hold them until I come. I'm
going to court."
Later, in Manti, he was sitting opposite Graney in a room in the hotel to
which the Judge had gone.
"H'm," said the latter, compressing his lips; "that's sharp practice. They
are not wasting any time."
"Was it legal?"
"The law is elastic--some judges stretch it more than others. A
search-warrant and a writ of attachment probably did the business in this
case. What I can't understand is why Judge Lindman issued the writ at
all--if he did so. You are the defendant, and you certainly would have
brought the deed into court as a means of proving your case."
Trevison had mentioned the missing money, though he did not think it
important to explain where it had come from. And Judge Graney did not ask
him. But when court opened at the appointed time, with a dignity which was
a mockery to Trevison, and Judge Graney had explained that he had come to
represent the defendant in the action, he mildly inquired the reason for
the forcible entry into his client's house, explaining also that since the
defendant was required to prove his case it was optional with him whether
or not the deed be brought into court at all.
Corrigan had been on time; he had nodded curtly to Trevison when he had
entered to take the chair in which he now sat, and had smiled when
Trevison had deliberately turned his back. He smiled when Judge Graney
asked the question--a faint, evanescent smirk. But at Judge Lindman's
reply he sat staring stolidly, his face an impenetrable mask:
"There was no mention of a deed in the writ of attachment issued by the
court. Nor has the court any knowledge of the existence of such a deed.
The officers of the court were commanded to proceed to the defendant's
house, for the purpose of finding, if possible, and delivering to this
court the sum of twenty-seven hundred dollars, which amount, representing
the money paid to the defendant by the railroad company for certain grants
and privileges, is to remain in possession of the court until the title to
the land in litigation has been legally awarded."
"But the court officers seized the defendant's deed, also," objected Judge
Graney.
Judge Lindman questioned a deputy who sat in the rear of the room. The
latter replied that he had seen no deed. Yes, he admitted, in reply to a
question of Judge Graney's, it might have been possible that Corrigan had
been alone in the office for a time.
Graney looked inquiringly at Corrigan. The latter looked steadily back at
him. "I saw no deed," he said, coolly. "In fact, it wouldn't be _possible_
for me to see any deed, for Trevison has no title to the property he
speaks of."
Judge Graney made a gesture of impotence to Trevison, then spoke slowly to
the court. "I am afraid that without the deed it will be impossible for us
to proceed. I ask a continuance until a search can be made."
Judge Lindman coughed. "I shall have to refuse the request. The plaintiff
is anxious to take possession of his property, and as no reason has been
shown why he should not be permitted to do so, I hereby return judgment in
his favor. Court is dismissed."
"I give notice of appeal," said Graney.
Outside a little later Judge Graney looked gravely at Trevison. "There's
knavery here, my boy; there's some sort of influence behind Lindman. Let's
see some of the other owners who are likely to be affected."
This task took them two days, and resulted in the discovery that no other
owner had secured a deed to his land. Lefingwell explained the omission.
"A sale is a sale," he said; "or a sale _has_ been a sale until now. Land
has changed hands out here just the same as we'd trade a horse for a cow
or a pipe for a jack-knife. There was no questions asked. When a man had a
piece of land to sell, he sold it, got his money an' didn't bother to give
a receipt. Half the damn fools in this country wouldn't know a deed from a
marriage license, an' they haven't been needin' one or the other. For when
a man has a wife she's continually remindin' him of it, an' he can't
forget it--he's got her. It's the same with his land--he's got it. So far
as I know there's never been a deed issued for my land--or any of the land
in that Midland grant, except Trevison's."
"It looks as though Corrigan had considered that phase of the matter,"
dryly observed Judge Graney. "The case doesn't look very hopeful. However,
I shall take it before the Circuit Court of Appeals, in Santa Fe."
He was gone a week, and returned, disgusted, but determined.
"They denied our appeal; said they might have considered it if we had some
evidence to offer showing that we had some sort of a claim to the title.
When I told them of my conviction that the records had been tampered with,
they laughed at me." The Judge's eyes gleamed indignantly. "Sometimes, I
feel heartily in sympathy with people who rail at the courts--their
attitude is often positively asinine."
"Perhaps the long arm of power has reached to Santa Fe?" suggested
Trevison.
"It won't reach to Washington," declared the Judge, decisively. "And if
you say the word, I'll go there and see what I can do. It's an outrage!"
"I was hoping you'd go--there's no limit," said Trevison. "But as I see
the situation, everything depends upon the discovery of the original
record. I'm convinced that it is still in existence, and that Judge
Lindman knows where it is. I'm going to get it, or--"
"Easy, my friend," cautioned the Judge. "I know how you feel. But you
can't fight the law with lawlessness. You lie quiet until you hear from
me. That is all there is to be done, anyway--win or lose."
Trevison clenched his teeth. "I might feel that way about it, if I had
been as careless of my interests as the other owners here, but I
safeguarded my interests, trusted them to the regularly recognized law out
here, and I'm going to fight for them! Why, good God, man; I've worked ten
years for that land! Do you think I will see it go _without_ a fight?" He
laughed, and the Judge shook his head at the sound.
CHAPTER XV
A MUTUAL BENEFIT ASSOCIATION
Unheeding the drama that was rapidly and invisibly (except for the
incident of Braman and the window) working itself out in its midst, Manti
lunged forward on the path of progress, each day growing larger, busier,
more noisy and more important. Perhaps Manti did not heed, because Manti
was itself a drama--the drama of creation. Each resident, each newcomer,
settled quickly and firmly into the place that desire or ambition or greed
urged him; put forth whatever energy nature had endowed him with, and
pushed on toward the goal toward which the town was striving--success;
collectively winning, unrecking of individual failure or tragedy--those
things were to be expected, and they fell into the limbo of forgotten
things, easily and unnoticed. Wrecks, disasters, were certain. They
came--turmoil engulfed them.
Which is to say that during the two weeks that had elapsed since the
departure of Judge Graney for Washington, Manti had paid very little
attention to "Brand" Trevison while he haunted the telegraph station and
the post-office for news. He was pointed out, it is true, as the man who
had hurled banker Braman through the window of his bank building; there
was a hazy understanding that he was having some sort of trouble with
Corrigan over some land titles, but in the main Manti buzzed along, busy
with its visions and its troubles, leaving Trevison with his.
The inaction, with the imminence of failure after ten years of effort, had
its effect on Trevison. It fretted him; he looked years older; he looked
worried and harassed; he longed for a chance to come to grips in an
encounter that would ease the strain. Physical action it must be, for his
brain was a muddle of passion and hatred in which clear thoughts, schemes,
plans, plots, were swallowed and lost. He wanted to come into physical
contact with the men and things that were thwarting him; he wanted to feel
the thud and jar of blows; to catch the hot breath of open antagonism; he
yearned to feel the strain of muscles--this fighting in the dark with
courts and laws and lawyers, according to rules and customs, filled him
with a raging impotence that hurt him. And then, at the end of two weeks
came a telegram from Judge Graney, saying merely: "Be patient. It's a long
trail."
Trevison got on Nigger and returned to the Diamond K.
The six o'clock train arrived in Manti that evening with many passengers,
among whom was a woman of twenty-eight at whom men turned to look the
second time. Her traveling suit spoke eloquently of that personal quality
which a language, seeking new and expressive phrases describes as "class."
It fitted her smoothly, tightly, revealing certain lines of her graceful
figure that made various citizens of Manti gasp. "Looks like she'd been
poured into it," remarked an interested lounger. She lingered on the
station platform until she saw her trunks safely deposited, and then,
drawing her skirts as though fearful of contamination, she walked,
self-possessed and cool, through the doorway of the _Castle_
hotel--Manti's aristocrat of hostelries.
Shortly afterwards she admitted Corrigan to her room. She had changed from
her traveling suit to a gown of some soft, glossy material that
accentuated the lines revealed by the discarded habit. The worldly-wise
would have viewed the lady with a certain expressive smile that might have
meant much or nothing. And the lady would have looked upon that smile as
she now looked at Corrigan, with a faint defiance that had quite a little
daring in it. But in the present case there was an added expression--two,
in fact--pleasure and expectancy.
"Well--I'm here." She bowed, mockingly, laughingly, compressing her lips
as she noted the quick fire that flamed in her visitor's eyes.
"That's all over, Jeff; I won't go back to it. If that's why--"
"That's all right," he said, smiling as he took the chair she waved him
to; "I've erased a page or two from the past, myself. But I can't help
admiring you; you certainly are looking fine! What have you been doing to
yourself?"
She draped herself in a chair where she could look straight at him, and
his compliment made her mouth harden at the corners.
"Well," she said; "in your letter you promised you'd take me into your
confidence. I'm ready."
"It's purely a business proposition. Each realizes on his effort. You help
me to get Rosalind Benham through the simple process of fascinating
Trevison; I help you to get Trevison by getting Miss Benham. It's a sort
of mutual benefit association, as it were."
"What does Trevison look like, Jeff--tell me?" The woman leaned forward in
her chair, her eyes glowing.
"Oh, you women!" said Corrigan, with a gesture of disgust. "He's a
handsome fool," he added; "if that's what you want to know. But I haven't
any compliments to hand him regarding his manners--he's a wild man!"
"I'd love to see him!" breathed the woman.
"Well, keep your hair on; you'll see him soon enough. But you've got to
understand this: He's on my land, and he gets off without further
fighting--if you can hold him. That's understood, eh? You win him back and
get him away from here. If you double-cross me, he finds out what you
are!" He flung the words at her, roughly.