'Firebrand' Trevison
"Have you heard what happened in Manti yesterday?" she questioned. "This
man, Trevison, jumped his horse against Mr. Corrigan and knocked him
down."
"I heard av it," grinned Carson. "But I didn't see it. Nor did I see the
daisy scrap that tuk place right after."
"Fight?" she exclaimed.
Carson reddened. "Sure, ye haven't heard av it, an' I'm blabbin' like a
kid."
"Tell me about it." Her eyes were aglow with interest.
"There's devilish little to tell--beggin' your pardon, ma'am. But thim
that was in at the finish is waggin' their tongues about it bein' a dandy
shindy. Judgin' from the talk, nobuddy got licked--it was a fair dhraw.
But I sh'ud judge, lookin' at Corrigan's face, that it was a darlin' av a
scrap."
She was silent, gazing contemplatively out of the car window. Corrigan had
returned, after escorting her to the car, to engage in a fight with
Trevison. That was what had occupied him; that was why he had gone away
without seeing her. Well, Trevison had given him plenty of provocation.
"Trevison's horse knockin' Corrigan down was what started it, they've been
tellin' me," said Carson. "But thim that know Trevison's black knows that
Trevison wasn't to blame."
"Not to blame?" she asked; "why not?"
"For the simple rayson thot in a case like thot the mon has no control
over the baste, ma'am. 'Firebrand' told me only yisterday mornin' thot
there was no holdin' the black whin somebuddy tried to shoot wid him on
his back."
The girl remembered how Trevison had tried to speak to her immediately
after the upsetting of Corrigan, and she knew now, that he had wanted to
explain his action. Reviewing the incident in the light of Carson's
explanation, she felt that Corrigan was quite as much at fault as
Trevison. Somehow, that knowledge was vaguely satisfying.
She did not succeed in questioning Carson further about Trevison, though
there were many points over which she felt a disturbing curiosity, for
Agatha came in presently, and after nodding stiffly to Carson, seated
herself and gazed aloofly out of a window.
Carson, ill at ease in Agatha's presence, soon invented an excuse to go
out upon the platform, leaving Rosalind to explain his presence in the
car.
"What on earth could you have to say to a section boss--or he to you?"
demanded Agatha. "You are becoming very--er--indiscreet, Rosalind."
The girl smiled. It was a smile that would have betrayed the girl had
Agatha possessed the physiognomist's faculty of analyzation, for in it was
much relief and renewed faith. For the rider of the black horse was not
the brutal creature she had thought him.
* * * * *
When the private car came to a stop, Rosalind looked out of the window to
see the steep wall of the cut towering above her. Aunt Agatha still sat
near, and when Rosalind got up Agatha rose also, registering an
objection:
"I think your father might have arranged to have some _man_ meet this
outlaw. It is not, in my opinion, a proper errand for a girl. But if you
are determined to go, I presume I shall have to follow."
"It won't be necessary," said Rosalind. But Agatha set her lips tightly.
And when the girl reached the platform Agatha was close behind her.
But both halted on the platform as they were about to descend the steps.
They heard Carson's voice, loud and argumentative:
"There's a lady aboored, I tell ye! If ye shoot, you're a lot of damned
rapscallions, an' I'll come up there an' bate the head off ye!"
"Stow your gab an' produce the lady!" answered a voice. It came from
above, and Rosalind stepped down to the floor of the cut and looked
upward. On the crest of the southern wall were a dozen men--cowboys--armed
with rifles, peering down at the car. They shifted their gaze to her when
she stepped into view, and one of them laughed.
"Correct, boys," he said; "it's a lady." There was a short silence;
Rosalind saw the men gather close--they were talking, but she could not
hear their voices. Then the man who had spoken first stepped to the edge
of the cut and called: "What do you want?"
The girl answered: "I want to speak with Mr. Trevison."
"Sorry, ma'am," came back the voice; "but Trevison ain't here--he's at the
Diamond K."
Rosalind reached a decision quickly. "Aunty," she said; "I am going to the
Diamond K."
"I forbid you!" said Agatha sternly. "I would not trust you an instant
with those outlaws!"
"Nonsense," smiled Rosalind. "I am coming up," she called to the man on
the crest; "do you mind?"
The man laughed. "I reckon not, ma'am."
Rosalind smiled at Carson, who was watching her admiringly, and to the
smile he answered, pointing eastward to where the slope of the hill melted
into the plains: "You'll have to go thot way, ma'am." He laughed. "You're
perfectly safe wid thim min, ma'am--they're Trevison's--an' Trevison wud
shoot the last mon av thim if they'd harm a hair av your pretty head. Go
along, ma'am, an' God bless ye! Ye'll be savin' a heap av throuble for me
an' me ginneys, an' the railroad company." He looked with bland derision
at Agatha who gave him a glance of scornful reproof as she followed after
her charge.
The girl was panting when she reached the crest of the cut. Agatha was a
little white, possibly more from apprehension than from indignation,
though that emotion had its influence; but their reception could not have
been more formal had it taken place in an eastern drawing-room. For every
hat was off, and each man was trying his best to conceal his interest. And
when men have not seen a woman for a long time, the appearance of a pretty
one makes it rather hard to maintain polite poise. But they succeeded,
which spoke well for their manliness. If they exchanged surreptitious
winks over the appearance of Agatha, they are to be excused, for that
lady's demeanor was one of frigid haughtiness, which is never quite
impressive to those who live close to nature.
In an exchange of words, brief and pointed, Rosalind learned that it was
three miles to the Diamond K ranchhouse, and that Trevison had given
orders not to be disturbed unless the railroad company attempted to
continue work at the cut. Could she borrow one of their horses, and a
guide?
"You bet!" emphatically returned the spokesman who, she learned later, was
Trevison's foreman. She should have the gentlest "cayuse" in the "bunch,"
and the foreman would do the guiding, himself. At which word Agatha,
noting the foreman's enthusiasm, glared coldly at him.
But here Agatha was balked by the insurmountable wall of convention. She
had ridden horses, to be sure, in her younger days; but when the foreman,
at Rosalind's request, offered her a pony, she sniffed scornfully and
marched down the slope toward the private car, saying that if Rosalind was
_determined_ to persist she might persist without _her_ assistance. For
there was no side-saddle in the riding equipment of the outfit. And
Rosalind, quite aware of the prudishness exhibited by her chaperon, and
not unmindful of the mirth that the men were trying their best to keep
concealed, rode on with the foreman, with something resembling
thankfulness for the temporary freedom tugging at her heart.
* * * * *
Trevison had camped all night on the crest of the cut. It was only at dawn
that Barkwell, the foreman who had escorted Rosalind, had appeared at the
cut on his way to town, and discovered him, and then the foreman's plans
were changed and he was dispatched to the Diamond K for reinforcements.
Trevison had ridden back to the Diamond K to care for his arm, which had
pained him frightfully during the night, and at ten o'clock in the morning
he was stretched out, fully dressed and wide awake on the bed in his room
in the ranchhouse, frowningly reviewing the events of the day before.
He was in no good humor, and when he heard Barkwell hallooing from the
yard near the house, he got up and looked out of a window, a scowl on his
face.
Rosalind was not in the best of spirits, herself, for during the ride to
the ranchhouse she had been sending subtly-questioning shafts at the
foreman--questions that mostly concerned Trevison--and they had all fell,
blunted and impotent, from the armor of Barkwell's reticence. But a glance
at Trevison's face, ludicrous in its expression of stunned amazement,
brought a broad smile to her own. She saw his lips form her name, and then
she waited demurely until she saw him coming out of the ranchhouse door
toward her.
He had quite recovered from his surprise, she noted; his manner was that
of the day before, when she had seen him riding the black horse. When she
saw him coming lightly toward her, she at first had eyes for nothing but
his perfect figure, feeling the strength that his close-fitting clothing
revealed so unmistakably, and an unaccountable blush glowed in her cheeks.
And then she observed that his left arm was in a sling, and a flash of
wondering concern swept over her--also unaccountable. And then he was at
her stirrup, smiling up at her broadly and cordially.
"Welcome to the Diamond K, Miss Benham," he said. "Won't you get off your
horse?"
"Thank you; I came on business and must return immediately. There has been
a misunderstanding, my father says. He wired me, directing me to
apologize, for him, for Mr. Corrigan's actions of yesterday. Perhaps Mr.
Corrigan over-stepped his authority--I have no means of knowing." She
passed the morocco bag over to him, and he took it, looking at it in some
perplexity. "You will find cash in there to the amount named by the check
that Mr. Corrigan destroyed. I hope," she added, smiling at him, "that
there will be no more trouble."
"The payment of this money for the right-of-way removes the provocation
for trouble," he laughed. "Barkwell," he directed, turning to the foreman;
"you may go back to the outfit." He looked after the foreman as the latter
rode away, turning presently to Rosalind. "If you will wait a few minutes,
until I stow this money in a safe place, I'll ride back to the cut with
you and pull the boys off."
She had wondered much over the rifles in the hands of his men at the cut.
"Would your men have used their guns?" she asked.
He had turned to go to the house, and he wheeled quickly, astonished.
"Certainly!" he said; "why not?"
"That would be lawlessness, would it not?" It made her shiver slightly to
hear him so frankly confess to murderous designs.
"It was not my quarrel," he said, looking at her narrowly, his brows
contracted. "Law is all right where everybody accepts it as a governor to
their actions. I accept it when it deals fairly with me--when it's just.
Certain rights are mine, and I'll fight for them. This situation was
brought on by Corrigan's obstinacy. We had a fight, and it peeved him
because I wouldn't permit him to hammer my head off. He destroyed the
check, and as the company's option expired yesterday it was unlawful for
the company to trespass on my land."
"Well," she smiled, affected by his vehemence; "we shall have peace now,
presumably. And--" she reddened again "--I want to ask your pardon on my
own account, for speaking to you as I did yesterday. I thought you
brutal--the way you rode your horse over Mr. Corrigan. Mr. Carson assured
me that the horse was to blame."
"I am indebted to Carson," he laughed, bowing. Rosalind watched him go
into the house, and then turned and inspected her surroundings. The house
was big, roomy, with a massive hip roof. A paved gallery stretched the
entire length of the front--she would have liked to rest for a few minutes
in the heavy rocker that stood in its cool shadows. No woman lived here,
she was certain, because there was a lack of evidence of woman's