'Firebrand' Trevison - Charles Alden Seltzer (top 10 books of all time .txt) š
- Author: Charles Alden Seltzer
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Levins hallooed to them. Trevison answered, and he and the Judge walked forward to meet Levins at the crest of the slope.
āSlickerān a whistle!ā declared Levins, answering the question Trevison put to him. āI mailed the damn letter anā come back on the train that brought it to him!ā He grinned felinely at the Judge. āI reckon youāre a heap dry anā hungry by this time?ā
āThe Judge has feasted,ā said Trevison. āIām going after the record. Youāre to stay here with the Judge until I return. Then the three of us will ride to Las Vegas, where we will take a train to Santa Fe, to turn the record over to the Circuit Court.ā
āSounds good!ā gloated Levins. āBut itās too long around. Iām for somethinā more direct. Why not take the Judge with you to Manti, get the record, takinā a bunch of your boys with youāanā salivate that damned Corrigan anā his deputies!ā
Trevison laughed softly. āI donāt want any violence if I can avoid it. My land wonāt run away while weāre in Santa Fe. And the Judge doesnāt want to meet Corrigan just now. I donāt know that I blame him.ā
āWhereās the record?ā
Trevison told him, and Levins grumbled. āCorriganāll have his deputies guardinā the courthouse, most likely. If you run agāin āem, theyāll bore you, sure as hell!ā
āIāll take care of myselfāI promise you that!ā he laughed, and the Judge shuddered at the sound. He vanished into the darkness of the ledge, returning presently with Nigger, led him down the slope, called a low āSo-longā to the two watchers on the ledge, and rode away into the haze of the plains.
Trevison rode fast, filled with a grim elation. He pitied the Judge. An errorāa momentary weakening of moral courageāhad plunged the jurist into the clutches of Corrigan; he could hardly be held responsible for what had transpiredāhe was a puppet in the hands of an unscrupulous schemer, with a threat of exposure hanging over him. No wonder he feared Corrigan! Trevisonās thoughts grew bitter as they dwelt upon the big man; the old longing to come into violent physical contact with the other seized him, raged within him, brought a harsh laugh to his lips as he rode. But a greater passion than he felt for the Judge or Corrigan tugged at him as he urged the big black over the plains toward the twinkling lights of Mantiāa fierce exultation which centered around Rosalind Benham. She had duped him, betrayed him to his enemy, had played with himābut she had lost!
Yet the thought of his coming victory over her was poignantly unsatisfying. He tried to picture herādid picture herāreceiving the news of Corriganās defeat, and somehow it left him with a feeling of regret. The vengeful delight that he should have felt was absentāhe felt sorry for her. He charged himself with being a fool for yielding to so strange a sentiment, but it lingered persistently. It fed his rage against Corrigan, however, doubled it, for upon him lay the blame.
It was late when he reached the outskirts of Manti. He halted Nigger in the shadow of a shed a hundred yards or so down the track from the courthouse, dismounted and made his way cautiously down the railroad tracks. He was beyond the radius of the lights from various windows that he passed, but he moved stealthily, not knowing whether Corrigan had stationed guards about the courthouse, as Levins had warned. An instant after reaching a point opposite the courthouse he congratulated himself on his discretion, for he caught a glimmer of light at the edge of a window shade in the courthouse, saw several indistinct figures congregated at the side door, outside. He slipped behind a tool shed at the side of the track, and crouching there, watched and listened. A mumbling of voices reached him, but he could distinguish no word. But it was evident that the men outside were awaiting the reappearance of one of their number who had gone into the building.
Trevison watched, impatiently. Then presently the side door opened, letting out a flood of light, which bathed the figures of the waiting men. Trevison scowled, for he recognized them as Corriganās deputies. But he was not surprised, for he had half expected them to be hanging around the building. Two figures stepped down from the door as he watched, and he knew them for Corrigan and Gieger. Corriganās voice reached him.
āThe lock on this door is broken. I had to kick it in this morning. One of you stay inside, here. The rest of you scatter and keep your eyes peeled. Thereās trickery afoot. Judge Lindman didnāt go to Dry Bottomāthe agent says heās sure of that because he saw every man thatās got aboard a train here within the last twenty-four hoursāand Judge Lindman wasnāt among them! Levins was, though; he left on the one-thirty this morning and got back on the six-oāclock, tonight.ā He vanished into the darkness beyond the door, but called back: āIāll be within call. Donāt be afraid to shoot if you see anything suspicious!ā
Trevison saw a man enter the building, and the light was blotted out by the closing of the door. When his eyes were again accustomed to the darkness he observed that the men were standing close togetherāthey seemed to be holding a conference. Then the group split up, three going toward the front of the building; two remaining near the side door, and two others walking around to the rear.
For an instant Trevison regretted that he had not taken Levinsā advice about forming a posse of his own men to take the courthouse by storm, and he debated the thought of postponing action. But there was no telling what might happen during an interval of delay. In his rage over the discovery of the trick that had been played on him Corrigan might tear the interior of the building to pieces. He would be sure to if he suspected the presence of the original record. Trevison did not go for the help that would have been very welcome. Instead, he spent some time twirling the cylinder of his pistol.
He grew tired of crouching after a time and lay flat on his stomach in the shadow of the tool shed, watching the men as they tramped back and forth, around the building. He knew that sooner or later there would be a minute or two of relaxation, and of this he had determined to take advantage. But it was not until sound in the town had perceptibly decreased in volume that there was any sign of the men relaxing their vigil. And then he noted them congregating at the front of the building.
āHell,ā he heard one of them say; āwhatās the use of hittinā that trail all night! Billās inside, anā we can see the door from here. Iām due for a smoke anā a palaver!ā Matches flared up; the sounds of their voices reached Trevison.
Trevison disappointedly relaxed. Then, filled with a sudden decision, he slipped around the back of the tool shed and stole toward the rear of the courthouse. It projected beyond the rear of the bank building, adjoining it, forming an L, into the shadow of which Trevison slipped. He stood there for an instant, breathing rapidly, undecided. The darkness in the shadow was intense, and he was forced to feel his way along the wall for fear of stumbling. He was leaning heavily on his hands, trusting to them rather than to his footing, when the wall seemed to give way under them and he fell forward, striking on his hands and knees. Fortunately, he had made no sound in falling, and he remained in the kneeling position until he got an idea of what had happened. He had fallen across the threshold of a doorway. The door had been unfastened and the pressure of his hands had forced it inward. It was the rear door of the bank building. He looked inward, wondering at Bramanās carelessnessāand stared fixedly straight into a beam of light that shone through a wedge-shaped crevice between two boards in the partition that separated the buildings.
He got up silently, stepped stealthily into the room, closing the door behind him. He tried to fasten it and discovered that the lock was broken. For some time he stood, wondering, and then, giving it up, he made his way cautiously around the room, searching for Bramanās cot. He found that, too, empty, and he decided that some one had broken into the building during Bramanās absence. Moving away from the cot, he stumbled against something soft and yielding, and his pistol flashed into his hand in sinister preparation, for he knew from the feel of the soft object that it was a body, and he suspected that it was Braman, stalking him. He thought that until he remembered the broken lock, on the door, and then the significance of it burst upon him. Whoever had broken the lock had fixed Braman. He knelt swiftly and ran his hands over the prone form, drawing back at last with the low ejaculation: āHeās a goner!ā He had no time or inclination to speculate over the manner of Bramanās death, and made catlike progress toward the crevice in the partition. Reaching it, he dropped on his hands and knees and peered through. A wooden box on the other side of the partition intervened, but above it he could see the form of the deputy. The man was stretched out in a chair, sideways to the crevice in the wall, sleeping. A grin of huge satisfaction spread over Trevisonās face.
His movements were very deliberate and cautious. But in a quarter of an hour he had pulled the board out until an opening was made in the partition, and then propping the board back with a chair he reached through and slowly shoved the box on the other side back far enough to admit his body. Crawling through, he rose on the other side, crossed the floor carefully, kneeled at the drawer where Judge Lindman had concealed the record, pulled it out and stuck it in the waistband of his trousers, in front, his eyes glittering with exultation. Then he began to back toward the opening in the partition. At the instant he was preparing to stoop to crawl back into the bank building, the deputy in the chair yawned, stretched and opened his eyes, staring stupidly at him. There was no mistaking the dancing glitter in Trevisonās eyes, no possible misinterpretation of his tense, throaty whisper: āOne chirp and youāre a dead one!ā And the deputy stiffened in the chair, dumb with astonishment and terror.
The deputy had not seen the opening in the partition, for it was partly hidden from his view by the box which Trevison had encountered in entering, and before the man had an opportunity to look toward the place, Trevison commanded him again, in a sharp, cold whisper:
āGet up and turn your back to meāquick! Any noise and Iāll plug you! Move!ā
The deputy obeyed. Then he received an order to walk to the door without looking back. He readied the doorāhalted.
āNow open it and get out!ā
The man did as bidden; diving headlong out into the darkness, swinging the door shut behind him. His yell to his companions mingled with the roar of Trevisonās pistol as he shattered the kerosene lamp. The bullet hit the neck of the glass bowl, a trifle below the burner, the latter describing a parabola in the air and falling into the ruin of the bowl. The chimney crashed, the flame from the wick touched the oil and flared up brilliantly.
Trevison was
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