'Firebrand' Trevison - Charles Alden Seltzer (top 10 books of all time .txt) š
- Author: Charles Alden Seltzer
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Corriganās 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 quartersāa row of tent-houses near the siding. A big manāCorrigan knew him later as Patrick Carsonāswung 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.
āHullo,ā said the Irishman, without preliminaries; āthe agent was tellinā me Iād find a mon named Corrigan here. Youāre in charge, eh?ā he added at Corriganās affirmative. āWell, bedad, somebodyās got to be in charge from now on. The Willie-boy engineer from who Iāve been takinā me orders has sneaked away to Dry Bottom for a couple av days, shovinā the raysponsibility on meāanā I aināt feelinā up to it. Iām a daisy construction boss, if I do say it meself, but I aināt enough of a fightinā mon to buck the business end av a six-shooter.ā
āWhatās up?ā
āMebbe youād knowāhe said youād be sure to. Iāve been parleyinā wid a felloā named āFirebrandā Trevison, anā Iām that soaked wid perspiration that me boots is full av it, after me thryinā to urge him to be dacently careful wid his gun!ā
āWhat happened?ā asked Corrigan, darkly.
āThis mon Trevison came down through the cut this morninā, goinā to town. He was pleasant as a mon whoās had a raise in wages, anā he was joshinā wid us. A while ago he comes back from town, anā heās that cold anā polite that heād freeze ye while heās takinā his hat off to ye. One av his arms is busted, anā heās got a welt or two on his face. But outside av that heās all right. He rides down into the cut where weāre all workinā fit to kill ourselves. He halts his big black horse about forty or fifty feet away from the olā rattle-box that runs the steam shovel, anā he grins like a tiger at me anā says:
āāCarson, Iām wantinā you to pull your min off. I canāt permit anny railroad min on the Diamond K property. Youāre a friend av mine, anā all that, but youāll have to pull your freight. Youāve got tin minutes.ā
āāIāve got me orders to do this work,ā I saysābegging his pardon.
āāHereās your orders to stop doinā it!ā he comes back. Anā I was inspectinā the muzzle av his six-shooter.
āāYe wudnāt shoot a mon for doinā his duthy?ā I says.
āāThry me,ā he says. āYouāre trespassers. The railroad company didnāt come through wid the coin for the right-of-way. Your mon, Corrigan, has got an idee that heās goinā to bluff me. Iām callinā his bluff. Youāve got tin minutes to get out av here. At the end av that time I begin to shoot. Iāve got six cattridges in the gun, anā fifty more in the belt around me middle. Anā I seldom miss whin I shoot. Itās up to you whether I start a cemetery here or not,ā he says, cold anā caāmlike.
āThe ginneys knowed somethinā was up, anā they crowded around. I thought Trevison was thryinā to run a bluff on me, anā I give orders for the ginneys to go back to their work.
āTrevison didnāt say another word, but at the end av the tin minutes he grins that tiger grin av his anā busts the safety valve on the rattle-box wid a shot from his pistol. He smashes the water-gauge wid another, anā jammed one shot in the olā rattle-boxās entrails, anā she starts to blow off steamāāshriekinā like a soul in hell. The ginneys throwed down their tools anā started to climb up the walls of the cut like a gang av monkeys, Trevison watchinā thim with a grin as cold as a barrow ful ov icicles. Murphā, the engineer av the dinky, anā his fireman, ducks for the engine-cab, lāavinā me standinā there to face the music. Trevison yells at the engineer av the rattle-box, anā he disappears like a rat into a hole. Thin Trevison swings his gun on me, anā I cāuād feel me knees knockinā together. āCarson,ā he says, āI hate like blazes to do it, but youāre the boss here, anā these min will do what you tell thim to do. Tell thim to get to hell out of here anā not come back, or Iāll down you, sure as me nameās Trevison!ā
āIām old enough to know from lookinā at a mon whether he manes business or not, anā Trevison wasnāt foolinā. So I got the bhoys away, anā here we are. If youāre in charge, itās up to you to smooth things out. Though from the looks av your mug āFirebrandāsā been maulinā you some, too!ā
Corriganās answer was a cold glare. āYou quit without a fight, eh?ā he taunted; āyou let one man bluff half a hundred of you!ā
Carsonās eyes brightened. āMy recollection is that āFirebrandā is still holdinā the forrt. Whin I got me last look at him he was sittinā on the top av the cut, like he was intendinā to stay there indefinite. If ye think heās bluffinā, mebbe itād be quite an idee for you to go out there yourself, anā call it. Iād be willinā to give ye me moral support.ā
āIāll call him when I get ready.ā Corrigan went to the desk and sat in the chair, ignoring Carson, who watched him narrowly. Presently he turned and spoke to the man:
āPut your men at work trueing up the roadbed on the next section back, until further orders.ā
āAnā let āFirebrandā hold the forrt?ā
āDo as youāre told!ā
Carson went out to his men. Near the station platform he turned and looked back at the bank building, grinning. āThereās two bulldogs cominā to grips in this deal or Iām a domn poor prophet!ā he said.
When Braman returned from his errand he found Corrigan staring out of the window. The banker announced that Miss Benham had received Corriganās message with considerable equanimity, and was rewarded for his levity with a frown.
āWhatās Carson and his gang doing in town?ā he queried.
Corrigan told him, briefly. The banker whistled in astonishment, and his face grew long. āI told you he is a tough one!ā he reminded.
Corrigan got to his feet. āYesāheās a tough one,ā he admitted. āIām forced to alter my plans a littleāthatās all. But Iāll get him. Hunt up something to eat,ā he directed; āIām hungry. Iām going to the station for a few minutes.ā
He went out, and the banker watched him until he vanished around the corner of a building. Then Braman shook his head. āJeffās resourceful,ā he said. āBut Trevisonāā His face grew solemn. āWhat a damned fool I was to trip him with that broom!ā 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, Bā 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 bankerās 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: āHeāll be ready.ā 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.
āAll right!ā said Corrigan briskly, to the engineer, as he climbed in and a flare from the fire-box suffused his face; āpull out. But donāt make any fuss about itāI donāt want those people in the car to know.ā 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: āSo does the past shape the future.ā
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 dayās 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.
āHoly Moses!ā he said; āyouāre a hell of a tight sleeper! Iāve been pounding on this door for an age!ā He shoved a sheet of paper under Bramanās nose. āHereās a telegram for you.ā
Braman took the telegram, scanning it, while the agent talked on, ramblingly. A sickly smile came over Bramanās face when he finished reading, and then he listened to the agent:
āI 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 wasnāt here, and I clicked back āNo.ā It was from J. C. He must have connected with Corrigan at Dry Bottom. That guy Trevison must have old Benhamās goat, eh?ā
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
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