The Trail Horde - Charles Alden Seltzer (bill gates books recommendations txt) 📗

as his dad was, I reckon. Luke was——"

"About Kane Lawler," interrupted the woman. "You say he is well educated?"

"That's about the only thing I've got ag'in' him, ma'am. I hold that no cattleman has got a right to know so durned much. It's mighty dangerous—to his folks—if he ever gets any. Now take Kane Lawler. If he was to marry a girl that wasn't educated like him, an' he'd begin to get fool notions about hisself—why, it'd make it pretty hard for the girl to get along with him." He grinned. "But accordin' to what I hear, Kane ain't goin' to marry no ignoramus exactly, for he's took a shine to Ruth Hamlin, Willets' school teacher. She's got a heap of brains, that girl, an' I reckon she'd lope alongside of Kane, wherever he went."

The woman frowned. "Is Mr. Lawler going to marry Ruth Hamlin?"

Corwin looked sharply at her. "What do you suppose he's fannin' up to her for?" he demanded. "Neither of them is a heap flighty, I reckon. An' Kane will marry her if she'll have him—accordin' to the way things generally go."

The woman smiled as she left Corwin and joined the older woman at the front of the store. She smiled as she talked with the other woman, and she smiled as they both walked out of the store and climbed into a buckboard. The smile was one that would have puzzled Corwin, for it was inscrutable, baffling. Only one thing Corwin might have seen in it—determination. And that might have puzzled him, also.

CHAPTER VI THE INVISIBLE POWER

Jay Simmons, the freight agent, was tilted comfortably in a chair near a window looking out upon the railroad platform when Lawler stepped into the office. The office was on the second floor, and from a side window the agent had seen Lawler coming toward the station from Warden's office. He had been sitting near the side window, but when he saw Lawler approaching the station he had drawn his chair to one of the front windows. And now, apparently, he was surprised to see Lawler, for when the latter opened the door of the office Simmons exclaimed, with assumed heartiness:

"Well, if it ain't Kane Lawler!"

Simmons was a rotund man, bald, with red hair that had a faded, washed-out appearance. His eyes were large, pale blue in color, with a singularly ingratiating expression which was made almost yearning by light, colorless lashes.

Simmons' eyes, however, were unreliable as an index to his character. One could not examine very far into them. They seemed to be shallow, baffling. Simmons did not permit his eyes to betray his thoughts. He used them as masks to hide from prying eyes the things that he did not wish others to see.

"Come a-visitin', Lawler?" asked Simmons as Lawler halted midway in the room and smiled faintly at the greeting he received.

"Not exactly, Simmons."

"Not exactly, eh? I reckon that means you've got some business. I'll be glad to help you out—if I can."

"I'm going to ship my stock East, Simmons, and I'm wanting cars for them—eight thousand head."

Simmons still sat in the chair beside the window. He now pursed his lips, drew his brows together and surveyed Lawler attentively.

"Eight thousand head, eh? Sort of whooped 'em up this season, didn't you. I reckon Gary Warden took 'em all?"

"Warden and I couldn't get together. I'm shipping them East, myself."

"Consignin' 'em to who?"

"They'll go to Legget and Mellert."

"H'm; they're an independent concern, ain't they?"

"Yes; that's the firm my father shipped to before Jim Lefingwell opened an office here."

Simmons locked his fingers together and squinted his eyes at Lawler.

"H'm," he said. Then he was silent, seemingly meditating. Then he shook his head slowly from side to side. Apparently he was gravely considering a problem and could find no solution for it.

He cleared his throat, looked at Lawler, then away from him.

"I reckon it's goin' to be a lot bothersome to ship that bunch of stock, Lawler—a heap bothersome. There's been half a dozen other owners in to see me within the last week or so, an' I couldn't give them no encouragement. There ain't an empty car in the state."

Lawler was watching him intently, and the expression in his eyes embarrassed Simmons. He flushed, cleared his throat again, and then shot a belligerent glance at Lawler.

"It ain't my fault—not a bit of it, Lawler. I've been losin' sleep over this thing—losin' sleep, I tell you! I've telegraphed every damned point on the line. This road is swept clean as a whistle. 'No cars' they wire back to me—'no cars!' I've read that answer until there ain't no room for anything else in my brain.

"The worst of it is, I'm gettin' blamed for it. You'd think I was runnin' the damned railroad—that I was givin' orders to the president. Lem Caldwell, of the Star, over to Keegles, was in here yesterday, threatenin' to herd ride me if I didn't have a hundred cars here this day, week. He'd been to see Gary Warden—the same as you have—an' he was figgerin' on playin' her independent. An' some more owners have been in. I don't know what in hell the company is thinkin' of—no cars, an' the round-up just over."

Simmons had worked himself into a near frenzy. His face had become bloated with passion, he was breathing fast. But Lawler noted that his eyes were shifty, that he turned them everywhere except upon Lawler.

Simmons now paused, seemingly having exhausted his breath.

"I've just left Gary Warden," said Lawler, slowly. "He offered his price for my stock. He told me if I accepted, it meant there would be no delay, that they would be shipped immediately. Warden seems to know where he can get cars."

Simmons' face reddened deeply, the flush suffusing his neck and ears. He shot one swift glance at Lawler, and then looked down. In that swift glance, however, Lawler had seen a fleeting gleam of guilt, of insincerity.

Lawler laughed shortly—a sound that made Simmons shoot another swift glance at him.

"How is it that Gary Warden figures on getting cars, Simmons?" said Lawler.

Simmons got up, his face flaming with rage.

"You're accusin' me of holdin' somethin' back, eh? You're callin' me a liar! You're thinkin' I'm——"

"Easy, there, Simmons."

There was a chill in Lawler's voice that brought Simmons rigid with a snap—as though he had suddenly been drenched with cold water. The flush left his face; he drew a deep, quick breath; then stood with open mouth, watching Lawler.

"Simmons," said the latter; "it has been my experience that whenever a man is touchy about his veracity, he will bear watching. You and Gary Warden have both flared up from the same spark. I don't know whether this thing has been framed up or not. But it looks mighty suspicious. It is the first time there has been a lack of cars after a round-up. Curiously, the lack of cars is coincident with Gary Warden's first season as a buyer of cattle.

"I don't say that you've got anything to do with it, but it's mighty plain you know something about it. I'm not asking you to tell what you know, because if there is a frame-up, it's a mighty big thing, and you are about as important a figure in it as a yellow coyote in a desert. I reckon that's all, Simmons. You can tell your boss that Kane Lawler says he can go to hell."

He wheeled, crossed the floor, went out of the room and left the door open behind him. Simmons could hear his step on the stairs. Then Simmons sat down again, drew a big red bandanna handkerchief from a hip pocket and wiped some big beads of perspiration from his forehead. He was breathing fast, and his face was mottled with purple spots. He got up, ran to a side window, and watched Lawler until the latter vanished behind a building opposite Gary Warden's office.

Again Simmons mopped his brow. And now he drew a breath of relief.

"Whew!" he said, aloud; "I'm glad that's over. I've been dreadin' it. He's the only one in the whole bunch that I was afraid of. An' he's wise. There'll be hell in this section, now—pure, unadulterated hell, an' no mistake!"

CHAPTER VII THE COALITION

When Lawler reached Willets' one street he saw a buckboard drawn by two gray horses. The vehicle was headed west, away from him, and the horses were walking. The distance between himself and the buckboard was not great, and he saw that it was occupied by two women—one of them the woman whom he had met at the foot of the stairs leading to Warden's office. The other was elderly, and was looking straight ahead, but the young woman's head was turned toward Lawler at the instant Lawler caught sight of the buckboard. It seemed to him that the young woman must have been watching him, before he became aware of the buckboard, for there was a smile on her face as she looked at him; and when she seemed sure that he was looking she gayly waved a white handkerchief.

Lawler did not answer the signal. He looked around, thinking that perhaps the woman might have waved the handkerchief at some friend she had just left, and when he turned she had her back to him.

Lawler was conscious of a pulse of amusement over the woman's action, though he experienced no fatuous thrill. The woman was frivolous, and had made no appeal to his imagination.

Besides, Lawler was in no mood for frivolous thought. He was having his first experience with the invisible and subtle power that ruled the commerce of the nation, and his thoughts were serious—almost vicious.

Somewhere a mighty hand had halted activity in the Wolf River section; a power, stealthy, sinister, had interfered with the business in which he was vitally interested, interrupting it, disturbing it.

Lawler had kept himself well informed. In the big library at the Circle L were various volumes relating to economics that had been well thumbed by him. He had been privately educated, by his mother. And among the books that lined the shelves of the library were the philosophers, ancient and modern; the masters of art, science, and letters, and a miscellany of authorities on kindred subjects.

When his father had insisted that he be educated he had studied the political history of his state; he had kept a serious eye upon the activities of all the politicians of note; he had kept his mind open and free from party prejudice. He knew that the present governor of the state was incapable, or swayed by invisible and malign influences. He was aware that the state railroad commissioner lacked aggressiveness, or that he had been directed to keep in the background. And he was also aware that for a year or more the people of the state had regretted electing the present governor; the dissatisfaction manifesting itself in various ways, though chiefly in the tone of the editorials published by the newspapers in the towns.

As the average newspaper editor endeavors to anticipate public opinion he invariably keeps himself well informed concerning the activities of an office-holder, that he may be prepared to campaign against him at the instant he detects dissatisfaction among his subscribers. And the present governor was being scathingly arraigned by the newspapers of the state, while he sat in smug complacence in his office at the capital. He had made no effort to correct some of the evils of government about which he had raged just before the election.

Lawler smiled with grim amusement as he walked toward the Willets Hotel—where he meant to stay overnight. For he was convinced that the car shortage could not exist if the state officials—especially the railroad commissioner—would exert authority to end it. It seemed to Lawler that there must exist a secret understanding between the railroad commissioner and the invisible power represented by Gary Warden. And he wondered at the temerity of the governor—the sheer, brazen disregard for the public welfare that permitted