'Firebrand' Trevison - Charles Alden Seltzer (top 10 books of all time .txt) š
- Author: Charles Alden Seltzer
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āMiss Benham done tolā me she am not to be disturbed till eight oāclock,ā he objected. But the telegram in Bramanās hands had instant effect upon the black custodian of the car, and shortly afterward Miss Benham was looking at the banker and his telegram in sleepy-eyed astonishment, the door of her compartment open only far enough to permit her to stick her head out.
Braman was forced to do much explaining, and concluded by reading the telegram to her. She drew everything out of him except the story of the fight.
āWell,ā she said in the end, āI suppose I shall have to go. So his name is āBrandā Trevison. And he wonāt permit the men to work. Why did Mr. Corrigan destroy the check?ā
Braman evaded, but the girl thought she knew. Corrigan had yielded to an impulse of obstinacy provoked by Trevisonās assault on him. It was not good businessāit was almost childish; but it was human to feel that way. She felt a slight disappointment in Corrigan, though; the action did not quite accord with her previous estimate of him. She did not know what to think of Trevison. But of course any man who would deliberately and brutally ride another man down, would naturally not hesitate to adopt other lawless means of defending himself.
She told Braman to have the money ready for her in an hour, and at the end of that time with her morocco handbag bulging, she emerged from the front door of the bank and climbed the steps of the private car, which had been pulled down to a point in front of the station by the dinky engine, with Murphy presiding at the throttle.
Carson was standing on the platform when Miss Benham climbed to it, and he grinned and greeted her with:
āIf ye have no objections, maāam, Iāll be ridinā down to the cut with ye. Me nameās Patrick Carson, maāam.ā
āI have no objection whatever,ā said the lady, graciously. āI presume you are connected with the railroad?ā
āAnā wid the ginneys thatās buildinā it, maāam,ā he supplemented. āIām the construction boss av this section, anā Iām the mon that had the unhappy experience av lookinā into the business end av āFirebrandāsā six-shooter yisterday.ā
āāFirebrandāsā?ā she said, with a puzzled look at him.
āThot mon, Trevison, maāam; thatās what they call him. Anā he fits it bedadābegginā your pardon.ā
āOh,ā she said; āthen you know him.ā And she felt a sudden interest in Carson.
āEnough to be certain he aināt to be monkeyed with, maāam.ā
She seemed to ignore this. āPlease tell the engineer to go ahead,ā she told him. āAnd then come into the carāI want to talk with you.ā
A little later, with the car clicking slowly over the rail-joints toward the cut, Carson diffidently followed the negro attendant into a luxurious compartment, in which, seated in a big leather-covered chair, was Miss Benham. She motioned Carson to another chair, and in the conversation that followed Miss Benham received a comprehensive estimate of Trevison from Carsonās viewpoint. It seemed unsatisfying to herāCarsonās commendation did not appear to coincide with Trevisonās performances.
āHave you heard what happened in Manti yesterday?ā she questioned. āThis man, Trevison, jumped his horse against Mr. Corrigan and knocked him down.ā
āI heard av it,ā grinned Carson. āBut I didnāt see it. Nor did I see the daisy scrap that tuk place right after.ā
āFight?ā she exclaimed.
Carson reddened. āSure, ye havenāt heard av it, anā Iām blabbinā like a kid.ā
āTell me about it.ā Her eyes were aglow with interest.
āThereās devilish little to tellābegginā your pardon, maāam. But thim that was in at the finish is wagginā their tongues about it beinā a dandy shindy. Judginā from the talk, nobuddy got lickedāit was a fair dhraw. But I shāud judge, lookinā at Corriganās face, that it was a darlinā av a scrap.ā
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.
āTrevisonās horse knockinā Corrigan down was what started it, theyāve been tellinā me,ā said Carson. āBut thim that know Trevisonās black knows that Trevison wasnāt to blame.ā
āNot to blame?ā she asked; āwhy not?ā
āFor the simple rayson thot in a case like thot the mon has no control over the baste, maāam. āFirebrandā told me only yisterday morninā thot there was no holdinā the black whin somebuddy tried to shoot wid him on his back.ā
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 Carsonās 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 Agathaās presence, soon invented an excuse to go out upon the platform, leaving Rosalind to explain his presence in the car.
āWhat on earth could you have to say to a section bossāor he to you?ā demanded Agatha. āYou are becoming veryāerāindiscreet, Rosalind.ā
The girl smiled. It was a smile that would have betrayed the girl had Agatha possessed the physiognomistās 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:
āI 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.ā
āIt wonāt be necessary,ā 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 Carsonās voice, loud and argumentative:
āThereās a lady aboored, I tell ye! If ye shoot, youāre a lot of damned rapscallions, anā Iāll come up there anā bate the head off ye!ā
āStow your gab anā produce the lady!ā 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 menācowboysāarmed with rifles, peering down at the car. They shifted their gaze to her when she stepped into view, and one of them laughed.
āCorrect, boys,ā he said; āitās a lady.ā There was a short silence; Rosalind saw the men gather closeāthey 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: āWhat do you want?ā
The girl answered: āI want to speak with Mr. Trevison.ā
āSorry, maāam,ā came back the voice; ābut Trevison aināt hereāheās at the Diamond K.ā
Rosalind reached a decision quickly. āAunty,ā she said; āI am going to the Diamond K.ā
āI forbid you!ā said Agatha sternly. āI would not trust you an instant with those outlaws!ā
āNonsense,ā smiled Rosalind. āI am coming up,ā she called to the man on the crest; ādo you mind?ā
The man laughed. āI reckon not, maāam.ā
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: āYouāll have to go thot way, maāam.ā He laughed. āYouāre perfectly safe wid thim min, maāamātheyāre Trevisonāsāanā Trevison wud shoot the last mon av thim if theyād harm a hair av your pretty head. Go along, maāam, anā God bless ye! Yeāll be savinā a heap av throuble for me anā me ginneys, anā the railroad company.ā 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 ladyās 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?
āYou bet!ā emphatically returned the spokesman who, she learned later, was Trevisonās foreman. She should have the gentlest ācayuseā in the ābunch,ā and the foreman would do the guiding, himself. At which word Agatha, noting the foremanās 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 Rosalindās 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 foremanās 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 oāclock 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 foremanāquestions that mostly concerned Trevisonāand they had all fell, blunted and impotent, from the armor of Barkwellās reticence. But a glance at Trevisonās 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
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