FRENZIED FINANCE
Outside of a fixed determination to compel the restoration of the stolen
cattle, Douglass had no specific plans in mind as they rode away in the
gray dawn. His actions would be determined by the conditions that would
confront him at Gunnison, and he left much to what he deemed his luck,
but which in reality was rather his great capability and aptitude in
moments of crisis.
Of course, he would incidentally kill Matlock if justifying
circumstances permitted, but he was not a killer in cold blood and the
provocation would have to be amply sufficient. He resolved to let
Matlock make the first hostile demonstration, after which matters were a
thing of evolution purely; of the ultimate result he had not the
slightest apprehension.
Every fiber of him was tingling with resentment of what he deemed
Grace's duplicity; she had begged for his friendship and then had
maliciously exposed him to ridicule by showing that foolish poem to
Abbie, and the Lord only knew who else besides. She had made of him a
laughing stock of the whole community, a butt for the coarse witticisms
of his fellows, and the deeply-driven barb in his vanity rankled sore.
Of course, he opined, she had only been making a fool of Red, too, but
despite the old time-honored saw about misery loving company, he took
small comfort in the thought, being rather disposed to harsher judgment
of her for so unscrupulously playing upon that ignorant cowpuncher's
fatuous credulity. Red knew nothing of fine ladies and their heartless
machinations and it was a shame to encourage him in his hopeless folly.
No lady would take such cruel advantage of puerile innocence! It is
possibly apparent to the reader by this time that Mr. Douglass was
somewhat of an egotist, whose personal estimation of himself bulked
large in his stock in trade. If it be true that a man's vanity is the
real unit of the measure of his possibilities, then Ken Douglass, scaled
by the miles of his self-containment, might logically have aspired
beyond the stars. Not that he underestimated other men in the slightest;
he was quick to recognize and commend courage, fortitude, honesty and
skill in his compeers; indeed, he heartily despised anyone in whom these
primal qualities were not ingrained; but the ego was first in his cosmos
and when a man humbly urges that he is the equal of all other men it may
be set down as an axiom that he really thinks himself immeasurably their
superior. Now the world always accepts a man at his own valuation in
absence of evidence to the contrary, and he had vindicated his position
so far as his range work went; he was concededly the best rider, roper,
pistol shot and poker player in his circumscribed little world, and had,
besides, the enviable reputation of never "falling down" in anything he
essayed. In the flush of his present successes he entirely overlooked
his previous grievous failures, as is man's wont the world over; the
world was his own succulent oyster, and he, himself, the proper blade
for its opening. Therefore he arrogantly pitied Red's unsophistication;
at which the gods laughed.
As they rode along he made a clean breast of his dilemma. "It will have
to be largely a case of bluff," he confided, "and we must make it stick.
We have no time for lawing, and if we did, the shysters would get it
all. Bart isn't easily buffaloed and will put up a stiff fight. Of
course we've got the age on him--those hides are a strong card--but
we're not going to have a walk-over. I can't see my way clear just yet,
but it will work out as we go along. It sure won't be a picnic, but one
thing is certain; we'll either get those cattle or Matlock will have to
rustle a new partner."
Red shifted his cud and spat unerringly on the crest of a loco weed in
the trail. "D'yuh 'spose we'll meet up with Matlock there? Reckon
'tain't likely though." Through the labored indifference of his speech,
Douglass detected a certain restrained hopefulness and his face grew
serious.
"I want to talk to you about that, Red. We've got nothing that we can
fasten on him securely as yet, and we've got to go slow. Of course, if
we get him to rights, or if he makes any bad breaks"--the pause was
ominous. "But we don't want to raise any hell that we can't lay again.
I'm going to give him all the rope that the game will stand; I think,
however, that he has quit."
"Them kind nevah quits," said McVey sententiously, "an' yuh don't want
to take any fool chances, Ken. I seen a feller oncet thet was monkeying
with a rattler an' ketched 'im by thu tail. He got bit! Thu best way
with a pizen reptyle is to blow his damn haid off, 'specially one thet
yuh've pulled thu rattles offen."
They both grinned reminiscently at the reference to the Alcazar
incident, but Douglass winced at the thought that although he had
stopped Matlock's rattling for the time being, he had not neutralized
the venom of his silent bite. And it is hard to side-step an unheralded
stroke from behind.
"Well," he said unemotionally, "it's his first move."
"Hes last, yuh mean," muttered Red sotto voce, "fer I am to be first if
he bats hes eye." But aloud he merely said, "That's what," and took a
fresh chew of plug.
Douglass's perplexity as how his coup was to be executed increased with
every passing hour. He carefully formulated and as regretfully discarded
at least a hundred schemes, each of which appealed less and less to his
practical judgment as he critically reviewed them. Never in his
experience had he faced anything so intangible as the problem which now
confronted him. He was at a loss for a precedent, and what was still
worse, was in total ignorance of the laws governing the unique
conditions. Not that he cared a rap for the laws so far as they might
affect him personally, and he had an inborn contempt for conditions; but
he wanted that transfer of the brand to be legally absolute and without
recourse, and he did not want to involve Mr. Carter in the slightest
degree.
When they eventually reached Gunnison he went straight to the office of
the best lawyer in the town, a life-long friend of old Bob Carter, and
succinctly and forcibly laid all the facts before him. After listening
attentively to his explicit elucidation of the law in the case, and his
logical course of procedure in the premises, Douglass shook his head.
"That will take months of lawing and jawing and I want those stolen
cattle returned at once. It's got to be settled before I leave town, and
I won't consent to involving Carter in any long-drawn-out, expensive
litigation. There must be some way of settling it man to man. Will the
law protect a bill of sale made out to me or Red, here, if I win it in a
card game or force it out of him with a gun? That's what I want to
know."
The old practitioner chuckled at this ingenuous imputation of the law's
plasticity; his eyes twinkled in anticipation of the laugh he would
raise in chambers when he got a chance to spring that joke on his
dignified confreres. But his manner was gravity personified as he
earnestly assured this exceedingly straightforward young fellow that
much to his regret he would have to answer negatively.
"Even if you did get a sufficient and properly-drawn bill of sale out of
Coogan by either of the means you suggest, he could come back at you
with the 'baby act' and nullify the transfer by pleading no real
consideration and invoking the statute which declares gambling debts
noncollectible, in the first instance; and in the second, by setting up
the plea of unlawful stress and intimidation. In either case you would
lose out if he brought action."
"Supposin' he was daid an' couldn't get no action on hisself?"
interjected Red, softly.
The old lawyer, frontier-hardened as he was, started nervously. "You
surely don't contemplate any such--?"
"Any such what?" Red's face was a study in mild curiosity. "I was only
asking yuh a question."
The lawyer moistened his lips tentatively before replying. "That would
complicate matters very much--to all parties concerned. I hope,
gentlemen--"
"An' if thu bill o' sale was made out to me, an' I was to trade it off
to Ken, an' he was to tuhn it inter coin an' cache thu dough, what
then?" The drawling voice was a sinister purr and somehow the half-shut
eyes took on a feline expression. The lawyer suddenly achieved a new
interest in this inquisitive young man; he looked at him from under his
grizzled brows with professional appreciation.
"Why, you're a pretty fair shyster, yourself, Red," said Douglass
humorously; "that idea didn't occur to me. That could not possibly
involve Carter, could it?"
"No. But I trust--." The old man's voice was hesitating and tremulous.
"O-h-h, put yuah trust in Jesus,
An' yuh shall see thu Throne!"
chanted Red, nasally; adding as an after-thought: "Thu C Bar pays cash."
"And it wants to retain you, Mr. Brewster, as counsel in event of my
failure to accomplish the restitution of Mr. Carter's property,"
supplemented Douglass quickly. "You see, I've got to fight the devil
with fire. If I lose out you have full authority to thrash it out in
your own way. But I play my hand first."
"That's what," said Red laconically. "An' I'll keep cases on thu game."
At the request of Douglass the attorney drew up the correct form of a
bill of sale with notorial attest; he refused the fee tendered him,
saying: "I am glad to be of service to Bob Carter's boy. And if at any
time you need my aid, professional or otherwise, command me without
hesitation."
"Ken," said McVey oracularly, as they mounted their horses. "We're goin'
to win out. We've seed a honest law-sharp an' our systems hev stood thu
shock; an' we ain't been parted from our wealth none. I think thu Lawd
took thet way o' breakin' thu news to us, gentle like, thet Fawtune is
goin' to smile on us. Betcha we have pie an' ice cream feh suppah."
He was still more optimistic when he came in, an hour or so after supper
was over, to where Douglass sat thoughtfully smoking a cigar. His manner
was even jubilant as he struck a match and sucked vivaciously at the
proffered weed. "Matlock will be in town to-morrow; he was here
yiste'day an' him an' Bart has gone out huntin'; so they say; like as
not up ter sum lowdown meanness er 'tother; an' they're aixpected back
to-morrer evenin'. Luck is suttinly comin' ouah way.
"I thought I'd go projeckin' around a leetle so as to kinda size up thu
layout," he explained, "an' get a line on thu fo'thcomin' festivities.
So I nacherally draps in to thu Palace an' thu barkeep gits loquacious.
Was yuh thinkin' o' drinkin' a sarsaperiller with me?"
Time hanging heavy on their hands, the two cowpunchers strolled up the
street in the search of diversion; at the Shoo Fly dance-hall the
revelry seemed most promising and they went in to investigate. The usual
quota of frowsy, bedraggled women were in evidence, wearily swinging in
the eccentric mazes of a putative waltz or plying their blowsy victims
with the stuff that had already stolen their souls and later would steal
away what besotted senses they still held in precarious possession. It
was an old experience to both of them and they looked listlessly about
with the disinterestedness of bored familiarity.
Time was when these young men would have entered into the orgies with a
certain reckless aplomb; there were a few girls among the throng who had
not yet lost all their pristine comeliness, who still retained some few
pitiful shreds of the femininity that should have made of them the
loving wives and good mothers that Nature's God creatively intended; but
to-night none of them looked good to these two not usually
over-discriminative animals, intrepidly fresh as they were from pasture.
The whole thing jarred unaccountably upon both of them; Douglass looking
disgustedly at the tawdry surroundings, at the flushed faces and
professionally displayed charms, felt a great irritation at himself for
coming here. Unconsciously he was comparing this sickening
meretriciousness with the delightful reserve and dignity of another
environment, and he felt the quick shame of a schoolboy detected in his
first illicit adventure.
Red grunted telepathically: "Gawd, Ken, this yeah's a punk layout. Let's
go out wheah it's clean." They settled their score and were in the act
of rising when, McVey touched Douglass on the arm. A woman had just
entered by a side door and was looking at them with a strange
intentness.
"That's Coogan's woman," said Red, in a low voice; "Stunner, ain't she!
Wonder he stands fer her comin' here."
The woman came forward with a curious snake-like quickness and seated
herself at the adjoining table. She was a very striking creature,
evidently one of the higher class Mexicans occasionally still to be met
with on the Colorado frontier. She was not more than twenty-four or five
years old, with all the color and voluptuousness of the younger women of
her race. Her hair and eyes were of a peculiar blue-black color, her
complexion ordinarily very light olive with carmine cheek tints but now
exhibiting a pallor that only intensified the gleam in her big eyes. She
was neither painted nor powdered, as both men noted approvingly, and was
finely gowned in a modest, though expensive style. The only inharmonious
thing in her entourage was the blaze of the diamonds with which she was
lavishly bedecked.
She ordered brandy, and when it was brought drank it with reckless haste
and called for more. Twice was her glass refilled, and the fiery
stimulant flushed her face. At the third serving she paid the waiter
and shudderingly pushed the glass away with every evidence of disgust.
To Douglass, watching her out of the corner of his eye, for somehow, her
manner did not invite the leer customary on such occasions, she turned
suddenly:
"You are the Senor Douglass of Rancho C Bar?"
Her voice, though very musical and low-pitched, was tensely strained. As
it was apparent that her English, though correct, was labored, he
answered, hat in hand, in her own tongue:
"_A las pies de usted, Senorita._" (At your feet, Miss.)
She smiled gratefully, as much at his courteous consideration as in her
relief at his knowledge of her tongue and its social ethics.
"_Bese usted las manos, Senor._" (My hands for your kisses, Sir.)
Red looked his appreciation of her favor; they were very pretty hands,
and while he was not "up" in the flowery etiquette of sunny Spain, he
understood its language indifferently well. "Ken's shore thu luckiest
devil on yearth!" he muttered under his breath, enviously. It soon
developed, however, that his hastily-formed conclusions were at fault.
As he in duty bound slowly rose to his feet with a studious, "Well, I
must be goin'--see you lateh," she protestingly laid her hand on his
arm.
"But no, Senor. It is that I wish to have the speech wis you bot'--but
not here." She looked around in sudden alarm. "Can you to my room
graciously come? I live in the ho-tel." Her manner was pleading and
eager.
The eyes of the men met inquiringly. Red unostentatiously flecked a
speck of dust from a slight bulge in his coat under the left armpit.
Douglass tentatively placed his hand in the side pocket of his reefer.
Then as one man they both answered. "Why, certainly, Senorita."
"In an hour, then. Come carefully. Numero 9, the one mos' far in the
hall. I go first, now." And without further look at them she went out as
unobtrusively as she had entered. Red calmly confiscated her rejected
glass of brandy.
"Shame to waste good likker, 'specially when it's paid fer. What's yuh
ijea, Ken, a plant?"
"Damfino! She's all worked up over something, that's sure. Well, it's
all in the game." Then, with an inscrutable and not altogether pleasant
flicker in his eyes, "Not a bad looker, eh, Red?"
McVey emptied the glass. "Brandy's hell foh a woman," was his
enigmatical reply.
An hour later they gained her apartments unobserved, the hotel corridors
being deserted at that hour. She had changed her gown and received them
in a charming half-neglige of some filmy white stuff that set off her
dark beauty ravishingly. Her eyes were out-gleaming her diamonds but her
manner was quiet and composed.
They sat down and respectfully awaited her pleasure; but every article
in that room could have been accurately catalogued by either man. There
was only one door in the room besides the one through which they had
entered and that stood partly ajar, revealing beyond a luxuriously
furnished bedroom. A large double window gave down on the main street;
one-half of it was closely curtained, but the hangings of the other was
looped aside, and for a time she stood beside it looking down into the
squalid street. Suddenly she drew the curtains close and with a strength
hardly to be looked for in that slender wrist, whirled a heavy Morris
chair directly before them and seated herself.
For a full minute she regarded them intently through half-closed eyes
and then, addressing herself to Douglass, but keeping her eyes for the
greater part of the time on McVey, she said slowly in her soft mother
tongue:
"Your friend understands Spanish?"
"Sufficiently, Senorita," assured Red, "to follow your conversation."
"It is well," she said quietly, "but your address flatters me. I am
Senora, not Senorita." She held out her left hand with a curiously proud
gesture; on the third finger was a heavy plain band of dull gold.
"I am desolated--madame," said Red, instantly. Douglass bowed his polite
acceptance of the correction.
"Yes," she went on wearily, "I am a married woman, no matter what the
world, what _you_ may think. The ceremony was performed by the Jefe
Politico of Ameca, my natal town, though not solemnized by the church.
There was a witness, but he is dead now. It was Pedro Rodriguez, the man
you killed the night he and Senor Matlock burned the hay on your
rancho."
In the tense silence which followed, the ticking of Douglass's watch was
distinctly audible. Red's hand, fumbling with his watch chain, went up
swiftly to his armpit; but Douglass, interpreting her even intonation
more correctly, never moved a muscle. She smiled reassuringly at McVey:
"Nay, Senor. There is nothing to--to regret. He was a dog--and I love
you for it." The hand sank to his knee and he flushed slightly.
"I was only a young girl," she went on rapidly, "and he was as big and
as fair as his words. My mother was dead, my father engrossed with
business cares: he was owner of the 'San Christobal' mine. I met him at
night, for my father liked him not and forbade me. It was my first
affair, and I thought I loved him." She laughed, a mirthless sibilance
that was marvelously like a snake's hissing, her eyes hard and dry.
"I had a brother, an only one, Rafael. He was very dear to me and loved
me greatly. He was, of the mine--what do you name it, the one who holds
and pays the monies? Ah, mil gracias! the 'treasurer.' He was of the
lively the liveliest and played much at the cards. And Don Bartholomew
was of his friends the most esteemed. We knew not then that he made his
living so: he had come to buy lands, he said, and he had letters, many
from great men; they were not written by those whose names they bore as
I know now, but we of Mejico know little of such things and trusted him
fully.
"Then, one night, mi padre discovered me in his arms and there was much
sorrow. I was to the casa confined and to him was said that we should
see him no more. But you know our adage: '_No ay cerradura si es de oro
la ganzua_' (there is no lock but that will open to a golden key), and
Pedro Rodriguez, our servidor, was very poor. Like Eve, I listened to
the serpent's voice; I was very young."
She covered her face with her hands and again the silence fell; Red
licked his lips nervously: "The damned caterpillar!" he ejaculated. She
roused at that and her manner changed. She seemed to speak mechanically
and her words fell like drops of ice:
"One night he came in great haste and said that we must fly at once; a
great trouble had come to him and his life was in peril. I had to marry
him, you understand, and I had no other choice. We went to the
magistrate--he swore that we would be remarried by a priest of my faith
when we reached his land, and so I consented. My father was absent and
my brother--Oh! Rafael!" She broke down and sobbed bitterly. Red cursed
aloud.
Of a sudden she calmed; her eyes were hot but her voice was cold and
emotionless. "Not until yesterday did I know that on that very night he
had robbed my brother at cards and treacherously shot him dead when his
guilt was discovered. My father, thinking I knew all--God, give me
vengeance on this man--died two weeks ago, cursing me with his last
breath. I had it from an old acquaintance whom I met here all
unexpectedly yesterday morn. They never answered my letters you know,
and I dared not return. The child was dead born.
"The life with him has been hell. I had to live, and he was liberal in
his brutal way. Long ago I learned from Pedro that he was robbing you,
but for that I cared nothing. The men of your race have given me blood
and gall to drink, and the thought of your wrongs was bitterly sweet to
me; it would have been sweeter had your lives gone with it."
They looked at her entirely without resentment; this was something they
could understand. Douglass felt a great sympathy for her, but Red was
revolving something in his mind that made his eyes gleam evilly.
"Yesterday I upbraided him with the truth. God knows what I said, for my
heart was hot and I think I was mad. He was devil enough to admit all,
and taunt me with my helplessness. We are of a passionate blood, we
people of the South, and I tried--. Enough! He beat me--me, Dolores
Ysobel de Tejada! May his soul writhe in hell until I lave his accursed
lips!" Her venomous fury was not shrill and vociferous; instead, it was
cold and low-voiced, but Douglass breathed hard and Red clenched his
lips, watching it. She sprang impulsively to her feet and tore violently
at her bodice. As the thin silk ripped away they saw that arms, neck and
breasts were purple.
She came closer, thrusting her shame into their very faces. "See!" she
hissed, "the chivalry of the American gringo! Do you Yanquis treat all
your women so tenderly, caballeros?"
Douglass's face hardened resentfully. "We are not all Coogans, Senora.
Be seated, please, and for God's sake, cover up that horror! And
now--why do you tell us this?"
"So that you will kill him--for a price."
Red laughed harshly. "By Gawd! Madame Dolores Ysobel de Tajeda--or
Coogan, whatever yuah name is, I'd giv' a better price ef yuh was able
to tuhn yuhself into a man fer a couple o' minnits. What d'yuh take us
fer, greasers?" But Douglass, his own face very white and hard set,
asked quietly, with an eager interest in his calm voice:
"And the price, Senora?"
"I will give him into your hands," she said coolly, "I have letters,
some from Matlock, which he thought destroyed, and two from him to
Matlock which were missent and returned here. In his absence, I received
and kept them. I have also one from Rodriguez asking me for money and
threatening me with exposure if I denied him. They are enough to prove
your case and give you justification for killing him."
Douglass rose quietly. "You do me much honor, Senora. But I think your
acquaintance with American men is, after all, very inconsiderable." And
with a stiff inclination he left the room.
She ran after him impulsively but at the threshold of the door she
paused. Then she swiftly returned and gently pushed Red down into the
seat from which he had arisen. "Wait--a single little moment, Senor, I
beg of you. I will return immediately." She ran into the bedroom and he
heard a swift rustling. In ten minutes she returned, bearing in her
hands a packet of letters. She had in some marvelous way succeeded in
rerobing herself and was now arrayed in an exquisite tea gown which made
Red's eyes light up with admiration. Inwardly exulting at the success of
her experiment, she sat down close beside him on the divan and rapidly
opened the letters.
At her insistence he took them, though very reluctantly, and
perfunctorily scanned their contents. Then he reread them with
deliberate care, hesitated for a moment and then thrust them in his
breast pocket.
"I reckon I'll keep these for a few days at least; they may come in
handy."
"It is your right, Senor McVey. And now there is more that you must
know. They have sworn the death of yourself and friend: his because he
stands between them and their thefts and has brought to black shame the
man Matlock; yours because you did slay the jackal of my husband. Do you
know that in the hands of the sheriff there is a warrant for the arrest
of you both, sworn out by my husband, charging you with murder, and the
Senor Douglass with being accessory thereto? It is the plan to have you
in the weak jail confined--one single night will serve their
purpose--and when your friends come the next morning it will be too
late. The sheriff is a weakling, as you know--worse, he is as wax in the
hands of Bartholomew, who did win from him at cards much treasure that
is to the county belonging, though why that should be cause to make him
lick my husband's hand I can not understand. Maybe you, a man, do know?
And while two unarmed men are striving with those who will do my
husband's bidding--even now has he gone to summons them, your coming
being known to him through a spy who rode faster than you--yet others
will be sent to your rancho to burn and destroy."
McVey stifled a great oath. "You are givin' me straight dope?" His
strong hand was crushing her soft arm.
"As Heaven is my witness, Senor. I swear it by the memory of my dead!"
"Do you know when thu warrant is ter be served?" The question was curt
and imperative.
"At nightfall, as soon as Bartholomew arrives with his fellows."
For a while he deliberated in silence, but into the woman's eyes crept
triumph at sight of the grimly compressed lips and wrinkled brow. Then
as she watched it was commingled with another expression that boded ill
for the honor as well as the fortunes of Big Bart Coogan.
"I reckon I'll say adios, Senora," he said finally. "I have things to
attend to. When can I see you again?"
Her raven locks brushed his as she bent forward to look at the tiny
jeweled chatelaine watch on her bodice.
"It is yet scarcely ten of the clock," she murmured, coyly dropping her
eyes. "The night is young."
His veins ran fire. The woman was very beautiful.
Douglass nodded confirmation as Red told him her story five minutes
later. "Just got a tip myself from Barton," he observed calmly. Barton
was the clerk of the court from which the warrant had issued, and as it
happened, was an old college mate of Douglass and his personal friend.
He was not in sympathy with the ring of grafters dominating the county
offices, and had hastened to Douglass's enlightenment as soon as he
learned of his arrival.
"They don't aim to give you a chance to secure bail for at least one
night," he said significantly, "and while that may not mean anything in
particular, I thought you had better be put 'wise.' And I've taken the
liberty of asking Strang to send up three or four fellows from the Lazy
K to-morrow. Hope you won't think me officious, old man; I thought it
best to be on the safe side." Strang was a particular friend of both
men.
Douglass smashed his fist in silent gratitude. "Guess we'll manage to
give them a run for their money. Have a cigar?"
"I've got those letters, Ken," said Red casually. "Better read 'em oveh;
they shore are interestin' lit'rachure. Thu gettin' of 'em ain't
obleegated yuh none, an' mahself hawdly enough ter talk about. Naw, I
didn't promise ter cook hes goose," meeting the other's eyes squarely;
"I'm engagin' in anotheh kind o' frenzied fee-nawnce' altogetheh. Yuh
hunt yuh leetle baid an' gatheh strength fer to-morrer's
stren-u-hossity. I'm goin' on night-herd mahself."
Douglass wheeled sharply. "Yuh are not going to--?"
Red fumbled in the pocket of his shirt. "I'm agoin' ter ask yuh ter keep
suthin' fer me to-night." Without raising his eyes he laid in Douglass's
hand a small parcel wrapped in his best silk handkerchief. "I want ter
keep it clean!" he muttered.