TIM BENSON’S CLEVERNESS.
With Tim Benson at large a desperate fear lay on the town and on the
trails.
Therefore, when Hank Elmore, stage driver, swung his horses round in
front of the stage station, and bawled out, “All aboard fer Calumet
Wells!” the response was disappointing.
A woman stepped out of the station, closely veiled, and carrying a
large hand bag. Elmore dropped from his high seat and handed her into
his vehicle. Both Elmore and the spectators knew that she was Miss
Vera Bright.
“Nobody else wantin’ to take passage in this hyer hearse?” demanded
Elmore, swinging round on his high-heeled boots. “Tim Benson ain’t
goin’ to----”
A belated little man pushed his way hurriedly through the crowd.
“I’m going,” he said, and ran up to the coach.
“Hop inside, er on ther seat with ther driver, jest as ye like,”
cried Elmore.
He swung on round, glowering at the crowd.
“As I was sayin’, thar ain’t no need fer ary gent hyer what is
wantin’ to travel over this trail to-day to be afeard o’ Tim Benson.
I know he’s a rantakerous gun man, what shoots first and does his
explainin’ about it later; and that he has conducted more hold-ups
than ary man whatever was in this town; but he’s got sense. He don’t
hold up no stage when thar’s nothin’ to be gained by it. To-day I
ain’t kerryin’ no gold dust, ner treasure o’ any kind--- ’ceptin’
the lady, gents, o’ course!--so, I know he won’t bother me. He allus
knows when treasure is goin’ out, an’ when it ain’t; an’ he was never
knowed to come fer an empty stage. How he knows when it kerries
treasure I reckon is _his_ business. So--who’s goin’ over the trail
with me ter-day?”
When nobody else showed a desire to accompany him, Hank Elmore
climbed to his high seat, swung his long lash, yelled at the horses;
and the stage bounced and jolted away over the cobblestone street,
into the Calumet Wells trail.
“It’s gittin’ so that women have sure got more sand than the men!”
was his mental comment, as he thought of his female passenger. “But I
wonder why she’s pikin’ out of Blossom Range?”
The man who had entered the stage was apparently thinking the same
thing; for he began to question her.
“I’ve seen you at the Casino,” he said, his tone one of flattery.
“Good show they’ve got there! I understood that you was to stay
another week.”
She had lifted her veil after entering the stage, and now gave him a
close look.
“I don’t think I know you!” she said, as if that were a sufficient
answer.
She observed that he was a small man, with a face clean shaven, and a
quiet, even unassuming, manner.
“Oh, I reckon it ain’t any of my business,” he admitted, “if you put
it that way. It’s no loss, if you don’t know me. But I’ve seen you a
number of times. I s’pose you’re on your way to Calumet Wells?”
“Yes,” she said, but indifferently.
“And beyond that, of course; for that ain’t no proper stopping place.”
“Yes, I’m going beyond there.”
“To ’Frisco?”
“Perhaps.”
She drew back into her corner of the stage. But she found it hard to
stay there, for the pitching vehicle now and then projected her out
of it, once almost into the arms of the man before her.
“I--I beg your pardon!” she cried.
“Don’t mention it.” He laughed. “’Tain’t the first time I’ve had a
lady throw herself at my head.”
“It’s a poor joke!” she declared. But she laughed, too.
He began to talk to her again, then; and presently began once more to
ask questions.
“What you got in that big hand bag?” he queried.
“What should I have in it? My clothing, of course.”
Suddenly the expression of his face changed, and she knew him--knew
that this little man was Tim Benson himself--Benson, the terrible
desperado and road agent; and she knew she had nothing to expect from
him in the way of favors.
She started up with a little cry, but a jerk of the stage threw her
back against the cushions, while the rattle of the wheels over the
rough trail drowned her cry so that it did not reach the driver.
“That’s all right,” said Benson; “I see you know now who I am!”
“Yes, but----”
“Just a little trick I have, by which I fool both my friends and my
enemies. It’s easy, when one has the gift, and knows how. Just draw
up a few facial lines here, and a few others down there, elevate
your brows, squint your eyes a little--just a little!--change the
appearance of your hair, and the thing is done. Nothing easier.”
He ran his fingers through his hair, hiding his face with them for
the fraction of a second; then looked at her. The change was so
complete that again she would not have recognized him.
“Easy enough, when you know how, eh? But it takes a lot of practice.
I worked at that for years before I could get it down fine. But you
needn’t be startled; and, particularly, I advise you that it would be
foolish for you to call out to the driver. It could do you no good;
and might cause his sudden demise.”
She sat staring at him, fascinated, terrified.
“Perhaps you’ll be willing to tell me why you’re leaving Blossom
Range now?” he added.
Suddenly her eyes blazed.
“I thought _you_ were gone!” she gasped.
“And that, because of it, your work there was done?”
“Yes.”
She was silent a moment or so, still staring at him.
“Couldn’t we be friends hereafter?” he asked.
“No,” she told him, the fire in her eyes increasing. “You know what I
have sworn to do?” Her voice trembled.
“Hand me over to the hangman, or kill me yourself.” He laughed. “It
isn’t a nice resolve for a woman to make.”
“If I had known you were going on this stage!” she panted.
“Ah! My dear girl, in _that_ you have a lot of company. A great many
people would have been glad to know that I was going on this stage.”
“They said you had left Blossom Range.”
“Of course, I wanted them to think that. I could have stayed longer,
but I didn’t care to.”
“I know why.”
“Perhaps you can guess.”
“You knew that Buffalo Bill would get you, sooner or later.”
“Well, Cody can make himself very unpleasant, you know. He is out of
town this morning; and I was told that he was out along the trail
looking for me. He left Wild Bill in the town, though, to keep watch
there. I saw Hickok in the street; but I’m sure he didn’t recognize
me, any more than you did.”
He looked through the little window on that side.
“Hello!” he said. “This old hearse has been doing some tall traveling
since we hit the trail. Either that, or we have found each other such
pleasant company that time has fled faster than either of us was
aware. I prefer to think it is the latter.”
He looked at her again, as if musing.
“I want to say to you that if at any time you are very much tempted
to sing out your discovery of who I am to the driver, better not do
it.”
He pulled a revolver from his pocket, and laid it on the seat by him,
with the muzzle toward her.
“Oh, I’m not going to use it,” he told her, when she shrank back in
evident fright. “Not unless Cody appears in the trail, as I’m half
expecting him to do; then I may use it on him. It’s a funny thing,
the way he has been able to keep tab on me. He couldn’t find me,
yet he seemed to know all the time about what I was doing. It’s my
opinion that he heard I meant to leave the town, and thought I would
walk. If so, it was a foolish idea; as he ought to know I never walk
when good riding can be had.”
He looked at the hand bag again, lying on the floor of the stage at
the woman’s feet.
“Anything else in that but your clothing?”
“Nothing!”
Her voice was weak from fear of him.
“You seem to be scared. Well, you needn’t be! And I’ll say that it
doesn’t become you, as a woman who has sworn against me all the
terrible things you have. How are you ever going to carry them out,
if you weaken like that?”
He reached over, and pulled the bag across to him.
Then he cocked his revolver on the seat beside him.
“This revolver will go off and do you irreparable damage,” he said,
his voice hardening, “if you try to interfere with me now. You know,
of course, that I’m a desperate man. Please don’t forget it.”
“What are you going to do?” she asked.
“Well, I’m going to change myself into a woman. See? If you’ll watch
me, you’ll see how it’s done. Where is the key to this thing?”
She hesitated; then, trembling, she gave it to him.
He unlocked the bag and tumbled the contents out on the floor of the
stage.
“I ought to have a mirror---- Ah, thanks, here is one!--and it would
be better if I had a steady floor under me. Yet needs must, when the
devil drives. I’m really expecting my friend Cody to appear now
soon; and I must be ready for him.”
He chuckled, when he saw face powders and paints.
“Just in my line,” he said. “I thought you’d have them, and the
clothing as well. In fact, I’m ready to confess right now that I knew
you were to go out in this stage, and laid my plans accordingly.”
“You’re a--devil!” she gasped.
“Thanks, my dear, for the pretty compliment!”
He pulled a dress out of the heap, looked it over quickly, and began
to put it on, over his clothing.
“Just the fit,” he told her. “I’m a small man, you see.”
He worked quickly.
“I see that you’ve got a roll of false hair that is beautifully
blondined; I’ll thank you for the loan of it a while.”
She stared at him in terror; then, in fear, she gave it to him.
“You see,” he said, as he got to work, “that I wear my hair long; so
I can use this little headgear of yours very readily. I’ll take those
hair pins, too, if you please.”
He looked into the hand mirror that had been in her bag; then pinned
the false hair in place.
Having completed this to his satisfaction, with glances now and then
into the mirror, he took up her powder and puff, and began to dab the
powder over his face.
“I took the precaution to have a clean shave before I started,” he
explained airily, but quietly; “so this will work all right.”
The whip of the driver was cracking from the top of the stage, and
the wheels were jarring heavily, so that the stage pitched about; yet
the pitching did not seem to discommode him. He worked quickly and
with skill. On his cheeks he put some of the paint which the woman
had applied so liberally to her own; he looked at her sharply from
time to time, then consulted the mirror.
To her amazement, she saw that he was transforming himself into a
clever counterfeit resemblance--that his features were becoming
marvelously like hers, even to the heavily laid on paint and powder.
Besides, he had a wonderful facial ability, enabling him to twist his
face into a fair counterfeit presentment of hers.
“I’ve sometimes thought I made my mistake in life in not going on
the stage,” he remarked casually. “As you’ve had experience, you may
be able to judge of that better than I can. This road-agent business
is horribly dangerous, as you may guess; and it isn’t any fun to be
breaking jail one week, and running away from Buffalo Bill the next;
which you know has been my awful lot. Yet there is still a lot of fun
in it, and whole worlds of keen excitement. And what is life, if it
is barren of excitement?”
He had brought into the stage a small hand bag; which now, after he
had made the desired changes in his appearance, he opened. From it he
took the contents, and transferred them to her hand bag.
Again he looked out of the window; but though his eyes were turned on
the landscape speeding past the stage, his ears were keen; for when
in desperation she moved, with the wild intention of trying to get
his revolver, he lifted it from the seat beside him, and pointed it
at her.
“I wouldn’t try it, my dear!” he said, in his smooth voice.
He looked again at her. She had dropped once more back against the
cushions, with a gasp of terror.
“You see, I should hate awfully to be compelled to shoot you!” he
explained, in a cold-blooded tone that made her shudder. “It would
be bad for both of us; and bad to muss up the stage, you know; it’s
really a very good stage, and newly recushioned. So you understand
how I feel about it.”
“You are a devil!” she gasped again.
“Only a man determined to protect himself at all hazards. I wanted to
look out and see if we aren’t reaching the vicinity of Stag Mountain.
In the cañon, just beyond it, as you doubtless know, there have been
a lot of stage hold-ups lately; it may be we will meet trouble there.
We are nearing the place right now. Our Jehu above seems to be laying
on the whip a little more heavily, and I judge that he is thinking of
that place, too. He has been through a good many of the hold-ups. I
should think, by this time, he would be so used to them that if they
did not happen he would miss them as a bit of fun.”
She did not answer.
“But I’ll say this. If we are held up there, you sit still right
where you are. Otherwise, this revolver might go off in your face. I
shouldn’t hold myself responsible for the consequences.”
The tall peak of Stag Mountain came into view.
Benson closed the woman’s hand bag and dropped the key into his
pocket. Then he lifted the skirt of the dress he had put on over his
clothing, and hid the revolver somewhere under it.
“We’re comin’ to ther place,” Hank Elmore bellowed to them, leaning
down from his high perch so that they could hear him. “But I don’t
reckon we’ll meet up with any trouble to-day.”
He cracked his whip over the backs of the horses, and the stage
lurched and bounded into the gorge that swung past the hill, and on
into the cañon noted for its many hold-ups.
As if to bolster his courage, he began to sing.