THE AWARD OF JUSTICE
OR
TOLD IN THE ROCKIES.
A Pen Picture of the West.
BY
A. MAYNARD BARBOUR,
AUTHOR OF "That Mainwaring Affair."
"Better is the end of a thing than the beginning thereof."--Ecc. vii, 8.
CHICAGO AND NEW YORK:
RAND, McNALLY & COMPANY,
PUBLISHERS.
Copyright, 1897, by Rand, McNally & Co.
Copyright, 1901, by Rand, McNally & Co.
DEDICATION.
To W. James Barbour,
My co-worker in this pleasant task,
at whose suggestion it was undertaken,
and by whose inspiration it has been guided,
from inception to completion,
this book is affectionately dedicated
by the author,
A. MAYNARD BARBOUR.
THE AWARD OF JUSTICE
By A. Maynard Barbour.
CHAPTER I.
The Pacific Express was due at Valley City at 1:45 p.m. Within ten
minutes of that time, a spring-board wagon, containing two young men
and drawn by a pair of bronchos, suddenly appeared around one end of
the dingy little depot. One of the men, dressed in a tweed traveling
suit, jumped hastily from the wagon, while the other, who looked like
a prosperous young ranchman, seemed to have all he could attend to in
holding the restive little ponies, who were rearing and kicking in
their impatience at being compelled to stand.
"I'm afraid, Ned," he said, "that you'll have to look out for your
traps yourself; these little rats haven't been driven for four days,
and they're feeling pretty frisky."
"All right, Tom," responded the other, diving under the seat of the
spring-board and bringing out the said "traps," which consisted of two
grips, a rifle case, a set of fishing rods, and, last but not least, a
large, square case which he handled with great care, and now held up
to his companion saying,
"See that, Tom? that's my set of cameras; they're fine too, I tell
you."
"But why do you bother to take them around with you all the time, like
that?" inquired his friend.
"Oh," replied Ned, "I do that so as to be ready to catch any choice
scenes I come across; I'm making a collection of views, you know, and
I expect to get a good many on this trip. By the way, I got some
stunning views over there at your place this morning, just before
breakfast."
"The dickens, you did!" exclaimed Tom, suddenly remembering a
ludicrous predicament in which his guest had caught him.
"Oh, yes," said Ned, "and when I get away at a safe distance I'm going
to develop them and send them to you. I've got an awfully fine--well,
by Jove, if that isn't just my luck!"
Ned had just deposited his belongings on the depot platform and in
doing so, noticed a piece of blackboard propped up against the wall,
on which were chalked these words, "Train 3 ours late." His eyes
seemed riveted to the spot.
"What's the matter now?" asked Tom, who took in the situation at a
glance.
"Matter! Why, that blasted train is three hours behind time."
"Too bad!" said Tom, with a grin; "if I'd only known that I needn't
have driven my horses so hard."
"Oh, confound those little beasts of yours;" exclaimed Ned, "a little
exercise won't hurt them, but to think of three hours in a place like
this! and say, don't you know how to spell out here?"
"Well," said Tom, coolly, "I don't hold myself personally responsible
for the wording of that blackboard, but I suppose that's the phonetic
spelling they used to talk about when I lived east; you see we've
adopted it out here, for we westerners have to rustle lively, and
don't have time for old-fashioned ways."
"I see," said Ned, rather sarcastically; "perhaps you can tell me why
they don't 'rustle' that train along on time."
"I suppose," replied Tom, "it's on account of that wreck two days ago;
you know your train was ten hours late yesterday."
"Yes," assented Ned, gazing about him with an expression of intense
disgust; "I got here after dark; that's how it comes about that I
never realized until the present moment what a paradise this place is.
Valley City! I can't see more than a dozen buildings here."
"That's probably because you're so near-sighted, my dear boy,"
replied Tom; and Ned, who was very sensitive on the subject of his
near-sightedness, colored, and readjusted his eye-glasses, while he
asked in a tone of despair:
"Well, what am I to do in this beastly place, anyhow?"
"You might take a stroll about the city," suggested Tom, "if you get
lost you'll have to inquire your way of some of the police. I would be
delighted to stay and keep you company, but work on the ranch is
rushing and I must hurry back; so I'll wish you good luck and
good-bye."
"All right, old fellow," said Ned, shaking hands in a slightly
patronizing way, "if you ever get out of this country, and find
yourself within the limits of civilization again, just take a run down
to the 'Hub' and see me."
"Much obliged," said Tom, turning around for a parting shot; "I say,
Ned, while you're waiting for the train, you'd better get out your
cameras; you might catch some more 'stunning views' you know," and
lightly snapping his whip, he started off, the bronchos standing on
their forefeet with their heels in the air.
"Good-bye, Tom," Ned called, after the rapidly retreating spring-board,
"if you ever had any brains to lose I'd be anxious about you, but I
guess you're safe enough."
Tom's only reply was a crack of the whip, and he and the ponies soon
disappeared in a cloud of dust, leaving Ned to survey his surroundings
at his leisure.
In the foreground was the low, dingy depot, and on the platform,
leaning against the building as though their spinal columns were
unable to support them, were two specimens of the genus homo, which
were entirely new to the young Bostonian. He gazed at them with
undisguised interest, being unable to determine whether they were
cow-boys or miners, these being the two classes into which, as he
imagined, the western population was about evenly divided. That they
immediately classified him, in their western vernacular, as a
"tenderfoot," and a remarkably verdant specimen at that, was not owing
to their superior penetration, as it was a self-evident fact.
Mr. Edward B. Rutherford, Jr., prided himself upon being a
resident of Boston, a son of one of her best families, and a
graduate of Harvard, and it is scarcely to be wondered at if he
felt himself slightly superior to ordinary mortals who had not been
blessed with these advantages. Nevertheless, the fact remained that
Mr. Rutherford's personal appearance could not be considered
especially prepossessing, even when moving in his own sphere where
he felt himself, as he would have expressed it, "en rapport" with his
surroundings; under other circumstances, as at the present time, it
very nearly approached the ludicrous. He was small in stature, but
his bump of self-esteem was developed in an inverse ratio to his
size. He seemed to be making a constant effort to maintain his
dignity at the proper level, in which direction he was greatly
assisted by a pair of eye-glasses, perched on a very large and
decidedly Roman nose. It had been claimed by his college chums
that the eye-glasses were worn for this especial purpose; be that
as it may, without their assistance, his task would certainly have
been a difficult one, as his eyes, which were very full and round,
and surmounted by a pair of extremely high-arched eyebrows, gave him
always an expression of exaggerated surprise and bewilderment,
which, when intensified as on the present occasion, rendered his
appearance very far from the otium cum dignitate to which he aspired.
But upon very few is the "giftie" bestowed, "to see oursel's as
ithers see us," and to many besides the junior Mr. Rutherford, such
a vision would be anything but satisfactory.
At the present time, however, Rutherford's only troubles were his
immediate surroundings, and the problem of how to pass the next three
hours. The loungers, who by this time had changed to a sitting
posture, and who were staring at him with an unwinking fixedness which
made him rather nervous, did not seem very congenial companions. The
town consisted of merely a few, straggling, unpainted buildings, while
in every direction extended the apparently interminable stretches of
undulating prairie, partially covered with sage brush and wild cactus.
Though early in the season, the heat was intense, and the glare of the
sunlight reflected from the patches of white, chalk-like sand, was so
blinding as to seem unendurable.
The interior of the depot was even more cheerless than the exterior. A
rusty stove, minus one leg, two or three battered benches, a flaming
circus poster, and an announcement of the preceding year's county fair
constituted the entire furnishing and decoration. No signs of life
were visible, the window into the ticket office being closed, while
from somewhere within the little inclosure, a telegraphic instrument
clicked with a cheerful pertinacity that to Rutherford seemed simply
exasperating.
In the course of half an hour, however, the monotony was relieved by
the appearance of half a dozen soldiers, who strolled over from a
neighboring fort, about two miles distant. Rutherford had soon
introduced himself to them, with a formality which they considered
highly amusing, and they entertained him with tales of various
thrilling adventures and hair breadth escapes, nearly all invented for
the occasion, to which he listened with an open-mouthed astonishment
that elicited many winks and grins from the blue-coats. Finally, two
of them escorted him to a small Indian camp, about a mile distant,
which was hidden from view by a sandy knoll, where, in some cottonwood
brush, beside a small creek, they found half a dozen tepees, around
which were squatted twenty or thirty disreputable-looking Indians,
their ponies tethered in the brush near by. The bucks were sullen and
uncommunicative, maintaining a solemn silence broken only by an
occasional grunt. Their dress was a combination of Indian costume and
articles purchased from the white people, the latter being put on to
suit the individual taste of the wearer, without the least regard to
the use for which it was originally intended. One, who seemed a leader
in the camp, in addition to his native toggery of feathers, beads and
brass rings, wore trousers of striped bed-ticking, two or three pairs
of gayly colored suspenders knotted together for a belt and sash, and
a flaming red necktie braided in his hair. The squaws in their
blankets were quite socially inclined, and the wig-wams at a little
distance looked very romantic to the young easterner, but the odors
wafted from them were sufficient for him, and he declined to penetrate
any further into the mysteries of an Indian camp; and after taking one
or two views of the Indians and their tepees, he returned to the
depot.
It was now nearly train time, and the number of loungers and loafers
had increased amazingly, considering the size of the town. There were
thirty or forty of them, all more or less resembling the first
specimens, and Rutherford wondered where they stowed themselves away,
not realizing that many came in from little shacks scattered over the
prairies; for to them, the coming of the train from the east was the
one great event of the day.
Among them Rutherford noticed a man, who, though clad as roughly as
the others, yet had an individuality so distinct from them as to be
noticeable even to a stranger. He wore an old soft hat and rough
blouse, his trousers being tucked into a pair of heavy, hobnailed
boots that reached to his knees. He was tall and stooped slightly, but
there was none of the slouching figure and gait that characterized
those around him. His movements were quick, and, when standing
motionless, there was something in his very pose that conveyed an
impression of alertness and of latent strength. His back was turned
toward Rutherford, who was watching him under a sort of subtle
fascination, when suddenly he wheeled, facing him. His eyes were keen
and piercing, and as he looked for an instant at Rutherford with an
expression of suspicion and distrust, and then seemed to survey his
diminutive figure with a quick glance of contempt, that young man felt
a sudden and violent terror in his inmost soul, which was not lessened
when his eyes fell upon a sheath knife and huge revolver in the
stranger's belt. Involuntarily Rutherford's hand went to his hip
pocket, where reposed a dainty, pearl-handled Smith and Wesson,
38-calibre, but he immediately regretted the movement, for the
blue-black eyes watching him scintillated for a moment with a cold,
steel-like glitter, and the lips under the heavy, black beard curled
with a smile of fine scorn, that made our young hero exceedingly
uncomfortable.
The whistle of the approaching train afforded him unspeakable relief,
and at the first opportunity he put himself and his belongings aboard
with a celerity very remarkable in one of his usual dignity.