Desert Dust Part 3

The cognac swept down my throat like a stab of hot oil. She poured for herself.

"A votre sante, monsieur--and continued beginnings, no ends." She daintily tossed it off.

We had consummated our pledges just in time. The brakeman issued, stumping noisily and bringing discord into my heaven of blue and gold and comfortable warmth.

"Howdy, lady and gent? Breakfast in twenty minutes." He grinned affably at her; yes, with a trace of familiarity. "Sleep well, madam?"

"Pa.s.sably, thank you." Her voice held a certain element of calm interrogation as if to ask how far he intended to push acquaintance.

"We're nearing Sidney, you say? Then I bid you gentlemen good-morning."

With a darting glance at him and a parting smile for me she pa.s.sed inside.

The brakeman leaned for an instant's look ahead, up the track, and lingered.

"Friend of yours, is she?"

"I met her at Omaha, is all," I stiffly informed.

"Considerable of a dame, eh?" He eyed me. "You're booked for Benton, too?"

"Yes, sir."

"Never been there, myself. She's another h.e.l.l-roarer, they say."

"Sir!" I remonstrated.

"Oh, the town, the town," he enlightened. "I'm saying nothing against it, for that matter--nor against her, either. They're both O. K."

"You are acquainted with the lady, yourself?"

"Her? Sure. I know about everybody along the line between Platte and Cheyenne. Been running on this division ever since it opened."

"She lives in Benton, though, I understand," I proffered.

"Why, yes; sure she does. Moved there from Cheyenne." He looked at me queerly. "Naturally. Ain't that so?"

"Probably it is," I admitted. "I see no reason to doubt your word."

"Yep. Followed her man. A heap of people moved from Cheyenne to Benton, by way of Laramie."

"She is married, then?"

"Far as I know. Anyway, she's not single, by a long shot." And he laughed.

"But, Lord, that cuts no great figger. People here don't stand on ceremony in those matters. Everything's aboveboard. Hands on the table until time to draw--then draw quick."

His language was a little too bluff for me.

"Her husband is in business, no doubt?"

"Business?" He stared unblinking. "I see." He laid a finger alongside his nose, and winked wisely. "You bet yuh! And good business. Yes, siree. Are you on?"

"Am I on?" I repeated. "On what? The train?"

"Oh, on your way."

"To Benton; certainly."

"Do you see any green in my eye, friend?" he demanded.

"I do not."

"Or in the moon, maybe?"

"No, nor in the moon," I retorted. "But what is all this about?"

"I'll be d.a.m.ned!" he roundly vouchsafed. And--"You've been having a quiet little smile with her, eh?" He sniffed suspiciously. "A few swigs of that'll make a pioneer of you quicker'n alkali. She's favoring you--eh?

Now if she tells you of a system, take my advice and quit while your hair's long."

"My hair is my own fashion, sir," I rebuked. "And the lady is not for discussion between gentlemen, particularly as my acquaintance with her is only casual. I don't understand your remarks, but if they are insinuations I shall have to ask you to drop the subject."

"Tut, tut!" he grinned. "No offense intended, Mister Pilgrim. Well, you're all right. We can't be young more than once, and if the lady takes you in tow in Benton you'll have the world by the tail as long as it holds. She moves with the top-notchers; she's a knowing little piece--no offense. Her and me are good enough friends. There's no brace game in that deal. I only aim to give you a steer. Savvy?" And he winked. "You're out to see the elephant, yourself."

"I am seeking health, is all," I explained. "My physician had advised a place in the Far West, high and dry; and Benton is recommended."

His response was identical with others preceding.

"High and dry? By golly, then Benton's the ticket. It's sure high, and sure dry. You bet yuh! High and dry and roaring."

"Why 'roaring'?" I demanded at last. The word had been puzzling me.

"Up and coming. Pop goes the weasel, at Benton. Benton? Lord love you!

They say it's got Cheyenne and Laramie backed up a tree, the best days they ever seen. When you step off at Benton step lively and keep an eye in the back of your head. There's money to be made at Benton, by the wise ones. Watch out for ropers and if you get onto a system, play it. There ain't any limit to money or suckers."

"I may not qualify as to money," I informed. "But I trust that I am no sucker."

"No green in the eye, eh?" he approved. "Anyhow, you have a good lead if your friend in black cottons to you." Again he winked. "You're not a bad-looking young feller." He leaned over the side steps, and gazed ahead.

"Sidney in sight. Be there directly. We're hitting twenty miles and better through the greatest country on earth. The engineer smells breakfast."

CHAPTER III

I RISE IN FAVOR

With that he went forward. So did I; but the barricade at the end of My Lady's seat was intact, and I sat down in my own seat, to keep expectant eye upon her profile--a decided relief amidst that crude melange of people in various stages of hasty dressing after a night of cramped postures.

The brakeman's words, although mysterious in part, had concluded rea.s.suringly. My Lady, he said, would prove a valuable friend in Benton. A friend at hand means a great deal to any young man, stranger in a strange land.