Port O' Gold Part 33

"How about cavalry and artillery?" Benito questioned.

"Oh, we'll have both, don't worry," Charles Doane answered them. "Two vessels in the harbor have contributed cannon; we'll mount them on the foreparts of wagons. That's where Olney and his men will come in. And we've splendid riders, though the troops are still to be rounded into shape." He pa.s.sed on hurriedly to execute some commission. "There's a splendid fellow," Olney said. "He's to be grand marshal of our forces."

He took Benito and Adrian by the arm and led them toward a group of waiting men. "We must get our battery organized."

A messenger strode hastily across the room seeking Coleman, who conferred with Doane in a distant corner. "The Governor's outside," he whispered as he pa.s.sed.

Coleman, entering the ante-room in answer to a summons, found Governor Johnson; his brother; W. K. Garrison and William Sherman, head of the somewhat depleted militia. A subtle change was noticeable in Johnson's manner. He spoke with brusque official authority, as if no previous interview had taken place:

"Mr. Coleman, what are you and your committee plotting? Can't this trouble be adjusted here and now?"

Coleman accepted the situation. He saw that opposition forces had been active.

"We are tired of outlawry and a.s.sa.s.sination, Governor," he answered.

"We've determined to endure them no longer. Street shooting's got to stop!"

"I agree with you," the Governor admitted. "I've come down from Sacramento to aid. But this is a matter for the courts, and not for you to adjust. Our judges are honest. You can't impugn a man like Norton."

He lowered his voice. "I'll see that Norton tries the case; that a grand jury indicts Casey. I'll do everything I can to force a trial, a conviction--and a speedy execution.... I've no right to make such promises. But I'll do it--to save this city the disgrace of a mob."

Coleman raised his head. "This is no mob. You know it, Governor," he answered. "We've no faith in Sheriff Scannell nor his juries." He turned to Sherman. "This committee is a deliberative body, sir; regularly organized with officers and men, an executive council. The best men in the city are its members...."

"And you are its Czar," remarked Garrison, tauntingly.

"I am chairman by their choice--not mine," said Coleman, tartly. "To show you that I make no personal decisions, I will call other members of the council." He bowed and withdrew, returning in a few moments with the brothers Arrington, Thomas Smiley, Seymour and Truitt. The two sides went over the ground a second time. Smiley insisted that Casey be delivered to the Vigilantes. Johnson suggested that the committee continue its labors, but permit the court to try Casey, even in the event of King's death. An impa.s.se loomed. Finally came Coleman's ultimatum: "If Sheriff Scannell will permit ten of our members to join the guard over Casey, this committee will agree to make no overt move--until our guards are withdrawn and you are notified."

"Done," agreed the Governor, hastily.

CHAPTER XLIV

THE TRUCE IS BROKEN

On the Garvez ranch, at sunset, the 17th of May, David Broderick found a gracious interval of peace. It seemed almost incredible to be dining in the patio with Benito and Alice against a background of fragrant honeysuckle and early roses. The long sloping mesas were bright with golden poppies; fleecy white clouds bedecked the azure of a western sky, flushing now with carmine tints. Cowbells tinkled musically faint with distance and from the vaquero quarters came a herder's song, a woman's laughter, the tinkle of a guitar.

"What are you dreaming of, my friend?" asked Alice Windham, gently.

"It is very like a dream," he smiled at her, "this place of yours. So near the city. Yet so far removed in its enchantment....

"Down there," he pointed toward the town, where lights were springing up out of the dusk, "a man lies dying ... and a mob plots vengeance."

"Oh, come," Benito voiced a protest, "we're not a mob, Dave. You know that." He laid a hand upon the other's arm. "I understand how hard it's been for you.... You're suffering for the sins of underlings unfit to lace your boots."

"Against whom you warned me not long since," said Broderick to Alice.

"Casey, Mulligan. Yes, I remember ... you resented it a little, didn't you?"

"No," he said, his eyes upon her with that eager look, repressed and yearning, which she could not always meet. "No, dear lady; it was not resentment.... But it hurt."

Alice turned from him to her husband. "Tell me what they've done today, Benito."

Windham's eyes shone. "You should see Will Coleman. Ah, he's a leader incomparable. We've got nearly 6,000 men. Infantry, artillery, cavalry.

A police force, too, for patrolling the streets day and night."

"And what is the other side doing?" Alice asked.

"They've got the Governor wobbling," said Benito. "Sooner or later he'll call out the militia...."

"But they've got no ammunition, no guns, I understand," responded Broderick. "Sherman tried to commandeer those flintlock muskets from the Mexican war--several thousand of them--but Coleman got them first."

"Yes," affirmed Benito. "The Sheriff's seized some scattered arms. But that is not what Coleman fears. It's Federal interference. They're trying to get General Wool to give them rifles from the a.r.s.enal at Benicia, perhaps a gunboat from the navy yard."

"That means--civil warfare," Broderick said, aghast.

Alice Windham rose and the two men with her. She took an arm of each.

"Come," she pleaded, "let us put it all away--this turmoil of men's hatred ... let us walk here in the sweet-scented evening and forget."

"I wish we might," said Broderick quickly. "What will happen in the next few days may never be forgotten."

Swiftly, Alice turned to him; looked up into his face. "Do you think,"

she asked, so low that he could scarcely catch the words, "do you think, Dave, that you're safe?"

Broderick caught his breath. Involuntarily his eyes strayed toward Benito. But the latter was so patently absorbed in sunset splendors that Broderick sighed as if relieved. It seemed as though some holy thing had pa.s.sed between him and this woman. In her look, her simple question lay a shadowy, half-spoken answer to his heart's unuttered prayer. For a moment the world seemed aglow with some strange, quiet glory. Then he said, quite calmly: "I? Oh, yes, I'm safe enough."

Sat.u.r.day pa.s.sed without much change in King's condition. He was sinking slowly, despite his rugged strength, his will to live and the unceasing efforts of the city's best physicians.

The Law and Order Party was being organized out of various elements that viewed alarmedly the Vigilantes' growing power. Religious, political, social elements combined in this new faction. In it were men of note, distinction, undisputed honor; and rascals of the worst degree.

Ned McGowan, it was rumored, had gone into hiding. Broderick kept to himself and took no sides, yet. Many sought him for support and for advice, but he repulsed them tactfully, remaining in his room to read; walking silently about at twilight. He had a way of standing on a hilltop, losing count of minutes, even hours. Thus Adrian surprised him one evening gazing down on San Francisco's winking street lamps as the night came down.

"h.e.l.lo, Dave," he said, "why so pensive?"

Quietly as he spoke the other started. "I was wondering about tomorrow...."

"Why tomorrow?"

Broderick looked around to satisfy himself that there was no one else to hear. "Coleman will withdraw his Vigilante guard from the jail on Sunday morning.... Oh, yes," he added, as the other seemed surprised, "I have my agents in the Committee's camp. Not to harm them. I don't hold with spies and treachery.... But I have to keep informed."

Adrian looked at his friend, astonished. This was news to him.

Broderick went on: "The Governor's indirectly forced their hand. Coleman knows that violent forces are at work to overthrow his Vigilantes; that the Governor's aiding them. So he's decided to strike."

"Tomorrow, eh!" said Adrian thoughtfully. "That means bloodshed, probably."

Broderick turned a gloomy countenance toward him. "I don't know," he answered, and resumed his gazing. Adrian went on. He looked back after he had gone a hundred yards. The other man remained there, immobile and silent as a statue.

Governor J. Neely Johnson paced up and down the confines of his suite at the International Hotel. In a chair sprawled Mayor Van Ness, his fingers opening and shutting spasmodically upon the leather upholstery. Volney Howard leaned in a swaggering posture against the mantelpiece, smoking a big cigar and turning at intervals to expectorate out of one corner of his mouth.