The Branding Iron Part 25

Especially decent to him when he had begun to play that difficult role of a man without a country. Now here was the card of the Reverend Francis Holliwell and the man himself, no doubt, waiting below. Jasper tried to remember. He'd heard something about Frank. Oh, yes. The young clergyman had given up a fashionable parish in the East--small Norman church, wealthy parishioners, splendid stipend, beautiful stone Norman rectory--thrown it all up to go West on some unheard-of mission in the sagebrush. He was back now, probably for money, donations wanted for a building, church or hospital or library. Jasper in imagination wrote out a generous check. Before going down he glanced at the card again and noticed some lines across the back:

This is to introduce one of my best friends, Pierre Landis, of Wyoming. Please be of service to him. His mission has and deserves to have my full sympathy.

So, after all, it wasn't Holliwell below and the check-book would not be needed. "Pierre Landis, of Wyoming." Jasper went down the stairs and on the way he remembered a letter received from Yarnall a long time before. He remembered it with an accession of alarm. "I've probably let h.e.l.l loose for your protegee, Jane; given your address, and incidentally hers, to a fellow who wants her pretty badly. His name's Pierre Landis. You're a pretty good judge of white men. Size him up and do what's best for Jane."

For some time after receiving this letter, Jasper had expected the appearance of this Pierre Landis, then had forgotten him. The fellow who wanted Jane so badly had been a long while on his way to her.

Remembering and wondering, the manager opened the crimson curtains and stepped into the presence of Pierre.

Even if he had had no foreknowledge, Jasper felt that, at sight of his visitor, his fancy would have jumped to Joan. It was the eyes; he had seen no others but hers like them for clarity; far-seeing, grave eyes that held a curious depth of light. Here was one of Joan's kindred, one of the clean, wild things.

Then came the gentle Western drawl. "I'm right sorry to trouble you, Mr. Morena."

Jasper took a brown hand that had the feel of iron. The man's face, on a level with Jasper's, was very brown and lean. It had a worn look, a trifle desperate, perhaps, in the lines of lip and the expression of the smoke-colored eyes. Jasper, sensitive to undercurrents, became aware that he stood in some fashion for a forlorn hope in the life of this Pierre. At the same time the manager remembered a confidence of Jane's. She had been "afraid of some one." She had been running away.

There was one that mustn't find her, and to run away from him, that was the business of her life. Pierre Landis was this "one," the something wild and clean that had at last come searching even into this city. It was necessary that Jane's present protector should be very careful. There must be no running away this time, and Pierre must be warned off. Jasper had plans of his own for his star player. For one thing she must draw Prosper Gael completely out of Betty's life.

Jasper made his guest comfortable, sat opposite to him, and lighted a cigarette. Although Pierre had accepted one, he did not smoke. He was far too disturbed.

"Frank Holliwell gave me a note to you, Mr. Morena. I got your address some years ago from Yarnall, of Lazy-Y Ranch, Middle Fork, Wyoming.

I've been gettin' my affairs into shape ever since, so that I could come East. I don't rightly know whether Yarnall would have wrote to you concernin' me or no."

"Yes. He did write--just a line--two years ago."

Pierre studied his own long, brown hands, turning the soft hat between them. When he lifted his eyes, they were intensely blue. It was as though blue fire had consumed the smoke.

"I've been takin' after a girl. She was called Jane on Yarnall's ranch an' she was cook there for the outfit. n.o.body knowed her story nor her name. She left the mornin' I came in an' I didn't set eyes on her. You were takin' her East to teach her to play-act for you. I don't know whether you done so or not, but I've come here to learn where she is so that I can find out if she's the woman I'm lookin' for."

Morena smiled kindly. "You've come a long way, Mr. Landis, on an uncertainty."

"Yes, sir." Pierre did not smile. He was holding himself steady. "But I'm used to uncertainty. There ain't no uncertainty that can keep me from seekin' after the person I want." He paused, the eyes still fixed upon Morena, who, uncomfortable under them, veiled himself thinly in cigarette smoke. "I want to see this Jane," Pierre ended gently.

"Nothing easier, Landis. I'll give you a ticket to 'The Leopardess.'

She is acting the t.i.tle part. She is my leading lady and a very extraordinary young actress. Of course, it's none of my business, but in a way I am Miss West's guardian--"

"Miss West?"

"Yes. That is Jane's name--Jane West. You think it is an a.s.sumed one?"

Pierre stood up. "I'm not thinkin' on this trip," he said; "I'm hopin'."

"I am sorry, but I am afraid you're on the wrong track. There may be a resemblance, there may even be a marked resemblance, between Miss West and the person you want to find, but--again please forgive me--I am in the place of guardian to her at present and I should like to know something of your business, enough of it, that is, to be sure that your sudden appearance, if you happen to be right in your surmise, won't frighten my leading lady out of her wits and send her off to Kalamazoo on the next train."

Pierre evidently resented the fashion of this speech. "I'm sorry," he said with dignity, "not to be able to tell you anything. I'll be careful not to frighten Miss West. I can see her first from a distance an' then--"

"Certainly. Certainly."

Jasper rang and directed his man to get an envelope from an upstairs table. When it came, he handed it to Pierre.

"That is a ticket for to-morrow night's performance. It's the best seat I can give you, though it is not very near the stage. However, you will certainly be able to recognize your--Jane, if she is your Jane."

Pierre pocketed the ticket. "Thank you," he murmured. His face was expressionless.

Jasper was making rapid plans. "Oh, by the way," he said hurriedly, "if you should stand near the stage exit to-night, say at about twelve o'clock, you could see Miss West come out and get into her motor. That would give you a fairly close view. But even if you find you are mistaken, Landis, be sure to see 'The Leopardess.' It's well worth your while. You're going? Won't you dine with me to-night?"

"No, thank you. I wouldn't be carin' to to-night. I--I reckon I've got this matter too much on my mind. Thank you very much, Mr. Morena."

"Before you go, tell me about Holliwell. He was a good friend of mine."

"He was a good friend to most every one he knowed. He was more than that to me."

"Then he's been a success out there?"

Pierre meditated over the words. "Success? Why, yes, I reckon he's been all of that."

"A difficult mission, isn't it? Trying to bring you fellows to G.o.d?"

Pierre smiled. "I reckon we get closer to G.o.d out there than you do here. We sure get the fear of Him even if we don't get nothin' else.

When you fight winter an' all outdoors an' come near to death with hosses an' what-not, why, I guess you're gettin' close to _somethin'_ not quite to be explained. Holliwell, he's a first-cla.s.s sin-buster, best I ever knowed."

Morena laughed. He was beginning to enjoy his visitor. "Sin-buster?"

"That's one name fer a parson. Well, sir, I guess Holliwell is plumb close to bein' a prize devil-twister."

"Tell me how you first met him. It ought to be a good story."

But the young man's face grew bleak at this. "It ain't a good story, sir," he said grimly. "It ain't anything like that. I must wish you good-by, an' thank you kindly."

"But you'll let me see you again? Where are you stopping? Holliwell's friends are mine."

Pierre gave him the address of a small, downtown hotel, thanked him again, and, standing in the hall, added, "If I'm wrong in the notion that brought me to New York, I'll be goin' back again to my ranch, Mr.

Morena. I'm goin' back to ranchin' on the old homestead. I've got it fixed up." He seemed to look through Jasper into an enormous distance.

Morena was almost uncannily aware of the long, long journey by which this man's spirit had trodden, of the desert he faced ahead of him if the search must fail. Was it wrong to warn Jane? Ought this man to be given his chance? Surely here stood before him Jane's mate. Jasper wished that he knew more of the history back of Pierre and the girl. A man could do little but look out for his own interests, when he worked in the dark. Which would be the better man for Jane?--this Jane so trained, so educated, so far removed superficially from the ungrammatical, bronzed, clumsily dressed, graceful visitor. In every worldly respect, doubtless, Prosper Gael. Only--there were Pierre's eyes and the soul looking out of them.

Jasper said good-bye half-absently.

An hour later he went to call on Jane.

He found her done up in an ap.r.o.n and a dust-cap cleaning house with astonishing spirit. She and the Bridget, who had recently been subst.i.tuted for Mathilde, were merry. Bridget was sitting on the sill, her upper half shut out, her round, brick-colored face laughing through the pane she was polishing. Jane was up a ladder, dusting books.

She came down to greet Morena, and he saw regretfully the sad change in her face and bearing which his arrival caused. Bridget was sent to the kitchen. Jane made apologies, and sitting on the ladder step she looked up at him with the look of some one who expects a blow.

"What is it now, Mr. Morena? Have the lawyers begun to--"

He had purposely kept her in the dark, purposely neglected her, left her to loneliness, in the hope of furthering the purposes of Prosper Gael.

"I haven't come to discuss that, Jane. Soon I hope to have good news for you. But to-day I've come to give you a hint--a warning, in fact--to prepare you for what I am sure will be a shock."

"Yes?" She was flushed and breathing fast. Her fingers were busy with the feather-duster on her knee and her eyes were still waiting.

"I had a visitor this morning--Pierre Landis, of Wyoming."