The Cattle-Baron's Daughter Part 8

Clavering said nothing further, though he realized, perhaps more clearly than his leader, that it was only by the downfall of the cattle-men the small farmer could establish himself, and, when he had handed a cheque to Torrance, went out.

It was three days later when Hetty Torrance rose from her seat in a big vestibule car as the long train slackened speed outside a little Western station. She laughed as she swept her glance round the car.

"Look at it, Flo," she said; "gilding and velvet and nickel, all quite in keeping with the luxury of the East. You are environed by civilization still; but once you step off the platform there will be a difference."

Flora Schuyler, who noticed the little flush in her companion's face, glanced out of the dusty window, for the interior of the gently-rocking car, with its lavish decoration and upholstery, was not new to her, and the first thing that caught her eye was the miscellaneous deposit of rubbish, old boots, and discarded clothing, amidst the willows that slowly flitted by. Then she saw a towering water-tank, wooden houses that rose through a haze of blowing dust, hideous in their unadornment, against a crystalline sky, and a row of close-packed stock-cars which announced that they were in the station.

It seemed to be thronged with the populace, and there was a murmur, apparently of disappointed expectancy, when, as the cars stopped, the three women alone appeared on the platform. Then there was a shout for the conductor, and somebody said, "You've no rustlers aboard for us?"

"No," said the grinning official who leaned out from the door of the baggage-car. "The next crowd are waiting until they can buy rifles to whip you with."

Hoa.r.s.e laughter followed, and somebody said, "Boys, your friends aren't coming. You can take your band home again."

Then out of the clamour came the roll of a drum, and, clear and musical, the ringing of bugles blown by men who had marched with Grant and Sherman when they were young. The effect was stirring, and a cheer went up, for there were other men present in whom the spirit which, underlying immediate issues, had roused the North to arms was living yet; but it broke off into laughter when, one by one, discordant instruments and beaten pans joined in. The din, however, ceased suddenly, when somebody said, "Hadn't you better let up, boys, or Torrance will figure you sent the band for him?"

Miss Schuyler appeared a trifle bewildered, the maid frightened; but Hetty's cheeks were glowing.

"Flo," she said, "aren't you glad you came? The boys are taking the trail.

We'll show you how we stir the prairie up by and by!"

Miss Schuyler was very doubtful as to whether the prospect afforded her any pleasure; but just then a grey-haired man, dressed immaculately in white shirt and city clothes, kissed her companion, and then, taking off his hat, handed her down from the platform with ceremonious courtesy. He had a grim, forceful face, with pride and command in it, and Miss Schuyler, who felt half afraid of him then, never quite overcame the feeling. She noticed, however, that he paid equal attention to the terrified maid.

"It would be a duty to do our best for any of Hetty's friends who have been so kind to her in the city, but in this case it's going to be a privilege, too," he said. "Well, you will be tired, and they have a meal waiting you at the hotel. This place is a little noisy to-day, but we'll start on the first stage of your journey when you're ready."

He gave Miss Schuyler his arm, and moved towards the thickest of the crowd, which, though apparently slightly hostile, made way for him. Here and there a man drove his fellows back, and one, catching up a loose plank, laid it down for the party to cross the rail switches on. Torrance turned to thank him, but the man swept his hat off with a laugh.

"I wouldn't worry; it wasn't for you," he said. "It's a long while since we've seen anything so pretty as Miss Torrance and the other one."

Flora Schuyler flushed a little, but Hetty turned to the speaker with a sparkle in her eyes.

"Now," she said, "that was 'most worth a dollar, and if I didn't know what kind of man you were, I'd give it you. But what about Clarkson's Lou?"

There was a laugh from the a.s.sembly, and the man appeared embarra.s.sed.

"Well," he said slowly, "she went off with Jo."

Miss Torrance nodded sympathetically. "Still, if she knew no better than that, I wouldn't worry. Jo had a cast in his eye."

The crowd laughed again, and Flora Schuyler glanced at her companion with some astonishment as she asked, "Do you always talk to them that way?"

"Of course," said Hetty. "They're our boys--grown right here. Aren't they splendid?"

Miss Schuyler once more appeared dubious, and made no answer; but she noticed that the man now preceded them, and raised his hand when they came up with the band, which had apparently halted to indulge in retort or badinage with some of those who followed them.

"Hold on a few minutes, boys, and down with that flag," he said.

Then a tawdry banner was lowered suddenly between two poles, but not before Miss Torrance had seen part of the blazoned legend. Its unvarnished forcefulness brought a flush to her companion's cheek.

"Dad," she asked more gravely, "what is it all about?"

Torrance laughed a little. "That," he said, "is a tolerably big question.

It would take quite a long while to answer it."

They had a street to traverse, and Hetty saw that it was filled with little knots of men, some of whom stared at her father, though as she pa.s.sed their hats came off. Miss Schuyler, on her part, noticed that most of the stores were shut, and felt that she had left New York a long way behind as she glanced at the bare wooden houses cracked by frost and sun, rickety plank walks, whirling wisps of dust, and groups of men, splendid in their lean, muscular symmetry and picturesque apparel. There was a boldness in their carriage, and a grace that approached the statuesque in every poise. Still, she started when they pa.s.sed one wooden building where blue-shirted figures with rifles stood motionless in the verandah.

"The jail," said Torrance, quietly. "The Sheriff has one or two rioters safe inside there."

They found an indifferent meal ready at the wooden hotel, and when they descended in riding dress a wagon with their baggage was waiting outside the door, while a few mounted men with wide hats and bandoliers came up with three saddle-horses. Torrance bestowed the maid in the light wagon, and, when the two girls were mounted, swung himself into the saddle. Then, as they trotted down the unpaved street, Hetty glanced at him and pointed to the dusty hors.e.m.e.n.

"What are the boys for?" she asked.

Torrance smiled grimly. "I told you we had our troubles. It seemed better to bring them, in case we had any difficulty with Larry's friends."

"Larry's friends?" asked Hetty, almost indignantly.

Torrance nodded. "Yes," he said. "You have seen a few of them. They were carrying the flag with the inscription at the depot."

Hetty asked nothing further, but Flora Schuyler noticed the little flash in her eyes, and as they crossed the railroad track the clear notes of the bugles rose again and were followed by a tramp of feet. Glancing over their shoulders the girls could see men moving in a body, with the flag they carried tossing amidst the dust. They were coming on in open fours, and when the bugles ceased deep voices sent a marching song ringing across the wooden town.

Hetty's eyes sparkled; the stockriders seemed to swing more lightly in their saddles, and Flora Schuyler felt a little quiver run through her.

Something that jingling rhythm and the simple words expressed but inarticulately stirred her blood, as she remembered that in her nation's last great struggle the long battalions had limped on, ragged and footsore, singing that song.

"Listen," said Hetty, while the colour crept into her face. "Oh, I know it's scarcely music, and the crudest verse; but it served its purpose, and is there any nation on earth could put more swing and spirit into the grandest theme?"

Torrance smiled somewhat drily, but there was a curious expression in his face. "Some of those men are drawing their pension, but they're not with us," he said. "It's only because we have sent in all the boys we can spare that the Sheriff, who has their partners in his jail, can hold the town."

A somewhat impressive silence followed this, and Flora Schuyler glanced at Hetty when they rode out into the white prairie with two dusty men with bandoliers on either flank.

VI

THE INCENDIARY

Events of no apparent moment have extensive issues now and then, and while cattle-man and homesteader braced themselves for the conflict which they felt would come, the truce might have lasted longer but for the fact that one night Muller slept indifferently in the new house he had built. He was never quite sure what made him restless, or prompted him to open and lean out of his window; and, when he had done this, he saw and heard nothing unusual for a while.

On one hand the birch bluff rose, a dusky wall, against the indigo of the sky, and in front of him the prairie rolled away, silent and shadowy.

There was scarcely a sound but the low ripple of the creek, until, somewhere far off in the distance, a coyote howled. The drawn-out wail had in it something unearthly, and Muller, who was by no means an imaginative man, shivered a little. The deep silence of the great empty land emphasized by the sound reacted upon him and increased his restlessness.

Scarcely knowing why he did so, except that he felt he could not sleep, he slipped on a few garments, and moved softly to the door, that he might not disturb his daughter. There was no moon when he went out, but the stars shone clearly in the great vault of blue, and the barns and stables he had built rose black against the sky. Though Grant had lent him a.s.sistance and he had hewn the lumber on the spot, one cannot build a homestead and equip it for nothing, and when he had provided himself with working horses, Muller had sunk the last of his scanty capital in the venture. It was perhaps this fact which induced him to approach the stable, moving noiselessly in his slippers, and glance within.

The interior was black and shadowy, but there was no doubting the fact that the beasts were moving restlessly. Muller went in, holding his breath as he peered about him, and one broncho backed away as he approached its stall. Muller patted it on the flank, and the horse stood still, as though rea.s.sured, when it recognized him, which was not without its meaning. He listened, but hearing nothing groped round the stable, and taking a hayfork went out as softly as he had entered, and took up his post in the deepest shadow, where he commanded outbuildings and house. There was, he knew, n.o.body but Grant dwelling within several leagues of him, and as yet property was at least as safe in that country as it was in Chicago or New York; but as he leaned, impa.s.sively watchful, against the wall, he remembered an episode which had happened a few weeks earlier.

He had been overtaken by a band of stockriders when fording the creek with his daughter, and one who loitered behind them reined his horse in and spoke to the girl. Muller never knew what his words had been; but he saw the sudden colour in the fraulein's face, and seized the man's bridle. An altercation ensued, and when the man rejoined his comrades, who apparently did not sympathize with him, his bridle hand hung limp and the farmer was smiling as he swung a stick. Muller attached no especial importance to the affair; but Grant, who did not tell him so, differed in this when he heard of it. He knew that the cattle-rider is usually rather chivalrous than addicted to distasteful gallantries.

In any case, Muller heard nothing for a while, and felt tempted to return to his bed when he grew chilly. He had, however, spent bitter nights stalking the franc tireurs in the snow, and the vigilance taught and demanded by an inflexible discipline had not quite deserted him, though he was considerably older and less nimble now. At last, however, a dim, moving shadow appeared round a corner of the building, stopped a moment, and then slid on again towards the door. So noiseless was it that Muller could almost have believed his eyes had deceived him until he heard the hasp rattle. Still, he waited until the figure pa.s.sed into the stable, and then very cautiously crept along the wall. Muller was not so vigorous as he had been when proficiency in the use of the bayonet had been drilled into him; but while his fingers tightened on the haft of the fork he fancied that he had still strength enough to serve his purpose. He had also been taught to use it to the best advantage.