The Mistress of Bonaventure

"Is it permissible to ask any questions?" she said, and her even tone stung me to the quick. One whisper against the speaker would have roused me to fury.

"Everybody will know to-morrow or the next day, and I may as well tell you now," I said, in a voice which sounded, even in my own ears, hoarse with bitterness. "I am to be tried for burning down the homestead of Gaspard's Trail."

Beatrice Haldane certainly showed surprise, but she seemed more thoughtful than indignant, and still fixed me with her eyes. They were clear and very beautiful, but I had begun to wonder if a spark of human passion would ever burn within them.

"It is absurd – preposterous. Come here at once, Sergeant!" a clear young voice with a thrill of unmistakable anger in it said; but Mackay seemed desirous of backing into the station agent's office instead.

"I want you," added Lucille Haldane. "Come at once, and tell me why you have done this."

The sergeant's courage was evidently unequal to the task, for with a brief, "I will try to satisfy ye when I have transacted my business," he disappeared into the office, and I turned again to Beatrice Haldane.

"You see it is unfortunately true; but you do not appear astonished," I said.

Beatrice Haldane looked at me sharply, but without indignation, for she was always mistress of herself, and before she could speak her sister broke in: "Do you wish to make us angry, when we are only sorry for you, Mr. Ormesby? Everybody knows that neither you nor any rancher in this district could be guilty. Corporal Cotton, will you inquire if your superior has finished his business, and tell him that I am waiting?"

"The old heathen deserves it!" said Cotton aside to me, as, with unfeigned relief, he hurried away, and it was only by an effort I refrained from following him. The interview was growing painful in the extreme. Still, I was respited, for Beatrice Haldane turned from us suddenly.

"What can this mean? There is a troop of horsemen riding as for their lives towards the station," she said.

It was growing dark, but not too dark to see a band of mounted men converge at a gallop upon the station, and for the first time I noticed how the loungers stared at them, and heard the jingle of harness and thud of drumming hoofs. None of them shouted or spoke. They came on in ominous silence, the spume flakes flying from the lathered beasts, the clods whirling up, until a voice cried:

"Two of you stand by to hold up the train! The rest will come along with me!"

Amid a musical jingling, the horses were pulled up close beside the track, and men in embroidered deerskin with broad white hats and men in old blue-jean leaped hurriedly down. Several carried rifles, while, guessing their purpose, I pointed towards the frame houses across the unfenced track. "You must go at once, Miss Haldane. There may be a tumult," I said.

Lucille seemed reluctant, Beatrice by no means hurried, and I do not remember whether I bade either of them farewell, for as the newcomers came swiftly into the station a gaunt commanding figure holding a carbine barred their way, and Corporal Cotton leaped out from the office. The station agent, holding a revolver, also placed himself between them and me.

"What are ye wanting, boys?" a steady voice asked; and the men halted within a few paces of the carbine's muzzle. I could just see that they were my friends and neighbors, and I noticed that one who rode up and down the track seemed inclined to civilly prevent the ladies from retiring to the wooden settlement. Perhaps he feared they intended to raise its inhabitants.

"We want Harry Ormesby," answered a voice I recognized as belonging to Steel. "Stand out of the daylight, Sergeant. We have no call to hurt you."

"I'm thinking that's true," said Mackay; and I admired his coolness as he stood alone, save for the young corporal, grimly eying the crowd. "It will, however, be my distressful duty to damage the first of ye who moves a foot nearer my prisoner. Noo will ye hear reason, boys, or will I wire for a squadron to convince ye? Ormesby ye cannot have, and will ye shame your own credit and me?"

There was a murmur of consultation, but no disorderly clamor. The men whom Thorn had raised to rescue me were neither habitual brawlers nor desperadoes, but sturdy stock-riders and tillers of the soil, smarting under a sense of oppression. They were all fearless, and would, I knew, have faced a cavalry brigade to uphold what appeared their rights, but they were equally averse to any bloodshed or violence that was not necessary.

"There's no use talking, Sergeant," somebody said. "We don't go back without our man, and it will be better for all of us if you release him. You know as well as we do there's nothing against him."

Meanwhile, I could not well interfere without precipitating a crisis. The station agent, who stated that Mackay had deputed him authority, stood beside me with the pistol in his hand. Neither was I certain what my part would be, for, stung to white heat by Beatrice Haldane's coldness, which suggested suspicion, and came as a climax to a series of injuries, I wondered whether it might not be better to make a dash for liberty and leave the old hard life behind me. There might be better fortune beyond the Rockies, and I felt that Lane would not have instigated the charge of arson unless he saw his way to substantiate it.

Nevertheless, I could watch the others with a strange and almost impersonal curiosity – the group of men standing with hard hands on the rifle barrels ready for a rush; the grim figure of the sergeant, and the young corporal poised with head held high, left foot flung forward, and carbine at hip, in front of them.

"We'll give you two minutes in which to make up your mind. Then, if you can't climb down, and anything unpleasant happens, it will be on your head. Can't you see you haven't the ghost of a show?" said one.

Turning my eyes a moment, I noticed a fan-shaped flicker swinging like a comet across the dusky waste far down the straight-ruled track, and when a man I knew held up his watch beneath a lamp, I had almost come to a decision. If the sergeant had shown any sign of weakness it is perhaps possible that decision might have been reversed; but Mackay stood as though cast in iron, and equally unyielding. I would at least have no blood shed on my account, and would not leave my friends to bear the consequences of their unthinking generosity. Meanwhile, stock-rider and teamster were waiting in strained attention, and there was still almost a minute left to pass when a light hand touched my shoulder, and Lucille Haldane, appearing from behind me, said: "You must do something. Go forward and speak to them immediately." She was trembling with eagerness, but the station agent stood on my other side, and he was woodenly stolid.

"Put down that weapon. I will speak to them," I said.

"You're healthier here," was the suspicious answer; and chiefly conscious of the appeal and anxiety in Lucille Haldane's eyes, I turned upon him.

"Stand out of my way – confound you!" I shouted.

The man fingered the pistol uncertainly, and I could have laughed at his surmise that the sight of it would have held me then. Before, even if he wished it, his finger could close on the trigger, I had him by the wrist, and the weapon fell with a clash. Then I lifted him bodily and flung him upon the track, while, as amid a shouting, Cotton sprang forward, Mackay roared: "Bide ye, let him go!"

The shouting ceased suddenly when I stood between my friends and the sergeant with hands held up. "I'll never forget what you have done, boys; but it is no use," I said; and paused to gather breath, amid murmurs of surprise and consternation. "In the first place, I can't drag you into this trouble."

"We'll take the chances willing," a voice said, and there was a grim chorus of approval. "We've borne enough, and it's time we did something."

"Can't you see that if I bolted now it would suit nobody better than Lane? Boys, you know I'm innocent – "

Again a clamor broke out, and somebody cried: "It was Lane's own man who did it, if anybody fired Gaspard's Trail!"

"He may not be able to convict me, and if instead of rushing the sergeant you will go home and help Thorn with the sowing, we may beat him yet," I continued. "Even if I am convicted, I'll come back again, and stay right here until Lane is broken, or one of us is dead."

The hoot of a whistle cut me short, the brightening blaze of a great headlamp beat into our faces, and further speech was out of the question, as with brakes groaning the lighted cars clanged in.

"Be quick, Sergeant, before they change their minds!" I shouted, and Mackay and Cotton scrambled after me on to a car platform. No train that ever entered that station had, I think, so prompt dispatch, for Cotton had hardly opened the door of the vestibule than the bell clanged and the huge locomotive snorted as the cars rolled out. I had a momentary vision of the agent, who seemed partly dazed, scowling in my direction, a group of dark figures swinging broad-brimmed hats, and Lucille Haldane standing on the edge of the platform waving her hand to me. Then the lights faded behind us, and we swept out, faster and faster, across the prairie.

CHAPTER XX

LEADEN-FOOTED JUSTICE

I had spent a number of weary days awaiting trial, when a visitor was announced, and a young, smooth-shaven man shown into my quarters. He nodded to me pleasantly, seated himself on the edge of the table, and commenced: "Your friends sent me along. I hope to see you through this trouble, Rancher, and want you to tell me exactly how your difficulties began. Think of all the little things that didn't strike you as quite usual."

"I should like to hear in the first place who you are. I know your name is Dixon, but that does not convey very much," I said.

The stranger laughed good-humoredly. "And such is fame! Now I had fancied everybody who read the papers knew my name, and that I had won some small reputation down at Winnipeg. Anyway, I'm generally sent for in cases with a financial origin."

Then I remembered, and looked hard at the speaker. The last sentence was justified, but he differed greatly from one's idea of the typical lawyer. He was not even neatly dressed, and his manner singularly lacked the preciseness of the legal practitioner.

"I must apologize, for I certainly have read about you," I said. "It was perhaps natural that as I did not send for you I should be surprised at your taking an interest in my case. I am, however, afraid I cannot retain you, for the simple reason that I don't know where to raise sufficient money to recompense any capable man's services."

"Aren't you a little premature? My clients don't usually plead poverty until I send in my bill," was the answer. "You own a tolerably extensive holding in Crane Valley, don't you?"

"I do; but nobody, except one man with whom I would not deal, would buy a foot of it just now," I answered. Then, acceding to the other's request, I supported the statement by a brief account of my circumstances. "All this is quite beside the question," I concluded.

"No!" said Dixon. "As a matter of fact, I find it interesting. Won't you go on and bring the story down to the present?"

I did so, and the man's face had changed, growing intent and keen before I concluded.

"I should rather like to manage this affair for you," he said. "My fees! – well, from what one or two people said about you, I can, if necessary, wait for them."

"You will probably never be paid. Who was it sent for you?"

"Charles Steel, who was, however, not quite so frank about finances as you seem to be," was the answer. "It was also curious, or otherwise, that I was requested to see what could be done by two other gentlemen who offered to guarantee expenses. That is about as much as I may tell you. You are not the only person with an interest in the future of the Crane Valley district."

"I seem to be used as a stalking-horse by friends and enemies alike, and get the benefit of the charges each time they miss their aim. The part grows irksome," I said dryly. "However, if you are willing to take the risks, I need capable assistance badly enough."

Dixon seemed quite willing, and asked further questions. "You seem a little bitter against the sergeant. What kind of man is he?" he said. "I mean, has he a tolerably level head, or is he one of the discipline-made machines who can comprehend nothing not included in their code of rules?"