A Mutual Benefit Association

: 'firebrand' Trevison

Unheeding the drama that was rapidly and invisibly (except for the

incident of Braman and the window) working itself out in its midst, Manti

lunged forward on the path of progress, each day growing larger, busier,

more noisy and more important. Perhaps Manti did not heed, because Manti

was itself a drama--the drama of creation. Each resident, each newcomer,

settled quickly and firmly into the place that desire or ambition or greed<
r />
urged him; put forth whatever energy nature had endowed him with, and

pushed on toward the goal toward which the town was striving--success;

collectively winning, unrecking of individual failure or tragedy--those

things were to be expected, and they fell into the limbo of forgotten

things, easily and unnoticed. Wrecks, disasters, were certain. They

came--turmoil engulfed them.



Which is to say that during the two weeks that had elapsed since the

departure of Judge Graney for Washington, Manti had paid very little

attention to "Brand" Trevison while he haunted the telegraph station and

the post-office for news. He was pointed out, it is true, as the man who

had hurled banker Braman through the window of his bank building; there

was a hazy understanding that he was having some sort of trouble with

Corrigan over some land titles, but in the main Manti buzzed along, busy

with its visions and its troubles, leaving Trevison with his.



The inaction, with the imminence of failure after ten years of effort, had

its effect on Trevison. It fretted him; he looked years older; he looked

worried and harassed; he longed for a chance to come to grips in an

encounter that would ease the strain. Physical action it must be, for his

brain was a muddle of passion and hatred in which clear thoughts, schemes,

plans, plots, were swallowed and lost. He wanted to come into physical

contact with the men and things that were thwarting him; he wanted to feel

the thud and jar of blows; to catch the hot breath of open antagonism; he

yearned to feel the strain of muscles--this fighting in the dark with

courts and laws and lawyers, according to rules and customs, filled him

with a raging impotence that hurt him. And then, at the end of two weeks

came a telegram from Judge Graney, saying merely: "Be patient. It's a long

trail."



Trevison got on Nigger and returned to the Diamond K.



The six o'clock train arrived in Manti that evening with many passengers,

among whom was a woman of twenty-eight at whom men turned to look the

second time. Her traveling suit spoke eloquently of that personal quality

which a language, seeking new and expressive phrases describes as "class."

It fitted her smoothly, tightly, revealing certain lines of her graceful

figure that made various citizens of Manti gasp. "Looks like she'd been

poured into it," remarked an interested lounger. She lingered on the

station platform until she saw her trunks safely deposited, and then,

drawing her skirts as though fearful of contamination, she walked,

self-possessed and cool, through the doorway of the Castle

hotel--Manti's aristocrat of hostelries.



Shortly afterwards she admitted Corrigan to her room. She had changed from

her traveling suit to a gown of some soft, glossy material that

accentuated the lines revealed by the discarded habit. The worldly-wise

would have viewed the lady with a certain expressive smile that might have

meant much or nothing. And the lady would have looked upon that smile as

she now looked at Corrigan, with a faint defiance that had quite a little

daring in it. But in the present case there was an added expression--two,

in fact--pleasure and expectancy.



"Well--I'm here." She bowed, mockingly, laughingly, compressing her lips

as she noted the quick fire that flamed in her visitor's eyes.



"That's all over, Jeff; I won't go back to it. If that's why--"



"That's all right," he said, smiling as he took the chair she waved him

to; "I've erased a page or two from the past, myself. But I can't help

admiring you; you certainly are looking fine! What have you been doing to

yourself?"



She draped herself in a chair where she could look straight at him, and

his compliment made her mouth harden at the corners.



"Well," she said; "in your letter you promised you'd take me into your

confidence. I'm ready."



"It's purely a business proposition. Each realizes on his effort. You help

me to get Rosalind Benham through the simple process of fascinating

Trevison; I help you to get Trevison by getting Miss Benham. It's a sort

of mutual benefit association, as it were."



"What does Trevison look like, Jeff--tell me?" The woman leaned forward in

her chair, her eyes glowing.



"Oh, you women!" said Corrigan, with a gesture of disgust. "He's a

handsome fool," he added; "if that's what you want to know. But I haven't

any compliments to hand him regarding his manners--he's a wild man!"



"I'd love to see him!" breathed the woman.



"Well, keep your hair on; you'll see him soon enough. But you've got to

understand this: He's on my land, and he gets off without further

fighting--if you can hold him. That's understood, eh? You win him back and

get him away from here. If you double-cross me, he finds out what you

are!" He flung the words at her, roughly.



She spoke quietly, though color stained her cheeks. "Not 'are,' Jeff--what

I was. That would be bad enough. But have no fear--I shall do as you ask.

For I want him--I have wanted him all the time--even during the time I was

chained to that little beast, Harvey. I wouldn't have been what I

am--if--if--"



"Cut it out!" he advised brutally; "the man always gets the blame,

anyway--so it's no novelty to hear that sort of stuff. So you understand,

eh? You choose your own method--but get results--quick! I want to get that

damned fool away from here!" He got up and paced back and forth in the

room. "If he takes Rosalind Benham away from me I'll kill him! I'll kill

him, anyway!"



"Has it gone very far between them?" The concern in her voice brought a

harsh laugh from Corrigan.



"Far enough, I guess. He's been riding with her; every day for three

weeks, her aunt told me. He's a fiery, impetuous devil!"



"Don't worry," she consoled. "And now," she directed; "get out of here.

I've been on the go for days and days, and I want to sleep. I shall go out

to see Rosalind tomorrow--to surprise her, Jeff--to surprise her. Ha,

ha!"



"I'll have a rig here for you at nine o'clock," said Corrigan. "Take your

trunks--she won't order you away. Tell her that Trevison sent for

you--don't mention my name; and stick to it! Well, pleasant dreams," he

added as he went out.



As the door closed the woman stood looking at it, a sneer curving her

lips.



More

;