Keith of the Border by Randall Parrish

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"Now, Doctor, you listen to me," he said sternly, "I'm through arguing. I
hate to treat you like this, for you are my friend, but I'll not stand for
interference here. Do you get that, you old fool? Lie still until I get
through! I respect your feelings toward Miss Maclaire. She is a good girl,
and I hope to heaven you get her if you want her. But you never will if
you permit this affair to go on. Yes, I know what I am talking about. In
all that Hope and I do we are serving you and Christie,--our only fight is
with 'Black Bart' Hawley. Stop being a bullet-headed old fool, Fairbain,
and understand this thing. Lie still, I tell you, and hear me out! Hawley
is a liar, a thief, and a swindler. There is a swindle in this thing
somewhere, and he hopes to pull out a big sum of money from it. He is
merely using Christie to pull his own chestnuts out of the fire. She is
innocent; we realize that, but this fellow is going to ruin the girl
unless we succeed in exposing him. He's not only involving her in his
criminal conspiracy, but he's making love to her; he's teaching her to
love him. That's part of his scheme, no doubt, for then she will be so
much easier handled. I tell you, Fairbain, your only chance to ever win
the interest of Christie Maclaire is to help us down this fellow Hawley.
Yes, you can sit up; I reckon you're beginning to see clearer, ain't you?"

Keith drew aside the flap of the tent to glance without, the light falling
on Fairbain's face as he struggled to a sitting posture. He had had a new
thought driven into him, yet failed to entirely grasp its significance.

"But, Jack," he asked, still half angry, "how about the girl? Hasn't she
any right to this money?"

"I don't know," honestly, "we don't any of us know, but whatever she has
the right to she is going to get. You can bet on that, old man. We're
bucking Hawley not Christie Maclaire--get that into your head. He hasn't
any right, that's certain, for he murdered and stole to get the papers--be
quiet! Here the fellow comes now!"

They peered out together through the convenient tent flap, Fairbain
scarcely less interested than the other, already dimly comprehending that
his truly dangerous rival was the gambler, and that he could best serve
the lady by helping to prove to her the real character of that individual.
He was still blindly groping in the haze, yet out of Keith's sharp,
stinging words there had come to him a guiding light. The latter gripped
his arm in restraint.

"Easy, old man, easy--let him pass."

Hawley turned into the alley whistling, evidently well pleased with the
situation and anticipating other delights awaiting his coming. The glow of
the Trocadero's lights served, an instant, to reveal his face, shaded by
the broad brim of his hat, and then he vanished into the dark. Keith
leaning far out, yet keeping well within the shadows, heard the faint
creak of the vestibule door and the soft murmur of distant voices. Then he
drew back suddenly, his hand again grasping Fairbain. Two figures--those
of a man and woman--emerged into the dim light, and as quickly
disappeared. Apparently her hand was upon his arm, and he was bending down
so as to gain a glimpse of the face partially concealed by the folds of
the mantilla. Only a word or two reached them, a little laugh, and the
woman's voice:

"Why, of course I hurried; you said you had something of such importance
to tell me."

"Fairbain," spoke Keith, his lips almost at the ear of the other. "That
was Hope, all right, and she has got him going already. Now, man, will you
help us out?"

"I? How?"

"Go back there, and meet Miss Maclaire. I don't care where you take her--
lunch, anywhere; only keep her from the hotel as long as possible. You can
do it far better than I, for she will not suspect you of any interest in
this affair. Tell her any lie you can think up on account of Hawley's
absence. Good Lord, old man, can't you see this is your chance; go in and
win."

Fairbain struggled to his feet, still a bit dazed and uncertain, yet
tempted by the opportunity.

"You're perfectly sure, Keith, this isn't anything that will hurt the
girl?"

"Sure! Of course I am. It's just Hawley I'm gunning after. For God's sake,
haven't you got that clear yet?"

"I--I reckon I'm an old fool, Jack," admitted the Doctor regretfully, "and
when an old fool is in love he hasn't got any sense left. Anyhow I'll do
what you want me to now. Where are you going?"

"To watch those others. There is no knowing what play Hawley might try to
pull off, and I want to keep within gun-shot of him. Hurry up, man; that
vestibule door creaked just then."

He shoved him down the dark alley, and dodged back himself across the
front of the tent out into the street. There was a crowd of men in front
of the Trocadero, but the couple he sought were nowhere in sight.

Chapter XXIX

By Force of Arms

With her heart throbbing fiercely, Hope clung to the outer door of the
vestibule endeavoring to see a little of what was transpiring without.
About her was dense darkness, and she dare not explore the surroundings.
Behind could be heard, through what must have been a thin partition, the
various distractions of the stage, shifting scenery, music, shuffling
feet, voices, and the occasional sound of applause. The girl had nerved
herself to the encounter with Hawley but this waiting here in darkness and
uncertainty tried her to the uttermost. If some one should venture out
that way how could she excuse her presence or explain her purpose? She
found herself trembling in every limb from nervous fear, startled by every
strange sound. Would the man never come? Surely Christie herself must be
ready to depart by this time.

Almost prepared to flee before the terrors thus conjured up within her
mind, they left her as if by magic the moment her straining eyes
distinguished the approach of a dim figure without. She could not tell who
it was, only that it was the unmistakable form of a man, and that he was
whistling softly to himself. It might not prove to be the gambler, but she
must accept the chance, for flesh and blood could stand the strain of
waiting no longer. Yet she was not conscious of fear, only of exultation,
as she stepped forth into the open, her blood again circulating freely in
her veins. At the slight creak of the door the man saw her, his whistle
ceasing, his hat lifted. Instantly she recognized him as Hawley, her heart
leaping with the excitement of encounter.

"Why, hullo, Christie," he said familiarly, "I thought I was early, and
expected a ten minutes' wait. I came out as soon as you left the stage."

"Oh, I can dress in a jiffy when there is any cause for hurry," Hope
responded, permitting herself to drift under his guidance. "Are you
disappointed? Would you prefer to commune with nature?"

"Well, I should say not," drawing her hand through his arm, and then
patting it with his own. "I have seen about all I care to of nature, but
not of Christie Maclaire."

"You may learn to feel the same regarding her," Hope answered, afraid to
encourage the man, yet eagerly fearful lest she fail to play her part
aright.

"Not the slightest danger," laughing lightly, and pressing her arm more
closely against his body. "Although I must confess you exhibited some
temper when I was late to-night."

"Did I not have occasion to? A woman should never be kept waiting,
especially if her engagement be imperative."

"Oh, I am not finding any fault, you little spitfire. I like you all the
better because you fight. But the trouble was, Christie, you simply jumped
on me without even asking how it occurred. You took it for granted I was
late on purpose to spite you."

"Well, weren't you?" and the girl glanced inquiringly up into his face, as
they passed out of the alley into the light of the Trocadero's windows.
"You certainly acted that way."

"No, I did not; but you wouldn't listen, and besides I had no time then to
explain. There's a lot happened this afternoon I want to tell you about.
Will you give me time to talk with you?"

"Why, of course," surprised at the question, yet full of eagerness. "Why
should you ask that?"

"Because I want you alone where no one can overhear a syllable. I'm afraid
of that damned hotel. You never know who is in the next room, and the
slightest whisper travels from one end to the other. That is one way in
which Keith got onto our deal--he had a room next to Willoughby and Scott,
and overheard them talking. I'm not going to take any more chances. Will
you go to 'Sheeny Joe's' with me?"

She drew back from him.

"'Sheeny Joe's'? You mean the saloon near the depot?"

"Sure; what's the use of being so squeamish? You sing and dance to a
saloon crowd, don't you? Oh, I know you're a good girl, Christie, and all
that. I'm not ranking you with these fly-by-nights around here. But
there's no reason that I can see why you should shy so at a saloon.
Besides, you won't see any one. Joe has got some back rooms where we can
be alone, and have a bite to eat while we're talking. What do you say?"

"Oh, I would rather not," Hope faltered, bewildered by this unexpected
request, already half-tempted to break away and run. "Really I--I don't
want to go there."

Hawley was evidently surprised at this refusal, naturally supposing from
her life that Miss Maclaire's scruples would be easily overcome. This
obstinacy of the girl aroused his anger.

"You women beat the devil," he ejaculated, gruffly, "pretending to be so
damn particular. Maybe you'd rather stand out there on the prairie and
talk?" with a sweep of his hand around the horizon.

"Yes, I would," catching desperately at the straw. "I'm not afraid of you;
I'm not blaming you at all, only I--I don't want to go to 'Sheeny Joe's.'"

He looked at her, puzzled at her attitude, and yet somewhat reassured by
her expression of confidence. Oh, well, what was the difference? It might
be better to let her have her own way, and the change would not materially
interfere with his plans. Of course, it would be pleasanter sitting
together at one of Joe's tables, but he could talk just as freely out
yonder under the stars. Besides, it might be as well now to humor the
girl.

"All right, Christie," his voice regaining its pleasant tone. "You shall
have your way this time. There is too much at stake for us to quarrel over
this."

Frightened, yet not daring to resist or exhibit the least reluctance, she
clung to his arm, and permitted him to lead her to the right down a dark
passage and out into the open land beyond. He had to feel his way
carefully, and scarcely spoke, yet proceeded as though the passage was
reasonably familiar and he had some definite point in view. She answered
in monosyllables, now thoroughly regretful of having permitted herself to
drift into this position, yet not in the least knowing how to extricate
herself. Hawley took everything for granted, her very silence convincing
him of her acquiescence. With throbbing pulse, Hope felt the small
revolver hidden within her dress, undoing a button so that, in emergency,
she might grasp it more quickly. Hawley felt the movement, the trembling
of her arm.

"You are afraid, just the same," he said, pressing her to him lover-like.
"Darkness always gets on a woman's nerves."

"Yes, that and loneliness," resenting his familiarity.

"Do we need to go any farther? Surely, we are alone here."

"Only a few steps; the ravine is yonder, and we can sit down on the rocks.
I want to smoke, and we will be entirely out of sight there."

He helped her down the rather sharp declivity until both were thoroughly
concealed below the prairie level. Feeling about with his hands he found
the surface of a smooth rock, and seated her upon it. Then a match flared,
casting an instant's gleam across his face as he lighted his cigar.
Blacker than ever the night shut down about them, and he groped for a seat
beside her. She could perceive just one star peering through a rift of
cloud, and in her nostrils was the pungent odor of tobacco. With a little
shiver of disgust she drew slightly away from him, dreading what was to
come. One thing alone she felt was in her favor--however familiar Hawley
attempted to be, he was evidently not yet sufficiently sure of Miss
Maclaire to become entirely offensive. She might not have frowned at his
love-making, but apparently he had not yet progressed sufficiently far in
her good graces to venture to extremes. Hope pressed her lips together,
determined to resist any further approach of the man. However, his
earliest words were a relief.

"I reckon, Christie," he said slowly, between puffs on his cigar, the
lighted end of which faintly illumined his face, "you've got the idea I
have brought you out here to make love. Lord knows I'd like to well
enough, but just now there's more important matters on hand. Fact is, my
girl, we're up against a little back-set, and have got to make a shift in
our plans--a mighty quick shift, too," he added, almost savagely.

"I--I don't think I understand."

"No, of course, you don't. You imagine all we've got to do in a matter of
this kind is to step into the nearest court, and draw the money. One
trouble is, our evidence isn't complete--we've got to find that woman who
brought you up."

"Oh!" said Hope, not knowing what else to say.

"Yes," he went on, apparently satisfied with her exclamation. "Of course,
I know she's dead, or at least, you say so, but we haven't got enough
proof without her--not the way old Waite promises to fight your claim--and
so we've got to hunt for a substitute. Do you happen to know any old woman
about the right age who would make affidavit for you? She probably
wouldn't have to go on the stand at all. Waite will cave in as soon as he
knows we've got the evidence."

He waited for an answer, but she hardly knew what to say. Then she
remembered that Keith insisted that Miss Maclaire had no conception that
there was any fraud in her claim.

"No, I know no one. But what do you mean? I thought everything was
straight? That there was no question about my right to inherit?"

"Well, there isn't, Christie," pulling fiercely on his cigar. "But the
courts are particular; they have got to have the whole thing in black and
white. I thought all along I could settle the entire matter with Waite
outside, but the old fool won't listen to reason. I saw him twice to-day."

"Twice?" surprise wringing the word from her.

"Yes; thought I had got him off on a false scent and out of the way, the
first time, but he turned up again like a bad penny. What's worse, he's
evidently stumbled on to a bit of legal information which makes it safer
for us to disappear until we can get the links of our chain forged. He's
taken the case into court already, and the sheriff is here tryin' to find
me so as to serve the papers. I've got to skip out, and so've you."

"I?" rising to her feet, indignantly. "What have I done to be frightened
over?"

He laughed, but not pleasantly.

"Oh, hell, Christie, can't you understand? Old Waite is after you the same
way he is me. It'll knock our whole case if he can get you into court
before our evidence is ready. All you know is what I have told you--that's
straight enough--but we've got to have proof. I can get it in a month, but
he's got hold of something which gives him a leverage. I don't know what
it is--maybe it's just a bluff--but the charge is conspiracy, and he's got
warrants out. There is nothing for us to do but skip."

"But my clothes; my engagement?" she urged, feeling the insistent
earnestness of the man, and sparring for delay. "Why, I cannot go.
Besides, if the sheriff is hunting us, the trains will be watched."

"Do you suppose I am fool enough to risk the trains?" he exclaimed,
roughly, plainly losing patience. "Not much; horses and the open plains
for us, and a good night the start of them. They will search for me first,
and you'll never be missed until you fail to show up at the Trocadero.
Never mind the clothes; they can be sent after us."

"To-night!" she cried, awakening to the immediate danger, and rising to
her feet. "You urge me to fly with you to-night?--now?"

"Sure, don't be foolish and kick up a row. The horses are here waiting
just around the end of the ravine."

She pressed her hands to her breast, shrinking away from him.

"No! No! I will not go!" she declared, indignantly. "Keep back! Don't
touch me!"

Hawley must have expected the resistance, for with a single movement he
grasped her even as she turned to fly, pinning her arms helplessly to her
side, holding her as in a vice.

"Oh, but you will, my beauty," he growled. "I thought you might act up and
I'm ready. Do you think I am fool enough to leave you here alone to be
pumped dry? It is a big stake I'm playing after, girl, and I am not going
to lose it through the whims of a woman. If you won't go pleasantly, then
you'll go by force. Keep still, you tigress! Do you want me to choke you?"

She struggled to break loose, twisting and turning, but the effort was
useless. Suddenly he whistled sharply. There was the sound of feet
scrambling down the path, and the frightened woman perceived the dim
outlines of several approaching men. She gave one scream, and Hawley
released his grip on her arms to grasp her throat.

She jerked away, half-stumbling backward over a rock. The revolver,
carried concealed in her dress, was in her hand. Mad with terror, scarcely
knowing what she did, she pulled the trigger. In the flash she saw one man
throw up his hands and go down. The next instant the others were upon her.

Chapter XXX

In Christie's Room

Keith swept his glance up and down the street without results. Surely,
Hawley and his companion could not have disappeared so suddenly. They had
turned to the right, he was certain as to that, and he pushed through the
crowd of men around the theatre entrance, and hastened to overtake them.
He found nothing to overtake--nowhere along that stretch of street,
illumined by window lights, was there any sign of a man and woman walking
together. He stopped bewildered, staring blindly about, failing utterly to
comprehend this mysterious vanishing. What could it mean? What had
happened? How could they have disappeared so completely during that single
moment he had waited to speak to Fairbain? The man's heart beat like a
trip-hammer with apprehension, a sudden fear for Hope taking possession of
him. Surely the girl would never consent to enter any of those dens along
the way, and Hawley would not dare resort to force in the open street. The
very thought seemed preposterous, and yet, with no other supposition
possible, he entered these one after the other in hasty search,
questioning the inmates sharply, only to find himself totally baffled--
Hawley and Hope had vanished as though swallowed by the earth. He explored
dark passage-ways between the scattered buildings, rummaging about
recklessly, but came back to the street again without reward.

Could they have gone down the other side, in the deeper shadows, and thus
reached the hotel more quickly than it seemed to him possible? There was
hardly a chance that this could be true, and yet Keith grasped at it
desperately, cursing himself for having wasted time. Five minutes later,
breathless, almost speechless with anxiety, he startled the clerk.

"Has Miss Waite come in? Miss Hope Waite?"

"Blamed if I know," retorted the other, indifferently. "Can't for the life
of me tell those two females apart. One of them passed through 'bout ten
minutes ago; Doc Fairbain was with her. Another party just went upstairs
hunting Miss Maclaire, and as they haven't come down, I reckon it must
have been her--anything wrong?"

"I'm not sure yet," shortly. "Who was this other person?"

"Old fellow with white hair and whiskers--swore like a pirate--had the
sheriff along with him."

It came to Keith in a flash--it was Waite. Perhaps Christie knew. Perhaps
the General knew. Certainly something of importance was crystallizing in
the actress' room which might help to explain all else. He rushed up the
stairs, barely waiting to rap once at the closed door before he pressed it
open. The sight within held him silent, waiting opportunity to blurt out
his news. Here, also, was tragedy, intense, compelling, which for the
instant seemed to even overshadow the fate of the girl he loved. There
were three men present, and the woman. She stood clutching the back of a
chair, white-faced and open-eyed, with Fairbain slightly behind her, one
hand grasping her arm, the other clinched, his jaw set pugnaciously.
Facing these two was Waite, and a heavily built man wearing a brown beard,
closely trimmed.

"You'd better acknowledge it," Waite snapped out, with a quick glance at
the newcomer. "It will make it all the easier for you. I tell you this is
the sheriff, and we've got you both dead to rights."

"But," she urged, "why should I be arrested? I have done nothing."

"You're an adventuress--a damn adventuress--Hawley's mistress, probably--
a--"

"Now, see here, Waite," and Fairbain swung himself forward, "you drop
that. Miss Maclaire is my friend, and if you say another word I'll smash
you, sheriff or no sheriff."

Waite glared at him.

"You old fool," he snorted, "what have you got to do with this?"

"I've got this to do with it, you'll find--the woman is to be treated with
respect or I'll blow your damned obstinate head off."

The sheriff laid his hand on Waite's shoulder.

"Come," he said, firmly, "this is no way to get at it. We want to know
certain facts, and then we can proceed lawfully. Let me question the
woman."

The two older men still faced one another belligerently, but Keith saw
Christie draw the doctor back from between her and the sheriff.

"You may ask me anything you please," she announced, quietly. "I am sure
these gentlemen will not fight here in my room."

"Very well, Miss Maclaire. It will require only a moment. How long have
you known this man Hawley?"

"Merely a few days--since I arrived in Sheridan."

"But you were in communication with him before that?"

The pleasant voice and quiet demeanor of the sheriff seemed to yield the
girl confidence and courage.

"Yes, he had written me two or three letters."

"You met him here then by appointment?"

"He was to come to Sheridan, and explain to me more fully what his letters
had only hinted at."

"You possessed no previous knowledge of his purpose?"

"Only the barest outline--details were given me later."

"Will you tell us briefly exactly what Hawley told you?"

The girl's bewildered eyes wandered from face to face, then returned to
the waiting sheriff.

"May--may I sit down?" she asked.

"Most certainly; and don't be afraid, for really we wish to be your
friends."

She sank down into the chair, and even Keith could see how her slender
form trembled. There was a moment's silence.

"Believe me, gentlemen," she began, falteringly, "if there is any fraud,
any conspiracy, I have borne no conscious part in it. Mr. Hawley came to
me saying a dying man had left with him certain papers, naming one,
Phyllis Gale, as heiress to a very large estate in North Carolina, left by
her grandfather in trust. He said the girl had been taken West, when
scarcely two years old, by her father in a fit of drunken rage, and then
deserted by him in St. Louis."

"You--you saw the papers?" Waite broke in.

"Yes, those that Hawley had; he gave them to me to keep for him." She
crossed to her trunk, and came back, a manilla envelope in her hand. Waite
opened it hastily, running his eyes over the contents.

"The infernal scoundrel!" he exclaimed, hotly. "These were stolen from me
at Carson City."

"Let me see them." The sheriff ran them over, merely glancing at the
endorsements.

"Just as you represented, Waite," he said, slowly. "A copy of the will,
your commission as guardian, and memoranda of identification. Well, Miss
Maclaire, how did you happen to be so easily convinced that you were the
lost girl?"

"Mr. Hawley brought me a picture which he said was of this girl's half-
sister; the resemblance was most startling. This, with the fact that I
have never known either father or mother or my real name, and that my
earlier life was passed in St. Louis, sufficed to make me believe he must
be right."

"You--you--" Waite choked, leaning forward.

"You don't know your real name?"

"No, I do not," her lips barely forming the words. "The woman who brought
me up never told me."

"Who--who was the woman?"

"A Mrs. Raymond--Sue Raymond--she was on the stage, and died in Texas--San
Antonio, I think."

Waite swore audibly, his eyes never once deserting the girl's face.

"Hawley told you to say that?"

"No, he did not," she protested warmly. "It was never even mentioned
between us--at least, not Sue Raymond's name. What difference can that
make?"

He stepped forward, one hand flung out, and Fairbain sprang forward
instantly between them, mistaking the action.

"Hands off there, Waite," he commanded sternly. "Whatever she says goes."

"You blundering old idiot," the other exploded. "I'm not going to hurt
her; stand aside, will you!"

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