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The Lady Doc, a novel by Caroline Lockhart |
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Chapter 25. Crowheart Demands Justice |
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_ CHAPTER XXV. CROWHEART DEMANDS JUSTICE The utterly insignificant telegraph operator at an equally insignificant railway station in Mexico loomed a person of colossal importance to Ogden Van Lennop, who had calculated that the reply to his telegram was considerably more than a week overdue. As he went once more to the telegraph office, the only reason of which he could think for being glad that he was the principal owner in the only paying mine in the vicinity was that the operator did not dare laugh in his face. "Anything for me?" "Nothing; not yet, sir." The operator's voice and manner were respectful, but Van Lennop saw his teeth gleam beneath his dark mustache. He had found it quite useless to assure Van Lennop that he need not trouble himself to call as any telegram would be delivered immediately upon its receipt, also he had been long enough in the service to know that young Americans of Van Lennop's type did not ordinarily become so intense over a matter of business. "Could it have gone astray--this infernal name--it looks like a piece of barbed wire when it's spelled out--is there another place of the same name in Mexico?" "Not in the world, sir." "I didn't think so," returned Van Lennop grimly. He continued: "I want you to telegraph the operator in Crowheart and find out positively if the message was delivered to the person to whom it was sent." "I'll get it off at once, sir." So this was being "in love?"--this frenzy of impatience, this unceasing anxiety which would not let him sleep! It seemed to Van Lennop that he had nearly run the emotional gamut since leaving Crowheart and all that remained to be experienced was further depths of doubt and dark despair. Had he been too sure of her, he asked himself; had something in his letter or the sending of his telegram displeased her? Was she ill? He reproached himself bitterly for not telling her before he left, and thought with angry impatience of the caution which had kept him silent because he wanted to be sure of himself. "Sure of myself!" he repeated it contemptuously. "I should have been making sure of her! The veriest yokel would have known that he was completely--desperately in love with her, but I, like the spineless mollusk that I am, must needs wait a little longer--'to be sure of myself'!" To shorten the long hours which must intervene before he could expect a reply from Crowheart, Van Lennop ordered his saddle horse and rode to the mine, where a rascally superintendent had stripped the ore shoot and departed with everything but the machinery. Van Lennop had the tangled affairs of the mine fairly well straightened out and the new superintendent was due that day, so the end of his enforced stay was in sight in a day or two more--three at the most. As his horse picked its way over the mountain trail the fresh air seemed to clear his brain of the jumble of doubts and misgivings and replace them with a growing conviction that something had gone wrong--that all was not well with Essie Tisdale. His unanswered letter and telegram was entirely at variance with her sweet good-nature. What if she were needing him, calling upon him now, this very minute? He urged his horse unconsciously at the thought. Some accident--he could think of nothing else--unless a serious illness. The employees at the mine observed that the young American owner was singularly inattentive that day to the complaints and grievances to which heretofore he had lent a patient ear. His horse was sweating when upon his return he threw the reins to an idle Mexican in front of his hotel and hurried into the office. Yes; there was a telegram for Senor Van Lennop--two, in fact. He tore open the envelope of one with fingers which were awkward in their haste. The telegram read: Message addressed to Miss Essie Tisdale received and delivered.Van Lennop stood quite still and read it again, even to the unintelligible date-line. He felt suddenly lifeless, listless, as though he wanted to sit down. It was all over, then. She had received his letter and his telegram, and her reply to his offer of his love and himself was--silence? It was not like her, but there seemed nothing more for him to do. He could not force himself and his love upon her. She knew her own mind. His conceit had led him into error. It was done. He opened the other telegram mechanically. It was from Prescott and partially in code. It was a long one for Prescott to send, but Van Lennop looked at it without interest. He would translate it at his leisure--there was no hurry now--the game had lost its zest. Van Lennop turned to the dingy register. A train had arrived in his absence and perhaps Britt, the new superintendent, had come. His name was there--that was something for which to be grateful, as he could the sooner get back into the world where he could find in business something better than his own wretched thoughts to occupy his mind. He walked languidly over the stone flagging to his room and dropped listlessly into a chair. It was not long before he heard Britt's alert step in the corridor quickly followed by his brisk rap upon the door. He always had liked the ambitious young engineer and they shook hands cordially. "I'm more than glad to see you." Britt laughed. "I dare say. A week in a place like this is much like a jail sentence unless you're hard at work. Are things in pretty much of a mess?" Van Lennop went over the situation briefly, and concluded-- "I'll stay over a day or so, if you desire." "There's no necessity, I think," said Britt, rising. "I'll keep in touch with you by wire. Crowheart again?" Van Lennop shook his head. "I'm going east from here." "Here's a late paper; perhaps you'd like to look it over. When I'm in a place like this I can read a patent medicine pamphlet, and enjoy it." Van Lennop smiled. "Much obliged. There's the supper gong. Don't wait for me; I'll be a little late." Van Lennop had no desire for food, much less for conversation, so he picked up the travel-worn newspaper which Britt had tossed upon the table and glanced at the headlines. The stock market was stronger. Nevada Con was up three points. The girl with the beautiful eyebrows had married that French jackanapes after all. Another famine in India. A Crowheart date-line caught his eye.
"The arrest of the murdered patriarch's beautiful bride is expected hourly, as the leading citizens of Crowheart are clamoring for justice and are bringing strong pressure to bear upon Sheriff Treu, who seems strangely reluctant to act." The paper dropped from Van Lennop's nerveless hand and he sat staring at it where it lay. He picked it up and read the last paragraph, for his dazed brain had not yet grasped its meaning. But when its entire significance was made clear to him it came with a rush: it was like the instantaneous effect of some powerful drug or stimulant that turned the blood to fire and crazed the brain. The blind rage which made the room swing round was like the frenzy of insanity. Van Lennop's face went crimson and oaths that never had passed his lips came forth, choking-hot and inarticulate. "The leading citizens of Crowheart, the outcasts and riff-raff of civilization, the tinhorn gamblers, the embezzlers, ex-bankrupts and libertines, the sheep-herders and reformed cattle-thieves, the blackmailers and dance-hall touts swollen by prosperity, disguised by a veneer of respectability, want justice, do they? By God!" Van Lennop shook his clenched fist at the empty air, "the leading citizens of Crowheart shall HAVE justice!" He smoothed Prescott's crumpled telegram and reached for his code-book. When he had its meaning he pulled a telegraph-blank toward him, and wrote: Carry out my instructions to the letter. Do not neglect the smallest detail. Leave no stone unturned to accomplish the end in view._ Read next: Chapter 26. Latin Methods Read previous: Chapter 24. The Dago Duke And Dan Treu Exchange Confidences Table of content of Lady Doc GO TO TOP OF SCREEN Post your review Your review will be placed after the table of content of this book |
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