HAVING BRUSHED THE hay from his clothes and secured the loan of the stableman’s razor, Montana felt ready to start the day. He presented himself at the hotel, to find Kate waiting, and they went out to breakfast. She sighed with pleasure as a platter of ham and eggs was placed before her.
“Grub tastes better when you don’t have to cook it yourself,” she observed, “just as other company is an improvement over looking in a mirror. But I had bad dreams last night, worrying about you. Killers don’t just go around shooting without a reason.
“I expect you’re right,” Montana conceded. “I’d like to know the reason myself.”
“Meaning you don’t? Anyhow, I see you’re packing that bushwhacker’s gun—-and he would be wise to remember that you don’t make a habit of shooting often, or missing when you do.”
“This is good ham.”
“If you don’t know anything, you don’t have to talk about it. And I suppose you are a busy man, what with all the troubles of the railroad, so run along awhile. I have things to do myself.”
Thus dismissed, Montana joined the recurring activity of the town. Smoke curled from the wide stack of the locomotive, where its cowcatcher poked between the bank’s high pillars, giving it an appearance of being about to take off. It was a fine piece of showmanship, and the effect was not wasted. An admiring crowd pushed and gawked.
Jay Desmond was watching. He accosted Montana with a sardonic smile.
“A nice show that you folks are putting on. I’m wondering, Montana, is it intended to distract public attention from as dirty a bit of chicanery as I’ve seen in many a day?”
“There is a doubtless meaning to those words,” Montana suggested. He liked Desmond’s forthrightness. “So if you’ll put it in small syllables—”
“The meaning is what I told you yesterday. Our coolies have been hired away from us, just when it can hurt most. You denied that the B & W had anything to do with it, but I find them here, as busy as beavers.” He jerked a shoulder toward the back street where Montana had witnessed so much activity the day before.
“There are two things which I don’t like,” Desmond went on, “the first being their refusal to allow me to have a look at what they’re about—which gives rise to the suspicion that it has to do with railroading, since that is also my business. The second is that everyone I ask claims to be working now for the B & W.”
“Then they’re lying. The B & W hasn’t hired them.”
“That’s what you said yesterday. I’ve been looking for a responsible official of your line, but all the others have pulled out, now that the celebration is over. I’d like to believe you, Montana—but you must admit that the weight of evidence is on the other side.”
“There’s no doubt about that,” Montana agreed. “Some sort of skullduggery is afoot. I’m as interested as you in finding out what.”
Desmond looked him in the eye; then his face relaxed.
“I don’t know whether they’re putting something over on you, as well as me,” he conceded slowly. “But somehow I believe that you’re telling the truth as far as you know it.”
“I’ll go along with that qualification,” Montana admitted. “There’s an awful lot that I don’t know. But has it occurred to you that this scheme, or whatever it may be, could be directed against the B & W, as much as against the Prairie and Pacific?”
“How could that be? It wouldn’t make sense.”
“A lot of things that are happening don’t make sense, but there’s a reason behind them.”
“There would be, of course. I’ll make a deal with you. If I find out anything, I’ll let you know. And you do the same, eh?”
“I sure will,” Montana agreed, as Desmond went on. He had a right to be suspicious—particularly since what was going on didn’t seem to make sense.
The coolies were busily at work again, as the day before, though what they were doing seemed far removed from railroad building. Workers came from the tunnel, shoving loaded wheelbarrows, finally dumping their loads in a gulch at the edge of town.
Ostensibly they were railroad workers, but they had quit the P & P, and the B & W had not hired them. Secret work, carried on openly, so that others accepted it as a matter of course—
What else was there to dig for in this camp? What else except gold! Judging by the tunnel mouth, such excavating must be going on under one or more of the business buildings—
As casually as possible, he reached the gulch and had a look. The loads which were being dumped were dry dirt and rock.
If they were mining gold, the stuff would have to be washed to get it out, he reflected. Which clearly was not being done.
“They aren’t working for the fun of it, so somebody is paying their wages; somebody who can command their racial loyalty. Who would that be but another Chinese, belonging to a higher station and used to giving orders, which they are accustomed to obeying!”
It was an interesting speculation. The trouble, as with every other lead, was that it did not seem to make sense.
A subdued bellow caused him to turn. It was Kate who had hailed him, her voice modulated to ladylike proportions. Montana blinked. As far as he knew, there were no stores for ladies, but despite that lack, she had been busy shopping, and to good effect.
She wore new shoes, a bright red dress and a big hat; and with a new twist to her hair and other improvements, the transformation was striking. A good-looking woman to begin with, she was radiant. At the approval in his eyes, her own lightened in response.
“How do you like it, Bill?” she asked shyly. “I … since we were to see the town, it seemed like a good idea to doll up some—to match the man I’ll be going with.”
“Was it your idea to give the town a treat? They’ll certainly get one.”
Thunder rolled amid the gulches. It sounded far off yet close at hand. Somewhere there was blasting, and that was not surprising. The noise of shaking earth was so ordinary that most people did not even glance up.
But if such a sound was old stuff to the natives, it was terrifying to a horse new to town. A cayuse in mid-street exploded like the dynamite. Its rider, taken off guard, lost his seat and was tossed high and hard.
Undoubtedly he’d ridden worse buckers without difficulty, but this time his luck had deserted him. Landing outstretched, he lay sprawled, a trickle of blood against the sudden whiteness of his face.
Kate stared. Then she was ahead of Montana, kneeling despite her finery, cradling the injured man’s head. After a moment his eyes opened, and he blinked at sight of the solicitude in the face above his own.
“Take it easy; now,” Kate adjured. “That was a nasty fall you had.”
His eyes widened; then his face relaxed in an incredulous smile.
“Glory be,” he muttered. “I must be worse off than I thought, or better—to wake up, looking into the face of an angel!”
Kate’s face was transformed, but before she could reply, the cowboy’s glance met Montana’s. Somewhat abashed, he struggled to sit up.
“Hello, Montana,” he said. “I got your word, and the man that brought it let on there might be trouble in the town, so I headed this way. But I didn’t look for it in just that fashion.”
He came lightly to his feet, raising a hand to wipe and smear the trickle of blood amid a smear of freckles. Kate was regarding him with interest.
“Kate, this is Jeb Bowen of the Half Moon Slash,” Montana explained. “Jeb, the angel who cradled your bruised cranium is Kate O’Day, and you found the right word for her.”
“I hope you aren’t hurt, Jeb?” Kate asked anxiously.
“Not hurt at all, unless maybe my heart is cracked,” Jeb assured her, his gaze frankly admiring. “And it was more than worth it, to meet such a lady.”
“Go ’long now!” Kate colored, hugely pleased.
“It’s the blarney stone you’ve been kissing!”
“This is the closest I’ve ever come to it, but maybe the kissing would a fine idea,” Bowen returned boldly. “I’d been looking for you, Montana,” he added more soberly.
“I’d rather be on the ranch than in town,” Montana assured him. “But I’ve a sneaking suspicion that your problems are linked up with those of the town. I’m keeping them in mind.”
They discussed matters over a good dinner; then, at Montana’s insistence, Jeb made ready to head back for the ranch.
“I’d rather stay on here,” he said, “with company such as a man dreams of. And if there’s to be trouble, maybe you could use some backing, Montana.”
“I’d like to have you here, but my advice is to keep an eye peeled for trouble where you don’t expect to find it—and that may be right out on the ranch.”
“You couldn’t give me a notion of what it will be like?”
“All that I’m sure of is that it will wear a nasty face.”
Jeb’s nose screwed distastefully.
“I hate to make the acquaintance of an angel and then turn and run. But there will be other days, when a brighter sun will shine. Be sure that I’ll be back, Katie O’Day!”