A Partner from the West

Chapter I

A WESTERN MAN. Laburnam City, Seycoyah County, South Western Kansas, was a quiet and sleepy little town in the year eighteen hundred and eighty. What it may be now the gods only know, so quickly do settle ments develop in the west of America ; but ten years ago it would have been hard to find a town on a smaller scale, and more sedate and sober, than Labur nam City. There were twe hotels in the town at this time — the " Pennsylvania," near the railway depot at the southernmost point ; and the " Washington " at the northern B extremity, about five hundred yards away — situated conveniently for wayfarers from the outlying settlements. Between these hotels ran Grand Avenue, the thoroughfare of Laburnam City, which contained among other less important buildings, a post-office, a newspaper office — from whence the Optic issued weekly, a public record of local news — Fulton's Store, where every article a farmer could desire was sold for cash or credit, a chemist's store, and a blacksmith's forge.

Then there was a little house near the depot which ran a big weighing machine ; and a big house, the newspaper editor's, where a small amount of coal was sold during the winter months ; and by the side of the stores and ■behind the stores, with an irregularity which might have been charming, but was not, clustered the dwellings of Laburnam citizens. These were wooden houses of various size and shape, their walls painted white, their roofs of shingle coloured grey or black. They were ugly little habitations, messy in the matter of back yards, and, with a few exceptions, bare of any attempt at a garden. It is a beautiful October day when first we make the acquaintance of Laburnam City. The town looks its best, for it is Sunday ; and the rubbish so plentifully bestowed about the back premises of the houses at other times, of which broken crockery and cabbage stalks are the least unpleasant, has been pushed out of sight, and no women are bustling about in dirty prints and sun bonnets ; no men lounging on door-steps in rusty check shirts and brown square toed boots.

All is peaceful and still. The stores are closed, and the only man abroad is Hans Armentraut, landlord of the " Pennsylvania," sitting in the porch of his hotel, and smoking a meerschaum pipe, which has never required refilling in public within the memory of man. Hans smoked steadily for half an hour, then slowly raised his head, and very slowly indeed drew his pipe from his mouth to make a remark. He had received a curt greeting from a man on horseback, who had just cantered briskly into towm, and who might be in want of board and lodging and was therefore worth attention, though by his B dress and carriage it was plain that he belonged to a profession most heartily detested by Kansas men, being nothing better than a cowboy from the west. " Ah, a fine mornin'," observed Mr. Armentraut, blinking his sleepy little eyes at the stranger.

" Will ye get down ? " The horseman did not seem to hear the question. He was looking about him, as if searching for something. " Have the Comanches been on the war-path here ? " he said, at last. Mr. Armentraut turned pale. " What do you mean by that ? " Indians. Have they run through you, or has there been a plague ? Some thing has swept your town clear of human beings. What is the matter ? " A smile slowly gathered on the Dutchman's broad face, and spread from ear to ear. " I rather guess the matter is, }eung man, that you hef not known a Sunday for some while, ach ! " The horseman started and slapped his thigh. " Sunday ? And are they all in the meeting-house ? " " Oh, no, not yet. Putting on bonnets now, and the black hats, see ? " The stranger nodded, and then remarked that he was hungry, and asked where he should put his horse ; and in as short a space of time as circumstances incidental to a Sabbath morning would allow, was enjoying a substantial breakfast of eggs and bacon, sour-kraut and pickles, at the " Penn sylvania " hotel.

While the traveller attacked his breakfast, Mr. Armentraut, who was an acute observer of human nature, examined him under cover of a newspaper with some curiosity and care. He saw a weather-beaten face, with high cheek-bones, deep-set eyes, and a wide mouth. A thin face set in a massive frame, every feature strongly marked. It was not at all the sort of face Mr. Armentraut expected to see, for there was no fierceness or rudeness in its expression. The eyes were brown and very bright, and the lips had a humorous twist at the corners, as if their owner were a man who took life in a cheerful spirit, and always had a laugh to spare whether his way were rough or smooth. This was true. Western life had not hardened Jeff Grant. He enjoyed a joke now, and could make one, too, after five years in Colorado, as well as ever he did in the days before, when a hopeful sophomore at Harvard.

In some ways, it must be confessed, he was very much changed. He could speak grammatical English when he chose, but he did not often choose. The time had been when he was particular about the style of coat he wore ; now he did not wear a coat at all, if he could help it, and had not possessed a linen shirt for more months than he could count. Once, the sight of blood turned him queer and sick, and to have seen a sheep killed would have destroyed his appetite for the day. Since then he had taken part in more than one scrimmage with desperate men, and faced death many times, in many different ways. These things leave a mark upon a man, be his nature what it may, and they had left their mark upon Jeff Grant. Breakfast is not a long operation with a hungry cowboy, and our friend was just considering what his next move had better be, when a man hurried into the " Penn sylvania " coffee-room at a great pace and greeted him with warmth.

" Welcome, partner, heartily welcome. But it is a surprise, seem' you to-day. You were not due till to-morrow, I under stood." The speaker was a man of middle age, with a hooked nose, and intensely black hair and beard. An alert man, who al ways spoke quickly, and never kept still all day long except at his meals or in church. He was a Kansas farmer, of a restless and enterprising temper, and his sober neighbours shuddered when they spoke of him, and " what Billy Calhoun will hook on to next" was the most fruitful form of speculation in Laburnam City. Calhoun's last action and, in the opinion of his friends, worse than any which had gone before, was to persuade a Colorado cattle-man to give up raising Texan scrubs on the prairie, put capital into fine stock in Kansas, and combine with him in tillage of the ground.

Calhoun and Grant had met at the ranche of a friend in the spring, and had taken to one another at once ; and before the rains of July were over, deeds of partnership had been signed, and they met to-day, the 21st of October, for the first time in the district where the venture was to be made. The partners were the strangest con trast in personal appearance. Mr. Cal houn was on his way to church, and his coat was of the smoothest and glossiest black cloth, his linen snowy and crisp, his hat a very neat affair of black felt, and his boots polished to mirror-like bright ness. Grant, on the other hand, was dressed in a loose flannel shirt — which had once been blue but wras now faded to dull grey tinged with green — and overalls of brown leather, much worn and creased. Massive spurs were on the heels of his very dusty boots ; and at his side — a standing outrage to the feelings of law-abiding Laburnam citizens — was a long Colt's revolver, supported by a belt, from wdiich peeped thirty-five cartridges resembling the grinning teeth of some fierce beast.

The difference between his own appearance and Calhoun's struck Grant with some force as he shook hands. " You are not as much surprised to see me, sir, as I am to find that the day is Sunday. I have travelled smartly for a hundred miles, and up to an hour ago I would have bet anything that it was Mon day. What is to be done with me ? Can you lock me up anywhere till to-morrow ? " " Pshaw ! It don't signify. Anyone kin tell where you are from. Come out now, if you are through your meal, my wife and daughter wTant to see you, and meeting starts in ten minutes. You'll go in with us ? " Jeff coughed, and looked at his boots. " Will they admit me ? " " If you'll come ? " " I should like it, sir. Without further remark he took up his hat — a limp, nigh shapeless, piece of brown felt, which had once been grey- — and followed Mr. Calhoun into the street.

Grand Avenue wras full of people now ; farmers and farm labourers, — the well-to do in buggies and wagons, the jeor on foot, — all converging at a steady pace to ward Fulton's Store, the upper part of which, at this time, was used as a meeting-house, and held the service-loving population of Laburnam City very com fortably. The doors of the store were wide open to receive the church-goers, many of whom were enjoying a little gossip on the platform in front, which this day was cleared of ploughs and harrows and other lumber, usually occupying most of the space there. On this platform Jeff saw a group of three persons whom he felt instinctively were the Calhoun party ; and the careless step with which he had followed his partner up .the street became a degree slower as he observed with some interest the family with whom he was to spend the cominof winter.

An Englishman in Jeff Grant's position would have felt exceedingly wretched, for Calhoun's black coat and snowy linen were re-duplicated every where, even on the person of the poorest farm-labourer. But Jeff cared very little indeed ; and bowed gravely as Calhoun said with a complacent smile, — " My wife, friend, and my daughter, Cleopatra. Mary, this is my partner, Mr. Grant." There was yet a third person to be introduced, to whom Calhoun now turned, and whom Jeff observed with great curiosity ; for he was dressed fashionably and well, and Jeff had not seen this kind of man for five long years. "Mr. Waynforth, partner," Mr. Cal houn said with a merry twinkle in his eyes, as the difference between the young men struck him. " A Chicago friend staying with us now. Wife, we must go in." The brisk farmer led the way, and the others followed through the store, behind a counter, and then up a flight of stairs.

The " Meeting-house " was a long, low room at the top of the stairs, with a small harmonium, and a desk with a Bible upon it at one end, faced by chairs to the number of three score. Behind the desk the minister was standing, the Reverend Phineas Goodchild, with calm and thoughtful face, patiently waiting until his congregation had seated themselves. When the Calhoun party entered, the ex pression of the minister's face changed, and he drew a long breath of surprise. The Calhouns always took their places in the front row of chairs, for Mrs. Calhoun was a little deaf ; and to-day, in spite of a whispered suggestion made by Miss Calhoun to her father, no exception was made to the usual custom. The Reverend Phineas was therefore con fronted by an armed cowboy, whose steel spurs jingled sonorously all the way up the room, and drew every eye in his direction, and who seated himself with the calm unconcern of one perfectly accustomed to the place and all that it contained.

The minister's first feeling was in dignation at the intrusion of such a per sonage ; but his anger cooled when he saw Mrs. Calhoun whisper something to the stranger, and hand him a hymn-book ; and finally a happy thought striking the Reverend Phineas, he became cheerful and even exultant, and hurriedly looked up a very different passage of scripture to expound, from the one he had prepared during the week. There was one person in church this day, however, entirely miserable and out of tune. Cleo Calhoun (no one but her father ever called her Cleopatra) could have cried with vexation when this rough, ill-dressed cowboy was introduced as the new partner. She had imagined him to be something very different indeed, for Mr. Calhoun had spoken of him with enthusiasm ; and Cleo, being an imagina tive young lady of nineteen summers, with romantic ideas of life in the Rocky Moun tains, had expected a slashing cavalier, handsome and striking, with long, curling locks.

Mr. Grant was anything but handsome, he had an ugly face and a tall, ungainly figure ; and the only striking things about him were his revolver and spurs, which, had he possessed the least sense of pro priety, would have been left at the hotel. Cleo felt dreadfully ashamed when they filed into church and she saw a universal stir among her friends and acquaintances ; and her cup was full when the creature actually placed himself beside her, and she saw a mischievous twinkle in Philip Waynforth's e}es. She knew what cutting remarks would be made after meeting, and trembled. It cannot be said that Jeff himself enjoyed this service very much. It was at once evident, when the minister read out his text, that he had prepared a dis course on the spur of the moment especially for the benefit of the new member of his flock ; for the sermon began with a denunciation of the wicked ness of war, and ended with a striking and unpleasant picture of the prospects in the next world for those who could allow them selves to shed blood under any circum stances whatsoever.

Then, Jeff had quick perceptions, and saw that his presence gave Miss Calhoun anything but pleasure ; and no man can enjoy feeling that a very pretty girl is displeased with him, especially when he has not seen or spoken to a young lady of any description for nearly five years. He comforted himself by resolving that at the earliest possible moment he would put up a shanty on his own claim, and leave his partner's family to themselves ; and after a time he be came drowsy and inclined to doze, and at last with a sigh of relief he heard the " Amen " pronounced, and rose to go. Meanwhile, outside the meeting-house, the sun shone gloriously, and all Laburnam City lay as quiet and deserted as a city of the dead. Now there came the distant pealing of a bell, and a train from the east bustled into the depot, and paused there a few minutes for the engine to draw a fresh supply of water.

It was an emigrant train, with a rough crowd on board bound for the mines. Unshaved, coarse-looking men in their shirt-sleeves lolled out of the window's, smoking filthy pipes and cheap cigars, at intervals ducking back into the car to drink stuff from black bottles and shout and laugh and cut jokes with a comrade ; then up again to scan the view, grumbling at the conductor's warning that there was not time to stroll through the town, and ease their cramped limbs. As this train came into town, the con gregation from the meeting-house came out, and the citizens whose way lay past the station were greeted with rude chaff and banter by the emigrants, and passed by with as much expedition as possible, in silent disdain. Jeff and Mr. Calhoun did not leave the store, for its owner, Mr. Fulton, had business to discuss with the farmer, and AVE ST. Calhoun wished his partner to make the acquaintance of the storekeeper.

They dived into an inner room, therefore, after a few words in the porch outside, but not before Jeff had noticed that Miss Calhoun and Waynforth strolled down town to gether apart from the others, as if they were intimate friends, or something more. Calhoun saw his partner's quick glance, and while the storekeeper unearthed some papers from a desk, he said, as if Jeff had asked a question, — " Waynforth and my daughter were fellow-students for the last two years at Caleb College, Ohio, where young folk are eddicated all together. Know the place ? " Jeff smiled. " I was there myself " Is that so ? Fine institution, ain't it ? One of the best in the States." Jeff twisted his lips into something more than a smile, and gave a little shrug. " Everyone to his taste. Certainly in many cases that college course can show remarkable results."

Calhoun looked up with a keen, inquisitive glance, as if he would have asked a question, but Mr. Fulton opened a discussion on business, and the subject dropped. Jeff did not take part in the talk, and though interested in what the other men were saying, his ears were quick to catch any unaccustomed noise ; and before long he heard so strange a sound that he interrupted his partner in the middle of a sentence, — " Something stirring outside, gentle men ! " The others looked up in astonishment, for the speaker's tone was sharp and abrupt. Fulton rose to his feet and peered out of a window. " I catch it. A buzzin' sound. You've a quick ear. What do ye deem it is ? " " A stampede. What is that ? A call ! There is something serious ahead, come out." They hurried through the store, and the sounds grew rapidly louder ; and now the door was ojoened in their faces, and Mrs. Calhoun, pale as death, beckoned violently.

Through the open door was carried a roar of voices, and then one c sharp, piercing cry, rising with shrill intensity above the shouts of men. Calhoun sprang forward like one possessed, and was upon the platform in a moment. Never, as long as he lived, would he forget what he saw there. A yelling crowd of men were approach ing the store at a quick run. They were a wild crew. Some brandished revolvers, more held knives, and every man had some weapon in his hand ; and one and all they charged tumultuously up the street, those in front with angry, lower ing faces, those behind laughing wildly, urging on their comrades, and whooping like great schoolboys out at play. The object of the chase seemed to be a lad of fifteen, who was running for his life on the opposite side of the way ; and directly in the path Calhoun saw his daughter and Waynforth, with panic stricken faces, straining every nerve to reach the store.

Calhoun had a quick brain and a cool head. He did not know where the mob sprang from, or why it came, but he saw that it was sweeping on its way triumphantly ; he saw, the townsfolk scurrying right and left like frightened sheep ; he saw half a dozen men with mischief meaning faces, inflamed by strong drink, closing round Cleo and Waynforth, and a shout was borne to his ears with ominous distinctness, — " Make 'em fly, boys, oh ! make 'em fly ! Go through all who git in the way ! The town is ours ! Hurrah ! " The crowd swept nearer, and Cleo was overtaken, Waynforth thrown down, all in a dozen seconds. Calhoun started forward with a cry, and was leaping to the rescue when a strong hand held him back, and Fulton whispered, — " They'll tear you in bits. Let him try first." Crack. Above the cries and the trampling of feet rang a sharp report, and a half-tipsy rowdy, who had thrown his arm round Cleo, reeled backwards and fell.

A second report, following the first so quickly that those who heard it could scarcely believe it came from the same pistol, and another man who had floored Waynforth, and had now grasped Cleo's shoulder, leapt into the air convulsively, c and then dropped like a stone, shot through the head. Again the pistol sounded, and again. The poor lad at the other side of the street, who had been the cause of the charge of the mob in the first instance, had tripped and fallen on his face, and a rowdy, following close behind, sprang upon him, knife in hand. But as these shots rang out, he fell himself with a cry and flung his knife away. " Oh, hold up — hold up there, for God's sake ! " The appeal came hoarsely from a score of throats, and the crowd recoiled and fell back some paces. Jeff Grant stepped forward to the edge of the platform, and raised his revolver above his head.

If he fired twe more shots he weuld be at the mercy of the mob, for there would be no time to reload. He quietly reflected upon the situation a moment, then he covered the foremost rioter, and spoke, with his finger on the trigger — "If you have had enough, track for the cars. I'll give you five minutes — dt ! " Fs The crowd hesitated. They were reckless, and many were very drunk. But a glance at the stern eyes glaring down upon them, and at the presented revolver, settled the question, and with many curses they turned and slunk away. The wretched creature who had been wounded, raised a pitiful cry as his comrades deserted him, but no one paid any attention ; and in a quarter of an hour the emigrants had bundled them selves into the cars, steam was up, and the town was clear and safe. " Who is the cowboy ?

Calhoun's new partner ? Darn it all, but he's a spunk. Devils on the loose wouldn't be in it with that crowd. Saved the girl ! I rather guess he did, and Sammy Slape, by George ! Here he comes back again. Let's cheer him, boys. Sunday? — Sun day be blest ! A cheer, and a good 'un too, for the man who's saved the town." Such were the comments and remarks Jeff heard as he returned from the depot, after seeing the train upon its way. And then a cheer was given heartily, and a score of men pressed forward to shake him by the hand. It was some minutes before he could force his way to the store, and inquire after Miss Calhoun. She felt rather faint and queer, her father said, and was lying down ; nothing worse. This was all that Calhoun said, but his hand closed upon Jeff's while he spoke, and held it tightly.

" Hev ye found out the cause of the tear of these scamps ? " " Yes. Whiskey was in their heads, and that boy who fell roused them some way, and brought the whole pack upon him. The pursuit of Miss Calhoun and her friend was an afterthought, I fancy, but they meant bad business." " They did so, and only for you — ah ! here's another friend come to have her say. How's the boy, Virginny ? Not hurt ? " " He twisted his foot, sir, when he fell. So this — is this your partner ? I've come to see if he would come to Sam, so's he may speak a word of gratitude. He's anxious about it." The speaker stopped timidly and looked up at Jeff with an expression of awe, almost of fear. She was a slender girl of eighteen, with light, colourless hair, large grey eyes, and a pale, careworn face. Mr. Calhoun laughed good-humouredly, and took her hand.

" Of course he'll go, child. This is Miss Virginia Slape, partner, whose father is our neighbour three mile to the west, on Sherlock Hill. Don't disappoint the boy. He'll have a fever if ye do, being that kind." Then in a whisper, he added, " I am right glad it should be Sam Slape you've saved. The father, Harra way, is a strong man in these parts, and can do his neighbours a powerful turn for good or ill."

Chapter II. Something More Than

A COWBOY. The youthful sufferer by the riot was on a bed at the chemist's store. He looked very white and ill ; but his face brightened when he saw his visitor, and he eagerly held out a grimy hand. " Oh, I feared you'd be gone, sir ! Say, where did you learn to shoot like that?" Jeff took the proffered hand. " I come from a rough country, lad, where I've learned to do many rough things. Are you wounded ? " " Only my ankle. Smashed it, or some thing, on a rock. It ain't much ; but it kind of burns, and swells ; and I can't walk worth a cent. Doc. says I'll be laid up a month. But it's not likely ! " " Let me see." Jeff drew away a coat which had been thrown over the boy's knees, and carefully examined the wounded foot. It was much bruised, and had been badly wTrenched. " Doctor is right. You'll be lying round for at least a month.

But that won't hurt much, will it ? " The boy turned away his face and made no answer, and Jeff saw that he was crying. This was puzzling, and Jeff turned to the sister for an explanation. To his consternation he found that her eyes were full of tears. He rose to take his leave. " Oh, no ! " cried Sammy, making heroic efforts to choke back his sobs, and succeeding in the desperate urgency of the case. " Why, I've said nothing yet — not thanked you, even. But you don't know what it means to me — bein' laid by. It 'ud be different, indeed, if I were like you — a strong man not to be fooled with, or set down. There's not many like you, I reckon ; I never saw anybody, nor has my sister. I wish — how I do wish you were staying in these parts, sir ! Tt would just do me more good than anything in the world to see you again.

I s'pose you're only travelling through." Jeff smiled. It was a long while since anyone had expressed a wish to see him again. " I am staying at Calhoun's ranche — I mean farm — all winter. I will look you up, son, when you like." Sam's eyes sparkled. " Do you mean it ? Truth ? Our farm's not three mile from Calhoun's. Come round to-morrow, please." This was clinching a bargain with a vengeance, but Jeff did not feel inclined to draw back. " To-morrow be it, and let me find you spry and chipper. No grumps. How old are you ? " " Fifteen — gone." " Then you ought to be nearer manhood than anything else. See that you play up to the part. Now I must go." Sammy Slape nodded and smiled. Then his face darkened with anxiety, and his eyes, grey like his sister's but far keener, peered into the brown face above them with a pleading glance.

" And you will truly be my friend, sir ? " " I'll try, lad, if the article is worth having." " And will you be Vir's friend too ? If you don't like the contract, don't mind me ; break through it all. It must be both or neither though, for — for I can take care of myself. It's only for her I want a friend. Don't shake your head now, Vir. I ain't going to blab nothing. But I had to go this far, and he need not promise if he don't want. Yet I hope he will. Will ye, sir ? " "Why do you want me?" said Jeff, decidedly taken aback by this outburst, yet attracted by this decisive youth, and his gentle, timid-looking sister. " You've seen me — twice. You've spoken to me for five minutes. You do not know me a very little bit. You do not even know that if I make a promise I shall keep it. This is rash work, Sam."

"No, it ain't. I have not lived so powerful long in the world, pr'aps ; but I waren't born last fall, nor yet on the first of April . I see many kinds of men 'bout here, and in the cars, where I sell pickles Sundays. I've seen 'em talk, I've seen 'em act, and I don't think that," snapping his fingers, " of any of 'em. Those 'round our way are a poor lot, mostly. The rough 'uns brag ; the smooth 'uns cheat, and every last one lies fit to bust. Oh, I know 'em ! An' I say I know you. I don't purtend, Mr. Grant, to call ye exact for what ye are. But I do say this ; and I hold tight to it. A man who kin talk and look and shoot as you did this morning, will keep his word, just 'cos he's afraid of nothing. It's cowards who lie." Jeff was much amused at this earnest little philosopher, but he kept a grave face, and pressed the grimy hand, which had clasped his all the time.