Argosy and Railroad Man's Magazine — page 23: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

i" COLD STEEL. 365 “ He said it would be our honeymoon— and—and I had never been away from here.” : “ What’s his name?” She hesitated in uncertainty whether or not she should answer. “Ed Sorenson,” came at last from her lips. Steele Weir slowly thrust his head for- ward, fixing her with burning eyes. “Son of the big cattleman?” he de- manded. “Yes, sir.” “And you love him?” “Ves; oh, yes!” Weir sat back in his seat, lighted a cigar- ette,and stared past her head at the opposite partition. The evil strain of the father had been continued in the son and, cited by her physical freshness and the expectation: that she would be an easy prey, was work- ing here to seduce this simple, ignorant girl. “Well, I doubt if he loves you,” he said presently. “ He does, he does!” “Tf he really does above everything else in the world, he’ll be willing to marry you openly, no matter what his father may say or do. That’s the test, Mary. If he’s in earnest, he'll agree at once to go with us to the next county seat to-morrow and be married there by a minister. Isn’t that true? Answer me that squarely; isn’t it true?” “ Yes, sir.” “ Then by that we'll decide. If he agrees to it, well and good; if he refuses, that will show him up—show he never had any intention of marrying you. I’m a stranger to you, but ’m your friend. And you're not going to Los Angeles unmarried!” The last words were uttered in a level, menacing tone that caused Mary Johnson to shiver. To her, reared in the humble adobe house on her father’s little ranch on Terry Creek, a man who could manage the great irrigation project seemed a figure out of her ken, a vast form working against the sky. His statements were not to be disputed, whatever she might think. “Yes, sir,” she said, just above a whisper. “ All right. Now we'll wait for him. He was coming back for you, wasn’t he?” “Yes. I was to stay at the hotel till train time.”’ “Ts this your grip?” Weir jerked a thumb toward a worn can- vas “telescope” fastened with a single shawl strap, resting in the corner of the booth. “Tt’s mine. Yes, sir.” “ How old is Ed Sorenson?” he asked, after a pause. “About thirty, maybe.” ““ How old are you?” “ Seventeen next month.” “But sixteen yet this month?” “Yes, sir.” He said nothing more. As the minutes passed, her timorous gaze continued stead- fastly on the stern, graven image of the man. She dully expected something terrible to happen when Ed Sorenson appeared, for she knew Ed would be angry; but she had been powerless to prevent the intrusion of this terrible stranger. Fear, in truth, a fear that left her heart c ', was her feeling as she -contemplated him. Yet under that, was there not some- thing else? A sense of safety, of com- forting assurance, of protection? “You—you won’t hurt Ed if he won’t go with us?” she asked, in a low voice. “If he gets mad and won’t marry me here; I mean?” : The man’s eyes came round to hers. “Tl just break him in two, nothing more, Mary,” was the calm answer. CHAPTER IV. THE ENEMY’S SPAWN. HE curtain to the booth was flung back. “Tve the train tickets; come along to the hotel—” exclaimed the man who quickly entered. But the words died in his mouth at sight of Weir sitting in the place he had vacated. He was over average height, of strong, fleshy build, with a small, blond mustache on his upper lip. Under his eyes little pouches had already begun to form; his mouth was full and sensual; but he still re- tained an air of liveliness, of carelessness and agility, that might at first sight seem Comnmiclooolks.conn