The Ranchman Part 15

He looked down at the foot, now unbandaged, with a frown. The girl's complete and matter-of-fact belief in the story of his injury; her sympathy and deep concern; the self-accusation in her eyes; the instant pardon she had granted him for staying at the ranchhouse when he should not have stayed-all these he arrayed against the bald fact that he had tricked her. And he felt decidedly guilty.

And yet somehow there was some justification for the trick. It was the justification of desire. The things a man wants are not to be denied by the narrow standards of custom. Does a man miss an opportunity to establish acquaintance with a girl he has fallen in love with, merely because custom has decreed that she shall not come unattended-save by a negro woman-to his house?

Taylor made desire his justification, and his sense of guilt was dispelled by half.

Nor was the guilt so poignant that it rested heavily on his conscience since he had done no harm to the girl.

What harm had been done had been done to Taylor himself. He kept seeing Marion as she sat on the porch, and the spell of her had seized him so firmly that last night, after she had left, the ranchhouse had seemed to be nothing more than four walls out of which all the life had gone. He felt lonesome this morning, and was in the grip of a nameless longing.

All the humor had departed from him. For the first time in all his days a conception of the meaning of life a.s.sailed him, revealing to him a glimpse of the difficulties of a man in love. For a man may love a girl: his difficulties begin when the girl seems to become unattainable.

Looming large in Taylor's thoughts this morning was Carrington. Having overheard Carrington talking of her on the train, Taylor thought he knew what Carrington wanted; but he was in doubt regarding the state of the girl's feelings toward the man. Had she yielded to the man's intense personal magnetism?

Carrington was handsome; there was no doubt that almost any girl would be flattered by his attentions. And had Carrington been worthy of Marion, Taylor would have entertained no hope of success-he would not even have thought of it.

But he had overheard Carrington; he knew the man's nature was vile and b.e.s.t.i.a.l; and already he hated him with a fervor that made his blood riot when he thought of him.

When he reached Dawes he found himself hoping that Marion would not be in town to see that his ankle was unbandaged. But he might have saved himself that throb of perturbation, for at that minute Marion was standing in the front room of the big house, looking out of one of the windows at Parsons, wondering what had happened to make him seem so glum and abstracted.

When Taylor dismounted in front of the courthouse there were several men grouped on the sidewalk near the door.

Neil Norton was in the group, and he came forward, smiling.

"We're here to witness the ceremony," he told Taylor.

Taylor's greeting to the other men was not that of the professional politician. He merely grinned at them and returned a short: "Well, let's get it over with," to Norton's remark. Then, followed by his friends, he entered the courthouse.

Taylor knew Judge Littlefield. He had no admiration for the man, and yet his greeting was polite and courteous-it was the greeting of an American citizen to an official.

Taylor's first quick glance about the interior of the courthouse showed him Carrington. The latter was sitting in an armchair near a window toward the rear of the room. He smiled as Taylor's glance swept him, but Taylor might not have seen the smile. For Taylor was deeply interested in other things.

A conception of the serious responsibility that he was to accept a.s.sailed him. Until now the thing had been entirely personal; his thoughts had centered upon the honor that was to be his-his friends had selected him for an important position. And yet Taylor was not vain.

Now, however, ready to accept the oath of office, he realized that he was to become the servant of the munic.i.p.ality; that these friends of his had elected him not merely to honor him but because they trusted him, because they were convinced that he would administer the affairs of the young town capably and in a fair and impartial manner. They depended upon him for justice, advice, and guidance.

All these things, to be sure, Taylor would give them to the best of his ability. They must have known that or they would not have elected him.

These thoughts sobered him as he walked to the little wooden railing in front of the judge's desk; and his face was grave as he looked at the other.

"I am ready to take the oath, Judge Littlefield," he gravely announced.

Glancing sidewise, Taylor saw that a great many men had come into the room. He did not turn to look at them, however, for he saw a gleam in Judge Littlefield's eyes that held his attention.

"That will not be necessary, Mr. Taylor," he heard the judge say. "The governor, through the attorney-general, has ruled you were not legally elected to the office you aspire to. Only last night I was notified of the decision. It was late, or I should have taken steps to apprise you of the situation."

Taylor straightened. He heard exclamations from many men in the room; he was conscious of a tension that had come into the atmosphere. Some men scuffled their feet; and then there was a deep silence.

Taylor smiled without mirth. His dominant emotion was curiosity.

"Not legally elected?" he said. "Why?"

The judge pa.s.sed a paper to Taylor; it was one of those that had been delivered to the judge by Carrington.

The judge did not meet Taylor's eyes.

"You'll find a full statement of the case, there," he said. "Briefly, however, the governor finds that your name did not appear on the ballots."

Norton, who had been standing at Taylor's side all along, now shoved his way to the railing and leaned over it, his face white with wrath.

"There's something wrong here, Judge Littlefield!" he charged. "Taylor's name was on every ballot that was counted for him. I personally examined every ballot!"

The judge smiled tolerantly, almost benignantly.

"Of course-to be sure," he said. "Mr. Taylor's name appeared on a good many ballots; his friends _wrote_ it, with pencil, and otherwise. But the law expressly states that a candidate's name must be _printed_.

Therefore, obeying the letter of the law, the governor has ruled that Mr. Taylor was not elected." There was malicious satisfaction in Judge Littlefield's eyes as they met Taylor's. Taylor could see that the judge was in entire sympathy with the influences that were opposing him, though the judge tried, with a grave smile, to create an impression of impartiality.

"Under the governor's ruling, therefore," he continued, "and acting under explicit directions from the attorney-general, I am empowered to administer the oath of office to the legally elected candidate, David Danforth. Now, if Mr. Danforth is in the courtroom, and will come forward, we shall conclude."

Mr. Danforth was in the courtroom; he was sitting near Carrington; and he came forward, his face slightly flushed, with the gaze of every person in the room on him.

He smiled apologetically at Taylor as he reached the railing, extending a hand.

"I'm d.a.m.ned sorry, Taylor," he declared. "This is all a surprise to me.

I hadn't any doubt that they would swear you in. No hard feelings?"

Taylor had been conscious of the humiliation of his position. He knew that his friends would expect him to fight. And yet he felt more like gracefully yielding to the forces which had barred him from office upon the basis of so slight a technicality. And despite the knowledge that he had been robbed of the office, he would have taken Danforth's hand, had he not at that instant chanced to glance at Carrington.

The latter's eyes were aglow with a vindictive triumph; as his gaze met Taylor's, his lips curved with a sneer.

A dark pa.s.sion seized Taylor-the bitter, savage rage of jealousy. The antagonism he had felt for Carrington that day on the train when he had heard Carrington's voice for the first time was suddenly intensified. It had been growing slowly, provoked by his knowledge of the man's evil designs on Marion Harlan. But now there had come into the first antagonism a gripping l.u.s.t to injure the other, a determination to balk him, to defeat him, to meet him on his own ground and crush him.

For Carrington's sneer had caused the differences between them to become sharply personal; it would make the fight that was brewing between the two men not a political fight, but a fight of the spirit.

Taylor interpreted the sneer as a challenge, and he accepted it. His eyes gleamed with hatred unmistakable as they held Carrington's; and the grin on his lips was the cold, unhumorous grin of the fighter who is not dismayed by odds. His voice was low and sharp, and it carried to every person in the room:

"We won't shake, Danforth; you are not particular enough about the character of your friends!"

The look was significant, and it compelled the eyes of all of Taylor's friends, so that Carrington instantly found himself the center of interest.

However, he did not change color; on his face a bland smile testified to his entire indifference to what Taylor or Taylor's friends thought of him.

Taylor grinned mirthlessly at the judge, spoke shortly to Norton, and led the way out through the front door, followed by a number of his friends.

Norton took Taylor into his office, adjoining the courthouse, and threw himself into a chair, grumbling profanely. Outside they could see the crowd filing down the street, voicing its opinion of the startling proceeding.

"An election is an election," they heard one man say-a Taylor sympathizer. "What difference does it make that Taylor's name wasn't _printed_? It's a dawg-gone frame-up, that's what it is!"

But Danforth's adherents were not lacking; and there were arguments in loud, vigorous language among men who pa.s.sed the door of the _Eagle_ office.