“Nobody. But I thought—I—Oh, thank God!”
“Well, well,” he bluffed with faint reproach; “things are coming to a pretty pass when one’s own daughter is the first to suspect him of wrong-doing.”
“I didn’t, Father. I was merely—I don’t know what I did think! There has been so much excitement! Everything is so upset! They have blown up the mining machinery, burned the bank and the courthouse; Judge Lindman was abducted and found; Braman was killed—choked to death; the Vigilantes are—”
“Good God!” Benham interrupted her, staggering back against the rear of the coach. “Who has been at the bottom of all this lawlessness?”
“Trevison.”
He gasped, in spite of the fact that he had suspected what her answer would be.
“Where is Corrigan? Where’s Trevison?” He demanded, his hands shaking. “Answer me! Where are they?”
“I don’t know,” the girl returned, dully. “They say Trevison is hiding in a pueblo not far from the Bar B. And that Corrigan left here early this morning, with a number of deputies, to try to capture him. And those men—” She indicated the horsemen gathered in front of the Belmont, whom he had not seen, “are organizing to go to Trevison’s rescue. They have discovered that Corrigan murdered Braman, though Corrigan accused Trevison.”
J. C. flattened himself against the rear wall of the coach and looked with horror upon the armed riders. There were forty or fifty of them now, and others were joining the group. “Where’s Judge Lindman?” he faltered. “Can’t this lawlessness be stopped?”
“It is only a few minutes ago that Judge Lindman was dragged from a shed into which he had been forced by Corrigan—after being beaten by him. He made a public confession of his part in the attempted fraud, and charged Corrigan with coercing him. Those men are aroused, Father. I don’t know what the end will be, but I am afraid—I’m afraid they’ll—”