“I suppose this is all regular?” he said. “You ought to know something about it—it’s a check from the railroad company for the right-of-way through Mr. Trevison’s land.”
Corrigan’s eyes brightened as he examined the check. They filled with a hard, sinister light.
“No,” he said; “it isn’t regular.” He took the check from Braman and deliberately tore it into small pieces, scattering them on the floor at his feet. He smiled vindictively, settling back into his chair. “‘Brand’ Trevison, eh?” he said. “Well, Mr. Trevison, the railroad company isn’t ready to close with you.”
Trevison had watched the destruction of the check without the quiver of an eyelash. A faint, ironic smile curved the corners of his mouth as Corrigan concluded.
“I see,” he said quietly. “You were not man enough to beat me a little while ago—even with the help of Braman’s broom. You’re going to take it out on me through the railroad; you’re going to sneak and scheme. Well, you’re in good company—anything that you don’t know about skinning people Braman will tell you. But I’m letting you know this: The railroad company’s option on my land expired last night, and it won’t be renewed. If it’s fight you’re looking for, I’ll do my best to accommodate you.”
Corrigan grunted, and idly drummed with the fingers of one hand on the top of the desk, watching Trevison steadily. The latter opened his lips to speak, changed his mind, grinned and went out. Corrigan and Braman watched him as he stopped for a moment outside to talk with his friends, and their gaze followed him until he mounted Nigger and rode out of town. Then the banker looked at Corrigan, his brows wrinkling.
“You know your business, Jeff,” he said; “but you’ve picked a tough man in Trevison.”
Corrigan did not answer. He was glowering at the pieces of the check that lay on the floor at his feet.