“Didn’t I know he was that kind of a skunk!” shouted a man near Parsons. “I knowed it as soon as he beat Taylor out of the election!”
“I’m for stringin’ the scum up!” yelled another man. “This town can git along without guys that go around abductin’ wimmen!”
There were still other lurid and threatening comments. And many profane epithets rose, burdened with menace, for Carrington. But the girl, humiliated, weak, and trembling, did not hear all of them. She saw other men emerging from doorways—all of them running toward her to join those who had come out of the saloon. And then she saw a woman coming toward her, the men making a pathway for her—a motherly looking woman who, when she came near the girl, smiled up at her sympathetically and reached up her hands to help the girl out of the saddle.
Marion slipped down, and the woman’s arms went around her. And with many grimly pitying glances from the men in the crowd about her, which parted to permit her to pass, she was led into a private dwelling at a little distance down the street, into a cozy room where there were signs of decency and refinement. The woman placed the girl in a chair, and stood beside her, smoothing her hair and talking to her in low, comforting tones; while outside a clamor rose and a confused mutter of many voices out of which she began to catch sentences, such as:
“Let’s fan it to the big house an’ git him!”
“There’s too many crooks in this town—let’s run ’em out!”
“What in hell did he come here for?”
“Judge Littlefield is just as bad—he cheated Taylor out of the election!” “That’s right,” answered another voice. “Taylor’s our man!”
“They are all wrought up over this, my dear,” said the woman. “For a long time there has been an undercurrent of dissatisfaction over the way they cheated Quinton Taylor out of the mayoralty. I don’t think it was a bit fair. And,” she continued, “there are other things. They have found out that Carrington is behind a scheme to steal the water rights from the town—something he did to the board of directors of the irrigation company, I believe. And he has had his councilmen pass laws to widen some streets and open new ones. And the well-informed call it a steal, too. Mr. Norton has stirred up a lot of sentiment against Carrington and Danforth, and all the rest of them. Secretly, that is. And there is that murder charge against Quinton Taylor,” went on the woman. “That is preposterous! Taylor was the best friend Larry Harlan ever had!”
But the girl turned her head, and her lips quivered, for the mention of Taylor had brought back to her the poignant sense of loss that she had felt when she had learned of the charge against Taylor. She bowed her head and wept silently, the woman trying again to comfort her, while outside the noise and tumult grew in volume—threatening violence.