Colorado -- Fiction; Gamblers -- Fiction; Love stories; Redemption -- Fiction; Western stories
“I am sorry to have to say that I can’t do even that,” Brant began, and
just here the entrance of the postman interrupted the colloquy. There
were letters--several for the colonel and one for the draughtsman.
Brant opened and read his, while the chief engineer hastily glanced
through the others. Brant’s was a dainty note, and it appeared to
move him strangely. His cheek flushed under the bronze, and his eyes
kindled as he read; and when the talk was presently renewed he promptly
stultified himself.
“You were asking if I could stay on until you had found some one else,”
he said. “On second thought, I don’t know but I can, if it will be an
accommodation to you.”
The colonel was too well pleased with the sudden change of front
to show his surprise, though he could not help putting two and two
together and wondering who was the writer of the dainty note which had
evidently countermanded Brant’s marching orders.
“Of course it will be an accommodation,” he hastened to say. “I shall
have to go back to the Extension to-night to figure on Hurlcrow’s
estimates for next month, but I’ll come in as soon as I can, and then,
if you are of the same mind, I’ll look around for some one to relieve
you. But I hope you will find it possible to reconsider. I like you,
and your work is as thorough and accurate as I knew it would be when
you told me you were coached by my old friend Thirlwill.”
Brant did not commit himself, and the colonel tossed the lately opened
letters into his desk and drew down the roll-top. “I shall be with the
general manager and the president in the Aberystwyth till train time,
and to-morrow you can reach me at the front,” he went on. “Take things
a bit easy while I am gone, and see if you can’t make up your mind to
stay with us.”
Being just then devoured with an impatience in comparison with which
the restlessness of the long day was but a sedative, Brant did not seek
to prolong the interview; and when he was once more alone he read and
reread his letter until he could repeat it word for word. It was from
Dorothy; and she had kept her promise to call upon him in the time of
need. She wrote:
“DEAR MR. BRANT: You were kind enough to offer to help us again if
the occasion should arise. It _has_ arisen. Will left home yesterday
afternoon, and we have not seen him since. Mamma is wild with
anxiety, and my father is so greatly discouraged that he will do
nothing. Won’t you please try to find my brother again?
“P.S. Mrs. Hobart, whose husband is a friend of yours, is with us,
and she will be glad to see you when you find it convenient to come.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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