Detective and mystery stories; Law enforcement -- Fiction; Short stories; Texas -- Fiction; Texas Rangers -- Fiction
Texas, as the next-door neighbor to Mexico, has many business
relationships with the southern republic and Texans believe they
understand Mexico and Mexicans better than do the residents of most
other States. There was a period, during the early revolutions, the
insane Plan of San Diago which set the border aflame, and the
aftermaths of the Columbus raid, when the administration at Washington
did not satisfy Texans because it watched and waited. Following the
establishment of relative order below the Rio Grande certain of the
Texas business citizenry became dissatisfied because watchfulness and
waiting still continued and the Mexican government was not officially
recognized.
With whether these were right or wrong Captain Carmichael was not
concerned. His duty was to the State administration and that
administration was doing what it might to bring about more perfect
peace and understanding between the two countries. And it was convinced
that more perfect peace and understanding was being hindered by certain
American corporations which had financial interests below the Rio
Grande.
Such a corporation was the Tarbox Exploration and Mining Company--whose
biggest concession was there in the mountains back of where Miller had
boarded the train.
Fighting the political ambitions and desires of the combination of
which the Tarbox outfit was a member was another combination. Wallace
Locke was a member of it. Notwithstanding his youth, because of
connections with the governor and other strong men of Texas, he was
powerful.
Miller was an Argentinian. He might not have come from the Tarbox camp.
But on the other hand----
Carmichael lounged to the hotel desk and asked the clerk, who knew him
well:
“What did that old feller with the scar--Miller--ask you a few minutes
ago?”
“Who the young man was with the young lady in white with the red hair,”
the clerk told him promptly. “With Miss Alsbury--although he didn’t
know her name.”
“You told him, of course.”
“Yes. He said he had thought Locke’s face looked familiar, but must
have been mistaken. Anything the matter with Miller, captain?”
“No,” the Ranger smiled. “I was just curious.”
So Miller, who might be with the Tarbox crowd, was seeking to identify
the Tarboxes’ strongest enemy in Texas. It came to the Ranger that
there had been attempts to buy Locke off, which had failed, and that
there had been courteous words that were veiled threats.
Miller looked like a resolute man, a hard man. In all the hours the
Ranger had observed him he had not once smiled.
Captain Carmichael went and stood not far from the news stand, facing
the lobby, and absently rearranged his necktie, after which he left the
hotel by the side entrance. A young man who had been within sight all
the evening but had not spoken to him rose from his seat, drifted out
aimlessly through the other door and went around the corner to where
his captain stood in a shadowed doorway.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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