At Denver many travellers got on the express train. It was heading east. In one coach there sat a very pretty young woman dressed in stylish clothes. She was surrounded by expensive suitcases and bags, and looked like an experienced travellers. Among the crowd of newcomers on the train were two young men. One was handsome, and well-dressed, with a confident and open manner. The other was an untidy, overweight, unhappy-looking person. The two were handcuffed together.
They walked down the aisle of the coach. The only vacant seats were facing the attractive young woman. Here the two men sat down. The young lady glanced at them briefly, then her face brightened into a lovely smile. She held out a small, gloved hand. When she spoke, her voice was warm and sweet.
“Well, Mr.Easton, if you will make me speak first, I suppose I must. Don’t you recongnize old friends when you meet them in the West?”
The younger man looked up quickly in surprise. He seemed slightly embarrassed for a moment, then took her fingers with his left hand.
“It’s Miss Fairchild,” he said with a smile. “Please excuse my other hand, it’s a little busy at the moment.”
He slightly raised his right hand, bound at the wrist with a shining handcuff to the left hand of his companion. The happy look in the girl’s eyes changed to confused horror. The glow faded from her cheeks. Her chin trembled as if she might cry. Easton gave a little laugh and was about to speak again when his companion interrupted him. The sad-looking man had been watching her face closely.
“Please excuse me for speaking, Miss, but I see you know the marshal here. He’s taking me to Leavenworth prison. I’ve been sentenced to seven years for counterfeiting money. I wonder if you could ask the marshal to say a good word for me at prison – it would make things a little easier for me there.”
“Oh!” said the girl, and the color returned to her face. “So that is what you’re doing out here. You’re a marshal?”
“My dear Miss Fairchild,” said Easton, calmly. “I had to do something. It takes money to keep up with our crowd of friends in Washington. I saw this job advertised, and well – a marshal isn’t quite as good a job as an ambassador, but…”
“The ambassador,” said the girl, a little angrily, “doesn’t call me any more. And he should never have called me. I didn’t like him. You ought to know that. And so now you are one of those brave western marshals who rides horses, shoots guns and gets into all kinds of danger. That’s much different from the Washington life. Our old crowd has missed you.”
The girls eyes went back to rest on the shining handcuffs.
“Don’t you worry about them, Miss,” said the other man. “all marshals handcuff themselves to their prisoners to stop them from getting away. Mr.Easton knows his business.”
“Will we see you again soon in Washington?” asked the girl.
“Not soon, I think,” said Easton. “My days of parting in Washington are over, unfortunately.”
“I love the West,” said the girl. Her eyes shone softly as she stared out the coach window. She began to speak truly and simply, without any high class Washington manners. “Mamma and I spent the summer in Denver. She went home a week ago because father had bad cold. I could live and be happy in the West. I love the weather. Money isn’t everything. But people always misunderstand things, and remain stupid…”
“Say, Mr. Marshal,” growled the sad-faced man. “This isn’t fair. I need a drink, and I haven’t had a smoke all day. Haven’t you talked long enough? Take me to the smoking coach, will you? I’m dying for a cigarette.”
The joined travellers stood up. Easton smiled.
“I can’t deny a prisoner’s request for tobacco,” he said lightly. “It’s the only friend they have. Good-bye Miss Fairchild. I have a job to do.”
“It’s too bad you’re not going East,” she said, slipping back to her usual manner and style. “But you must go on to Leavenworth, I suppose?”
“Yes,” said Easton, “I must go on to Leavenworth.”
The two men walked slowly down the aisle toward the smoking coach.
The two passengers in a seat nearby had heard most of the conversation. One said, “That marshal’s a good man. Some of those Westerners are all right.
“He’s pretty young to be a marshal, isn’t he?” said the other.
“Young!” exclaimed the first speaker, “Why – didn’t you see what happened here? Have you ever known a marshal to handcuff a prisoner to his right hand?”
Tags: Hearts and Hands, 영어공부
