第2章 Hearts and Hands 心与手

At Denver there was an influx of passengers into the coaches on the eastbound B. &M. express. In one coach there sat a very pretty young woman dressed in elegant taste and surrounded by all the luxurious comforts of an experienced traveler. Among the newcomers were two young men, one of handsome presence with a bold, frank countenance and manner;the other a ruffled, glum-faced person, heavily built and roughly dressed. The two were handcuffed together.

As they passed down the aisle of the coach the only vacant seat offered was a reversed one facing the attractive young woman. Here the linked couple seated themselves. The young woman's glance fell upon them with a distant, swift disinterest; then with a lovely smile brightening her countenance and a tender pink tingeing her rounded cheeks, she held out a little gray-gloved hand. When she spoke her voice, full, sweet, and deliberate, proclaimed that its owner was accustomed to speak and be heard.

“Well, Mr. Easton, if you will make me speak first, I suppose I must. Don't you ever recognize old friends when you meet them in the West?”

The younger man roused himself sharply at the sound of her voice, seemed to struggle with a slight embarrassment which he threw off instantly, and then clasped her fingers with his left hand.

“It's Miss Fairchild,” he said, with a smile. “I'll ask you to excuse the other hand; “it's otherwise engaged just at present.”

He slightly raised his right hand, bound at the wrist by the shining “bracelet”to the left one of his companion. The glad look in the girl's eyes slowly changed to a bewildered horror. The glow faded from her cheeks. Her lips parted in a vague, relaxing distress. Easton, with a little laugh, as if amused, was about to speak again when the other forestalled him. The glum-faced man had been watching the girl's countenance with veiled glances from his keen, shrewd eyes.

“You'll excuse me for speaking, miss, but, I see you're acquainted with the marshall here. If you'll ask him to speak a word for me when we get to the pen he'll do it, and it'll make things easier for me there. He's taking me to Leavenworth prison. It's seven years for counterfeiting.”

“Oh!” said the girl, with a deep breath and returning color. “So that is what you are doing out here? A marshal!”

“My dear Miss Fairchild,” said Easton, calmly, “I had to do something. Money has a way of taking wings unto itself, and you know it takes money to keep step with our crowd in Washington. I saw this opening in the West, and—well, a marshalship isn't quite as high a position as that of ambassador, but—”

“The ambassador,” said the girl, warmly, “doesn't call any more. He needn't ever have done so. You ought to know that. And so now you are one of these dashing Western heroes, and you ride and shoot and go into all kinds of dangers. That's different from the Washington life. You have been missed from the old crowd.”

The girl's eyes, fascinated, went back, widening a little, to rest upon the glittering handcuffs.

“Don't you worry about them, miss,” said the other man. “All marshals handcuff themselves to their prisoners to keep 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 butterfly days are over, I fear.”

“I love the West,” said the girl irrelevantly. Her eyes were shining softly. She looked away out the car window. She began to speak truly and simply without the gloss of style and manner:“Mamma and I spent the summer in Denver. She went home a week ago because father was slightly ill. I could live and be happy in the West. I think the air here agrees with me. Money isn't everything. But people always misunderstand things and remain stupid—”

“Say, Mr. Marshal,” growled the glum-faced man. “This isn't quite fair. I'm needing a drink, and haven't had a smoke all day. Haven't you talked long enough? Take me in the smoker now, won't you? I'm half dead for a pipe.”

The bound travelers rose to their feet, Easton with the same slow smile on his face.

“I can't deny a petition for tobacco,” he said, lightly. “It's the one friend of the unfortunate. Good-bye, Miss Fairchild. Duty calls, you know.”He held out his hand for a farewell.

“It's too bad you are not going East,” she said, reclothing herself with manner and style. “But you must go on to Leavenworth, I suppose?”

“Yes,” said Easton, “I must go on to Leavenworth.”

The two men sidled down the aisle into the smoker.

The two passengers in a seat near by had heard most of the conversation. Said one of them:“That marshal's a good sort of chap. Some of these Western fellows are all right.”

“Pretty young to hold an office like that, isn't he?” asked the other.

“Young!” exclaimed the first speaker, “why—Oh! didn't you catch on? Say—did you ever know an officer to handcuff a prisoner to his right hand?”

丹佛站，一群乘客拥进了东去的宝马快车车厢。其中一个车厢里坐着一位非常漂亮、衣着优雅的年轻女郎，她身边放满了奢华舒适的生活用品，显然是一位经验丰富的游客。在刚上来的乘客中有两个年轻人：一个风度翩翩，刚毅坦率；另一个满脸皱纹，面色忧郁，身材魁梧，穿着邋遢。两个人的手铐在一起。

他们穿越过道时，车里唯一的空位朝向车尾，面对那个迷人的年轻女郎。这两个铐在一起的人坐在了这里。年轻女人的目光悠远冷淡，飞快地落在他们身上；随后，她的脸上泛起了可爱的微笑，丰润的面颊微微飞起了柔和的粉红色，她伸出一只戴着灰手套的小手。她说话时的声音圆润、甜美、从容，表明它的主人习惯说话，也习惯让别人听她说话。

“噢，伊斯顿先生，要是你让我先说话，我想我必须这样。你在西部碰见老朋友还认不出来吗？”

听到她的声音，那个比较年轻的人猛地惊醒，似乎有点儿尴尬，但立刻又恢复了常态，随后用左手握了握她的手。

“这不是娇娃小姐吗，”他面带微笑说。“我要请你原谅我的右手，它现在另有用场。”

他微微抬起右手，露出与同伴的左手腕扣在一起的那副闪亮的“手镯”。那个姑娘的快乐眼神慢慢变得迷惘恐惧，脸颊上褪去了绯红，嘴唇微启，显得有些紧张。伊斯顿好像是被逗乐了，微微笑出了声，正要再次开口，同伴却抢在了前面。那个脸色阴沉的人眼睛敏锐狡黠，一直偷偷地盯着姑娘的面容。

“小姐，请原谅我开口说话，但我看得出你跟这位法警熟悉。要是你请他在我们到达监狱时给我美言几句，他会听你的，这样我在那里的日子就会好过些。他要带我去利文沃斯监狱。因伪造罪而被判七年。”

“噢！”姑娘深吸了口气说，脸上又绯红了起来。“这么说，这就是你在这里的工作了？当一名法警！”

“我亲爱的娇娃小姐，”伊斯顿平静地说，“我不得不找一份工作干。钱来得容易去得快，在这里要过像在华盛顿一样的生活，要花费好多钱。我看到西部这个职位空缺，然后——当然，法警的职位不如大使的职位那样高，不过——”

“大使，”姑娘热情地说。“再也没有来过电话。他也不必那样做。你应该知道。再说，你现在是一名出色的西部英雄，骑马、射击，历尽艰险。那与华盛顿的生活截然不同。老朋友们都念着你。”

姑娘微微睁大眼睛，迷人的目光又落在了那副闪亮的手铐上。

“小姐，别为它们担心，”伊斯顿的同伴说。“所有法警都将自己和罪犯铐在一起，以防他们逃跑。伊斯顿先生精通这一行。”

“我们会很快在华盛顿见到你吗？”姑娘问道。

“我想，不会很快，”伊斯顿说。“我怕，我像蝴蝶一样逍遥的日子到头了。”

“我爱西部，”姑娘风马牛不相及地说，眼睛闪着温柔的光泽。她移开目光，望着车窗外，开始真诚简单地说了起来，没有客套和矫饰：“我和妈妈这个夏天是在丹佛过的。父亲身体不太好，她一周前回家去了。我可以在西部快乐生活，我想这里的空气适合我。金钱不是一切。然而，人们总是对事物产生误解，执迷不悟——”

“喂，法警先生，”那个脸色阴沉的人咆哮道。“这太不公平了。我要喝点儿什么，而且我一天都没抽烟了。你们聊够了没有？现在把我带到抽烟车厢去，行吗？我想抽烟都快想死了。”

两个铐在一起的乘客站起来，伊斯顿脸上带着同样迟缓的笑容。

“我无法拒绝抽烟的请求，”他轻声说道。“不幸的人总是与它为伴。再见，娇娃小姐。公务在身，你知道。”他伸出一只手道别。

“你不去东部真是太糟了，”她说，举止和风度恢复如初。“但我想你必须去利文沃斯吧？”

“是的，”伊斯顿说，“我必须去利文沃斯。”

两个人侧身而行，沿着过道进了抽烟车厢。

旁边座位上的两个乘客听到了这大部分的对话。其中一个说：“那法警是个好人。有些西部人真不赖。”

“年纪轻轻就担任这样的职位，不是吗？”另一个说。

“年纪轻轻！”刚才说话的那个人大声说道。“啊——噢！难道你不明白吗？喂——你见过将囚徒铐在自己右手上的法警吗？”