Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 158 — page 3: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

ee * / ‘a DN ee eee aaeS ene esc ee om and I have already pledged you to Judge Or- telle for his daughter Ada.” Captain Howland Moncrief said something, sotto voce, that sounded very much like: ‘‘D— Judge Ortelle and his daughter too.” But aloud he said: “T am my own master, mother, and shall place my love where I please. “You would have me marry a silly bundle of frills and false hair, paint and powder, be- cause she is an heiress to millions, rather than a noble girl who is poor. “ But | choose otherwise, and I tell you frank. ly, as you have driven Dolores Moultrie from your home, I go also, to return only when you have brought her back.” The mother pleaded earnestly, but Howland Moncrief left the breakfast-room and the house, and half an hour after an expressman cailed with a note to his valet to pack up his baggage aud join him at a hotel, In despair Mrs. Moncrief knew not what to do, for she dearly loved her son; he was the idol of ber worship, and ordering her carriage she sought him at the hotel. But he would not yield; said his leave of absence was about up and he would start West that night to join his regiment in Wyoming; but that when Dolores Moultrie was again in the Moncrief mansion he would return. ‘“But, Howland, what shall I say to Judge Ortelle and Ada?” “Tell him to go to Jericho and take his brainless daughter with him,” was the rude re. ply. And thus the mother and son parted. The son to go West to join his command in the Indian country; the mother to bury her ambitious hopes of trebling her son’s already large fortune, and to set to work to find and bring back Dolores Moultrie to the home from which she had driven her. CHAPTER IV. A WOLF IN SHEEP’S CLOTHING. Upon the return of Mrs. Moncrief to her ele- gant, but now desolate home, she found await- ing her a gentleman whom she had met in society, and the very one whom she had se- lected for Dolores to marry. He was a man of courtly manners, passed forty evidently, though be appeared younger, had a dark, intelligent face, and though a fa- vorite in society, none seemed to know his an- tecedents, and his own word was taken for it that he was a Western cattle king, and pos- sessed vast wealth. Mrs. Moncrief, a dashing widow herself, and an artist in making her fifty years seém but thirty-eight, had ‘‘set her cap” for this stran- ger, Mercer Aldrich. But he was not to be caught, the widow soon saw, by any one on the shady side of forty, his penchant being for young girls of twenty and under. Failing in her own matrimonial scheme, Mrs. Moncrief masked her batteries and opened on him for her ‘‘ darling niece” as she called Dolores, and as she led people to believe she really was, This bait Mercer Aldrich eagerly caught at, for, from the very first he had seemed strange- ly drawn toward the young and beautiful girl. -Asshe swept into the parlor, after her re- turn from the unpleasant parting with her son, Mercer Aldrich saw that she had had some- thing to worry her, and, in his courtly way, bade her tell him if he could serve her. Impulsive always, Mrs. Moncrief told him that Dolores had left the house, and gave as a cause that she had been persecuted by Howland in his attentions, and not loving him, had fled to escape from him. “Now, my dear Mr. Aldrich, my son has gone, thinking I am to blame, and I do hope you will find Dolores,” she said, entreatingly. “ Willingly, madam, and upon condition that I may claim the right of you to make your kagy my wife,” was the calm reply. * And I give that permission, sir, for already I believe that Dolores loves you.” The man seemed pleased, and promising to at once strike the trail of the fugitive he took his departure. But days passed away and no tidings came of the missing Dolores, or of Mercer Aldrich, and Mrs. Moncrief bad almost begun to de- spair. Not that she wished Dolores back again; only if she could prove to her son that the maiden did not love him, and had really loved another aud married him, then Howland would no The Doomed Dozen. —— longer blame her, and become a willing tool in her hands to dispose of to Ada Ortelle. ‘* Dolores has but a few dollars, and all her jewels and presents, given her by Howland, she left, so if Mr, Aldrich can only find her in pov- erty, be good to her, and ask her to marry him, she will do it through spite.” Such was the argument of the ambitious wo- man. One day she received a letter from Mercer Aldrich, and it read as follows: “My ESTEEMED MADAM MONCRIEY: ‘*T have at last to report to you that I have struck the true trail. ‘‘After leaving your home, Miss Moultrie was robbed in the cars of her pocket-book, and had to dispose of some article of Jewelry, or dress, to enable her to advertise for a posfiion as governess. ‘* An answer readily came, anld she started West with a gentleman and his daughter, a maiden of fif- teen. ‘They go to some frontier fort, where the gentle- man has an Indian ney. “I will follow, and I pledge you that before very long, you shall hear that Dolores Moultrie is Dolores Aldrich. ‘*T will write you again. ; ‘* Wishing you health and happiness, ever devot- edly, Yours, ‘**MeRcER ALDRICH.” Hardly had Mrs. Moncrief finished reading this letter, and was congratulating herself upon its contents, when Benson the butler brought a card in, and said: ‘‘He’s in the parlor, m’am, and he’s pretty enough to be a girl. Mrs. Moncrief took the card and read: ‘‘ARNOLD AUBREY, ** COLORADO.” ** Who is he, Benson?” ‘*Dunno, m’am; but he’s pritty as a picture.” Mrs. Moncrief swept into the parlor with the air of one who meant to awe Arnold Aubrey of Colorado. But ber dignity and elegance did pot have that effect, for the person answering to that name calmly arose from the most luxurious seat in the parlor, and said in the coolest tones: ‘*Good-morning, madam; I am on the track of a villain of whose whereabouts you can per- haps inform me.” se Sir!” It was all the astonished woman could say, and she bent her gaze in anger upon the one who faced her. What she saw was a youth, apparently not over nineteen years of age, and with a face so womanly in its beauty that she almost thought it was a young girl in disguise. His hair feli in golden curls upon his shoul- ders, his eyes were dark blue, full of expression, and his other features perfect in formation. His slender, graceful form was clad in a dark- blue velvet coat and vest, anda pair of black broadcloth pants, which were stuck in the top of handsome boots, upon the heels of which were gold spurs, and in his hand he held a gray sombrero with broad brim, while he wore kid gloves white and spotless. Such a person seemed out of place in the very streets of the city, and who be was and what his business with her might be, Mrs. Moncrief could not comprehend. Hearing her indignant exclamation at his words he said in his cool, polite, yet off-hand manner: ‘My dear madam, do not get angry, for I am not accusing you of being the friend inten- tionally of a scoundrel,for I arn convinced you do not know his character; but you must know that he is a wolf in sheep’s clothing.” ‘*To whom, sir, do you refer?” she said frigidly. se Why, madam.” The lady was shocked, for the fair-faced youth made a bold charge against the wealthy “Mr. Aldrich a Danite?’ she almost gasped. “ Surely, sir, you are not mistaken?” “No more than I am in my intention to one day take his life,” was the stern response from lips that did not look like they could threaten. “Merciful Heaven! pray tell me what you mean, sir?” “I mean, Mrs. Moncrief, that I have the honor of your son’s acquaintance, and meeting him, as I came East, and telling him who f{ was seeking, he made me come to you and ask regarding Mr. Mercer Aldrich, who, from my description, he was confident was the Mor- mon captain known in Utah as John Leigh.” *‘No, no, Mr. Aldrich cannot be that wretch.” ‘*Heis most certainly, madam, for Mercer to Mercer Aldrich the Danite, mee a 3 Aldrich is one of his aliases, and I have been on his track a long time West, until i found he had come East to get proselytes to his Mormon creed. “Will you kindly give me his address, madam?” It was a terrible blow to Mrs. Moncrief to have to acknowledge, even to herself, that Mercer Aldrich was other than he represented bimself, and she said coldly: ‘‘Mr. Aldrich has gone West, sir, and there you had best seek him; but I warn you he is no man to be accused falsely of the crime you lay upon him,” ‘‘I know him, madam, and that he is one of the most cewardly devils tbat disgrace the western country. ** May I ask for his address in the city?” Reluctantly Mrs. Moncrief gave it, and with a polite bow Mr. Arnold Aubrey bowed him- self out, sprung into a waiting carriage and was driven rapidly away, leaving the mistress of tbe Moncrief mansion in no very amiable frame of mind. CHAPTER V. FRIEND OR FOE. A BIVOUWAC on the prairies, and on the over- land trail to the far West, is the change of scene from the parlors of Mrs. Moncrief’s ele- gant mansion. A range of hillsa few miles beyond, which the wagon train had hoped to reach by night, but failing to do so, had camped on the banks of a small stream, with its fringe of willows and cottonwoods, that wound its way across the level plain. A semicircle of “ prairie schooners,’ as the wagons are called on the western border, each end resting on the stream, the horses and mules lariated near by feeding upon the rich grass, and half a dozen camp-fires, with a score or more of people gathered around them, pre- paring their evening meal, formed a pic- turesque scene for the eye of an artist to fall upon. Suddenly the quick eye of the guide detected a dark object coming across the prairie, and then another, until five horsemen came in sight, It was a locality where it was necessary for men to be on their guard against Indians and train robbers, and the little party were soon ready to meet friend or foe. But a hail from the horseman in advance that they were friends, caused the answer from the captain of the train that they might come on. A moment after they rode up and dis- mounted, and he who appeared to be the leader asked: “Is this the wagon-train of Captain Har- mon?” ‘It is, sir, and Iam Captain Harmon,” said a kindly-faced, portly gentleman, stepping for- ward. ‘*My name is Aldrich, sir, and I believe you have an old friend of mine under your charge; Miss Dolores Moultrie, I refer to.” ‘* Ah, yes; Miss Moultrie, here isa friend of yours,” the gentleman called out, and then he added: ‘‘ You are welcome, sir, to my camp; Al- drich, you said your name was?’ ‘* Yes, Captain Harmon; Mercer Aldrich, and I am a Colorado cattle man, who met Miss Dolores while visiting in the East.” Just then Dolores advanced, accompanied by a young and beautiful girl of fifteen; but in his changed attire in the city, to his border costume, handsome though it was, she did Lot at first recognize him. _ “Why, Miss Dolores, have you forgotten an old friend?” he asked, reproachfully. ‘‘ Mr. Aldrich!” ‘‘- Yes, at your service, Miss Dolores.” She extended ber hand, for though she did not like the man, she was glad to meet, far out on the plains, one whom she had met in the home around which still clung so many kind remembrances, After greeting him, she said, pleasantly: ‘Captain Harmon, this is an old friend whom I met in the city, Mr. Mercer Aldrich, though I believe he lives out here.” ** Yes, Miss Dolores, in Colorado; I had gone home, but receiving a letter from your aunt that you were going West with Captain Har- mon’s train, I determined to seek you, so, with my cowboys bere, sought to head you off.” ‘“* And how did my aunt, that is, Mrs. Mon-.- Eomic! ‘S.com ICO