THE SHOTGUN WIDOW
The Widow Huff was burdened with a tray and her eye sought wildly for
Virginia but when she glimpsed Wiley moving swiftly towards the door she
set down his dinner with a bang. The disrespectful epithet which he had
applied to her had been lost in the clatter of plates, but the moment
the Widow came into the room she sensed the hair-trigger atmosphere.
"Here!" she ordered, taking command on the instant. "Come back here,
young man, and pay me for this dinner! And Virginia Huff, you go out
into the kitchen--how many times do I have to speak to you?"
Virginia started and stopped, her resentful eyes on Wiley, a thin smile
parting her lips.
"He said----" she began, and then Wiley strode back and slapped down a
dollar on the table.
"Yes, and I meant it, too," he answered fiercely. "There's your pay--and
you can keep your mine."
"Why, certainly," responded the Widow without knowing what she was
talking about, "and now you eat that dinner!"
She pointed a finger to the tray of food and looked Wiley Holman in the
eye. He wavered, gazing from her to the smiling Virginia, and then he
drew up his chair.
"I'll go you," he said and showed his teeth in a grin. "You can't hurt
my feelings that way."
He lifted the T-bone steak from the platter and transferred it swiftly
to his plate and then, as he fell to eating ravenously, the Widow
condescended to smile.
"When I go to the trouble of cooking a man a steak," she announced with
the suggestion of a swagger, "I expect him to stay and eat it."
"All right," mumbled Wiley, and glancing fleeringly at Virginia, he went
ahead with his meal.
The Widow looked over her shoulder at her daughter and then back at the
stranger, but as she was about to inquire into the cause of their
quarrel she spied his diamond ring. She approached him closer under
pretext of pouring out some water and then she sank down into a chair.
"That is a very fine ring," she stated briefly. "Worth fifteen hundred
dollars at the least. Haven't I seen you somewhere, before?"
"Very likely," returned Wiley, not venturing to look up, "my business
takes me everywhere."
"I thought I recognized you," went on the Widow ingratiatingly; "you're
a mining man, aren't you, Mister--er----"
"Wiley," he answered, and at this bold piece of effrontery Virginia
caught her breath.
"Ah, yes, I remember you now," said the Widow. "You knew my husband, of
course--Colonel Huff? He passed away on the twentieth of July; but there
was a time, not so many years ago, that I wore a few diamonds myself."
She fixed her restless eyes on his ring and heaved a discontented sigh.
"Virginia," she directed, "run out into the kitchen and clean up that
skillet and all. I declare, you do less and less every day--are you a
married man, Mr. Wiley?"
Without awaiting the answer to this portentous question, Virginia flung
out into the kitchen and, left alone, the Widow drew nearer and her
manner became suddenly confidential.
"I'd like to talk with you," she began, "about my husband's mine. Of
course you've heard of the famous Paymaster--that's the mill right over
east of town--but there are very few men that know what I do about the
reasons why that mine was shut down. It was commonly reported that
Colonel Huff was trying to get possession of the property, but the truth
of the matter is he was deceived by old John Holman and finally left
holding the sack. You see, it was this way. My husband and John Holman
had always been lifelong friends, but Colonel Huff was naturally
generous while Holman thought of nothing but money. Well, my husband
discovered the Paymaster--he was led to it by an Indian that he had
saved from being killed by the soldiers--but, not having any money, he
went to John Holman and they developed the mine together. It turned out
very rich and such a rush you never saw--this valley was full of tents
for miles--but it was so far from the railroad--seventy-four miles to
Vegas--that the work was very expensive. The Company was reorganized and
Mr. Blount, the banker, was given a third of the promotion stock. Then
the five hundred thousand shares of treasury stock was put on the market
in order to build the new mill; and when the railroad came in there was
such a crazy speculation that everybody lost track of the transfers. My
husband, of course, was generous to a fault and accustomed to living
like a gentleman--and he invested very heavily in real estate, too--but
this Mr. Blount was always out for his interest and Honest John would
skin a dead flea."
"Honest John!" challenged Wiley, looking up from his eating with an ugly
glint in his eye, but the Widow was far away.
"Yes, Honest John Holman," she sneered, without noticing his resentment.
"They called him Honest John. Did you ever know one of these 'Honest
John' fellows yet that wasn't a thorough-paced scoundrel? Well, old John
Holman he threw in with Blount to deprive Colonel Huff of his profits
and, with these street certificates everywhere and no one recording
their transfers, the Colonel was naturally deceived into thinking that
the selling was from the outside. But all the time, while they were
selling their stock and hammering down the price of Paymaster, they were
telling the Colonel that it was only temporary and he ought to support
the market. So he bought in what he could, though it wasn't much, as he
was interested in other properties, and then when the crash came he was
left without anything and Blount and Holman were rich. The great panic
came on and Blount foreclosed on everything, and then Mr. Huff fell out
with John Holman and they closed the Paymaster down. That was ten years
ago and, with the litigation and all, the stock went down to nothing.
The whole camp went dead and all the folks moved away--but have you ever
been through the mine? Well, I want you to go--that ground has hardly
been scratched!"
Wiley Holman glanced up doubtfully from under his heavy eyebrows and the
Widow became voluble in her protests.
"No, sir," she exclaimed, "I certainly ought to know, because the
Colonel was Superintendent; and when he had been drinking--the town was
awful, that way--he would tell me all about the mine. And that was his
phrase--he used it always: 'That ground has hardly been scratched!' But
when he fell out with old John Holman he--well, there was an explosion
underground and the glory-hole stope caved in. They cleaned it out
afterwards and hunted around, but all the rich ore was gone; but I'm
just as certain as I'm sitting here this minute the Colonel knew where
there was more! He never would admit it--he was peculiar, that way, he
never would discuss his business before a woman. But he wouldn't deny
it, and when he had been drinking--well, I know it's there, that's all!"
She paused for her effect but Mr. Wiley, the mining man, was singularly
unimpressed. He continued eating in moody silence and the Widow tried
the question direct.
"Well, what do you think about it?" she demanded bluffly. "Would you
like to consider the property?"
"No, I don't think so," he answered impersonally. "I'm on my way up
north."
"Well, when you come back, then. Since my husband is gone I'm so sick
and tired of it all I'll consider any offer--for cash."
"Nope," he responded, "I'm out for something different." Then to stem
the tide of her impending protest, he broke his studious silence. "I'm
looking for molybdenum," he went on quickly, "and some of these other
rare metals that are in demand on account of the war. Ever find any
vanadium or manganese around here? No, I guess they're all further
north."
He returned to his meal and the Widow surveyed him appraisingly with her
bold, inquisitive eyes. She was a big, strapping woman, and handsome in
a way; but the corners of her mouth were drawn down sharply in a sulky,
lawless pout.
"Aw, tell me the truth," she burst out at last. "What have you got
against the property?"
A somber glow came into his eyes as he opened his lips to speak, and
then he veiled his smouldering hate behind a crafty smile.
"The parties that I represent," he said deliberately, "are looking for a
_mine_. But the man that puts his money into the Paymaster property
is simply buying a lawsuit."
"What do you mean?" demanded the Widow, rousing up indignantly in
response to this sudden thrust.
"I mean, no matter how rich the Paymaster may be--and I hear the whole
district is worked out--I wouldn't even go up the hill to look at it
until you showed me the title was good."
The Widow sat and glowered as she meditated a fitting response and then
she rose to her feet.
"Well, all right, then," she sulked, "if you don't want to consider
it--but you're missing the chance of your life."
"Very likely," he muttered and reached for his hat. "Much obliged for
cooking my dinner."
He started for the door, but she flew swiftly after him and snatched him
back into the room.
"Now here!" she cried, "I want you to listen to me--I've got tired of
this everlasting waiting. I waited around for ten years on the Colonel,
to settle this matter up, and now that he's gone I'm going to settle it
myself and get out of the cussed country. Maybe I don't own the mine,
but I own a good part of it--I've got two hundred thousand shares of
stock--and I could sell it to-morrow for twenty thousand dollars, so you
don't need to turn up your nose. There must be something there after all
these years, to bring an offer of ten cents a share; but I wouldn't take
that money if it was the last act of my life--I just hate that Honest
John Holman! He cheated my husband out of everything he had--and yet he
did it in such a deceitful way that the Colonel would never believe it.
I've called him a coward a thousand times for tolerating such an outrage
for an instant, and now that he's gone I'm going to show Honest John
that he can't put it over _me_!"
She shook her head until her heavy black hair flew out like Medusa's
locks and then Wiley laughed provokingly.
"All right," he said, "but you can't rope me in on your feuds. If you
want to give me an option on your stock in the company for five or ten
cents a share I may take a look at your mine. But I'll tell you one
thing--you'll sign an agreement first to leave the country and never
come back. I'm a business man, working for business people, and these
shotgun methods don't go."
"Well, I'll do it!" exclaimed the Widow, passing by his numerous insults
in a sudden mad grab at release. "Just draw up your paper and I'll sign
it in a minute--but I want ten cents a share!"
"Ten cents or ten dollars--it makes no difference to me. You can put it
as high as you like--but if it's too high, my principals won't take it.
I can't stop to inspect it now, because I'm due up north, but I'll tell
you what I'll do. You give me an option on all your stock, with a
written permission to take possession, and if the other two big owners
will do as much I'll come back and consider the mine. But get this
straight--the first time you butt in, this option and agreement is off!"
"What do you mean--butt in?" demanded the Widow truculently, and then
she bit her lip. "Well, never mind," she said, "just draw up your
papers. I'll show you I'm business myself."
"Huh!" he grunted and, whipping out a fountain pen, he sat down and
wrote rapidly at a table. "There," he said tearing the leaf from his
notebook and putting it into her hands, "just read that over and if you
want to sign it we'll close the deal, right here."
The Widow took the paper and, turning it to the light, began a labored
perusal.
"Memorandum of agreement," she muttered, squinting her eyes at his
handwriting, "hmm, I'll have to go and get my glasses. 'For and in
consideration of the sum of ten dollars--to me in hand paid by M. R.
Wiley,' and so forth--oh well, I guess it's all right, just show me
where to sign."
"No," he said, "let me read it to you--you ought to know what you're
signing."
"No, just show me where to sign," protested the Widow petulantly, "and
where it says ten cents a share."
"Well, it says that here," answered Wiley, putting his finger on the
place, "but I'm going to read it to you--it wouldn't be legal
otherwise."
He wiped the beaded sweat from his brow and glanced towards the kitchen
door. In this desperate game which he was framing on the Widow the luck
had all come his way, but as he cleared his throat and commenced to read
Virginia came bounding in. She was carrying a kitten, but when she saw
the paper between them she dropped it on the floor.
"Virginia!" cried her mother, "go and hunt my glasses. They're somewhere
in my bedroom."
"All right," she responded, but when she came back she glanced
inquiringly at the paper.
"You can go now," announced the Widow, adjusting her glasses, but
Virginia threw up her head.
"Do you know who that is?" she demanded brusquely, pointing an accusing
finger at Wiley.
"Why--er--no," returned the Widow, now absorbed in the agreement.
"Well, all right," she said after a hasty perusal, "but where's that sum
of ten dollars? Now you hush, Virginia, and go--into--the--_kitchen_!
Now, it says right here--oh, where is that place? Oh yes, 'the receipt
whereof is hereby acknowledged'! _Virginia!_"
She stamped her foot, but Virginia's blood was up and she made a grab at
the paper.
"Now, _listen!_" she screamed, stopping her mother in her rush.
"That man there is Wiley Holman! Yes--Holman! Old Honest John's son!
What's this you're going to sign?"
She backed away, her eyes fixed on the agreement, while the Widow stood
astounded.
"Wiley _Holman_!" she shrieked, "why, you limb of Satan, you said
your name was Wiley!"
"It is," returned Wiley with one eye on the door, "the rest of my name
is Holman."
"But you signed it on this paper--you wrote it right there! Oh, I'll
have the law on you for this!"
She clutched at the paper and as Virginia gave it to her mother she
turned an accusing glance upon Wiley.
"Yes, that's just like you, Mr. M. R. Wiley," she observed with
scathing sarcasm. "You were just that way when you were a kid here in
Keno--always trying to get the advantage of somebody. But if I'd
thought you had the nerve----" She glanced at the paper and gasped and
Wiley showed his teeth in a grin.
"Well, she crowded me to it," he answered with a swagger. "I'm strictly
business--I'll sign up anybody. You can just keep that paper," he nodded
to the Widow, "and send it to me by mail."
He winked at Virginia and slipped swiftly out the door as the Widow
made a rush for her gun. She came out after him, brandishing a
double-barreled shotgun, just as he cranked up his machine to start.
"I'll show you!" she yelled, jerking her gun to her shoulder. "I'll
learn you to get funny with _me_!"
She pulled the trigger, but Wiley was watching her and he ducked down
behind the radiator.
_Clank_, went the hammer and with a wail of rage the Widow snapped
the other barrel.
"You, Virginia!" she cried in a terrible voice, "have you been monkeying
with my shotgun?"
The answer was lost in a series of explosions that awoke every echo in
Keno, and Wiley Holman leapt into his machine. He jerked off his brake
and stepped on the foot throttle but as he roared off up the street he
waved a grimy hand at Virginia.