A PEACE TALK
While his blood was pounding and his heart was high, Wiley Holman went
down into his mine. He rode down on the bucket, deftly balanced on the
rim and fending off the wall with one hand, and when he came up he was
smiling. Not smiling with his lips, but far back in his eyes, like a man
who has found something good. Perhaps Blount surprised the look before
it had fled for he beamed upon Wiley benevolently.
"Well, Wiley, my boy," he began confidentially as he drew him off to one
side, "I'm glad to see you're pleased. The gold is there--I find that
everyone thinks so--all we need now is a little co-operation. That's all
we need now--peace. We should lay aside all personal feelings and old
animosities and join hands to make the Paymaster a success."
"That's right, that's right," agreed Wiley cheerfully, "there's nobody
believes in peace more than I do. But all the same," he went on almost
savagely, "you've got to get rid of old George. I'm for peace, you
understand, but if I find him here again--well, I'll have to take over
the property. He's nothing but a professional murderer."
"Yes, I know," explained Blount, "he's a dangerous man--but I don't like
to let an old man starve. He's got a right to live the same as any of
us, and, since he can't work--well, I gave him a job as watchman."
"Well, all right," grumbled Wiley, "if you want to be charitable; but I
suppose you know that, under the law, you're responsible for the acts of
your agents?"
"That's all right, that's all right," burst out Blount impatiently,
"I'll never hire him again. He refused to obey my orders and----"
"_And_ he tried to kill me!" broke in Wiley angrily, but Blount had
thrown up both hands.
"Oh, now, Wiley," he protested, "why can't we be reasonable? Why can't
we get together on this?"
"We can," returned Wiley, "but you've got to show me that you're not
trying to jump my claim."
"Oh, you know," exclaimed Blount, "as well as I do that a tax sale is
never binding. The owners of the property are given five years'
time----"
"It is binding," corrected Wiley, "until the property is bought
back--and I happen to be holding the deed. Now, here's the point--what
authority have you got for coming in here and working this property?"
"Well, you may as well know," replied Blount shortly, "that I own a
majority of the stock."
"Aha!" burst out Wiley. "I was listening for that. So you're the Honest
John?"
"What do you mean?" demanded Blount and, seeing the anger in his eyes,
he hastened to head off the storm. "No, now listen to me, Wiley; it's
not the way you think. I knew your father well, and I always found him
the soul of honor; but I never liked to say anything, because Colonel
Huff was my partner, too. So, when this trouble arose, I tried to remain
neutral, without joining sides with either. It pained me very much to
have people make remarks reflecting upon the honesty of your father, but
as the confidant of both it was hardly in good taste for me to give out
what I knew. So I let the matter go, hoping that time would heal the
breach; but now that the Colonel is dead----"
"Aha!" breathed Wiley and Blount nodded his head lugubriously.
"Yes," he said, "that is the way it was. Your father was absolutely
honest."
"Well, but who sold the stock, and then bought it back--and put all the
blame on my father?"
"I can't tell you," answered Blount. "I never speak evil of the
dead--but the Colonel was a very poor business man."
"Yes, he was," agreed Wiley, and then, after a silence: "How did it
happen that you got all his stock?"
"Well, on mortgages and notes; and now as collateral on a loan that I
made his widow. I own a clean majority of the stock."
"Oh, you do, eh?" observed Wiley and rubbed his jaw thoughtfully while
Blount looked mildly on. "Well, what are you going to do?"
"Why, I'd like to buy back that tax deed," answered Blount amiably, "and
get control of my property."
"Oh," said Wiley, and looked down the valley with eyes that squinted
shrewdly at the sun. "All right," he agreed, "just to show you that I'm
a sport, I'll give you a quit-claim deed right now for the sum of one
hundred dollars."
"You will?" challenged Blount, reaching tremulously for his fountain pen
and then he paused at a thought. "Very well," he said, but as he filled
out the form he stopped and gazed uneasily at Wiley. Here was a mining
engineer selling a possessory right to the Paymaster for the sum of one
hundred dollars; while he, a banker, was spending a hundred dollars a
day in what had proved so far to be dead work. "Er--I haven't any money
with me," he suggested at length. "Perhaps--well, perhaps you could
wait?"
"Sure!" replied Wiley, rising up from where he was seated, "I'll wait
for anything, except my supper. Where's the best place to eat in town,
now?"
"Why, at Mrs. Huff's," returned Blount in surprise. "But about this
quit-claim, perhaps a check would do as well?"
"What, are the Huffs still here?" exclaimed Wiley, starting off. "Why, I
thought----"
"No, they decided to stay," answered Blount, following after him. "But
now, Wiley, about this quit-claim?"
"Well, gimme your check! Or keep it, I don't care--I came away without
my breakfast this morning."
He strode off down the trail and Blount pulled up short and stood gazing
after him blankly, then he shouted to him frantically and hurried down
the slope to where Wiley was waiting impatiently.
"Here, just sign this," he panted. "I'll write you out a check. But
what's the matter, Wiley--didn't the mine show up as expected?"
Wiley muttered unintelligibly as he signed the quit-claim which he
retained until he had looked over the check. Then he folded up the check
and kissed it surreptitiously before he stored it away in his
pocketbook.
"Why, yes," he said, "it shows up fine. I'll see you later, down at the
house."
Blount sat down suddenly, but as Wiley clattered off he shouted a
warning after him.
"Oh, Wiley, please don't mention that matter I spoke of!"
"What matter?" yelled back Wiley and at another disquieting thought
Blount jumped up and came galloping after him.
"The matter of the Colonel," he panted in his ear, "and here's another
thing, Wiley. You know Mrs. Huff--she's absolutely impossible and--well,
she's been making me quite a little trouble. Now as a personal favor,
please don't lend her any money or help her to get back her stock;
because if you do----"
"I won't!" promised Wiley, holding up his right hand. "But say, don't
stop me--I'm starving."
He ran down the trail, limping slightly on his game leg, and Blount sat
down on a rock.
"Well, I'll be bound!" he puffed and gazed at the quit-claim ruefully.
The tables were all set when Wiley re-entered the dining-room from which
he had retreated once before in such haste, and Virginia was there and
waiting, though her smile was a trifle uncertain. A great deal of water
had flowed down the gulch since he had advised her to keep her stock,
but the assayer at Vegas was worse than negligent--he had not reported
on the piece of white rock. Therefore she hardly knew, being still in
the dark as to his motives in giving the advice, whether to greet Wiley
as her savior or to receive him coldly, as a Judas. If the white quartz
was full of gold that her father had overlooked--say fine gold, that
would not show in the pan--then Wiley was indeed her friend; but if the
quartz was barren and he had purposely deceived her in order to boom his
own mine--she smiled with her lips and asked him rather faintly if he
wanted his supper at once.
But if Virginia was still a Huff, remembering past treacheries and
living in the expectancy of more, the Widow cast aside all petty
heart-burnings in her joy at the humiliation of Stiff Neck George.
Leaving Virginia in the kitchen, to fry Wiley's steak, she rushed into
the dining-room with her eyes ablaze and all but shook his hand.
"Well, well," she exulted, "I'll have to take it back--you certainly did
boot him good. I said you were a coward but I was watching you through
my spy-glass and I nearly died a-laughing. You just walked right up to
him--and you were cursing him scandalous, I could tell by the look on
your face--and then all at once you made a jump and gave him that awful
kick. Oh, ho, ho; you know I've always said he looked like a man that
was watching for a swift kick from behind; and now--after waiting all
these years--oh, ho ho--you gave him what was coming to him!"
The Widow sat down and held her sides with laughter and Wiley's grim
features, that had remained set and watchful, slowly relaxed to a
flattered grin. He had indeed stood up to Stiff Neck George and booted
him down the dump, so that the score of that night when he had been
hunted like a rabbit was more than evened up; for George had sneaked up
on an unarmed man and rolled down boulders from above, but he had
outfaced him, man to man and gun to gun, and kicked him down the dump to
boot. Yes, the Widow might well laugh, for it would be many a long day
before Stiff Neck George heard the last of that affair.
"And old Blount," laughed the Widow, "he was right there and saw it--his
own hired bully, and all. Say, now Wiley, tell me all about it--what did
Blount have to say? Did he tell you it was all a mistake? Yes, that's
what he tells everybody, every time he gets into trouble; but he can't
make excuses to me. Do you know what he's done? He's tied up all my
stock as security for eight hundred dollars! What's eight hundred
dollars--I turned it all in to get the best of my diamonds out of pawn.
It made me feel so bad, seeing that diamond ring of yours; I just
couldn't help getting them out. And now I'm flat and he's holding all my
stock for a miserable little eight hundred dollars!"
She ended up strong, but Wiley sensed a touch and his expressions of
sympathy were guarded.
"Now, you're a business man," she went on unheedingly. "I'll tell you
what I'll do--you lend me the money to get back that stock and I'll sell
it all to your father!"
"To my father!" echoed Wiley and then his face turned grim and he
laughed at some hidden joke. "Not much," he said, "I like the Old Man
too much. You'd better sell it back to Blount."
"To Blount? Why, hasn't your father been hounding me for months to get
his hands on that stock? Well, I'd like to know then what you think
you're doing? Have you gone back on your promise, or what?"
"I never made any promise," returned Wiley pacifically. "It was my
father that made the offer."
"Oh, fiddlesticks!" exploded the Widow. "Well, what's the
difference--you're working hand and glove!"
"Not at all," corrected Wiley, "the Old Man is raising cattle. You can't
get him to look at a mine."
"Well, he offered to buy my stock!" exclaimed the Widow, badly
flustered. "I'd like to know what this means?"
"It's no use talking," returned Wiley wearily, "I've told you a thousand
times. If you send your stock to John Holman at Vegas, he'll give you
ten cents a share; but _I_ won't give you a cent."
"Do you mean to say," demanded the Widow incredulously, "that you don't
want that stock?"
"That's it," assented Wiley. "I've just sold my tax title for a hundred
dollars, to Blount."
"Oh, this will drive me mad!" cried the Widow in a frenzy. "Virginia,
come in here and help me!"
Virginia came in with the steak slightly scorched and laid his dinner
before Wiley. Her eyes were rather wild, for she had been listening
through the doorway, but she turned to her mother inquiringly.
"He says he's sold his tax claim," wailed the Widow in despair, "for one
hundred dollars--to Blount. And then he turns around and says his father
will buy my stock for ten cents a share in cash. But he won't lend me
the money to pay my note to Blount and get my Paymaster stock back."
"That's right," nodded Wiley, "you've got it all straight. Now let's
quit before we get into a row."
He bent over the steak and, after a meaning look at Virginia, the Widow
discreetly withdrew.
"We saw you fighting George," ventured Virginia at last as he seemed
almost to ignore her presence. "Weren't you afraid he'd get mad and
shoot you?"
"Uh, huh," he grunted, "wasn't I hiding behind Blount? No, I had him
whipped from the start. Bad conscience, I reckon; these crooks are all
the same--they're afraid to fight in the open."
"But _your_ conscience is all right, eh?" suggested Virginia
sarcastically, and he glanced up from under his brows.
"Yes," he said, "we've got 'em there, Virginia. Are you still holding
onto that stock?"
A swift flood of shame mantled Virginia's brow and then her dark eyes
flashed fire.
"Yes, I've got it," she said, "but what's the answer when you sell out
your tax claim to Blount?"
"I wonder," he observed and went on with his eating while she paced
restlessly to and fro.
"You told me to hold it," she burst out accusingly, "and then you turn
around and sell!"
"Well, why don't _you_ sell?" he suggested innocently, and she paused
and bit her lip. Yes, why not? Why, because there were no buyers--except
Wiley Holman and his father! The knowledge of her impotence almost
drove her on to further madness, but another voice bade her beware.
He had given her his advice, which was not to sell, and--oh, that
accursed assayer! If she had his report she could flaunt it in his
face or--she caught her breath and smiled.
"No," she said, "you told me not to!"
And Wiley smiled back and patted her hand.