THE CALL
The long quarrel was over, they had made up--and kissed--and yet to
Wiley it all seemed unreal. That is, all but the kiss. It was that,
perhaps, which made the rest seem unreal, for it had changed the color
of his life. Before, he had thought in terms of hard fact, but the
kiss put a rainbow in the sky. It roused a great hope, a joy, an
ecstasy, a sense of well-wishing for mankind; and yet it was only he
who had changed. The world was the same; Samuel Blount was the same;
and the miners, and Stiff Neck George. They were all there together in
a rough-and-tumble fight to see who would get the Paymaster Mine and,
even with the madness of her kiss in his soul, he pressed on towards
the one, fixed goal.
He had set out to win the Paymaster and win it he would if he had to
shoot his way to victory. For Stiff Neck George, like a watchful coyote,
had taken up his post on the hill; and from that sign alone Wiley knew
that Blount had changed his tactics and appealed to the court of last
resort. His attachments had failed, his injunction suit had failed, and
his cheap attempt to cut off Wiley's checks. The money had come,
promptly forwarded by the Express Company with a note of apology from
the buyer, and it lay now in Wiley's office safe. All that was left to
do was to send it to Blount and get back the deed to the property. Three
days remained before the bond and lease expired, but that was not a day
too much. The question was--who to send? Wiley thought the matter over,
glanced at George up on the hill, and sent a note down to Virginia.
She came up the trail smiling, for her proud reserve had vanished, and
she even allowed him a kiss; but when he asked her to take the money to
Blount she drew back and shook her head.
"I'm afraid," she said, "--I'm afraid something might happen. Can't you
send it by somebody else?"
"No, that's just the point," he answered gravely. "Something is likely
to happen if I do. My lawyer has turned crooked, and the bank won't
touch it; so there's nobody to send but you. You can hide the money till
you get there, so that no one will rob you on the way; and if anybody
asks you, you can tell them about that stock deal and that you're going
down to hold up Blount."
"Why don't you go?" she objected and he pointed out the doorway at Stiff
Neck George on the hill.
"There he sits," he said, "like a red-necked old buzzard, just waiting
for a chance to jump my mine. He may do it, anyhow--I wouldn't put it
past him--but if he comes he'd better come a-shooting. You see, here's
the point: the man that holds this mine can turn out ten thousand
dollars a day, and that amount of money would hire enough lawyers to
fight the outsiders to a standstill. If I get jumped I'm licked, because
I haven't got any more money; and I'm going to stay right here and fight
'em. But you take this money--there's fifty-two thousand dollars--and go
down and make that payment. If you can't find Blount, then hunt up the
clerk of the Superior Court and deposit the fifty thousand with him.
Just bring me his receipt, with a memorandum of the payment, and he'll
notify Blount himself."
"I don't like to," she shuddered. "I'm afraid they won't take it, and
then you'll----"
"They've got to take it!" he broke in eagerly. "Just get the stage
driver to go along as witness, and I'll give you a full power of
attorney. And then listen, Virginia; you take the rest of this money and
buy back your father's stock."
"Oh, can I?" she cried and, reaching out for the money, she held it with
tremulous hands. There were fifty thousand-dollar bills, golden yellow
on the back and a rich, glossy black on the front; and others of smaller
denominations, making fifty-two thousand in all. It was a fortune in
itself, but in what it was to buy it was well worth over a million.
"Aren't you afraid to trust me?" she asked at last, and when he smiled
she hid it away. "All right," she said, "and as soon as I've paid it
I'll call you up on the 'phone."
She went out the next morning on the early stage and Wiley watched it
rush across the plain. It was green as a lawn, that dry, treeless desert
with its millions of evenly spaced creosote bushes; but as the sun rose
higher it turned blood-red like an omen of evil to come. Many times
before, in the glow of evening, he had seen the green change to red; but
now it was ominous, with Stiff Neck George on the hill-top and Shadow
Mountain frowning down behind. He paced about uneasily as the day wore
on and at night he listened for the 'phone. She was to call him up, as
soon as she had paid over the money; but it did not ring that night.
The morning of the last day dawned fair and pleasant, with the fresh
smell of dew in the air, and he awoke with a sense that all was well.
Virginia was in Vegas and, when Blount came to his office, she would
make the payment in his stead. There was no chance to fail, once she had
found her man; and if Blount refused to accept it, which he could hardly
do, she could simply leave the money with the court. There were no
papers to confuse her, no forms to go through; Blount had made a legal
contract to sell the property and she had a full power of attorney. All
it called for was loyalty and faithfulness to her trust, and Wiley knew
Virginia too well to think she would fail him now. She was proud and
hot-headed, and she had fought him in the past; but, once she had given
her word, she would keep her promise or die.
As the sun rose higher he imagined her at the bank with the sheaf of
bills hidden in her bosom, and Blount's surprise and palavering when he
found he was caught and that his deep-laid plans had failed. He had
schemed to catch Wiley between the horns of a dilemma, and either jump
his mine when he went in to make the payment or force him to lose it by
default. But, almost by a miracle, Virginia had appeared at the very
moment when he was seeking a messenger; and by an even greater miracle,
they had composed all their difficulties just in time for him to send
her to town. It was like an act of Providence, an answer to prayer, if
people any longer prayed; and, more, even, than the money and the joy of
success, was the consciousness of Virginia's love. She had seemed so
hostile, so distant and unattainable; but the moment that he forgot her
and abandoned all hope she fluttered to his hand like a dove.
The noon hour came and went and as Wiley watched the 'phone it seemed to
him strangely silent. To be sure, few people called him, but--he
snatched the receiver from the hook. He had guessed it--the 'phone was
dead! He rattled the hook and listened impatiently, then he shouted and
listened again, and black fancies rose up in his brain. What was the
meaning of this? Had they cut the wire on him? And why? It really made
no difference! Virginia was there; he had heard it from the stage-driver
who had driven her in the day before--and yet, there must be a reason.
Perhaps it was an accident, for the line was old and neglected, but why
should it happen now? He hung up the receiver and reviewed it all
calmly. There were a hundred things which might happen to the line, for
it passed through rough country near Vegas; but the weather was fair and
there was no wind blowing to topple over the poles. No one used the line
but him--it had been connected up by Blount when he had first taken over
the mine--and yet the wire had been cut. But by whom? As he sat there
pondering he raised his eyes to the hill-top, and Stiff Neck George was
gone!
"The dastard!" cursed Wiley, leaping furiously to his feet and reaching
for his rifle, but though he scanned the line through his high-power
field-glasses there was not a man in sight. Wiley ran down to the shed
and got out his racer that had lain there idle for months, but as his
motor began to thunder, a head popped up and he saw Stiff Neck George on
the ridge. He too had a rifle and, as he saw Wiley watching him, he
dropped back and hid from sight.
"Oho!" said Wiley, and, leaving his machine, he strode angrily back to
the mine. So that was their game, to get him to leave and then slip in
and jump his mine. Perhaps it was all arranged with the men he had
working for him and George would not even have a fight. Neither his
foremen nor the guards were men he would care to trust in a matter
involving millions--and yet something was wrong in Vegas. There was
treachery somewhere or they would not cut the line to keep him from
getting the news. He lingered irresolutely, his hands itching for the
steering wheel, his eyes searching for Stiff Neck George.
There was a feud between them--he had braved George's killing gun and
rushed in and kicked him down the dump. Would George, then, withhold his
hand? But, down in Vegas, Blount was framing up some game to deprive him
of title to his mine. Wiley weighed them in the balance, the two forces
against him, and decided to stay with the mine. As long as he held it
there were lawyers a-plenty to prove that his title was good, but if
Stiff Neck George jumped it he would have to kill him to get back
possession of the property. Or rather, he would have to fight him, for
George was a gunman with notches on the butt of his six-shooter. No, he
would have to get killed, or give up the Paymaster, whether Blount was
right or wrong.
He set his teeth and settled down to endure it--but he knew that
Virginia would not fail him. He had given her the money, she knew what
to do, and as sure as she hoped to save her father, he knew that she
would do it. His part was to hold down the mine. The men came and went,
the engine puffed and panted, and the long, dragging hours went by. As
the darkness came on Wiley stalked in the shadows, looking out into the
night for Stiff Neck George; but nothing stirred, the work went on as
usual, and at midnight he gave up the search. His option had expired and
either the mine was his or the title had reverted to the Company. There
was nothing to watch for and so he slept, but at dawn his telephone
jangled.
Wiley rose up breathlessly and took down the receiver but no one
answered his call. The 'phone was dead and yet it had rung--or was it
only a dream? He hung up in disgust and went back to bed but something
drew him back to the 'phone. He held down the hook and, with the
receiver to his ear, let the lever rise slowly up. There was talking
going on and men laughing in hoarse voices and the tramp of feet to and
fro, but no one responded to his shouts. He hung up once more and then
suddenly it came over him, a foreboding of impending disaster. Something
was wrong, something big that must be stopped at once; and a voice
called insistently for action. He leapt into his clothes and started for
the door--then turned back and strapped on his pistol. As the sun rose
up he was a speck in the desert, rushing on through a blood-red sea.