A SHOT IN THE DARK
Steele Weir driving his car down the street in the dusk had caught
sight of Felipe Martinez standing near the cattle company's office. He
stopped close by, beckoned. Martinez would do as well as another.
"You're a notary, I suppose?" he questioned.
"Yes, Mr. Weir. Most of us lawyers here are," he replied politely,
when he had advanced.
"I've some papers I want acknowledged to-night. Must get them into the
mail going down to Bowenville in the morning."
"Only too pleased to facilitate your business, Mr. Weir. My office is
down a few doors."
"Jump in."
"It's but a few steps."
"Then I'll get out here." And the engineer stopped the engine and
descended to the ground.
Along the street open doorways and windows were already beginning to
make yellow panels of lamplight in the thin gloom. The air was still
warm, balmy, scented by the lingering aroma of the greasewood smoke of
supper fires in Mexican ovens. Stars were jeweling the sky. Few
persons moved in the twilight.
One of these was a man who, standing at the door of a native saloon
across the street and a little farther up, had come diagonally over
towards the bank on seeing the engineer halt his car. He walked with a
slouching haste seldom exhibited by a Mexican and gained the spot as
Weir stepped out. There he slackened his pace while he scanned the
American with an intense, slow gaze that the engineer, chancing to
raise his eyes, squarely met.
The Mexicans always looked at him and fell silent when he passed since
he had shown who was master at the dam. In the eyes of some was merely
stupid curiosity, in some a shrinking, and in many a half-veiled
hostility. That did not trouble Weir. In Mexico he had dealt with
recalcitrant workmen of more lawless nature than these. He usually
ignored them altogether now as they no longer were in his employ. But
this man seized his attention.
It was not yet too dark to mark his face as he lounged past, slowly
turning his head about as he progressed until his chin was on his
shoulder, staring back. His look the while remained riveted on Weir--a
steady, contemplative, evil regard. In Chihuahua the engineer had once
seen a notorious local "killer" who had that same gaze.
Martinez had also glanced at the fellow.
"Who is that man? One of the discharged workmen?" Weir asked him, when
moving forward they in turn had passed the Mexican.
"No, I imagine not. At any rate, he doesn't belong in San Mateo or
anywhere hereabouts. I know everybody for fifty miles, for I've been
active in social and political affairs. He's unknown to me. A
stranger." Then a little farther along: "Here is my office, Mr. Weir.
I'll have a light in an instant. Ah, now. Be so good as to have a
chair and we'll expedite your business."
As Martinez filled out the acknowledgment blanks on the papers, his
eyes furtively skipped over the vital portions of the documents. The
latter were connected with company business. He had hoped they would
be personal so that he might learn something more of this manager's
affairs, possibly more of his secret antagonism for Sorenson and his
friends. Any intrigue appealed to the thin, slippery lawyer's soul,
but most of all some one's else intrigue into which he might
profitably put a finger. However, from these papers he was to learn
nothing.
He had considered all possibilities of the affair, all possible
solutions of what long ago might have occurred between Joseph Weir,
undoubtedly the father of the man sitting across the table from him,
and the four men now conferring in Sorenson's office. This was no
petty squabble, he divined. There was something going on under the
surface that was big--big! And very dangerous too, for the spirit of
that moment in Vorse's bar was not to be mistaken; it had been tense,
electric. Utmost caution on Martinez's part would therefore be
necessary.
As between the two parties, his sympathies at present inclined towards
Weir. The refusal on the latter's part to reëmploy the Mexican workmen
on their own terms was purely a matter of policy, and the lawyer's
first gusty anger had long been forgotten. But not so Sorenson's
sneering words of that afternoon. They struck to the heart of his
vanity, breeding an animosity that would last. Had not the banker
stated that the lawyer should hold no political office whatever? After
all his services? Had he not definitely shown that Martinez might
never expect anything there? Well, the lawyer wasn't one tamely to
yield his rights; he did not propose always to remain a scrimping,
pettifogging attorney, existing on crumbs.
When with a flourish he had appended his name to the acknowledgments
and affixed his seal, he sat back thoughtfully studying the engineer,
who was carefully examining the paragraphs for errors. He knew his
business, did Martinez; the man would find no mistakes. Then the
lawyer's eyes suddenly glistened. He arose and closed the door as Weir
thrust the documents into a stout linen envelope, addressed and
stamped.
"I'll be pleased to see your letter goes in the mail in the morning,"
he said, returning to his place. "The stage leaves at eight-thirty."
"Post-office is closed now, I suppose. Very well. It will be an
accommodation," the engineer responded.
Martinez leaned forward.
"If you can spare the time, I should like to have a little talk with
you," said he. "Pardon me if I appear presumptuous, but as you're
aware, Mr. Weir, I overheard your words to Judge Gordon in Vorse's
saloon. I inferred--check me at any instant if you consider this none
of my business!--that there exists some unpleasant feeling between you
two gentlemen and possibly others. Judge Gordon has always handled the
company's business in his private capacity of counselor. As you know,
he's a silent partner in many enterprises with Sorenson, Vorse and a
man named Burkhardt. They run this town and county. You should also
know that they're secretly opposed to your irrigation project,
whatever they profess. They've misled the people into believing it
will work an injury to this district, whereas it will of course be
beneficial. Unfortunately too they lead the people by the noses--but
not me! I refuse to be subservient."
He paused to note the effect of his words.
"Now, Mr. Weir, these are facts you can confirm if you're not already
informed of them, which I imagine you are. Because I'm independent in
my opinions and actions, I stand in disfavor with these gentlemen,
which may or may not be an objection in your view to what I have in
mind. And this is it. I should be pleased to execute any legal work
that you care to give me; it might be of advantage to your company at
times to have an attorney other than Judge Gordon, who is aligned
against you and will serve his own interests first. He's in a position
to cause you embarrassment."
"Our eastern attorneys draw all documents."
"Of course. But I was thinking of delays more than anything else.
There are a thousand ways a lawyer can push or halt matters at will,
and your project will never be free of legal red tape until
completed--if then! I'm not unselfish in this, I admit; the business
would be valuable to me. But aside from that, I'll give you this
advice anyway:--secure another lawyer in any case, one without
antagonistic personal interests, if you can find another in San Mateo
besides me. See, I'm frank! That may sound egotistical, but really I'm
the only free man of the lawyers here. And I've paid for my liberty!"
He made a sweeping gesture to indicate his shabby office. "If I had
taken orders, I could have been county attorney and probably a judge.
But I respect myself too much to take orders from Sorenson and his
bunch. I choose this sort of thing in preference."
Steele Weir maintained a non-committal silence. Again the thin
dark-skinned lawyer swiftly weighed the man before him, considered the
dangers in which he might become involved if he went a step farther,
recoiled, then grew bolder. Sorenson had marked him for poverty and
nonentity; under the favoring shelter of the irrigation company's
power he might arise from both. For at moments the acute Mexican
sensed the inevitable victory of the new forces at work; this, one of
the last strong-holds of old time cattle and sheep interests, would
break down and yield to the plow and fence.
"Now, there's something more, though I hesitate to mention it," he
went on, doubtfully. "While Sorenson and his crowd run things, it's
not because the people--and that means us Mexicans chiefly--love them.
We're indolent by nature; we idle rather than work; borrow when we can
rather than earn--I speak of our race, but we're learning that work
proves best in the long run. These men have squeezed my people, and
robbed them, and kept them down. Nothing more would I wish than to see
these leaders deposed. It's no secret they've built their wealth by
questionable methods, but who can prove it?
"Do you know what I suspect? You have something on Sorenson's crowd.
That's why they're uneasy; that's why the four are sitting over in the
cattle company's office this minute with their heads together, meeting
the minute Sorenson arrives home. I saw them go in. Leaving aside the
question of your own affairs, I'd like to have matters changed here in
this county so that every man has a fair chance. Anything that will
bring that about enlists my interest. When I heard your statement to
Gordon and saw his face, I knew there was something in the past that
alarmed him. I recalled a name I had once run across when abstracting
a title----"
It was not this ingenious twisting of the truth that caused the lawyer
to become filled with sudden dismay and stop, but the savage hardening
of the engineer's face.
"Go on," Weir commanded.
"Well, the name was Joseph Weir. I looked it up again to be sure, and
found the property had been deeded to Sorenson and the others, who
still have it. I wondered----"
"What did you wonder?" came with a devouring look.
"If--if Joseph Weir received consideration according to law."
Martinez' courage flowed back again. "I'll make no attempt to justify
my curiosity, sir, except to say that more than one man in the
southwest was done out of property in early days; and the practice has
not ceased, for that matter. But in these days the means is usually
legal and Mexicans the victims. Sharp mortgage dealings and so forth.
Now, if I've said too much, I'll instantly forget all about it. On the
other hand----"
"Well?"
"I might be of assistance. If you wish to look into that old
transaction, that is. If there was anything crooked about the deal,
and I set it down that there was with Sorenson mixed in, and with
Vorse and Burkhardt the witnesses named in the deed and Judge Gordon
taking the acknowledgment of Joseph Weir's signature, as the record
shows, then there should be some weak spot that could be attacked.
There may be men yet alive conversant with the circumstances; they
may know whether duress or fraud was exercised, supposing the sale
was not honest. Some of the old Mexicans may remember Weir, and could
give a clue; they have good memories for things of those days. Of
course, if the transaction was all right, then I'm all wrong in my
suppositions."
Weir arose.
"I can give you some of the company business, perhaps considerable of
it," he said.
Martinez sprang up, an expression of gratitude upon his face. He had
not realized all that he had hoped for, but he was nevertheless
delighted.
"I'm really sincere when I give you a thousand thanks, Mr. Weir," said
he, spreading his arms wide. "I'll not make promises as to the
efficiency of my services; let results speak for themselves."
"I always do," was the comment. "But I'll tell you what I demand in
any one associated with me--absolute trustworthiness first of all,
then loyalty and ability."
"Which leaves nothing," Martinez smiled.
He preceded the engineer and swung the door open, stepping aside. To
the visitor's question regarding fees for the acknowledgments taken,
he waved a declining hand.
"Nothing, nothing. Delighted to render you the service."
"Very well."
"I'll attend to the letter," the lawyer again assured him.
"Come out to the dam in a day or two."
"To-morrow, if you wish."
"To-morrow afternoon will do."
Steele Weir's frame filled the lighted doorway as he stepped forth
from the office. He paused to accustom his eyes to the darkness, for
during his colloquy with the attorney full night had descended. On the
same side of the street with himself and perhaps twelve or fifteen
paces off he saw a girl's figure appear and disappear before a window
as she moved along.
Then suddenly a tongue of red flame darted at him across the street,
where lay a space of unlighted gloom. His hat was whipped off his
head. The sharp report of a shot cracked between the adobe walls. With
an unbelievably rapid movement Steele Weir drew the revolver in his
pocket, and which he had carried ever since his encounter with young
Sorenson in the restaurant, fired twice where he had seen the flame
and leaped aside into the darkness beside the doorway. There he
waited, half crouching, for a further attack.
But none came. Men began to run towards the place. Shouts and calls
echoed along the street. In two minutes a crowd was surging before
Martinez' door wildly asking questions.
Weir pocketed his pistol and walked back into the office, where he
found his bullet-pierced hat lying on the floor and the attorney
standing frozen with astonishment. A stream of people followed at his
heels.
"Who did this shooting? Do you know, Felipe?" a tall raw-boned white
man who led them asked hastily.
"This gentleman, Mr. Weir, was fired on, sheriff," Martinez burst out
volubly.
"And I fired in return," the engineer stated. "The fellow was across
the street in the dark. You might look over there."
Turning and pushing his way through the packed door, the sheriff
disappeared. The crowd melted away again. Presently as Weir glanced
about he saw a new figure at the doorway, staring at him. He went
towards the girl there outlined in the lamplight.
"Was that you I saw moving along just before the exchange of
compliments, Miss Hosmer?" he asked.
"Yes. I was coming towards you on my way home."
"It probably gave you a fright."
"It did, indeed. I heard the shot and saw your hat knocked off. I just
went cold in my tracks. At first I believed you killed."
"I'm very much alive, as you see."
"But it was dreadful! Who would fire at you from the dark? Some one
tried to murder you!"
"It looks like it. Still here I am, ready to move your car out of the
water next time it's stalled."
She entered the room slowly.
"Who in San Mateo would do such a terrible thing, Mr. Martinez?" she
addressed the lawyer. The pallor was still on her face and her eyes
were large with horror.
"Ah, Miss Janet, if we but knew! We'd lay hands on him and send him to
the penitentiary."
Real emotion struggled in the lawyer's words. With the return of his
senses he had just begun to realize by what a narrow margin the
assassin's bullet had missed destroying his future client and
prospects.
A growing murmur across the street attracted their attention. Then as
they continued to chat of the event, the sheriff reappeared, directing
half a dozen men who laid a burden in the light of Martinez' doorway.
"You got him," he said to Weir, with ominous significance. "One bullet
through the head, one through his stomach. He's good and dead."
Weir walked forward and inspected that outstretched figure. It was the
man whose gaze had been so malevolently fastened upon him as he joined
Martinez before Sorenson's office.
"Who is he?" he asked.
"A strange Mexican. Some of these men say he showed up this morning
and hung around the saloons, not talking much. Haven't you ever seen
him, before?" The question expressed a perplexed curiosity.
"Once. When Martinez and I were coming here to transact some business.
He was taking a good look at me then when he passed us. That wasn't
over half an hour ago. Never saw him before that."
"He shot at you first?"
"I had just stepped out of this room. Could I see him hiding over
there? Or know he was there?" Then he added, "I was taken by surprise,
but I marked the flash of his gun."
The sheriff, Madden by name, looked at Weir appreciatively.
"You can use a gun yourself," said he, briefly.
Martinez now repeated the fact of the dead man having fired the first
shot, which Janet Hosmer confirmed.
"Well, is there anything more?" Weir questioned.
"Not to-night, I reckon," Madden replied. "We'll have an inquest in
the morning; show up then. Where will I find your father, Miss
Hosmer?"
"At home." Then to the engineer she explained, "Father acts in the
absence of the coroner, who's away just now."
"I'm very sorry this happened on your account," said he.
"And I'm very glad you were not hurt."
Outside the corpse was being borne away, followed by the curious, avid
crowd of Mexicans.
"You're still shaken by the thing," said Steele Weir. "It's enough to
upset any girl. Let me walk home with you, or you may be starting at
shadows all the way."