THE MILLION DOLLAR RANCH GIRL
One summer day a beautiful Mexican girl was sitting motionless on
horseback gazing across the ranch of which her adopted father was
the owner, when a young man, tall, of good appearance, and pleasant
address, came up and respectfully raised his cap. The girl instantly
smiled a welcome, for in that remote region strangers were few, and it
was the custom of the country to welcome and entertain them. But this
young man had no desire to be taken to the ranch house. He wanted to
have a chat with the beauty, and as he was handsome and ingratiating
the impressionable girl readily consented to give him half an hour of
her time.
James Addison Beavis, for that was the stranger's name, told a
wonderful story to the dark-eyed damsel, who listened as if spellbound.
"This is not the first time I have seen you," he said in a pleasing,
confidential manner that was delightfully intimate and brotherly. "I
have often watched you galloping about on the ranch, but I wanted to be
quite certain that you are the person I have been looking for for years
before I spoke."
"Looking for me!" she exclaimed in wonderment.
"Yes," he said quickly, and dropped his voice. "Do you know that your
real name is Peralta, and that with my help you will soon be the owner
of lands in Arizona and New Mexico worth one hundred million dollars?"
She gasped. Could it be possible? She was half-Spanish, half-Mexican,
and therefore hot-tempered and romantic, and it was easy for her
to persuade herself that she was something better than the adopted
daughter of a Mexican ranch-owner, who had taken her into his house out
of pure charity. Dolores felt that she had been meant for something
better.
Beavis, who was a cute man of the world, and possessed of an eloquent
tongue, sat beside her on the trunk of an old tree, and explained why
it was that a huge tract of land was awaiting an owner, land which
would make its eventual possessor a multi-millionaire. He said that
hundreds of years ago a Spanish king had made over the rich lands of
Peralta to a certain Spanish nobleman, whose descendants had enjoyed
the revenues, until, owing to various misfortunes, there seemed to be
a lack of heirs. The property had then been taken charge of by the
United States Government, and its revenues had been, and still were,
accumulating, but he had been inspired to make an independent research,
and he could now prove by legal documents that Dolores was the only
living descendant of the last owner of the huge estate. He promised to
produce the necessary birth and marriage certificates which established
his contention that Dolores Peralta was the legal proprietor of an
estate half the size of Great Britain.
Dolores herself had only a vague idea as to how she had become an
orphan, but the fascinating and persuasive Beavis had the whole story
at his finger-ends. He declared that when she was an infant her
parents had been drowned whilst crossing a river, and that Dolores
had been rescued by an Indian squaw, who had later on abandoned her.
After passing through various hands she had come into the keeping of
the Mexican who had adopted her, and with him she had spent the last
fifteen of her eighteen years, passing as his daughter, and generally
understood to be his heir.
But now that she was told by Beavis that she had only to trust her
affairs to him to become worth £20,000,000, the ranch seemed but a poor
and sordid affair and unworthy of her. She wanted to obtain her rights
and to take her place in society, and the more she listened to Beavis
the more inclined she was to give him not only charge of her affairs,
but also the keeping of her heart. For Beavis was an expert talker, and
Dolores was not the only victim of his honeyed tongue.
They made a compact there and then that Beavis was to go ahead with
the task of obtaining the property for her. Dolores had, of course,
no money to advance for expenses, but this did not worry Beavis. He
went to New York, and obtained an interview with Mackay, the famous
millionaire, who earned the name of "The Silver King." Mr. Mackay was
so impressed that he advanced sufficient capital to enable Beavis to
proceed to Spain to prosecute his inquiries.
Of course, the whole affair was a barefaced swindle. There was
certainly a Peralta estate awaiting a claimant and it was worth twenty
million pounds, but Dolores, the girl of the ranch, was not a Peralta
at all. Beavis, however, meant to get that huge fortune, even if he had
to share it with the girl. It was in his opinion a stake well worth
risking much for. He was an expert forger, and his knowledge of human
nature was immense. Besides that he had the great gift of patience, and
he was willing to spend years if necessary perfecting his plans before
putting them into execution.
It was easy enough for him to forge birth, marriage and death
certificates, as well as a deed of gift conveying the property to
the Peralta family, but he wanted something else besides documents.
Dolores, who was in reality of obscure birth, looked the aristocrat to
the life. She was undeniably beautiful, and her carriage was the last
word in haughty aloofness, though the girl was a charming companion
when with those she liked. Beavis had found her delightful, and whilst
he was prosecuting his inquiries in Spain he never forgot the beauty of
the lonely ranch.
Day after day he toured the curiosity shops of Madrid, delving into
dusty cellars and examining everything, picture, paper, or curio, which
bore the stamp of age. Only Beavis would have devoted so much time to a
single detail when practically his case was ready, but his perseverance
was rewarded when he came upon two ancient miniatures which were
strikingly like Dolores. They represented two Spanish ladies who had
existed a hundred years earlier, and they might have been mother
and daughter, judging by their resemblance to one another, but they
interested the impostor for the reason that their features were exact
replicas of Dolores'.
From the moment they became Beavis' by purchase he called them
miniatures of two of Dolores' ancestors, and he exhibited them as her
great-great-grandmother and a remote aunt. They were Peraltas, and
bore the Peralta cast of countenance--at least Beavis said so, and he
professed to be the only living authority on a famous Spanish family
which had come upon evil days.
Every week he heard from Dolores, and it ought to have been obvious to
him that the girl was thinking less of the twenty millions than she
was of her "gallant knight errant." She was really more concerned with
his welfare than with the prospect of becoming the richest woman in
the world. Beavis smiled as he read her somewhat artless compositions.
It was the money he was after, and he was too clever an adventurer
and impostor to have any time for love-making, although Dolores was
undoubtedly a beauty.
Thanks to the financial help of "The Silver King," Beavis was able
to do his work thoroughly in Spain before returning to the United
States, and when he arrived in New York he brought with him a pile of
documents bearing on the Peralta family. The two miniatures occupied
a prominent place, and the forged deed of gift, so skilfully executed
that Beavis confidently handed it over to experts for examination,
was also to the fore. Those who had heard of Beavis' activities were
greatly excited, for it is not often that a claimant comes forward to
an estate worth in American money one hundred million dollars.
But before he came into Court on behalf of Dolores there was one
important thing to be done. Beavis had devoted years of labour to the
task. He was going to risk a year's imprisonment, and he considered it
only right that, to make assurance doubly sure as far as his reward was
concerned, Dolores should become his wife.
It was a casual remark in a New York restaurant that decided him
to propose to her. A friend, who was a world-renowned handwriting
expert, and who had pronounced the forged deed of gift to be genuine,
laughingly tried to estimate the number of proposals the heiress would
have when it was known who and what she was. That night Beavis took the
train to the town nearest the ranch, where by arrangement Dolores met
him to hear all about his adventures.
The meeting was a strange one. Beavis was full of the subject which
engrossed him day and night, and he wanted to go at once into details,
but Dolores seemed to be uninterested in everything and everybody
except him. She wished to know how he was, and if he was well and
happy, and as she sat beside him her dark eyes constantly travelled in
his direction, and there were tears in them sometimes.
Dolores was, as a matter of fact, desperately in love with Beavis.
At the back of her brain there was a shrewd suspicion that there was
no Peralta estate, and that she was only his partner in a gigantic
swindle, but she loved him, and that was sufficient for her. It was
of no importance if the Peralta property was a myth. Beavis had won
her heart, and she had spent months of anxiety, fostered by a growing
jealousy, because she feared that in the luxurious cities of Europe
he would meet a girl who would make him forget the wild beauty of the
ranch.
Beavis quickly realized the situation, and with a merry laugh and a
few compliments asked her to marry him. He was not prepared for her
answer. No sooner had he spoken than she flung herself at his feet, and
passionately announced her intention of devoting the rest of her life
to his welfare.
It was a real love romance within a sordid, miserable fraud. Beavis,
who prided himself upon his knowledge of men and women, could not
understand the love he had aroused in the breast of this veritable
child of nature. He, who would have sold himself body and soul for
money, was astounded that Dolores should be happier as his fiancée than
as the prospective owner of twenty million pounds. She would look bored
when he spoke of their future splendour when they came into the Peralta
money, but if he referred, however obliquely, to her as his wife her
face would light up and her manner change at once into that of a happy,
delighted girl.
The old ranch-owner offered no objection to the match, and the marriage
promptly took place in a remote town, none of those present being aware
that this ceremony was to be the prelude to one of the biggest law
cases in the history of the United States. Beavis was not in love with
his bride. He wanted her money, but Dolores was enchantingly happy, and
had she not known that she would have displeased her husband by the
suggestion she would have asked him to retire from the Peralta case
and let them find and make their own happiness in a little ranch away
from the poverty and crimes of cities. But to Beavis nothing mattered
except the Peralta millions, and the day after the marriage ceremony he
took his lovely bride to New York, where they established themselves
in one of the leading hotels, there to await the opening of the suit
before the Court of Claims.
The smooth and persuasive tongue of the bridegroom and the beauty and
naturalness of the bride carried all before them in New York. Beavis
had certainly done his work well, but when level-headed lawyers,
suspicious by nature, met Mrs. Beavis they immediately capitulated.
There is no other explanation of the extraordinary number of adherents
they made for their cause.
They entertained lavishly, using the money which their guests had
subscribed for the presentation of Dolores' case before the Courts.
It might have been supposed that the ranch girl would have been at
a disadvantage in such society, coming as she did from the heart of
prairie-land, but because she insisted upon being herself she scored
social triumph after social triumph.
The impostor was, of course, the happiest man in New York. It seemed
impossible that he should fail. In fact, everybody agreed that the
trial would be the most formal of affairs. His cleverness and Dolores'
beauty were irresistible, and he would have to be a hard-headed,
unfeeling judge who could resist the appeal her eyes made.
Backed by some of the leading business people in New York, his case,
presented by a firm of lawyers justly renowned for its ability, and
with his wife to cheer him on, Beavis went into Court certain that he
would leave it one of the richest men in America. Dolores and he sat
side by side whilst counsel argued before the judges and endeavoured
to prove that the adopted daughter of the Mexican ranch-owner was
the descendant of the Counts of Peralta, who had originally come
from Spain. Beavis gave his evidence with confidence and, of course,
courage. When a man is playing for such a stake as twenty millions he
requires both in abundance.
The end of the first day of the case foreshadowed an easy victory.
Beavis was overjoyed, and Dolores was happy just because he was. By
now, however, she had seen enough of the documents to guess that the
whole claim was bogus. She was the daughter of nameless parents, and,
no matter what the Court decided, she would never know who her forbears
really were. It did not matter much to her, yet because she loved the
impostor she became even more anxious for success than he was, and she
knew that if anything went wrong it would break her heart.
Had the estate not been so enormous the United States Court of Claims
would not have so doggedly resisted Beavis' claim, but the officials
realized that it would be best for all concerned if the question of
ownership was decided once and for all. Because of that they took the
precaution to despatch an expert in pedigrees and old documents to
Madrid, to go over the ground that Beavis had covered and to inquire
especially into the history of the all-important deed of gift.
The claimant was not aware of this, if he had been it might have
disturbed the serenity with which he faced the Court. But everything
was going his way, and there was always his lovely and devoted wife to
whisper that they were winning and that their suspense would soon be
ended.
It is doubtful if there has ever been a case where an impostor has
failed by such a narrow margin as Beavis did. The Government officials
had been receiving regular reports from their emissary in Spain,
and each one strengthened rather than weakened the claimant's case;
accordingly, the presiding judge was actually drawing up a judgment in
favour of Dolores when at the eleventh hour a report came from Madrid
which pointed to the fact that the Government agent had discovered that
Beavis' deed of gift was a barefaced forgery.
Once that was known there was, of course, no chance for the impostor.
It naturally followed that the history of all the other documents
presented by Beavis was inquired into, and then the system of
wholesale forgery came to light. Step by step his progress in his
greatest imposture was traced. His numerous birth, death and marriage
certificates were shown to be worthless; the dealer who had sold the
miniatures to him was produced, and gave damaging evidence, and the
impostor was left without a leg to stand upon.
The case came to a dramatic finish, the judge announcing unexpectedly
that it was dismissed. The Court gasped. Beavis pretended to be
astonished, and he glanced around with a smiling face, but his eyes
were searching for detectives, and he identified two in the men who now
stood by the door of the Court. They posed as ushers, but the impostor
realized that their business was never to let him out of their sight
until they had clapped him into a cell.
Poor Dolores was most affected by his arrest, which Beavis chose to
regard as an official blunder and one which he would soon put right.
The girl who loved him, however, knew that it would be a long time ere
he was free again. He would have to pay the penalty for his gigantic
imposture, and as she thought of the years of separation her tears
flowed.
As in the case of the claim to the Peralta estate, Beavis bore himself
well at the criminal trial. It was, of course, easy for the prosecution
to prove his guilt, and the leading citizens who had backed him felt
particularly foolish when they understood how they had been tricked.
It was, perhaps, only human that Dolores should find herself without
a friend when the judge sentenced her husband to a long term of
imprisonment. The society that had fawned upon and flattered her now
gave her the cold shoulder. But the lonely wife did not mind. She had
determined to work hard and wait patiently until the man she loved
returned to her.
Some years ago when an English nobleman was sentenced to five years'
penal servitude his wife took up her residence as near as possible to
the gaol in which he was incarcerated. Dolores Beavis went one better.
She toiled so that she might have the means to start her husband in
business when he came out of gaol; and to achieve her object she
underwent toil and trouble and insult.
When, later, he was removed to another gaol she would give up her
employment and follow on foot, afraid to spend any of her savings
on railways, and denying herself sufficient food in order that the
precious "nest-egg" might not be diminished.
Beavis knew what she was doing for him, and the knowledge of it changed
his nature. Money ceased to be his god. He had not appreciated Dolores
when he had her all to himself, but whilst he sat in his lonely cell
and remembered that she was outside the gloomy gaol working herself to
the bone for him his nature softened, and he fell in love with her.
Better men have inspired less devotion; fewer have known such love as
Dolores bestowed upon the man to whom she had surrendered her heart.
Once Beavis, maddened by inaction, determined to escape, and he managed
to communicate his intention to his wife. She implored him not to make
the attempt, which would be certain to fail, and which would therefore
result in an addition to his term of imprisonment. He took her advice,
and a day later found that one of the party of convicts who had planned
a simultaneous dash for freedom was a spy in the pay of the governor
of the prison, so that there never had been the slightest chance of
success.
But even the longest sentence must come to an end, and after a period
of separation which had seemed like eternity to both of them Beavis
walked out of the prison gates a free man. The first person he saw was
Dolores, dressed simply in black and looking more beautiful than ever.
Without a word they went away arm in arm to begin life anew.
Beavis had a sense of humour, and he must have realized the funny
side of the scene when Dolores proudly told him that she had scraped
together the large sum of forty-eight dollars! To the man who had once
refused to think of anything under a million this was a descent from
the sublime to the ridiculous, yet the impostor, who had paid for his
sins, could find himself regarding her fortune with enthusiasm, and
he could spend hours debating as to the best way to lay it out with
advantage to themselves.
It was Dolores who decided their future. She had been brought up on a
ranch and away from the crowded centres, so she voted for a small farm
in a remote corner of the great United States, and Beavis willingly
submitted. The Peralta estate and its twenty million pounds seemed like
a dream now, and he would not have troubled to devote even an hour to a
similar scheme even if it promised to produce twice as much.
Thus it was his wife's love that saved James Addison Beavis from
himself, and made his name unfamiliar to the police. His one great
adventure in crime had met with disaster, and ever afterwards he was
content with the fortune the labour of his hands earned for him.