RIMROCK PASSES
In the big moments of life when we have triumphed over difficulties and
quaffed the heady wine of success there is always something--or the
lack of something--to bring us back to earth. Rimrock Jones had
returned in a Christmas spirit and had taken Gunsight by storm. He had
rewarded his friends and rebuked his enemies and all those who grind
down the poor. He had humbled L. W. and driven McBain into hiding; and
now this girl, this deaf, friendless typist, had snatched the cup from
his lips. The neatly turned speech--the few well-chosen words in which
he had intended to express his appreciation for her help--were effaced
from his memory and in their place there came a doubt, a dim
questioning of his own worth. What had he done, or neglected to do,
that had taken that look from her eyes? He sank down in a chair and
regarded her intently as she sat there, composed and still.
"Well, it's been quite a while," he said at last, "since I've been
round to see you."
"Yes, it has," she replied and the way she said it raised a more
poignant question in his mind. Was she miffed, perhaps, because he had
failed to call on her, that time when he came back to town? He had
borrowed her money--she might have been worried, that time when he went
to New York.
"I just got in, a little while ago--been back to New York about my
mine. Well, it's doing all right now and I've come around to see you
and pay back that money I owe."
"Oh, that four hundred dollars? Why, I don't want it back. You were
to give me a share in your mine."
Rimrock stopped with his roll half out of his pocket and gazed at her
like a man struck dumb. A share in his mine! He put the money back
and mopped the sudden sweat from his brow.
"Well, now say," he began, "I've made other arrangements. I've sold a
big share already. But I'll give you the money, it'll come to the same
thing!" He whipped out his roll and smiled at her hopefully but she
drew back and shook her head.
"No," she said, "I don't want your money. I want a share in that mine."
She faced him, determined, and Rimrock went weak for he remembered that
she had his word. He had given his word and unless she excused him he
would have to make it good. And if he did--well, right there he would
lose control of his mine.
"Say, now listen a minute," he began mysteriously, "I'm not telling
this on the street----"
"Well, don't tell it here, then," she interrupted hastily, "they're
listening, most of the time."
She pointed towards the door that led to the hotel lobby and Rimrock
tiptoed towards it. He was just in time, as he snatched it open, to
see McBain bounding up the back stairs; and a woman in a rocker, after
a guilty stare, rose up and moved hastily away.
"Well, well," observed Rimrock as he banged the door. "I don't know
which is worse, these women or peeping Andrew McBain. Are you still
working for that fellow?" he enquired confidentially as he sat down and
spoke low in her 'phone; and for the first time that day the smile came
back and dwelt for a moment in her eyes.
"Yes," she answered, "I still do his work for him. What's the
matter--don't you fully approve?"
Her gaze was a challenge and he let it pass with a grin and a jerk of
the head.
"Just sorry for you," he said. "You'd better take this money and get a
job with a man that's half white."
He drew out his roll and counted out four thousand dollars and laid
them before her on the desk.
"Now listen," he began. "That four hundred then was worth four
thousand to me now. I had to have it, and I sure appreciate it--now
just accept that as a payment in part."
He pushed over the money, but she shook her head and met his gaze with
resolute eyes.
"Not much," she said, "I don't want your money and, what's more, I
won't accept it. I gave you four hundred dollars--all the money I
had--to get me a share in that mine, and now I want it. I don't care
how much, but I want a share in that mine."
Rimrock shoved back his chair and once more the sweat appeared on his
troubled brow. He rose up softly and peeped out the door, then came
back and sat very close.
"What's the idea?" he asked. "Has some one been telling you who I've
got in with me on this deal? Well, what's the matter then? Why won't
you take the money? I'll give you more than you could get for the
stock."
"No, all my life it's been my ambition to own a share in a mine.
That's why I gave you the last of my money--I had confidence in your
mine from the start."
"Well, what did you think, then?" enquired Rimrock sardonically, "when
I jumped out of town without seeing you? You'd have sold out cheap, if
I'd've come to you then, but now everybody knows I've won."
"Never mind what I thought," she answered darkly, "I took a chance, and
I won."
"Say, you're strictly business, now ain't you?" observed Rimrock and
muttered under his breath. "How much of a share do you expect me to
give you?" he asked after a long anxious pause and her eyes lit up and
were veiled.
"Whatever you say," she answered quietly and then: "I believe you
mentioned fifty-fifty--an undivided half."
"My--God!" exclaimed Rimrock starting wildly to his feet. "You
don't--say, you didn't think I meant that?"
"Why, no," she said with a faint flicker of venom, "I didn't, to tell
you the truth. That's why I told you I was talking business; but you
said: 'Well, so am I.'"
"Well, holy Jehosophrats!" cursed Rimrock to himself and turned to look
her straight in the eyes.
"Now let's get down to business," he went on sternly, "what do you
want, and where am I at?"
"I want a share in that mine," she answered evenly, "whatever you think
is right."
"Oh, that's the deal! You don't want fifty-fifty? You leave what it
is to me?"
"That's what I said from the very first. And as for fifty-fifty--no,
certainly I do not."
There were tears, half of anger, gathering back in her eyes, but
Rimrock took no thought of that.
"Oh, you don't like my style, eh?" he came back resentfully. "All you
want out of me is my money."
"No, I don't!" she retorted. "I don't want your money! I want a share
in that mine!"
"Say, who are you, anyway?" burst out Rimrock explosively. "Are you
some wise one that's on the inside?"
"That's none of your business," she answered sharply, "you were
satisfied when you took all my money."
"That's right," agreed Rimrock rubbing his jaw reflectively, "that's
right, it was no questions asked. Now, say, I'm excited--I ought not
to talk that way--I want to explain to you just how I'm fixed. I went
back to New York and organized a company and gave one man forty-nine
per cent. of my stock. He puts up the money and I put up the mine--and
run it, absolutely. If I give you any stock I lose control of my mine;
so I'm going to ask you to let me off."
He drew out his roll--that banded sheaf of yellow notes that he loved
so dearly to flash--and began slowly to count off the bills.
"When you think it's enough," he went on ponderously, "you can say so,
but I need all that stock."
He laid out the bills, one after another, and the girl settled back in
her chair. "That's ten," he observed, "these are thousand-dollar
bills--well, there's twelve, then--I'll make it thirteen." He glanced
up expectantly, but she gave no sign and Rimrock dealt impassively on.
"Well, fourteen--lots of money. Say, how much do you want? Fifteen
thousand--you only gave me four hundred. Sixteen, seventeen--well, you
get the whole roll; but say, girl, I can't give you that stock."
He threw down the last bill and faced her appealingly, but she answered
with a hard little laugh.
"You've got to," she said. "I don't want your money. I want one per
cent. of your stock."
"What, of what I've got left? Oh, of the whole capital stock! Well,
that only leaves me fifty per cent."
"That's one way of looking at it. Now look at it another way. Don't
you think I'm entitled to that? Don't you think if I'd said when I
gave you that money: 'All I want is one per cent. of your mine'--don't
you think now, honestly, that you'd have said: 'All right!' and agreed
to it on the spot?"
She looked at him squarely and the fair-fighting Rimrock had to agree,
though reluctantly, that she was right.
"Well, now that you've won when nobody expected you to, now that you've
got money enough to get the whole town drunk, is that any reason why
you should come to a poor typist and ask her to give up her rights?
I'm putting it frankly and unless you can answer me I want you to give
me that stock."
"Well, all right, I'll do it," answered Rimrock impulsively. "I
promised you, and that's enough. But you've got to agree not to sell
that stock--and to vote it with me, every time."
"Very well," she said, "I'll agree not to sell it--at least not to any
one but you. And as far as the voting goes, I think we can arrange
that; I'll vote for whatever seems right."
"No, right or wrong!" challenged Rimrock instantly. "I'm not going to
be beat out of my mine!"
"What do you mean?" she demanded. "I hope you don't think----"
"Never mind what I think," answered Rimrock grimly, "I got bit once,
and that's enough. I lost the old Gunsight just by trusting my
friends, and this time I'm not trusting anybody."
"Oh, you're one of these cynics, these worldly-wise fellows that have
lost all their faith in mankind? I've seen them before, but it wasn't
much trouble to find somebody else that _they'd_ wronged!"
She said the words bitterly with a lash to her tongue that cut Rimrock
Jones to the quick. It had always been his boast that there was no man
or woman that could claim he had done them a wrong, and he answered
back sharply, while the anger was upon him, that he was not and there
was no such thing.
"Well, if that's the case, then," she suggested delicately but with a
touch of malice in her smile, "it seems rather personal to begin now
with me, and take away my right to vote. Did this man in New York,
when he bought into your company, agree to vote with you, right or
wrong? Well then, why should I? Wasn't my money just as necessary,
when I gave it to you, as his was when he gave it, later?"
"Oh--" Rimrock choked back an oath and then fell back on personalities
to refute her maddening logic.
"Say, your father was a judge," he burst out insultingly. "Was he a
promoted lawyer, too; or did you learn that line of talk from McBain?"
"Never mind about that. You haven't answered my question. Wasn't my
money just as necessary as his? It was! Yes, you know it. Well,
then, why should you choose me for the very first person that you ever
intentionally wronged?"
"Well, by grab," moaned Rimrock, slumping down in his chair as he saw
his last argument gone, "it was a black day for me when I took that
four hundred from you. I'd have done a heap better to have held up
some Chinaman or made old L. W. come through. And to be trimmed by a
woman! Well, gimme your paper and I'll sign whatever you write!"
She drew in her lips and gazed at him resentfully; then, sitting down
at her typewriter, she thought for a minute and rattled off a single
sentence. Rimrock took the paper and signed it blindly, then stopped
and read what it was.
"I, Henry (Rimrock) Jones, for value received, hereby agree to give to
Mary Roget Fortune, one per cent. of the total capital stock of the
Tecolote Mining Company."
"Yes, all right," he said. "You'll get your stock just as soon as I
get it from the East. And now I hope, by the Lord, you're satisfied."
"Yes, I am," she answered and smiled cryptically.
"Well, I pass!" he exploded and, struggling to his feet, he lurched out
upon the street.