THE NEW YEAR
A crafty-eyed lawyer on an East-side street told Rimrock all he needed
to know--a summons in equity could not be served outside the bounds of
the state. And so, a year after his triumphal arrival, Rimrock Jones
left gay New York. He slipped out of town with a mysterious swiftness
that baffled certain officers of the court, but, though Jepson watched
the trains in something approaching a panic, he did not drop off at
Gunsight. Mary Fortune watched the trains, too, though with different
motives and hopes, and when the last day dawned and no Rimrock appeared
she went off by herself on the desert.
When that sun rose again, unless something was done, the Tecolote mine
would be lost. And all because Rimrock did not come. His share in the
mine as well as her own was dependent upon what she should do and she
motored out across the desert to think. Jepson's plans were
complete--L. W. was still drunk and Ike Bray was waiting for the word.
At midnight that night, as the old year went out and the new year was
ushered in, Ike Bray and his guards would climb up to the dome and
re-locate the Old Juan claim. And then they would leave it--for that
was their plan--and let Rimrock contend with the law. Once located and
recorded they had ninety days in which to sink their discovery shaft,
and the last day was as good as the first.
Mary had overheard Jepson in his numerous consultations until she knew
every move he would make; the question was, what would she do? Would
she sit idly by and let this mountain of copper be snatched from their
hands by Stoddard; or would she, alone and with no one to help her,
brave the darkness and locate it herself? Already, as she nerved
herself for the deed, she had typed out her location notice in
duplicate; filling in the exact description of the boundaries from the
records of the Old Juan claim. But would she dare to post that notice,
in the face of three desperate men? Would she dare risk a meeting with
drunken Ike Bray on the summit of that lonely peak? She resolved and
recanted, and resolved again and drove back to the hotel in despair.
From the day she had known him she had helped Rimrock Jones in every
way that she could; but he from the first had neglected every duty and
followed after every half-god. She had written him to come, and told
him of his peril, and that her own rights were jeopardized with his
own; and he answered never a word. A hot wave passed over her, of
passionate resentment and hatred and womanly scorn, and she drew her
lips to a line. She would jump the Old Juan, but she would jump it for
herself and hold it against both Rimrock and Stoddard!
It had once been observed that, when driven too far, Mary Fortune
became an Indian; and the man who said it knew. For the rest of that
day she was afire with a resolution which contemplated even the killing
of men. She bought her a pistol and, driving out on the desert, she
practised until she could shoot. Then as the sun sank low and Jepson
and his men were occupied with sobering up Ike Bray, she drove off in
the direction of Geronimo. She was far out on the desert when darkness
fell, rushing south on the other road to Tecolote. Within sight of the
camp she put out her lamps and, turning her machine out of the road,
she crept along until it was hidden from view, then leapt out and
started for the butte. It stood against the stars, huge and sinister
in its black bulk, and she shuddered as she took the lone trail.
Up that very same path the year before Rimrock Jones had rushed on to
defend his claim. He had been a man then, or at least a fighting
animal; but now he was a soft, pampered brute. He left his fighting to
be done by a woman while he spent his money like a fool. The fierce
anger from that thought gave courage to her heart and her resentment
spurred her on. She toiled on and rested and gazed despairingly at the
high crags, but still she kept her face to the heights. As midnight
approached and the trail had no ending she stopped and gazed doubtfully
back, and then she went hurrying on. A clanking of rocks and the bass
guffaw of men had come up to her from below; and terror supplied a whip
that even hatred lacked--it was Ike Bray and his drunken guards!
As she staggered to the rim and dragged herself past the wall where
McBain had come to his death it seemed as if she must drop, but the men
were coming behind. She drew a great sobbing breath and, with her hand
on her pistol, hastened over to the discovery shaft. It was a black,
staring hole and by the dump beside it there stood a sign-post
supported by rocks. A pale half moon had risen in the East and by its
light she made out the notice that was tacked to the center of the
board. That was Rimrock's notice, but now it was void for the hour was
long after twelve. She tore it down and stuffed it into her pocket and
drew out the one she had prepared. Then, gumming it carefully from a
tube of glue, she posted it on the board. Already the voices were
coming nearer, but there was one thing more to do--she lit a match and,
looking at her watch, wrote the exact time on the blanks.
[Illustration: That was Rimrock's notice, but now it was void for the
hour was long after twelve]
In the brief half hour that was occupied by Ike Bray in making the last
lap of his trip Mary lived in an agony of fear. He came up slowly,
using such violent language as she had never heard before; and,
combined with the curses that he called down on the guards, was the
demand for drink, and more drink. As she crouched behind a boulder
that stood on the rim she bit her lips with shame and the hot rush of
anger at his obscene revilings made her reconciled to killing him, if
she must. He was lower than the lowest of created animals, a vile,
degenerate beast; and as he struggled to the top and made for the
monument his curses were directed against Rimrock.
"I'll show him!" he vaunted as he swayed before the sign, "I'll show
him if Ike Bray's afraid. He can run a blazer over lawyers and women;
but me--hey, tear off this notice!"
There was a minute of fumbling and then, as she gazed out at them, the
taller guard spoke up.
"It's stuck," he said, "tighter than the back door of hell. Let it go
and nail yours on top. Holy Smoke, if I'd knowed what a job this
was--here, what are you doing now? Aw, give me that notice! Now
where's your tacks? Say, Hank, pull him back from that hole!"
The sound of hammering came to her ears, half-drowned by a drunken
brawl, and then there was a horror-stricken yell.
"He's fell down the hole! Are you hurt bad, Ike?"
The answer was a muffled curse, and both guards hurried to the shaft.
With a prayer on her lips Mary crept from her shelter, then crouched
and ran for the trail. She saw them leaning over the shaft and heard
them bandying oaths and then she had gained the path.
"What's that?" cried one as she knocked a stone from the wall, and as
it clattered she went dashing down the trail. She fell and lay
breathless, listening dully for their footsteps, then rose up and went
limping on. She paused for strength far down the path, where it swings
along the wall, and her heart beat loud in her breast. They were still
on the cliff-tops, still cursing and quarrelling and poisoning the
clean silence with their words--but she had located first!
The day was breaking when, lost and wandering, she found her machine on
the plain, but as it took the smooth road and went gliding towards
Geronimo she smiled with a great sense of power. It was not alone that
she controlled that throbbing engine, which made the car pulsate and
thrill; she had a handle that would make two men she knew bow down and
ask her for peace--Rimrock Jones and Whitney Stoddard. She appeared
the next morning at the Recorder's office with a copy of her notice for
record. Her torn clothes were concealed beneath a full cloak and her
hands within automobile gloves; but the clerk, even in the rush of New
Year recording, glanced curiously at a bruise across her forehead.
Then he filed her claim with a hundred others and she slipped out and
drove away.
When Mary Fortune returned to Gunsight she found the whole town in an
uproar. Men were running to and fro and a great crowd of people was
gathered in front of the hotel. If she had feared for a moment that
the scar above her eye, which she had covered so artfully with her
hair, might be noticed by Jepson and others, that fear was instantly
allayed. There was bigger news afoot--Ike Bray had come to town and
given notice that he had jumped the Old Juan claim. He was backed up
now against a plate-glass window of the Tecolote Mining Company's
office and Jepson was making a speech. As she drove up closer she
could see Hassayamp Hicks and as the crowd shouted he broke in on
Jepson's disavowal.
"That ain't the question, suh!" he shouted fiercely, "we want to know
_who paid him_! And as a personal friend of Mr. Jones, the best man in
this hyer town, I wish to say right now that the Old Juan claim can't
be jumped by _nobody_!"
"Just a moment, Mr. Hicks!" interrupted Jepson patiently, but the mob
was shouting him down.
"It's a lie!" yelled Bray from his place against the window. "I jumped
that claim for myself! I jumped it myself; and Rimrock Jones, nor none
of his friends, can't come and take it away!"
"Oh, they can't, hey?" thundered a voice and Mary started as she saw a
tall form through the crowd. It was L. W. Lockhart, the man who had
sold Rimrock out and allowed the Old Juan to lapse. "They can't, you
say? Well, I want to tell you they _can_! And, gun-play or not, they
_will_!"
His high hat surged forward into the forbidden space that Bray had
cleared with his gun and then a pistol shot rang out. The next moment
the glass windows were swaying and bending beneath the weight of the
mob. There was a babel of shouting, a quick surge forward and then the
crowd gave back. L. W. was coming out and as they gave way before him
he addressed the men of Gunsight.
"I've got 'im, boys!" he cried in a frenzy, "come on, we'll string 'im
up! We'll show 'im if he can jump Rimrock's claim!"
He came striding from the crowd, one arm hanging limp the other
dragging the cursing Ike Bray.
"You got me!" he snarled, shaking Bray like a rat, "but dang you, I've
got you, too!"
The mob fell in behind, but as they passed Mary's automobile Bray
reached out and clutched it with both hands.
"Let go!" commanded L. W., still dragging at his collar while his
bloody arm flapped with each jerk. "Let go, you dastard, or I'll skin
you alive--you can't run no sandy over me! The man don't live, so help
me God, that can rob a friend of mine!"
He turned back impatiently, but as he raised his boot to stamp on the
clinging hands his eyes met Mary Fortune's.
"Don't let him kill me, lady!" gasped Ike Bray imploringly as he felt
L. W.'s grip relax. "I only shot in self-defense."
"You'd better let him in here," suggested Mary as she hurriedly threw
open the door. "I think it will be better that way."
"No, he robbed old Rimmy!" sobbed L. W. hysterically, "the best friend
I ever had. And I was drunk and let the assessment work lapse. My
God, he'll kill me for this!"
"No, he won't!" she said and as she touched his hand L. W. let go and
backed away.
"Well, all right, Miss Fortune," he stammered brokenly, "but--but he's
got to git out of town!"
"I'll take him!" she answered and as the crowd fell back she speeded up
and raced away.
"God bless you, ma'am," cried Ike Bray tremulously as she slowed up to
let him down, "I'll do as much for you, some day! Is there anything,
now, I can do?"
He had read the sudden wish in her eyes, but she hesitated long before
she spoke.
"Yes," she said as she started ahead, "keep away from Rimrock Jones!"