A CHAPTER OF HATE
It was a source of real regret to Mary Fortune that she could not keep
on hating Rimrock Jones. In the long, weary months that she had been
away from him she had almost dismissed him from her mind. Then she had
met him in New York and the old resentment had flashed up into the
white heat of sudden scorn. She despised him for all that she read of
his life in that encounter face to face--the drinking, the gambling,
the cheap, false amusements, and the painted woman at his side. And
when he returned, after ignoring her letters and allowing his mining
claim to lapse, and resumed his fault-finding complaints she had put
him back in his place.
But that was just it, the outburst had relieved her; she had lost her
cherished hate. In the quiet of her room she remembered how he looked,
so beaten and yet so bold. She remembered the blow that her words had
given him when he had learned that his stock was doomed; and that
greater blow when he saw even his equity placed in jeopardy by the
jumping of the Old Juan. Had it not been a little cruel, to fly at
him, after that? He was wrong, of course, but the occasion was great
and his mind was on other things. Yet he had told her, and repeated
it, that she had sold him out--and that she could never endure.
She remained resolutely away until late in the afternoon and then she
returned to the office. It was her office, anyway, as much as his; and
besides, she had left her ear-'phone. Not that she needed it, of
course, but she must keep up appearances, although it seemed impossible
to persuade people that she was no longer deaf. Even Rimrock had
shouted in that old, maddening way the instant she did not reply. It
was natural, of course, but with him at least she would like it the
other way. She would like him to speak as he had spoken at first when
he had come to her office alone. But those days were gone, along with
eaves-dropping Andrew McBain, their first happiness and the golden
dreams. All was gone--all but the accursed gold.
She found Rimrock alone in the silent office, running through filing
cases in blundering haste.
"What are you looking for?" she asked demurely and as he noticed her
amusement he smiled.
"Examining the books," he answered grimly. "Say, how much money have
we got?"
"Oh, don't look there!" she said, pushing the filing drawer back into
its case. "Here, I'll give you our last monthly statement, brought
down to January first."
She ran through the files and with a practised hand drew out the paper
he wanted.
"Much obliged," he mumbled and as he glanced at the total he blinked
and his eyes opened up. "All right!" he said, "that will last me a
while. I might as well spend it, don't you think? I'm General
Manager, as long as I last, and it will take money to beat this man
Bray."
"What, have you taken charge of the legal part of it? I thought that
was left to McVicker and Ord?"
"McVicker and Ord! They're a couple of mutton-heads. Why, Bray has
got Cummins and Ford. I know they're good, because they beat me out of
the Gunsight; but they're nothing to the men I've retained. I've
telegraphed money to ten attorneys already--the best in the United
States, so Ben Birchett, my Geronimo lawyer, says--and they'll be here
within a few days. It'll be a galaxy of the finest legal talent that
ever took a case in Arizona. Ben told me frankly when I called him up
Long Distance that we've got a very weak case; but you wait, they'll
frame something up. We're fighting Stoddard, there isn't a doubt about
it; but we're spending his money, too."
He met her gaze with a disarming grin and the reproaches died on her
lips. After all, it was his right, after what he had suffered, to have
this one, final fling. He was nothing but a child, a great overgrown
boy, and it was fitting he should have his jest. And between him and
Stoddard, the ice-cold lightning-calculator who kept count of every
cent, there was really little to choose. Only Rimrock, of course, was
human. He was a drunken and faithless gambler; a reckless, fighting
animal; a crude, thoughtless barbarian; but his failings were those of
a man. He didn't take advantage of everybody--it was only his enemies
that he raided.
"Yes, you're spending his money," she conceded pleasantly, "but part of
it is yours and--mine."
"Well, all right, then," he said after a moment's thought, "I'll show
you where it's gone."
"No, I didn't mean that," she said, "my point is, don't throw it away.
If we lose this suit, and I think we will, you'll need something to
make a fresh start."
"Nope, it's dead loss to me, whichever way you figure it--if I don't
spend it, it goes to Stoddard. He won't have any mercy on me, even if
we win this case. My stock is gone when the ninety days are up. The
most I can hope is to beat him on this suit. That will make my
Tecolote stock more valuable and maybe I can borrow the money to pay
off the debt at the bank. But I'm busted, right now; I can see my
finish. It's just a question of the epitaph the boys will put over my
grave, and I want that to be: 'He did his damnedest!' Then I'll get
out of town with whatever I have left and begin all over again, down in
Mexico."
"Oh, won't that be fine!" she cried enthusiastically, but Rimrock
looked at her dubiously.
"What, to lose all my money?"
"No, to begin all over again. To get away from this trickery and
dishonesty and the jealousy that spoils all your friends; and start all
over again, get back to real work and build up another success!"
"You sure make it sound attractive," he answered glumly, "but there are
some people who hate to lose. That's me--but cheer up, I haven't lost
yet. You wait till I hire a few expert geologists and I'll prove that
the Old Juan doesn't apex anything. No, absolutely nothing; not even
the ore that's under it. I've got a couple of them coming, now."
She looked at him frowning.
"I don't like you that way," she said impatiently. "It sounds low and
cheap, and I don't like it. And I hope when it's over and you've lost
your case that you'll see that this lawlessness doesn't pay. Of course
it's too late now, because I know you're going to do it, but I do want
you to know how I feel. I liked you best when you were a poor,
hard-handed prospector without a dollar to your name; but what
happiness has it brought you--or me, either, for that matter--all this
money we've got from the mine?"
"Well," began Rimrock; and then he stopped and pondered. "Say, it
hasn't brought us much, after all, now has it? I've helped out a few
friends, but seems like they've all gone back on me. But what makes
you think I'll lose?"
He was watching her furtively, but she sensed his purpose and as
quickly was on her guard.
"Because you're wrong," she said. "You haven't a case. You know you
let your title lapse and now you're trying to evade the law. You're
wrong, in the first place; and in the second place you're trying to be
dishonest. I hope you do lose it."
"Uhrr! Thanks!" he jeered. "The same to you! If I lose, I guess you
lose, too."
"I don't care," she persisted, "I want you to lose--and after it's all
over, I'll tell you something."
She smiled in a mysterious and tantalizing way, but Rimrock's face
never changed.
"You'd better tell me now, while you've got the chance," he suggested
sitting down by her desk. "And by the way, how come you're hearing so
well?"
"Oh, that reminds me!" she cried laughing gayly and picked up her
ear-'phone. "What was that you said?" she asked with mock anxiety,
slipping the headband over her head, and Rimrock looked at her in
surprise.
"By grab!" he exclaimed, "I believe you can hear! What do you carry
that thing around for?"
She twitched it off and gazed at him again with a triumphant but
baffling smile.
"Yes, I _can_ hear," she admitted quietly, "but I'll have to ask you
not to tell. Why, Mr. Jepson and some of these people fairly shout
when they speak to me now."
She smiled again in such a cryptic manner that Rimrock became suddenly
aroused.
"Say, what's going on?" he cried, all excitement, "have you been
listening in on their schemes?"
"Why, Mr. Jones!" she exclaimed reproachfully but still with a twinkle
in her eye; and Rimrock leaned forward eagerly.
"Yes, that's my name," he answered, "go ahead and tell me what you
know."
"No, you wouldn't put it to the best of purposes--but hold this over
your ear." She held up the attachment to his ear and, as she ran up
the dial, she whispered:
"Do you think you could hear through a wall?"
"You bet!" replied Rimrock and as she took it away he gave her a
searching glance. "I wonder," he said, "if you're as innocent as you
look." And Mary broke down and laughed.
"I wonder," she observed, but when he questioned her further she only
shook her head.
"No, indeed," she said, "I won't tell you anything--but after you lose,
come around."
"No, but look!" he urged. "If I lose, you lose. Come through and tell
me now."
"You called me a crook," she answered spitefully, "you said I had sold
you out! Do you think I will tell you, after that? No, you're so
smart, go ahead--Spend your money! Hire a lot of lawyers and experts!
You think I sold you out to Stoddard? Well, go ahead--_you_ try to buy
me! No, I'm going to show you, Mr. Rimrock Jones, that I have never
sold out to anybody--that I can't be bought, nor sold. You need that
lesson more than you need the money that you are wasting in vice and
fraud."
She ended, panting with the anger that swept over her, and Rimrock
thrust out his chin.
"Huh! Vice and fraud!" he repeated scornfully, "you certainly don't
hunt for words. Is it vice and fraud to hire lawyers and experts and
try to win back my own mine? What do you want me to do--go and kow-tow
to Stoddard and ask him to please step on my neck?"
"No, I want you to do what you're going to do--spend the Company's
money, and lose. That money is part mine, but I'll be glad to part
with it if it will cure you of being such a fool."
They faced each other, each heated and angry, and then he showed his
teeth in a smile.
"I know what's the matter," he said at last, "you're jealous of Mrs.
Hardesty!"
She checked the denial that leapt to her lips to search for a more
fitting retort.
"You flatter yourself," she said, smiling thinly, "but you do not
flatter me."
"Yeah, 'vice and crime.' That shows where you good people fall down.
I suppose you think that she was an _awful_ disreputable woman! Well,
she wasn't; she was just another of Stoddard's stool-pigeons that he
uses to work suckers like me. She got me back there and helped him
bleed me and then she kissed me good-bye--so!"
He made the motion of slamming a door and his eyes turned dark with
fury.
"She had a good line of talk herself," he sneered, "and her heart was
as black as that book!"
He pointed to a book that was black indeed but Mary said never a word.
This was news to her, and perhaps it was balm that would in time cure a
wound in her heart, but now it rankled deep.
"I think," she said at last, "the most pitiable spectacle in the world
is you, Mr. Rimrock Jones. You try to buy friends, as if they were
commodities, and you try to buy them wholesale. You set up the drinks
and try to buy the whole town, but what is the result of it all? Why,
you simply attract a lot of leeches and bloodsuckers whose sole purpose
is to get your money. And then, when you finally become disillusioned,
you class them all together. You don't deserve any friends!"
"Well, maybe not!" he answered truculently, "but who's got the most,
right now? You or me? Look at Old Hassayamp Hicks, and Woo Chong--and
L. W.!"
A swift, almost instantaneous, change swept over her sensitive face and
then she closed down her lips; yet Rimrock was quick enough to see it.
"What's the matter?" he challenged. "What's the matter with L. W.?
Ain't he stood by me like a rock? He's in the hospital right now with
a busted arm, and I won't hear a word against him. No, my troubles
have been with women."
A swifter spasm, almost ugly in its rage, came over Mary Fortune's
lips; and then she shut them down again.
"Yes," she said with a sarcastic smile, "I've heard women say the same
about men."
"Oh, you've always got some come-back," he went on blusteringly, "but I
notice you don't say nothing against L. W. Now there was a man who had
done me dirt--he sold me out, on the Gunsight--but when I trusted him
and treated him white L. W. became my best friend. He stood right up
with me against Andy McBain and that bunch of hired gun-fighters he
had; and he'd lay down his life for me, to-morrow. And yet he just
worships money! He thinks more of a dollar than I do of a million, but
could Stoddard buy him out? Not on your life--he voted for the
dividend! But where was my lady friend at?"
He glared at her insultingly and, torn by that great passion that comes
from devotion misprized and sacrifice rewarded with scorn, she leapt up
to hurl back the truth. But a vision rose before her, the picture of
L. W. sobbing and bleeding, his arm flapping beside him, striving
vainly to retrieve his treachery; and the words did not pass her lips.
"_I'm_ not your friend, if that's what you mean," she answered with
withering scorn. "I'm against you, from this moment, on."
"Well, let it ride, then," he responded carelessly, and as she swept
from the room, he smiled.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE SHOW-DOWN
For the few brief weeks before the great trial the office was swarming
with men. There were high-priced lawyers and geologists of renown and
experts on every phase of the suit, and in the midst of them sat
Rimrock Jones. He wore his big black hat that had cost him a hundred
dollars--including the hat-check tips at the Waldorf--and his pistol
was always at his hip. Every step of their case was carefully framed
up in the long councils that took place, but at the end Rimrock lost
his nerve. For the first time in his life, and with all eyes upon him,
he weakened and lowered his proud head. He had a hunch he would lose.
For all those weeks he had been haunted by a presence that always
flitted out of his way; but now she was there, in the crowded
court-room, and she greeted him with a slow, mirthless smile. It was
Mary Fortune and he remembered all too well that time when she had told
him he would lose. She had said he would lose because he had no case,
and because he used money instead; but he knew from that smile she had
other reasons for pronouncing his doom in advance. He had lawyers
hired who told him, to the contrary, that he had a very good case--and
Stoddard had spent money, too. Not openly, of course, but through his
attorneys; but that was customary, it was always done. No, behind all
her professions of respect for the judiciary and of worship for the
law, she must know that the right sometimes failed. But behind that
smile there was the absolute certainty that in some way he was certain
to lose.
He met her glance as he came into the court-room surrounded by a troop
of his friends, surrounded by lawyers and mining experts and geologists
who professed to see through the earth, and before her gaze he halted
and blenched. There was another person there who regarded him coldly
with a glance like a rapier thrust; but it was not of Stoddard he was
afraid. It was of Mary Fortune, who had come out against him and who
could hear through walls with her 'phone. What she knew might have
helped him, but she was against him now--and she had told him in
advance that he would lose.
As Rimrock sat thinking, his eyes cast down and his mind far back in
the past, a great blow was struck by the bailiff's mallet and the crowd
rose up to its feet. A stern-faced judge, robed in the black cloak of
his office, stepped out through the curtains behind the bench and as
Rimrock stared the bailiff beckoned him sharply and he scrambled to his
feet with the rest.
"Oyez! Oyez! Oyez!" cried the bailiff in the words that echoed of the
past. "The United States District Court is now in session!"
He struck again as the judge took his seat and Rimrock sank down into
his chair. But he had stood in respect to the majesty of the law and
it was then that his hunch came back. For this was no appeal to an
elected judge or the easily swayed emotions of a jury; it was an appeal
to the cold, passionless mind of a man who considered nothing but the
law.
Ike Bray was there, looking pinched and scared, and the two guards who
had witnessed his relocation, and they testified to the facts. In vain
Rimrock's lawyers orated and thundered or artfully framed up their long
questions; it took days to do it, but when the testimony was all in it
was apparent that Ike Bray's claim would hold. But this was only the
beginning of the battle, the skirmish to feel out the ground; and now
the defense brought up its big guns. One after the other they put
experts on the stand to testify to the geology of the Tecolote; but
Cummins and Ford produced others as eminent who testified to the
opposite effect. So the battle raged until the wearied judge limited
the profitless discussion to one more day, and then Cummins and Ford
launched their bombshell.
"Your Honor," began Cummins as he rose with a great document. "I
should like to introduce as evidence this report, which unfortunately
has only just come to hand. As Your Honor has intimated the testimony
of hired experts is always open to suspicion of bias, and especially
where great interests are at stake; but I am able to offer for the
information of the Court a document both impartial and thorough. It is
the combined reports of three practical geologists employed by the
Tecolote Company itself, though at a time preceding this suit and
intended solely for the purposes of exploration. As Your Honor will
observe, although the reports were made independently and under orders
to seek nothing but the facts, they agree substantially in this: that,
within an extension of its end-lines, the Old Juan claim is the true
apex of the entire Tecolote ore body."
He handed over the report and sat down in triumph, while Rimrock's
lawyers all objected at once. The argument upon admitting to evidence
this secret but authoritative report, consumed the greater part of the
day; and at the end the plaintiff rested his case. Throughout the din
of words, the verbal clashes, the long and wearisome citing of
authorities and the brief "Overruled!" of the judge, Rimrock Jones sat
sullen and downcast; and at the end he got up and went out. No one
followed to cheer or console him--it was his confession of utter
defeat. And the following day, when the Court convened, a verdict was
rendered for the plaintiff. The lawyers and experts took their checks
and departed and Rimrock Jones went home.
He went back to Gunsight where he had seen his greatest triumphs and
his days of blackest defeat and waited for Stoddard to strike. It was
all over now--all over but the details and the final acceptance of
terms--and, while he waited, he packed up to go. No one knew better
than Rimrock himself that it was right and fitting to move on. Old
hatreds and animosities, old heart-burnings and recriminations, would
make Gunsight a hell-spot for him, and thwart him at every move. It
was best to go on to Mexico. Even Hassayamp and L. W. agreed in this,
although L. W. insisted upon staking him and declared it was all his
own fault. But Mary Fortune, whether she gloried in his fall or pitied
him for his great loss, kept discreetly out of his way.
She faced him the first time at the special meeting when Stoddard came
to lay down his terms. As a legal fiction, a technical subterfuge, he
still claimed to have bought up Bray's claim; but no one was deceived
as to his intent. If he had bought Bray out it was not for the
Company, but for Whitney H. Stoddard personally; and with no intention
of compromising. He came in briskly, his face stern and forbidding,
his eyes burning with ill-suppressed fire; and he sat down impatiently
to wait. Then as Rimrock slouched in and called the meeting to order
Stoddard picked up a piece of blank paper and began to tear it into
long, slender shreds.
"Well, to get down to business," said Rimrock at last after the various
reports had been read, "we have come here, I take it, for a purpose."
He raised his eyes and met Stoddard's defiantly, but Mary looked away.
"Yes, we have," answered Stoddard with business-like directness, "I
have a proposition to make. As I suppose you both know I have bought
up the claim of Mr. Bray, as decided by the court. That claim, of
course, practically invalidates your stock since it takes away
possession of the mine; but I am willing to make you a generous offer.
Our undivided profits--minus the amount, of course, that our General
Manager has squandered on his defense--will be shared among us, pro
rata. This will be in cash, and in consideration of the payment, I
shall expect you to turn in your stock."
"What? For nothing?" cried Mary; but Rimrock did not flinch though his
face became set with rage.
"It can hardly be called nothing," replied Stoddard severely, "when
your own share comes to over two hundred thousand dollars. And as for
Mr. Jones, he understands very well that I can claim every dollar he
has."
"Well, that may be so, since you have a claim against him, but my stock
is unencumbered. And since my share of the profits is in no sense a
payment I shall decline to turn in my stock."
"Very well," answered Stoddard, his voice low and colorless, "I shall
turn the matter over to my attorney and refuse to vote the dividend."
"Ah, I see," she murmured and glanced at Rimrock who answered with a
curl of the lip.
"Mr. President," she said, "I move that the money at present in our
treasury be set aside as a profit and divided among the stockholders
pro rata."
"Just a moment!" warned Stoddard as Rimrock seemed about to fall in
with her, "you can never collect that money. I have notified Mr.
Lockhart, the treasurer of our Company, that I will hold him personally
responsible for every dollar he pays out, without my official O.K. You
understand what that means. Within less than a month, through my suit
now in court, I can claim every share of Mr. Jones' stock. Its value,
in law, has been reduced to nothing, outside of this undivided profit;
and that I offer you now. If you refuse I shall get judgment, claim
his entire share of the profits, and take possession of the whole
Tecolote properties by right of the Old Juan decision. I advise you to
accept my first offer."
"All right," spoke up Rimrock, "I knew you'd rob me. Write out the
check and I'll be on my way."
"No, indeed!" cried Mary, "don't you let him fleece you! I've got
something to say here, myself!"
"Well, say it to him, then," returned Rimrock, wearily, "I'm sick and
disgusted with the whole business."
"Yes, naturally," observed Stoddard, reaching into his pocket and
deliberately pulling out his checkbook. "Most people are, by the time
I get through with them; and your case is no exception. You made the
mistake of trying to oppose me."
"I made the mistake," returned Rimrock hoarsely, "of trusting a lot of
crooks. But I never trusted you--don't you think it for a
minute--you've got n. g. written all over you."
"Another remark like that," said Stoddard freezingly, "and I'll put my
checkbook away."
"You do it," warned Rimrock without changing his position, "and I'll
blow the top of your head off."
Stoddard looked at him keenly, then uncapped his pen and proceeded to
fill out the stub. For a moment there was silence, broken by the soft
scratching of the pen, and then Mary Fortune stood up.
"I know it is customary," she said in suppressed tones, "for men to
settle everything themselves; but you, Mr. Stoddard, and you, Mr.
Jones, are going to listen to me. I have put up long enough with your
high-handed methods; but now, will you kindly look at that?"
She laid a paper on the table before Stoddard and stood back to watch
the effect, but Rimrock only grunted contemptuously.
"Aw, fill out my check!" he said impatiently, but Stoddard was staring
at the paper.
"Why, what is this? Where did you get this, Miss Fortune? I don't
think I quite understand."
"No, naturally! You overlooked the fact that a woman can jump claims,
too. That is a recorded copy of my re-location of the Old Juan claim,
at twelve-fifty-one, on January first. Your drunken Ike Bray came
along at one-thirty and tacked his notice over mine. And now I must
thank you, gentlemen, both of you, for your kind efforts in my behalf.
By spending your money on this expensive lawsuit you have proved my
title to the Tecolote Mine."
She sat down, smiling, and as Stoddard looked again at the paper his
drawn face went suddenly white. He laid it down and with startled eyes
glanced fearfully at those two. Would they stand together? Did she
realize her advantage? Could he buy her off--and for how much? A
hundred swift questions flashed through his mind, and then Rimrock
reached over for the notice. He gazed at it quietly and then, looking
at Mary, he gave way to a cynical smile.
"Could you hear through a wall?" he enquired enigmatically, and
Stoddard snapped his fingers in vexation.
"Ah, I see," he observed, "not so deaf as you seem. Well, Miss
Fortune, may I see you alone?"
"You may not!" she answered. "I might show you some pity, though you
don't deserve it; so, knowing Mr. Jones as I do, I will leave the
decision to him."
She glanced at Rimrock with a quick, radiant smile that revealed more
than she knew of her heart; but his face had suddenly gone grim.
"Take him out and kill him," he advised vindictively. "That's all the
advice I'll give."
"No, I don't believe in that," she answered sweetly, "but perhaps our
decision can wait."
"Well, you needn't wait for me," replied Rimrock ungraciously, "because
I'm through, for good and all. The first man that gives me a check for
my stock----"
Whitney Stoddard reached swiftly for his checkbook and pen, but she
stopped him with a warning look.
"No, there'll be nothing like that," she answered firmly. "But I moved
once that we declare a dividend."
"Second the motion," murmured Stoddard resignedly; and Rimrock, too,
voted: "Ay!"
Then he rose up sullenly and gazed at them both with a savage,
insulting glare.
"You can keep your old mine," he said to Mary. "I'm going to beat it
to Mexico!"
He started for the door and they looked after him, startled, but at the
doorway he stopped and turned back.
"Where do I get that check?" he asked and after a silence Mary answered:
"From Mr. Lockhart."
"Good!" he muttered and closed the door quietly, whereat Stoddard began
instantly to talk. He might have talked a long time, or only a few
moments; and then Mary began to hear.
"What's that?" she asked and Stoddard repeated what he considered a
very generous offer.
"Mr. Stoddard," she cried with almost tearful vehemence, "there's only
one condition on which I'll even think of giving you back your mine,
and that is that Rimrock shall run it. Mr. Jepson must be fired, Mr.
Jones must have full charge, and all this chicanery must stop; but if
Rimrock goes away without taking his mine I'll--I'll make you wish he
hadn't!"
She snatched up her papers and ran out of the room and Stoddard caught
up the 'phone.
"Give me Mr. Lockhart!" he said. "Yes, Lockhart, the banker. Mr.
Lockhart? This is Mr. Stoddard. If you pay Henry Jones a cent of that
money I'll break you, so help me God. And listen! If you value your
rating with Bradstreet, you make him apologize to that girl!"
CHAPTER XXVIII
A GIFT
Mary Fortune was pacing up and down her room in something very like a
rage. Her trunk, half-packed, stood against the wall and her pictures
lay face down on the bed, and she hovered between laughter and tears.
It seemed as if every evil passion in her nature had been stirred up by
this desperate affray and in the fierce swirl of emotions her joy in
her victory was strangely mingled with rage at Rimrock. After scheming
for months to prove her superiority, and arranging every possible
detail, she had been cut down in her pride and seen her triumph turned
to nothing by his sudden decision to sulk. Just at the very moment
when she was preparing to be gracious and give him his precious mine
back he had balked like a mule and without sense or reason stormed off
on his way to Old Mexico.
She returned to her packing and was brushing away a tear that had
fallen somehow on a fresh waist when there was a trampling in the lobby
and she heard a great voice wafted up from the corridor below.
"Come on!" it thundered like the hoarse rumbling of a bull. "Come on,
I tell ye; or you'll tear my arm loose where it's knit. You dad-burned
cub, if I had two good hands---- Say, come on; ain't you got a lick of
sense?"
It was L. W. Lockhart and, from the noise in the hallway, he seemed to
be coming towards her door. She listened and at a single rebellious
grunt from Rimrock she flew to the mirror and removed the last trace of
the tear. He was bringing Rimrock for some strange purpose, and--yes,
he was knocking at her door. She opened it on a struggle, Rimrock
begging and threatening and trying gingerly to break away; and
iron-jawed L. W. with his sling flying wildly, holding him back with
his puffed-up game hand.
"Excuse me, Miss Fortune," panted L. W. brokenly, "but I just had to
fetch this unmannerly brute back. He can't come, like he did, to my
place of business and speak like he did about you. You're the best
friend, by Gregory, that Rimrock Jones ever had; and I'll say that for
myself, Miss, too. You've been a _good_ friend to me and I'll never
forgit it, but Rim is jest naturally a fool!"
He stopped for breath and Rimrock set back sullenly without raising his
eyes from the floor.
"Now!" said L. W. as he winced at the pull, "you can decide what you're
going to do. Are you going to bust my arm, where I got it shot in two
jest by fighting Ike Bray for your mine; or are you going to stan' up
here and apologize like a gentleman for saying Miss Fortune sold you
out."
"I'll apologize, doggone you," answered Rimrock between his teeth, "if
you'll shut up and let go my coat."
"Well, all right, then," sighed L. W. as he cradled his injured arm,
"I'll wait for you at the head of the stairs."
"You do and I'll kill you," returned Rimrock savagely. "Go on,
now--and don't you come back."
He waved a threatening hand at the belligerent L. W. and watched him
till he passed down the stairs. Then, turning to Mary, he set his
mouth and looked her over grimly.
"Well, I apologize," he said. "Does that make you feel better? And
now I hope I may go."
"No, you can't," she replied. "Now it's my turn to apologize. And I
hope you have good luck."
She held out her hand and he glanced at it questioningly, then reached
out and took it in his.
"I mean it," he said with sudden earnestness. "I sure-enough
apologize. I'm sorry for what I done."
She patted his hand where it still held hers fast and bowed her head to
keep back the tears.
"It's all right," she said. "We could never be happy. It's better to
have you go."
"I'll come back!" he said with impulsive gladness. "I'll come back--if
you say the word."
"Well--come back, then," she answered. "But not to quarrel; not to
haggle, and backbite and scold! Oh, it makes me so ashamed! I used to
be reasonable; but it doesn't seem possible now. I can't even save
your mine, that you killed a man over and went to prison to defend; I
can't even do that but in such a hateful way that you won't accept it
as a gift."
"Aw, you take it too hard," protested Rimrock feebly. "Say, come on
over here and sit down." He led her reluctantly to the ill-fated
balcony, but at the divan she balked and drew back.
"No, not there," she said with a little shudder, and turned back and
sank down in a chair.
"Well, all right," agreed Rimrock, but as he drew up another he
suddenly divined her thought. "Say, I apologize again," he went on
abjectly, "for that time--you know--when she came. I was a Mexican's
dog, there's no use talking, but--oh, well, I've been a damned fool."
"You mustn't swear so much," she corrected him gently; and then they
gazed at each other in silence. "It's strange," she murmured, "how we
hated each other. Almost from the first day, it seems. But no, not
the first! I liked you then, Rimrock; better than I ever will again.
You were so clean and strong then, so full of enthusiasm; but
now--well, I wish you were poor."
"Ain't I broke?" he demanded and she looked at him sadly as she slowly
shook her head.
"No, you're rich," she said. "I'm going to give you back the mine, and
then I'm going away."
"But I don't want it!" he said. "Didn't I tell you to keep it? Well,
I meant it--every word."
"Ah, yes," she sighed. "You told me--I know--but to-morrow is another
day. You'll change your mind then, the way you always do. You see, I
know you now."
"You do not!" he denied. "I don't change my mind. I stick to one idea
for years. But there's something about you--I don't know what it
is--that makes me a natural-born fool."
"Yes. I make you mad," she answered regretfully. "And then you will
say and do anything. But now about the mine. I left Mr. Stoddard in
the office just biting his fingers with anxiety."
"Well, let him bite 'em," returned Rimrock spitefully, "I hope he eats
'em off. If it hadn't been for him, and that Mrs. Hardesty, and all
the other crooks he set on, we'd be friends to-day--and I'd rather have
that than all the mines in the world."
"Oh, would you, Rimrock?" she questioned softly. "But no, we could
never agree. It isn't the money that has come between us. We blame
it, but it's really our own selves. You will gamble and drink, it's
your nature to do it, and that I could never forgive. I like you,
Rimrock, I'm afraid I can't help it, but I doubt if we can even be
friends."
"Aw, now listen!" he pleaded. "It was you drove me to drink. A man
can get over those things. But not when he's put in the wrong in
everything--he's got to win, sometimes."
"Yes, but, Rimrock, there has never been a time when you couldn't have
had everything you wanted--if you wouldn't always be fighting for it.
But when you distrust me and go against me and say that I've sold you
out, how can a woman do anything but fight you back? And I will--I'll
never give up! As long as you think I'm not as good as you are--just
as smart, just as honest, just as brave--I'll never give in an inch.
But there has never been a time during all our trouble, when, if you'd
only listened and trusted me, I wouldn't have helped you out. Now take
that letter that I wrote you in New York--I warned you they would jump
your claim! But when you didn't come and complete your assessment
work, I went up and jumped it myself. I got this great scar----" she
thrust back her hair--"coming down the Old Juan that night. But I did
it for you, I didn't do it for myself, and then--you wouldn't take back
your mine!"
She bowed her head to brush away the tears and Rimrock stared and
smiled at a thought.
"Well, I'll take it now," he said consolingly. "But I didn't
understand. I didn't know that you want to give things--I thought you
were on the make."
"Well, I was!" she declared, "I wanted all my rights--and I want them
all to-day. But if you'd trust me, Rimrock, if you'd always depend on
me to do the best that a woman can I'd--I'd give you anything--but you
always fight me. You always try to _take_!"
"Well, I won't any more," replied Rimrock penitently, yet with a
masterful look in his eyes. "But you'll have to make it easy, at
first."
"Why, what do you mean?" she asked rather tremulously. And then she
blushed and glanced swiftly about.
"All right, Rimrock," she whispered as she took both his hands and then
slipped into his arms. "I'll give you anything--if you'll only let me.
But remember, I do it myself."
CHAPTER XXIX
RIMROCK DOES IT HIMSELF
"Now, let's talk reason," said Rimrock at last as he put away her
hands. "Let's be reasonable--I don't know where I'm at. Say, where
have I been and what have I been up to? Am I the same feller that
blowed into town on the blind baggage, or is this all a part of the
dream?"
"It's a part of the dream," answered Mary with a sigh. "But if you
help, Rimrock, it may come true."
"Do you mean it?" he demanded. "Well, I guess you must or you wouldn't
give me a kiss like that. Say, you think a lot of me, now don't you,
Little Spitfire? I believe you'd go through hell for me."
"No, I wouldn't," she replied. "That's just where I draw the
line--because you'd be going through hell, too. You're a good man,
Rimrock--you've got a good heart--but you're a drunken, fighting brute."
"Hmm!" shrilled Rimrock, "say, that don't sound very nice after what
you said a minute ago."
"We're talking reason, now," said Mary, smiling wanly, "I was excited a
minute ago."
"Well, get excited again," suggested Rimrock, but she pushed his hands
away.
"No," she said, "I kissed you once because--well, because I liked you
and--and to show that I forgive what you've done. But a woman must
consider what love might mean and I'll never marry a drunkard. I know
women who have and they all regretted it--it took all the sweetness out
of life. A woman expects so much--so much of tenderness and sympathy
and gentleness and consideration--and a drunken man is a brute. You
know it, because you've been there; and, oh, you don't know how I'd
hate you if you ever came back to me drunk! I'd leave you--I'd never
consent for a minute to so much as touch your hand--and so it's better
just to be friends."
She sighed and hurried on to a subject less unpleasant.
"Now, there's the matter of that claim. You know I hold title to the
Old Juan and it gives me control of the mine. Even Stoddard
acknowledges it, although he'll try to get around it; and if we press
him he'll take it to the courts. But now listen, Rimrock, this is a
matter of importance and I want you to help me out. I want you to
attend to getting my discovery work before the ninety days has expired.
Then we'll draw up a complete and careful agreement of just what we
want at the mine and Whitney H. Stoddard, if I know anything about him,
will be only too glad to sign it. I told him before I left him that
this chicanery must cease and that you must be given back your mine. I
told him you must run it, and that Jepson must be fired--but Rimrock,
there's one thing more."
"What's that?" enquired Rimrock rousing up from his abstraction and she
smiled and patted his hand.
"You mustn't fight him," she suggested coaxingly. "It interferes with
the work."
"Fight who?" he demanded and then he snorted. "What, me make friends
with Stoddard? Why, it's that crooked hound that's at the bottom of
all this. He's the man that's made all the trouble. Why, we were
doing fine, girl; we were regular pardners and I wasn't drinking a
drop. I was trying to make good and show you how I loved you when he
butted in on the game. He saw he couldn't beat us as long as we stood
together and so he sent out that damnable Mrs. Hardesty. He hired her
on purpose and she worked me for a sucker by feeding me up with big
words. She told me I was a wonder, and a world-beater for a gambler,
and then--well, you know the rest. I went back to New York and they
trimmed me right, and if it wasn't for you I'd be broke. No, I'll
never forget what you did for me, Mary; and I'll never forget what he
did, either!"
"No, I hope you won't," she said, winking fast, "because that's what's
ruined your life. He can always whip you when it comes to business,
because you fight in the open and he never shows his hand. And he's
absolutely unscrupulous--he'd think no more of ruining our happiness
than--than you do, when you're fighting mad. Oh, if you knew how I
suffered during all those long months when you were stock-gambling and
going around with--her."
"Aw, now, Mary," he soothed, wiping away the sweat from his brow; and
then he took her into his arms. "Now, don't cry," he said, "because I
went back there to look for you--I paid out thousands of dollars for
detectives. And when I saw you that time, when you came down the
stairway in that opera house back in New York, I never went near her
again. I quit her at the door and had detectives out everywhere; but,
you went away, you never gave me a chance!"
"Well," she sobbed, "we all make mistakes, but--but I was so ashamed,
to be jealous of _her_. Couldn't you see what she was? Couldn't you
tell that type of woman? Oh, Rimrock, it was perfectly awful!
Everybody that saw you, every woman that looked at her, must have--oh,
I just can't bear to think about it!"
"My God!" groaned Rimrock; and then he was silent, looking sober-eyed
away into space. It came over him at last what this woman had borne
from him and yet she had been faithful to the end. She had even
befriended him after he had accused her of treachery, but she had
reserved the privilege of hating him. Perhaps that was the woman of
it, he did not know; if so, he had never observed it before. Or
perhaps--he straightened up and drew her closer--perhaps she was the
One Woman in the world! Perhaps she was the only woman he would ever
know who would love him for himself, and take no thought for his money.
She had loved him when he was poor----
"Say," he said in a far-away voice, "do you remember when I saw you
that first time? You looked mighty good to me then. And I was so
ragged, and wild and woolly, but you sure came through with the roll.
The whole roll, at that. Say, I ain't going to forget that--Rimrock
Jones never forgets a friend. Some time when you ain't looking for it
I'm going to do something for you like giving that roll to me.
Something hard, you understand; something that will take the hide off
of me like parting with the savings of a lifetime. But I haven't got
anything to give."
"Yes, you have," she said, "and it will hurt just the same. It is
something you had on then."
"Huh, I didn't have hardly anything but my clothes and my gun. You
don't mean----"
"Yes, I mean the gun."
"Oh!" he said, and fell into silence while she watched him from beneath
her long lashes. He reached back ruefully and drew out his pistol and
twirled the cylinder with his thumb.
"That's a fine old gun," he said at last. "I sure have carried it many
a mile."
"Yes," she answered, and sat there, waiting, and at last he met her
eyes.
"What's the idea?" he asked, but his tone was resentful--he knew what
was in her mind.
"I just want it," she said. "More than anything else. And you must
never get another one."
"How'm I going to protect myself?" he demanded hotly. "How'm I going
to protect my claims? If it wasn't for that gun, where'd the Old Juan
be to-day?"
"Well, where is it?" she asked and smiled.
"Why----"
"Why, you lost it," she supplied. "And I won it," she added. "It
stands in my name to-day."
"Yes, but Andrew McBain----"
"Was he any smarter than Stoddard? Well, I didn't need any gun."
"Yes, but look who you are!" observed Rimrock sarcastically and
balanced the old gun in his hand.
"Well, there we are," she remarked at last. "Right back where we
started from."
"Where's that?" he enquired.
"Back to our first quarrel," she sighed. "A woman never forgets it.
It's different, I suppose, with a man."
"Yes, I reckon it is," he agreed despondently. "We try to forget our
troubles."
"Does it help any to get drunk?" she asked impersonally and he saw
where the conversation had swung. It had veered back again to his
merits as a married man and the answer had come from his own lips. He
knew too well that look in her eye, that polite and polished calm.
Mary Fortune was not strong for scenes. She just made up her mind and
then all the devils in hell could not sway her from her purpose. And
she had rejected him as a gun-fighter and a drunkard.
"Here! Now!" he exclaimed, rising to his feet in alarm. "Now here,
don't get me wrong! Say, I'd give my heart's blood, just for one more
kiss--do you think I'll hold out on this gun? Here, take it, girl, and
if I ever drink a drop I want you to shoot me dead!"
He handed over the gun and she took it solemnly, but with a twinkle far
back in her eyes.
"I couldn't do that," she said, "because I love you too much, Rimrock."
"And another thing," he went on, smiling grimly as she kissed him.
"What's that?" she asked.
"Well, I'll give you 'most anything, if you'll only ask for it; but
remember, I do it myself."
THE END