Shadow Mountain

“What? Just for the money? Do you think more of that than you do of finding my father?”

“No, I don’t,” he said, “but I can’t go now, and so there’s no use talking.”

“No,” she answered, drawing resentfully away from him, “there’s no use talking to you! He might be dying, or out of food, but you don’t think of anything but that money!”

“Well, maybe so,” he retorted tartly, “but if you’d just left me alone, instead of sicking all your dogs on me, I’d’ve been over there looking for him, long ago. Of course I’m wrong–that’s understood from the start; but─”

“What dogs did I set on you?” she demanded, flaring up, and he fixed her with sullen eyes.

“Never mind,” he said. “You know what you’ve done as well or better than I do. All I’ve got to say is that my conscience is clear and we’d better quit talking while we’re friends.”

“Yes–friends!” she repeated, and then she stopped and at last she heaved a sigh. “Well, I don’t care,” she defended. “You drove me to it. A woman must protect herself, somehow.”

“Well, you can do it,” he said, feeling tenderly of his head, and Virginia flew into a rage.

“I told you I was sorry!” she cried, stamping her foot. “Isn’t that enough? I’m sorry, I said!”

“Yes, and I’m sorry,” he answered, but his eyes were level and his jaw jutted out like a crag.

“Sorry for what?” she demanded, and he sprang his trap.

“Sorry I can’t go out and hunt for your father.”

“Oh,” she said, and drooped her head.

“If we could pay for what we’ve done by just being sorry,” he went on with a ghost of a smile, “we wouldn’t be where we are. But you know we can’t, Virginia. I’m sorry for some things myself, and I expect to pay for them, but I can’t stop to do it now.”

“But will you go for him–sometime?” she asked, smiling wistfully. “Then–oh, Wiley; why can’t we be friends?” She held out her hands and he rose up and took them, but with a startled look in his eyes. “You know that I’m sorry,” she said, “and I’m willing to pay, too; if there’s anything that I can do. Can’t I help you, Wiley? Isn’t there something I can do to help you pay for your mine? And I’ll never oppose you again–if you’ll only go and find my father!”

She raised his hands and put them against her cheek and the quick tears sprang to his eyes.

“I’ll do it,” he promised, “just the minute I can go. And–I’ll try to be good to you, Virginia. Won’t you give me a kiss, just to show it’s all right? I’m sorry I treated you so rough. But it’ll be all right now and we’ll try to be friends again–I wasn’t writing to any other girl.”

“Oh, weren’t you?” she smiled. “Well, I’ll kiss you, then–just once. But somehow, I’m afraid it won’t last.”

CHAPTER XXVI

The Call

The long quarrel was over, they had made up–and kissed–and yet to Wiley it all seemed unreal. That is, all but the kiss. It was that, perhaps, which made the rest seem unreal, for it had changed the color of his life. Before, he had thought in terms of hard fact, but the kiss put a rainbow in the sky. It roused a great hope, a joy, an ecstasy, a sense of well-wishing for mankind; and yet it was only he who had changed. The world was the same; Samuel Blount was the same; and the miners, and Stiff Neck George. They were all there together in a rough-and-tumble fight to see who would get the Paymaster Mine and, even with the madness of her kiss in his soul, he pressed on towards the one, fixed goal.

He had set out to win the Paymaster and win it he would if he had to shoot his way to victory. For Stiff Neck George, like a watchful coyote, had taken up his post on the hill; and from that sign alone Wiley knew that Blount had changed his tactics and appealed to the court of last resort. His attachments had failed, his injunction suit had failed, and his cheap attempt to cut off Wiley’s checks. The money had come, promptly forwarded by the Express Company with a note of apology from the buyer, and it lay now in Wiley’s office safe. All that was left to do was to send it to Blount and get back the deed to the property. Three days remained before the bond and lease expired, but that was not a day too much. The question was–who to send? Wiley thought the matter over, glanced at George up on the hill, and sent a note down to Virginia.

She came up the trail smiling, for her proud reserve had vanished, and she even allowed him a kiss; but when he asked her to take the money to Blount she drew back and shook her head.

“I’m afraid,” she said, “–I’m afraid something might happen. Can’t you send it by somebody else?”

“No, that’s just the point,” he answered gravely. “Something is likely to happen if I do. My lawyer has turned crooked, and the bank won’t touch it; so there’s nobody to send but you. You can hide the money till you get there, so that no one will rob you on the way; and if anybody asks you, you can tell them about that stock deal and that you’re going down to hold up Blount.”

“Why don’t you go?” she objected and he pointed out the doorway at Stiff Neck George on the hill.

“There he sits,” he said, “like a red-necked old buzzard, just waiting for a chance to jump my mine. He may do it, anyhow–I wouldn’t put it past him–but if he comes he’d better come a-shooting. You see, here’s the point: the man that holds this mine can turn out ten thousand dollars a day, and that amount of money would hire enough lawyers to fight the outsiders to a standstill. If I get jumped I’m licked, because I haven’t got any more money; and I’m going to stay right here and fight ’em. But you take this money–there’s fifty-two thousand dollars–and go down and make that payment. If you can’t find Blount, then hunt up the clerk of the Superior Court and deposit the fifty thousand with him. Just bring me his receipt, with a memorandum of the payment, and he’ll notify Blount himself.”

“I don’t like to,” she shuddered. “I’m afraid they won’t take it, and then you’ll─”

“They’ve got to take it!” he broke in eagerly. “Just get the stage driver to go along as witness, and I’ll give you a full power of attorney. And then listen, Virginia; you take the rest of this money and buy back your father’s stock.”

“Oh, can I?” she cried and, reaching out for the money, she held it with tremulous hands. There were fifty thousand-dollar bills, golden yellow on the back and a rich, glossy black on the front; and others of smaller denominations, making fifty-two thousand in all. It was a fortune in itself, but in what it was to buy it was well worth over a million.

“Aren’t you afraid to trust me?” she asked at last, and when he smiled she hid it away. “All right,” she said, “and as soon as I’ve paid it I’ll call you up on the ’phone.”

She went out the next morning on the early stage and Wiley watched it rush across the plain. It was green as a lawn, that dry, treeless desert with its millions of evenly spaced creosote bushes; but as the sun rose higher it turned blood-red like an omen of evil to come. Many times before, in the glow of evening, he had seen the green change to red; but now it was ominous, with Stiff Neck George on the hill-top and Shadow Mountain frowning down behind. He paced about uneasily as the day wore on and at night he listened for the ’phone. She was to call him up, as soon as she had paid over the money; but it did not ring that night.

The morning of the last day dawned fair and pleasant, with the fresh smell of dew in the air, and he awoke with a sense that all was well. Virginia was in Vegas and, when Blount came to his office, she would make the payment in his stead. There was no chance to fail, once she had found her man; and if Blount refused to accept it, which he could hardly do, she could simply leave the money with the court. There were no papers to confuse her, no forms to go through; Blount had made a legal contract to sell the property and she had a full power of attorney. All it called for was loyalty and faithfulness to her trust, and Wiley knew Virginia too well to think she would fail him now. She was proud and hot-headed, and she had fought him in the past; but, once she had given her word, she would keep her promise or die.

As the sun rose higher he imagined her at the bank with the sheaf of bills hidden in her bosom, and Blount’s surprise and palavering when he found he was caught and that his deep-laid plans had failed. He had schemed to catch Wiley between the horns of a dilemma, and either jump his mine when he went in to make the payment or force him to lose it by default. But, almost by a miracle, Virginia had appeared at the very moment when he was seeking a messenger; and by an even greater miracle, they had composed all their difficulties just in time for him to send her to town. It was like an act of Providence, an answer to prayer, if people any longer prayed; and, more, even, than the money and the joy of success, was the consciousness of Virginia’s love. She had seemed so hostile, so distant and unattainable; but the moment that he forgot her and abandoned all hope she fluttered to his hand like a dove.

The noon hour came and went and as Wiley watched the ’phone it seemed to him strangely silent. To be sure, few people called him, but–he snatched the receiver from the hook. He had guessed it–the ’phone was dead! He rattled the hook and listened impatiently, then he shouted and listened again, and black fancies rose up in his brain. What was the meaning of this? Had they cut the wire on him? And why? It really made no difference! Virginia was there; he had heard it from the stage-driver who had driven her in the day before–and yet, there must be a reason. Perhaps it was an accident, for the line was old and neglected, but why should it happen now? He hung up the receiver and reviewed it all calmly. There were a hundred things which might happen to the line, for it passed through rough country near Vegas; but the weather was fair and there was no wind blowing to topple over the poles. No one used the line but him–it had been connected up by Blount when he had first taken over the mine–and yet the wire had been cut. But by whom? As he sat there pondering he raised his eyes to the hill-top, and Stiff Neck George was gone!

“The dastard!” cursed Wiley, leaping furiously to his feet and reaching for his rifle, but though he scanned the line through his high-power field-glasses there was not a man in sight. Wiley ran down to the shed and got out his racer that had lain there idle for months, but as his motor began to thunder, a head popped up and he saw Stiff Neck George on the ridge. He too had a rifle and, as he saw Wiley watching him, he dropped back and hid from sight.

“Oho!” said Wiley, and, leaving his machine, he strode angrily back to the mine. So that was their game, to get him to leave and then slip in and jump his mine. Perhaps it was all arranged with the men he had working for him and George would not even have a fight. Neither his foremen nor the guards were men he would care to trust in a matter involving millions–and yet something was wrong in Vegas. There was treachery somewhere or they would not cut the line to keep him from getting the news. He lingered irresolutely, his hands itching for the steering wheel, his eyes searching for Stiff Neck George.

There was a feud between them–he had braved George’s killing gun and rushed in and kicked him down the dump. Would George, then, withhold his hand? But, down in Vegas, Blount was framing up some game to deprive him of title to his mine. Wiley weighed them in the balance, the two forces against him, and decided to stay with the mine. As long as he held it there were lawyers a-plenty to prove that his title was good, but if Stiff Neck George jumped it he would have to kill him to get back possession of the property. Or rather, he would have to fight him, for George was a gunman with notches on the butt of his six-shooter. No, he would have to get killed, or give up the Paymaster, whether Blount was right or wrong.

He set his teeth and settled down to endure it–but he knew that Virginia would not fail him. He had given her the money, she knew what to do, and as sure as she hoped to save her father, he knew that she would do it. His part was to hold down the mine. The men came and went, the engine puffed and panted, and the long, dragging hours went by. As the darkness came on Wiley stalked in the shadows, looking out into the night for Stiff Neck George; but nothing stirred, the work went on as usual, and at midnight he gave up the search. His option had expired and either the mine was his or the title had reverted to the Company. There was nothing to watch for and so he slept, but at dawn his telephone jangled.

Wiley rose up breathlessly and took down the receiver but no one answered his call. The ’phone was dead and yet it had rung–or was it only a dream? He hung up in disgust and went back to bed but something drew him back to the ’phone. He held down the hook and, with the receiver to his ear, let the lever rise slowly up. There was talking going on and men laughing in hoarse voices and the tramp of feet to and fro, but no one responded to his shouts. He hung up once more and then suddenly it came over him, a foreboding of impending disaster. Something was wrong, something big that must be stopped at once; and a voice called insistently for action. He leapt into his clothes and started for the door–then turned back and strapped on his pistol. As the sun rose up he was a speck in the desert, rushing on through a blood-red sea.

CHAPTER XXVII

The Thunder Clap

The broad streets of Vegas were swarming with traffic as Wiley glided swiftly into town and he noticed that people looked at him curiously. Perhaps it was all imagination but it seemed to him they eyed him coldly. Yet what they thought or felt was nothing to him then–his business was with Samuel J. Blount. The mine was unprotected–he had not even told his foreman that he was leaving, or where he was going–and there was no time for anything but business. If there was any trouble for him, Samuel J. Blount was at the bottom of it, and he drove straight up to the bank. It was a huge, granite structure with massive onyx pillars and smiling young clerks at the grilles; but he hurried past them all and turned down a hall to a room that was marked: President–Private. This was no time for dallying or sending in cards–he opened the door and stepped in.

Samuel Blount was sitting at the head of a table with other men grouped about him, but as Wiley Holman entered they were silent. He glanced at Blount and then again at the men–they were the directors of the Paymaster Mining and Milling Company!

“Good morning, Mr. Holman,” spoke up Blount with asperity. “Please wait for me out in the hall.”

“Since when?” retorted Wiley and then, leaping to the point, “what about that deed to the Paymaster?”

“Why–you must be misinformed,” replied Blount slowly, at the same time pressing a button, “this is a meeting of the Board of Directors.”

“So I see,” returned Wiley, “but I sent the money by Virginia to take up the option on the mine. Did you receive it or did you not?”

A broad-shouldered man, very narrow between the eyes, came in and stood close to Wiley, and Blount smiled and cleared his throat.

“No,” he said, “we did not receive it?”