The Collected Westerns of William MacLeod Raine: 21 Novels in One Volume Read online

  Stephen Eaton, an alert, clear-eyed young fellow who served as fidus Achates to Ridgway, and was the secretary and treasurer of the Mesa Ore-producing Company, took the seat Smythe had vacated. He was good-looking, after a boyish, undistinguished fashion, but one disposed to be critical might have voted the chin not quite definite enough. He had been a clerk of the Consolidated, working for one hundred dollars a month, when Ridgway picked him out and set his feet in the way of fortune. He had done this out of personal liking, and, in return, the subordinate was frankly devoted to his chief.

  "Steve, my opinion is that Alpine is a false alarm. Unless I guess wrong, it is merely a surface proposition and low-grade at that."

  "Miller says--"

  "Yes, I know what Miller says. He's wrong. I don't care if he is the biggest copper expert in the country."

  "Then you won't invest?"

  "I have invested--bought the whole outfit, lock, stock and barrel."

  "But why? What do you want with it if the property is no good?" asked Eaton in surprise.

  Ridgway laughed shortly. "I don't want it, but the Consolidated does. Two of their experts were up at Alpine last week, and both of them reported favorably. I've let it leak out to their lawyer, O'Malley, that Miller thought well of it; in fact, I arranged to let one of their spies steal a copy of his report to us."

  "But when they know you have bought it "

  "They won't know till too late. I bought through a dummy. It seemed a pity not to let then have the property since they wanted it so badly, so this morning he sold out for me to the Consolidated at a profit of a hundred and fifty thousand."

  Eaton grinned appreciatively. It was in startling finesse of this sort his chief excelled, and Stephen was always ready with applause.

  "I notice that Hobart slipped out of town last night. That is where he must have been going. He'll be sick when he learns how you did him."

  Ridgway permitted himself an answering smile. "I suppose it will irritate him a trifle, but that can't be helped. I needed that money to get clear on that last payment for the Sherman Bell."

  "Yes, I was worried about that. Notes have been piling up against us that must be met. There's the Ransom note, too. It's for a hundred thousand."

  "He'll extend it," said the chief confidently.

  "He told me he would have to have his money when it came due. I've noticed he has been pretty close to Mott lately. I expect he has an arrangement with the Consolidated to push us."

  "I'm watching him, Steve. Don't worry about that. He did arrange to sell the note to Mott, but I stopped that little game."

  "How?"

  "For a year I've had all the evidence of that big government timber steal of his in a safety-deposit vault. Before he sold, I had a few words with him. He changed his mind and decided he preferred to hold the notes. More, he is willing to let us have another hundred thousand if we have to have it."

  Eaton's delight bubbled out of him in boyish laughter. "You're a wonder, Waring. There's nobody like you. Can't any of them touch you--not Harley himself, by Jove."

  "We'll have a chance to find that out soon, Steve."

  "Yes, they say he's coming out in person to run the fight against you. I hope not."

  "It isn't a matter of hoping any longer. He's here," calmly announced his leader.

  "Here! On the ground?"

  "Yes."

  "But--he can't be here without us knowing it."

  "I'm telling you that I do know it."

  "Have you seen him yourself?" demanded the treasurer incredulously.

  "Seen him, talked with him, cursed him and cuffed him," announced Ridgway with a reminiscent gleam in his eye.

  "Er--what's that you say?" gasped the astounded Eaton.

  "Merely that I have already met Simon Harley."

  "But you said--"

  "--that I had cursed and cuffed him. That's all right. I have."

  The president of the Mesa Ore-producing Company leaned back with his thumbs in the armholes of his fancy waistcoat and smiled debonairly at his associate's perplexed amazement.

  "Did you say--CUFFED him?"

  "That's what I meant to say. I roughed him around quite a bit--manhandled him in general. But all FOR HIS GOOD, you know."

  "For his good?" Eaton's dazed brain tried to conceive the situation of a billionaire being mauled for his good, and gave it up in despair. If Steve Eaton worshipped anything, it was wealth. He was a born sycophant, and it was partly because his naive unstinted admiration had contributed to satisfy his chief's vanity that the latter had made of him a confidant. Now he sat dumb before the lese-majeste of laying forcible hands upon the richest man in the world.

  "But, of course, you're only joking," he finally decided.

  "You haven't been back twelve hours. Where COULD you have seen him?,"

  "Nevertheless I have met him and been properly introduced by his wife."

  "His wife?"

  "Yes, I picked her out of a snow-drift."

  "Is this a riddle?"

  "If it is, I don't know the answer, Steve. But it is a true one, anyhow, not made to order merely to astonish you."

  "True that you picked Simon Harley's wife out of a snow-drift and kicked him around?"

  "I didn't say kicked, did I?" inquired the other, judicially. "But I rather think I did knee him some."

  "Of course, I read all about his marriage two weeks ago to Miss Aline Hope. Did he bring her out here with him for the honeymoon?"

  "If he did, I euchred him out of it. She spent it with me alone in a miner's cabin," the other cried, malevolence riding triumph on his face.

  "Whenever you're ready to explain," suggested Eaton helplessly. "You've piled up too many miracles for me even to begin guessing them."

  "You know I was snow-bound, but you did not know my only companion was this Aline Hope you speak of. I found her in the blizzard, and took her to an empty cabin near. She and her husband were motoring from Avalanche to Mesa, and the machine had broken down. Harley had gone for help and left her there alone when the blizzard came up. Three days later Sam Yesler and the old man broke trail through from the C B Ranch and rescued us."

  It was so strange a story that it came home to Eaton piecemeal.

  "Three days--alone with Harley's wife--and he rescued you himself."

  "He didn't rescue me any. I could have broken through any time I wanted to leave her. On the way back his strength gave out, and that was when I roughed him. I tried to bullyrag him into keeping on, but it was no go. I left him there, and Sam went back after him with a relief-party."

  "You left him! With his wife?"

  "No!" cried Ridgway. "Do I look like a man to desert a woman on a snow-trail? I took her with me."

  "Oh!" There was a significant silence before Eaton asked the question in his mind. "I've seen her pictures in the papers. Does she look like them?"

  His chief knew what was behind the question, and he knew, too, that Eaton might be taken to represent public opinion. The world would cast an eye of review over his varied and discreditable record with women. It would imagine the story of those three days of enforced confinement together, and it would look to the woman in the case for an answer to its suspicions. That she was young, lovely, and yet had sold herself to an old man for his millions, would go far in itself to condemn her; and he was aware that there were many who would accept her very childish innocence as the sophistication of an artist.

  Waring Ridgway put his arms akimbo on the table and leaned across with his steady eyes fastened on his friend.

  "Steve, I'm going to answer that question. I haven't seen any pictures of her in the papers, but if they show a face as pure and true as the face of God himself then they are like her. You know me. I've got no apologies or explanations to make for the life I've led. That's my business. But you're my friend, and I tell you I would rather be hacked in pieces by Apaches than soil that child's white soul by a single unclean breath. There mustn't be any talk. Do you understand? Kee
p the story out of the newspapers. Don't let any of our people gossip about it. I have told you because I want you to know the truth. If any one should speak lightly about this thing stop him at once. This is the one point on which Simon Harley and I will pull together.

  Any man who joins that child's name with mine loosely will have to leave this camp--and suddenly."

  "It won't be the men--it will be the women that will talk."

  "Then garble the story. Change that three days to three hours, Steve. Anything to stop their foul-clacking tongues!"

  "Oh, well! I dare say the story won't get out at all, but if it does I'll see the gossips get the right version. I suppose Sam Yesler will back it up."

  "Of course. He's a white man. And I don't need to tell you that I'll be a whole lot obliged to you, Stevie."

  "That's all right. Sometimes I'm a white man, too, Waring," laughed Steve. Ridgway circled the table and put a hand on the younger man's shoulder affectionately. Steve Eaton was the one of all his associates for whom he had the closest personal feeling.

  "I don't need to be told that, old pal," he said quietly.

  CHAPTER 8.

  THE HONORABLE THOMAS B. PELTON

  It was next morning that Steve came into Ridgway's offices with a copy of the Rocky Mountain Herald in his hands. As soon as the president of the Mesa Ore-producing Company was through talking with Dalton, the superintendent of the Taurus, about the best means of getting to the cage a quantity of ore he was looting from the Consolidated property adjoining, the treasurer plumped out with his news.

  "Seen to-day's paper, Waring? It smokes out Pelton to a finish. They've moled out some facts we can't get away from."

  Ridgway glanced rapidly over the paper. "We'll have to drop Pelton and find another candidate for the Senate. Sorry, but it can't be helped. They've got his record down too fine. That affidavit from Quinton puts an end to his chances."

  "He'll kick like a bay steer."

  "His own fault for not covering his tracks better. This exposure doesn't help us any at best. If we still tried to carry Pelton, we should last about as long as a snowball in hell."

  "Shall I send for him?"

  "No. He'll be here as quick as he can cover the ground. Have him shown in as soon as he comes. And Steve--did Harley arrive on the eight-thirty this morning?"

  "Yes. He is putting up at the Mesa House. He reserved an entire floor by wire, so that he has bed-rooms, dining-rooms, parlors, reception-halls and private offices all together. The place is policed thoroughly, and nobody can get up without an order."

  "I haven't been thinking of going up and shooting him, even though it would be a blessing to the country," laughed his chief.

  "No, but it is possible somebody else might. This town is full of ignorant foreigners who would hardly think twice of it. If he had asked my advice, it would have been to stay away from Mesa."

  "He wouldn't have taken it," returned Ridgway carelessly. "Whatever else is true about him, Simon Harley isn't a coward. He would have told you that not a sparrow falls to the ground without the permission of the distorted God he worships, and he would have come on the next train."

  "Well, it isn't my funeral," contributed Steve airily.

  "All the same I'm going to pass his police patrols and pay a visit to the third floor of the Mesa House."

  "You are going to compromise with him?" cried Eaton swiftly.

  "Compromise nothing, I'm going to pay a formal social call on Mrs. Harley, and respectfully hope that she has suffered no ill effects from her exposure to the cold."

  Eaton made no comment, unless to whistle gently were one.

  "You think it isn't wise "

  "Well, is it?" asked Steve.

  "I think so. We'll scotch the lying tongue of rumor by a strict observance of the conventions. Madam Grundy is padlocked when we reduce the situation to the absurdity of the common place."

  "Perhaps you are right, if it doesn't become too common commonplace."

  "I think we may trust Simon Harley to see to that," answered his chief with a grim smile "Obviously our social relations aren't likely to be very intimate. Now it's 'Just before the battle mother,' but once the big guns begin to boor we'll neither of us be in the mood for functions social."

  "You've established a sort of claim on him. It wouldn't surprise me if he would meet you halfway in settling the trouble between you," said Eaton thoughtfully.

  "I expect he would," agreed Ridgway indifferently as he lit a cigar.

  "Well, then?"

  "The trouble is that I won't meet him halfway. I can't afford to be reasonable, Steve. Just suppose for an instant that I had been reasonable five years ago when this fight began. They would have bought me out for a miserable pittance of a hundred and fifty thousand or so. That would have been a reasonable figure then. You might put it now at five or six millions, and that would be about right. I don't want their money. I want power, and I'd rather fight for it than not. Besides, I mean to make what I have already wrung from them a lever for getting more. I'm going to show Harley that he has met a man at last he can't either freeze out or bully out. I'm going to let him and his bunch know I'm on earth and here to stay; that I can beat them at their own game to a finish."

  "Did it ever occur to you, Waring, that it might pay to make this a limited round contest? You've won on points up to date by a mile, but in a finish fight endurance counts. Money is the same as endurance here, and that's where they are long."

  Eaton made this suggestion diffidently, for though he was a stockholder and official of the Mesa Ore-producing Company, he was not used to offering its head unasked advice. The latter, however, took it without a trace of resentment.

  "Glad of it, my boy. There's no credit in beating a cripple."

  To this jaunty retort Eaton had found no answer when Smythe opened the door to announce the arrival of the Honorable Thomas B. Pelton, very anxious for an immediate interview with Mr. Ridgway.

  "Show him in," nodded the president, adding in an aside: "You better stay, Steve."

  Pelton was a rotund oracular individual in silk hat and a Prince Albert coat of broadcloth. He regarded himself solemnly as a statesman because he had served two inconspicuous terms in the House at Washington. He was fond of proclaiming himself a Southern gentleman, part of which statement was unnecessary and part untrue. Like many from his section, he had a decided penchant for politics.

  "Have you seen the infamous libel in that scurrilous sheet of the gutters the Herald?" he demanded immediately of Ridgway.

  "Which libel? They don't usually stop at one, colonel."

  "The one, seh, which slanders my honorable name; which has the scoundrelly audacity to charge me with introducing the mining extension bill for venal reasons, seh."

  "Oh! Yes, I've seen that. Rather an unfortunate story to come out just now."

  "I shall force a retraction, seh, or I shall demand the satisfaction due a Southern gentleman.

  "Yes, I would, colonel," replied Ridgway, secretly amused at the vain threats of this bag of wind which had been punctured.

  "It's a vile calumny, an audacious and villainous lie."

  "What part of it? I've just glanced over it, but the part I read seems to be true. That's the trouble with it. If it were a lie you could explode it."

  "I shall deny it over my signature."

  "Of course. The trouble will be to get people to believe your denial with Quinton's affidavit staring them in the face. It seems they have got hold of a letter, too, that you wrote. Deny it, of course, then lie low and give the public time to forget it."

  "Do you mean that I should withdraw from the senatorial race?"

  "That's entirely as you please, colonel, but I'm afraid you'll find your support will slip away from you."

  "Do you mean that YOU won't support me, seh?"

  Ridgway locked his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. "We've got to face facts, colonel. In the light of this exposure you can't be elected."

>   "But I tell you, by Gad, seh, that I mean to deny it."

  "Certainly. I should in your place," agreed the mine-owner coolly. "The question is, how many people are going to believe you?"

  Tiny sweat-beads stood on the forehead of the Arkansan. His manner was becoming more and more threatening. "You pledged me your support. Are you going to throw me down, seh?"

  "You have thrown yourself down, Pelton. Is it my fault you bungled the thing and left evidence against you? Am I to blame because you wrote incriminating letters?"