Shadow Mountain

“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?”

“Oh, you didn’t, eh?” said Wiley, glancing up at the janitor. “Perhaps you will tell me if it was offered to you?”

“No, it was not offered to us,” replied Blount, smiling blandly, “although Miss Huff did make a deposit.”

“Of fifty thousand dollars?”

“No, it was more than that–fifty-two, I believe. It was deposited to your account.”

“Oh,” observed Wiley, and looked them over again as the directors turned around to scowl. “Well, perhaps I can see Miss Huff?”

“She is not here at present,” replied Blount with finality, “and so I must ask you to withdraw.”

“Just a moment,” said Wiley, as the janitor moved expectantly. “I came here on a matter of business with you and this Board of Directors and, since the matter is urgent, I must request an immediate hearing. You don’t need to be alarmed–all I want is my answer and then I’ll leave you alone. In the first place, Mr. Blount, will you please tell me the circumstances under which this deposit was made? I gave Miss Huff instructions to offer the money to you in payment for the Paymaster Mine.”

“Oh! Instructions, eh?” piped Blount with a satirical smile, and the Board stirred and nodded significantly. “Well, since you’ve just come in and are evidently unaware of the wide interest that has been taken in this case, I’ll tell you a few things, Mr. Holman. The people of this town do not approve of the manner in which you have treated Mrs. Huff; and as for your ‘instructions’ to Virginia, let me tell you right now that we have saved her from becoming your victim.”

“My victim!” repeated Wiley, moving swiftly towards him, but the janitor caught him by the arm.

“Yes, your victim,” answered Blount with a venomous sneer, “or, at least, your intended victim. The people of Vegas had nothing to say when you deprived Virginia and her mother of their livelihood–it was your privilege as lessee of the mine to board your own men if you chose–but when you had the effrontery to send Virginia to this Board with ‘instructions’ to jeopardize her own interests, we felt called on to interfere.”

“Why, you’re crazy!” burst out Wiley. “What interests did she jeopardize by making that payment for me? As a matter of fact it was just the contrary–I gave her the money to get back the stock that you had practically stolen from her mother!”

“Now! Now!” spoke up Blount, “we won’t have any personalities, or I’ll ask Mr. Jepson to remove you. You must know if you know anything that Virginia herself had over twelve thousand shares of stock; while her mother left with me, as collateral on a note, more than two hundred thousand shares more. Yet you asked this innocent girl, who trusted you so fully, to wipe out her whole inheritance at one blow. You asked her to come here and make a payment that would beat her out of half a million dollars–for fifty thousand dollars!”

He paused and the men about the table murmured threateningly among themselves.

“And now!” went on Blount with heavy irony, “you come here and ask for your deed!”

“Yes, you bet I do!” snapped back Wiley, “and I’m going to get it, too. If Virginia came here and offered you that money, that’s enough, in the eyes of the law. It was a legal payment under a legal contract, entered into by this Board of Directors; and I call you gentlemen to witness that she came here and offered the money.”

“She came to me!” corrected Blount, “and in no wise as the President of this Board!”

“Well, you’re the man that I told her to go to–and if she offered you the money, that’s enough!”

“Oh, it’s enough, is it? Well, it may be enough for you, but it is not enough for the citizens of this town. We have organized a committee, of which Mr. Jepson is a member, to escort you out of Vegas; and I would say further that your bond and lease has lapsed and the Company will take over the mine.”

“We’ll discuss that later,” returned Wiley grimly, “but I’ll tell you right now that there aren’t men enough in Vegas to run me out of town–not if you call in the whole town and the Janitors’ Union–so don’t try to start anything rough. I’m a law-abiding citizen, and I know my rights, and I’m going to see this through.” He put his back to the wall and the burly Jepson took the hint to move further away. “Now,” said Wiley, “if we understand each other let’s get right down to brass tacks. It’s all very well to organize Vigilance Committees for the protection of trusting young ladies, but you know and I know that this is a matter of business, involving the title to a mine. And I’d like to say further that, when a Board of Directors talks a messenger out of her purpose and persuades her to disregard her instructions─”

“Instructions!” bellowed Blount.

“Yes–instructions!” repeated Wiley, “–instructions as my agent. I sent Miss Huff down here to make this payment and I gave her instructions regarding it.”

“Do you realize,” blustered Blount, “that if she had followed those instructions she would have defrauded her own mother out of millions; that she would have ruined her own life and conferred her father’s fortune upon the very man who was deceiving her?”

“No, I do not,” replied Wiley, “but even if I did, that has nothing to do with the case. As to my relations with Miss Huff, I am fully satisfied that she has nothing of which to complain; and since it was you, and the rest of the gang, who stood to lose by the deal, your indignation seems rather far-fetched. If you were sorry for Miss Huff and wished to help her you have abundant private means for doing so; but when you dissuade her from her purpose in order to save your own skin you go up against the law. I’m going to take this to court and when the evidence is heard I’m going to prove you a bunch of crooks. I don’t believe for a minute that Virginia turned against me. I know that she offered you the money.”

“Oh, you know, do you?” sneered Blount as his Directors rallied about him. “Well, how are you going to prove it?”

“By her own word!” said Wiley. “I know her too well. You just talked her out of it, afterward.”

“So you think,” taunted Blount, “that she offered the money in payment, and demanded the delivery of the deed? And will you stand or fall on her testimony?”

“Absolutely!” smiled Wiley, “and if she tells me she didn’t do it I’ll never take the matter into court.”

“Very well,” replied Blount and turned towards the door, but the Directors rushed in and caught him. They thrust their heads together in a whispered, angry conference, now differing among themselves and now flying back to catch Blount, but in the end he shook them all off. “No, gentlemen,” he said, “I have absolute confidence in the justice of my case. If you stand to lose a little I stand to lose a great deal–and I know she never asked for that deed!”

“Well, bring her in, then,” they conceded reluctantly, and turned venomous eyes upon Wiley. They knew him, and they feared him, and especially with this girl; for he was smiling and waiting confidently. But Blount was their czar, with his great block of stock pitted against their tiny holdings, and they sat down to await the issue.

She came at last, ushered in through the back door by Blount, who smiled benevolently; and her eyes leapt on the instant to meet Wiley’s.

“Here is Miss Huff,” announced Blount deliberately and the light died in Wiley’s shining eyes. He had waited for her confidently, but that one defiant flash told him that Virginia had turned against him. She had thrown in her lot with Blount, and against her lover, and by her word he must stand or fall. She had been his agent, but if she had not carried out her trust─

“Any questions you would like to ask,” went on Blount with ponderous calm, “I am sure Virginia will answer.”

He turned reassuringly and she nodded her head nervously, then stepped out and stood facing Wiley.

“It is a question,” began Wiley, speaking like one in a dream, “of the way you paid Mr. Blount that money. When you took it to him first, before they had talked to you, did you tell him it was my payment on the option?”

Virginia glanced at Blount, then she took a deep breath and drew herself up very straight.

“No,” she said, “I spoke to him first about buying back father’s stock.”

“But after that,” he said, “didn’t you hand him over the money and say it was sent by me?”

“No, I didn’t,” she answered. “After the way you had treated me I didn’t think it was right.”

“Not right!” he repeated with a slow, dazed smile. “Why–why wasn’t it right, Virginia?”

“Because,” she went on, “you were trying to deceive me and beat me and mother out of our rights. You knew all the time that father’s stock was still ours–and that Mr. Blount never even claimed it!”

“Never claimed it!” cried Wiley, suddenly roused to resentment. “Well, Virginia, he most certainly did! He offered to sell it to me for five cents a share when I took out that option on the Paymaster!”

“Now, now, Wiley!” began Blount, but Virginia cut him short with a scornful wave of the hand.

“Never mind,” she said. “I’ll attend to this myself. I just want to tell him what I think!”

“What you think!” raved Wiley, suddenly coming up fighting. “You’ve been fooled by a bunch of crooks. Never mind what you think–did you give him the money and tell him it came from me?”

“I did not!” answered Virginia, her eyes flashing with hot anger, “and while I may not be able to think, I certainly wasn’t fooled by you. No, I took your money and put it in the bank, and I let your option expire!”

“My–God!” moaned Wiley, and groped for the door, but in the hall he stopped and turned back. There was some mistake–she had not understood. He slipped back and looked in once more. She was shaking hands with Blount–and smiling.

CHAPTER XXVIII

The Way Out

When a woman treads the ways of deceit she smiles–like Mona Lisa. But was the great Leonardo deceived by the smile of his wife when she posed for him so sweetly? No, he read her thoughts–how she was thinking of another–and his master hand wove them in. There she smiles to-day, smooth and pretty and cryptic; but Leonardo, the man, worked with heavy heart as he laid bare the tragedy of his love. The message was for her, if she cared to read it, or for him, that rival for her love; or, if their hearts were pure and free from guilt, then there was no message at all. She was just a pretty woman, soft and gentle and smiling–as Virginia Huff had smiled.

She had not smiled often, Wiley Holman remembered it now, as he went flying across the desert, and always there was something behind; but when she had looked up at Blount and taken his fat hand, then he had read her heart at a glance. If he had taken his punishment and not turned back he would have been spared this great ache in his breast; but no, he was not satisfied, he could not believe it, and so he had received a worse wound. She had been playing with him all the time and, when the supreme moment arrived, she had landed him like a trout; and then, when she had left him belly-up from his disaster, she had turned to Blount and smiled. There was no restraint now; she smiled to the teeth; and Blount and the Directors smiled.

Wiley cursed to himself as he bored into the wind and burned up the road to Keno. The mine was nothing; he could find him another one, but Virginia had played him false. He did not mind losing her–he could find a better woman–but how could he save his lost pride? He had played his hand to win and, when it came to the showdown, she had slipped in the joker and cleaned him. The Widow would laugh when she heard the news, but she would not laugh at him. The road lay before him and his gas tanks were full. He would gather up his belongings and drift. He stepped on the throttle and went roaring through the town, but at the bottom of the hill he stopped. The mine was shut down, not a soul was in sight, and yet he had left but a few hours before.

He toiled wearily up the trail, where he had caught Virginia running and held her fighting in his arms, and the world turned black at the thought. What madness had this been that had kept him from suspecting her when she had opposed his every move from the start. Had she not wrecked his engine and ruined his mill? Then why had he trusted her with his money? And that last innocent visit, when she had asked for her stock, and thanked him so demurely at the end! She would not be dismissed, all his rough words were wasted, until in the end she had leaned over and kissed him. A Judas-kiss? Yes, if ever there was one; or the kiss of Judith of Bethulia. But Judith had sold her kisses to save her people–Virginia had sold hers for gold.

Yes, she had sold him out for money; after rebuking him from the beginning she had stabbed him to the heart for a price. It was always he, Wiley, who thought of nothing but money; who was the liar, the miser, the thief. Everything that he did, no matter how unselfish, was imputed to his love of money; and yet it had remained for Virginia, the censorious and virtuous, to violate her trust for gain. It was not for revenge that she had withheld the payment and snatched a million dollars from his hand; she had told him herself that it was because Blount had returned their stock and she would not throw it away. How quick Blount had been to see that way out and to bribe her by returning the stock–how damnably quick to read her envious heart and know that she would fall for the offer. Well, now let them keep it and smile their smug smiles and laugh at Honest Wiley; for if there ever was a curse on stolen money then Virginia’s would buy her no happiness.

He raised his bloodshot eyes to look for the last time at the Paymaster, which he had fought for and lost. What had they done to save it, to bring it to what it was, to merit it for their own? For years it had lain idle, and when he had opened it up they had fought him at every step. They had shot him down with buckshot, and beaten him down with rocks and threatened his life with Stiff Neck George. His eyes cleared suddenly and he looked about the dump–he had forgotten his feud with George. Yet if his men were gone, who then had driven them out but that crooked-necked, fighting fool? And if George had driven them out, then where was he now with his ancient, filed-down six-shooter? Wiley drew his gun forward and walked softly towards the house, but as he passed a metal ore-car a pistol was thrust into his face. He started back, and there was George.

“Put ’em up!” he snarled, rising swiftly from behind the car, and the hot fury left Wiley’s brain. His anger turned cold and he looked down the barrel at the grinning, spiteful eyes behind.

“You go to hell!” he growled, and George jabbed the gun into his stomach.

“Put ’em up!” he ordered, but some devil of resistance seized Wiley as his hands went up. It was close, too close, and George had the drop on him, but one hand struck out and the other clutched the gun while he twisted his lithe body aside. At the roar of the shot he went for his own gun, leaping back and stooping low. Another bullet clipped his shirt and then his own gun spat back, shooting blindly through the smoke. He emptied it, dodging swiftly and crouching close to the ground, and then he sprang behind the car. There was a silence, but as he listened he heard a gurgling noise, like the water flowing out of a canteen, and a sudden, sodden thump. He looked out, and George was down. His blood was gushing fast but the narrow, snaky eyes sought him out before they were filmed by death. It was over, like a rush of wind.