Chapter 26

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.