CHAPTER X
THE BANK PUTS ON THE SCREWS
In the initial excitement it had seemed a simple matter to apprehend themurderer of Mormon Joe with such clues as were furnished by the axe, therope, the shotgun and the button, which were found in the snow beneaththe window. But investigation showed that the axe and rope were nodifferent from scores of other axes and ropes in Prouty, and it was soonrecognized that the solution of the case hinged upon the ownership ofthe gun and the finding of a motive for this peculiarly cowardly andingenious murder.
But no one could be found to identify the gun, nor could any amount ofinquiry unearth an enemy with a grudge sufficiently deep to inspiremurder.
Although the room was packed to the doors, nothing startling wasanticipated from the coroner's inquest; and while Kate had been summonedas a witness it was not expected that much would be learned from hertestimony. The crowd was concerned chiefly in seeing "how she was takingit."
But curiosity became suspicion and suspicion conviction, when Kate, aswhite as the alabastine wall behind her, admitted that she and MormonJoe had quarreled the night before the murder, and over money; that sheknew how to set a trap-gun and had set them frequently for mountainlions; that she could ride forty miles in a few hours if necessary. Thesensation came, however, when the coroner revealed the fact that underthe dead man's will she was the sole beneficiary. Her denial of anyknowledge of this was received incredulously, and her emphaticdeclaration that she had never before seen the shotgun carried noconviction.
The coroner and jury, after deliberation, decided that there was notsufficient evidence to hold her, but the real argument which freed herwas the cost to the taxpayers of convening a Grand Jury, and thesubsequent proceedings, if the jury decided to try her.
Kate would as well have been proven guilty and convicted, for all thedifference the verdict of the coroner's jury made in the staring crowdthat parted to let her pass as she came from the inquest. She had untiedher horse with the unseeing eyes of a sleep-walker and was about to puther foot in the stirrup when Lingle came up to her.
"I'm goin' to do all I can to clear you," he said, earnestly, "and I gotthe mayor behind me. He said he'd use every resource of his office toget this murderer. I believe in you--and don't you forget it!"
She had not been able to speak, but the look in her eyes had thankedhim.
Two days later, Kate was disinfecting the wound of a sheep that anuntrained dog had injured when a note from the Security State Bank washanded her by one of Neifkins' herders. It was signed by its President,Mr. Vernon Wentz, late of the White Hand Laundry, and there wassomething which filled her with forebodings in the curt request for animmediate interview.
It was too late to start for Prouty that day, but she would leave earlyin the morning, so she went on applying a solution of permanganate ofpotassium to the wound and sprinkling it with a healing powder while sheconjectured as to what Wentz might want of her.
In her usual work Kate found an outlet for the nervous tension underwhich she was still laboring. It helped a little, though it seemedimpossible to believe that she ever again would be serene of mind andable to think clearly. Her thoughts were a jumble; as yet she could onlyfeel and suffer terribly. Remorse took precedence over all otheremotions, over the sense of loneliness and loss, over the appallingaccusation. Her writhing conscience was never quiet. She would gladlyhave exchanged every hope of the future she dared harbor for fiveminutes of the dead man's life in which to beg forgiveness.
In the short interval since the coroner's inquest public opinion hadcrystallized in Prouty, and Kate's guilt was now a certainty in theminds of its citizens.
"She done it, all right, only they can't prove it on her." HiramButefish merely echoed the opinion of the community when he made theassertion, upon seeing Kate turn the corner by the Prouty House and ridedown the main street the day following the delivery of Mr. Wentz'ssummons.
Suffering had made Kate acutely sensitive and she was quick to feel theatmosphere of hostility. She read it in the countenances of thepassersby on the sidewalk, in the cold eyes staring at her from thewindows, in the bank president's uncompromising attitude, even in thecashier's supercilious inventory as he looked her over.
Kate had entered the wide swinging doors of the bank simultaneously withMr. Abram Pantin, at whom Mr. Wentz had waved a long white hand andrequested him languidly to be seated. Since he already had motioned Kateto the only chair beside the one he himself occupied in his enclosure,it was clear there was no way for Mr. Pantin to accept the invitationunless he sat on the floor. It chafed Pantin exceedingly to bepatronized by one who so recently had done his laundry, but since hisbusiness at the bank was of an imperative nature he concealed hisannoyance with the best grace possible and waited.
Temporarily, at least, Mr. Wentz had lost his equilibrium. From washingthe town's soiled linen to loaning it money was a change so sudden andradical that the rise made him dizzy; he was apt, therefore, to be alittle erratic, his manner varying during a single conversation from thecold austerity of a bloodless capitalist to the free and easy democracyof the days when he had stood in the doorway of his laundry in hisundershirt and "joshed" the passersby.
Mr. Wentz had a notion, fostered by his wife, that he was rather ahandsome fellow. True, years of steaming had given to his complexion alook not unlike that of an evaporated apple, but this small defect wasmore than offset by a luxuriant brown mustache which he had trainedcarefully. His hair was sleek and neatly trimmed, and he used his browneyes effectively upon occasions. His long hands with their supplefingers were markedly white, also from the steaming process. Being talland of approximately correct proportions, his ready-made clothes fittedhim excellently--as a matter of fact, Vernon Wentz would have passed fora "gent" anywhere.
Not unmindful of the presence of Mr. Pantin, of whom he secretly stoodin awe, although he knew of his own knowledge that Pantin sheared hiscollars, Wentz swung about in his office chair and said abruptly:
"Didn't expect I'd have to send for you."
Kate's troubled eyes were fixed upon him.
"I had nothing to come for."
It pleased Mr. Wentz to regard her with a smile of tolerant amusement.
"Don't know anything about finance, do you?"
"I've never had any business to attend to. I will learn, though."
Wentz smiled enigmatically. Then, brusquely:
"We might as well come to the point and have it over--do you know themsheep's mortgaged?"
"I knew," hesitatingly, "that Uncle Joe had borrowed for our expenses,but I didn't know how he did it."
"That's how he did it," curtly. "And the mortgage includes the leasesand the whole bloomin' outfit."
"But he only borrowed a few hundred," she ventured.
"We require ample security," importantly.
"What is it you want of me?" Kate's voice trembled slightly. The importof the interview was beginning to dawn upon her.
Wentz cleared his throat and announced impressively:
"There was a meeting of the directors called yesterday and it wasdecided that the bank must have its money."
She cried aghast:
"I haven't it, Mr. Wentz!"
"Then there's only one alternative."
"You mean ship the sheep?"
Wentz stroked his mustache.
"That's about the size of it."
"But sheep are way down," she protested. "It would take almost the twobands at present to pay off the debt and shipping expenses."
"That's not our funeral."
"And the leases are of no value without stock for them."
Mr. Wentz lowered his silken lashes and suggested smoothly as hecontinued to caress the treasured growth gently:
"Neifkins might be induced to take the leases off your hands at anominal figure."
Mr. Pantin cooling his heels at the outer portals smiled. He knew whatKate did not--that Neifkins was one of the directors.
"But the notes are not due
until early next summer--after shearing.Uncle Joe told me so."
"True," he assented. Then with a large air of erudition: "The law,however, provides for such cases as this. When the security of themortgager is in jeopardy through incompetence or other causes he canforeclose immediately."
Kate paled as she listened.
"But there's no danger, Mr. Wentz," she protested breathlessly. "Yourmoney's as safe as when Uncle Joe was living. I understand sheep--hesaid I was a better sheepman than he was because I had more patience andlike them. I'll watch them closer than ever--day or night I'll neverleave them. I'll promise you! I've got a good herder now and between uswe can handle them."
Mr. Wentz shrugged a skeptical shoulder.
"You couldn't convince the directors of that. There's none of 'em wantsto risk the bank's money with a woman in that kind of business."
"But can't you see," she pleaded, "that it's ruin to ship now? It willwipe me out completely. Put some one out there of your own choosing, ifyou can't trust me, but don't make me sell with the bottom out of themarket!"
"You've got the bank's decision," he responded, coldly.
"Please--please reconsider! Just give me a chance--you won't be sorry! Ionly know sheep--I've never had the opportunity to learn anything else,and I've no place to go but that little homestead back in the hills.I've no one in the world to turn to. Won't you give me a trial, and thenif you see I can't handle it--"
"It's no use arguin'." Wentz brought both hands down on the arms of thechair in impatient finality. "We're goin' to ship as soon as we can getcars and drive to the railroad, so you might as well turn them sheepover and stop hollerin'."
Kate rose and took a step forward, her hands outstretched in entreaty:
"Once more I ask you--give me a little time--I'll try and raise themoney somewhere--ten days--give me ten days--I beg of you!"
"Ten years or ten days or ten minutes--'twould be all the same," hisvoice was raucous as he, too, stood up. He looked at her contemptuously."No; it's settled. The bank's goin' to take over them sheep, and ifthere's anything left after the mortgage is satisfied you'll get it." Heindicated that the interview was over. "Step in, Pantin."
For the second time within the week Kate went out in the street stunnedby the blow which had been dealt her: She stood uncertainly for a momenton the edge of the sidewalk and then began slowly to untie the bridlereins.
"Here's a message that came for you yesterday; we had no way of gettingit to you." The girl from the telephone office was regarding hercuriously.
Kate turned at the sound of a voice beside her, and took the messagewhich had been telephoned from the nearest telegraph office.
Have just learned of your trouble. Is there anything I can do for you? All sympathy.
HUGH
She read it twice, carefully, while her eyes filled with tears oflonging, then she accompanied the girl to the telephone office where shewrote her answer.
I need nothing. Thank you.
KATE PRENTICE
In the meantime Mrs. Toomey was becoming acquainted with a new phase ofher husband's character. She had thought she was familiar with all sidesof it, those for which she loved him and those which taxed her patienceand loyalty; but this moroseness, this brooding ugliness, was different.
He smoked continuously, ate little, drank more coffee than ever she hadknown him to, and at night twisted and turned restlessly. She could notaccount for it, since, so far as she knew, there was no more to troublehim than the usual worry as to where their next meals were coming from.
She surreptitiously studied his face wearing this new expression, andasked herself what would become of him with his violent temper,illogical reasoning and lack of balance, if it were not for therestraint of their association? Daily he became a stronger convert tothe doctrine that the world owed every one--himself in particular--aliving. It was one Mrs. Toomey did not hold with.
She was thankful now that she had not told him of Kate and her promiseand aroused hopes that would only have meant further disappointment, inview of developments. She knew, of course, the current gossip to theeffect that the Security State Bank was about to foreclose and "set Kateafoot," as the phrase was.
Mrs. Toomey was truly sorry. Her liking for Kate was more genuine thanany feeling of the kind she had had for another woman in a longer timethan she could remember. Because, perhaps, the girl was so strikinglyher opposite in every particular, she admired Kate exceedingly. Thefreshness of her candid friendly face, her general wholesomenessattracted her. She felt also the latent strength of character beneaththe ingenuous surface, and the girl's courage and self-reliance drew herin her own trembling uncertainty at this period, like a magnet.
Mrs. Toomey's impulses were more often kind than otherwise, and shewould have liked nothing better than to have gone to Kate in thiscrisis, for she believed thoroughly in Kate's innocence and guessed howmuch she needed a woman's friendship. Mrs. Toomey had a rather activeconscience and it troubled her.
Naturally, she had not forgotten the "handshake agreement" which was tocement their friendship, but she argued that as Kate had not been ableto fulfill her share of it she could not be expected to live up to herend, since it would mean opposition from Jap and no benefit to offsetit. But in her heart Mrs. Toomey knew that it was not Jap she feared somuch as the disapproval of Mrs. Abram Pantin.
Toomey was brooding as usual, when footsteps were heard on the woodensidewalk and a sharp rap followed.
Mrs. Toomey was kneading bread on the kitchen table. Toomey had sold apair of silver sugar tongs to a cowpuncher who opined that they were thevery thing he had been looking for with which to eat oysters. Theslipperiness of a raw oyster annoyed and embarrassed him, so hepurchased the tongs gladly, and the sack of flour which resulted gaveMrs. Toomey a feeling of comparative security while it lasted.
She called through the doorway:
"You go, Jap. I'm busy."
He arose mechanically, opened the door, started back, then stepped outand closed it after him. At the kitchen table Mrs. Toomey saw thepantomime and was curious.
The sound of voices raised in altercation followed. She recognized thatof Teeters.
"I tell you it is, Toomey! I'll swear to it! I'd know it anywherebecause of that peculiarity!"
She could not catch the words of a second speaker, but the tone wasequally aggressive and unfriendly.
"Then prove it!" Toomey's voice was shrill with excitement and defiant.
They all lowered their voices abruptly as though they had beenadmonished, but the tones reached her, alternately threatening,argumentative, even pleading.
What in the world was it all about, she wondered as she kneaded.
For twenty minutes or more it lasted, and then Teeters' voice cameclearly, vibrating with contempt as well as purpose:
"You got a yellow streak a yard wide and if it takes the rest of ournatural life Lingle and me between us are goin' to prove it!"
Toomey's answer was a jeering laugh of defiance, but when he came in andslammed the door behind him, she saw that his face was a sickly yellowand his shaking hand spilled the tobacco which he tried to pour upon acigarette paper.
She waited a moment for an explanation but, since it was notforthcoming, asked anxiously:
"What's the matter, Jap?"
He did not hear her.
She persisted:
"Who was it?"
"Teeters and Lingle."
"The deputy sheriff?"
He nodded.
She came a little further into the room with her flour-covered hands.
"What did they want, Jap, that's so upset you?"
"I'm not upset!" He glared at her. His trembling hand could not touchthe match to the cigarette paper.
"It's only right that you should tell me," she said firmly.
His eyes wavered.
"It's about the cook stove; Teeters wants to foreclose the mortgage."
She regarded him fixedly, turned, and sta
rted for the kitchen. She knewthat he was lying.
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