by Zane Grey
“It may not be so when you hear the conditions.”
“Mr. Malpass, pray save yourself the trouble of more talk,” replied Virginia. “I am weary of the whole business. I don’t care anything about conditions.”
“But I can take this property away from him as he took it from Forrest.”
“Do it and welcome,” retorted Virginia, coldly. “Ill-gotten wealth never made any man happy. My father was wicked, but I consider you mostly to blame. I will be glad when he is free of you.”
“He’s not going to be free of me unless — —”
“Unless I become your wife?” put in Virginia, as he hesitated, and her derision broke his studied calm.
“Unless you do he will go to jail for a long term.”
“I think you are a liar and a bluff.”
“My dealings with Lundeen do not and never did include this Forrest property,” went on Malpass, ignoring her words. “Nor did I have any share in the silver mine he stole. We used money from that to gain possession of extensive phosphate mines in the south. The controlling interest was mine. I increased my holdings, raising equal capital for him to do the same. We are now deeply involved and he owes me a sum greater than this ranch could bring. If we settle it out of court, well and good, for all of us. But if I take it to court, I will prove he deliberately stole Forrest’s land, fully cognizant of the value of the silver mine. I can prove it because I discovered the mineral.”
“Yes, and you were the brains of the dishonest deal,” rejoined Virginia, hotly.
“To be sure. But at Lundeen’s instigation. Never on paper! There’s not a word to that effect. If you will pardon my saying it, your father is a sapheaded, greedy old cattleman with a tremendous weakness — his hatred of Clay Forrest. Now if you know your West you will certainly realize what would happen to your father if I betrayed him in court — which means betraying him to Clay Forrest.”
“What would happen?” queried Virginia, unable to repress alarm.
“Forrest will kill him!”
“Oh, you are trying to work on my feelings!” cried Virginia. “I don’t believe it. You’ve made this all up to frighten me...Even if it were true, Forrest would kill you, too.”
“That would not be so easy. And the motive would not be so great.”
Virginia veiled her eyes and her own barbed shaft. “Suppose I told Clifton Forrest you burned down his store?”
No guilty man’s effrontery and flinty nerve could mask the truth from a woman’s love and intuition. The instant Virginia’s swift query had passed her lips she divined Malpass had been responsible for the latest misfortune to the Forrests.
“Burned down! — I have been away, you know, and had not heard...Your ridiculous accusation requires no answer.”
Virginia laughed in his face.
“If Clifton Forrest found out what I know he would kill you.”
Malpass arose to push back his chair. “You drift away from the main issue. I warn you to leave young Forrest out of this. I am aware of your interest in him. It has not enhanced his fortunes.”
Virginia sprang up so passionately that her chair fell backward.
“August Malpass, those words betray you, though I never needed words to find out what you are. Do your evilest, señor! This is not old Mexico.”
The hard immobility of Malpass’ olive face changed swiftly to passion. His eyes became flames. With the spring of a panther he was on her, clasping her in his arms. Crushing her to him he kissed her naked throat, then her face, failing of her lips only when Virginia, overcoming a horror of paralysis, tore clear of him with infuriated strength.
“Señorita, you have — invited violence,” he panted, making her an elaborate bow which he had not learned on that range. “I prefer it. Let us be natural. I love a she-cat from hell...Spit! Scratch! Bite!...You will be all the sweeter!”
“If you ever touch me again, I’ll kill you.”
Virginia ran to her room, and locking the door she fell on her bed in an access of rage and hate and fear. When these had worked their will and passed away she rose with a stupendous surprise, and shame the like of which she had never known. Her limbs tottered under her, and the window seat appeared none too close. Could she ever erase the burn and blot of this half-breed’s kisses? That she had kept her lips inviolate helped her but little.
In the ensuing hour she learned the appalling gravity of her predicament.
Her father came to her, a changed and broken man, at first neither commanding nor supplicating. He had always been in Malpass’ power, though ignorant of it till now. With what fiendish dexterity the weaver had enmeshed him!
Malpass had the proofs to convict, the money to ease his own irregularities, the baseness to betray unless he gained the object he so passionately sought.
“Father, I can’t — I can’t!” sobbed Virginia. “How can you ask?...I’d sooner kill myself.”
“It means prison for me — disgrace for you and mother — poverty...Virginia, marry him to save us. You can divorce him later. Give me time to retrieve. Then with money I can fight. Find some way to beat him.”
“Not to save even our lives!” flamed Virginia.
“But wait, daughter. You’re riled now. Take time. Think. You’re not in love with any man. It’d not be so hard. You can leave him — and soon. You can be free.”
“What of my soul?...I’d feel myself debauched. No! No!”
“Virginia, he’ll make you give in, sooner or later. He has the very devil’s power. It’ll be better to have it over. Then we can plan. I swear to God I’ve realized my crime, an’ seek now only to save you an’ mother. Daughter, we’ve gained standin’ as a family these last years. We are somebody. If this comes out I’m done — an’ you an’ mother will hang your heads in shame.”
“You beg what is worse than shame,” retorted Virginia. “My blood boils and revolts. Not an hour ago Malpass insulted me vilely — beyond forgiveness. He taunted me with the power you think he has.”
“I know he has it. You resisted him. Like as not you scorned him. He’ll make you suffer more...Daughter, shore the best way — the only way is to give in — fool him. Fool him! If he has to make you marry him — God help you! For he’s vain, an’ I tell you a half-breed.”
“He can’t force me. This is not old Mexico. I’ll find a way — not only to escape him but to — —”
“Drive him to ruin me — or stain my hands with blood,” harshly interrupted her father. “Daughter, you’ve a duty to me an’ your mother. We begot you, an’ I’ve sinned to give you comforts, luxuries. Horses! I’ve spent thousands on your horses...Think before it’s too late. I can hold Malpass off. Once he thinks there’s a hope of your love he’ll melt. Cheat him! — Cheat him! Make him the poor weak fool he’s made me!”
After her father had tottered out, spent with passion, Virginia saw the abyss that yawned at her feet. For had she not listened to him? Poor man, he was lost indeed. Yet she, too, was weak, uncertain, torn by love one way, and by self-preservation in another.
At length, out of the chaos of her mind resolved a first and imperative necessity — to insure at least her legal freedom from Malpass. So far as physical freedom was concerned, was she not in peril every hour she lived in that house? In her present state of mind she feared it.
If she married some other man, it would not be possible for her father and Malpass to persuade or drive or hypnotize her into a marriage that would mean moral and spiritual death. And the world might as well have contained only one man — Clifton Forrest.
She might — she must induce him to marry her. But how? Once before she had broached the subject, only to be repulsed. Still, his reason had been sound, generous, plausible. She could only respect him for it. Why not formulate a plan on the strength of the very reason he gave — that he was a mere shell of a man, probably doomed to a brief and inactive life? Virginia scouted that idea, though it made her shudder inwardly. Clifton would get well and strong again. She was sure of
it. But she must pretend she believed him, and that under such circumstances he would be rendering her the great service of giving her his name, secretly, so she would have that moral anchor when the storm broke.
Pride alone was sufficient to conceal her love. Still, would she always be proud? Might not her spirit break? When Malpass hounded her into a corner, and her father thundered her out of his house for marrying a Forrest, would she not creep to Clifton’s feet and betray herself? There would be a strange ecstasy in that. But Virginia Lundeen could not quite see herself so prostrate.
Once having made the momentous decision, she would admit no doubts. She would simply have to be strong enough to persuade him. Suddenly she reproached herself. Clifton, learning of her extremity, would offer himself. He had given all for nothing. Never would he begrudge her the stronghold of wifehood.
At her desk, then, she wrote a note urgently requesting Clifton to meet her that evening by the broken corner of wall in his garden. She did not ask for an answer. Sallying forth, singularly strengthened, she strolled down to the barns to get some one to deliver the note.
It would not do to trust one of the Mexicans. Con, the Irish cowboy, would be absolutely reliable.
She found Con and Jake together. In fact, they were always together — a sort of union to combat the horde of Mexicans on the ranch. Jake was a lean, dark, bow-legged cowboy who had been born on the range. Con had been only several years in the West. He was a strong fellow, sandy-haired and freckled. He had big, wide-open, astonished eyes, a light gray in color.
“Mawnin’, boys,” she drawled. “How are you-all?”
“Tolerable, Miss Lundeen,” replied Jake, doffing his sombrero.
“I’m foine, Miss, but when I’m out of worrk I’m out of sorts,” said Con, standing bareheaded and respectful.
“There ought to be loads of work,” returned Virginia, in surprise.
“Shure was, but the horses are gone.”
“Gone! Where?” ejaculated Virginia, with a pang of dismay.
“Back to Watrous.”
“Who ordered my horses there?”
“Malpass,” replied Jake, shortly. “An’ he said we’d not be wanted.”
“Well! — Are all my horses gone?”
“Every last hoof, Miss Virginia.”
“I was not consulted. Wait till I speak to my father. Meanwhile remember that I hire you and I pay you.”
“Shore we know thet. But we’re afeared Malpass is gettin’ high-handed round here,” returned Jake, in worried tones.
“I quite agree with you,” laughed Virginia, without mirth. “Jake, if my car is still here, see that it’s all right for me to run into town this afternoon. And, Con, I’ve an errand for you.”
When Jake slouched away with jingling spurs Virginia asked Con if he had heard about the fire at San Luis which had burned the Forrest store during their trip up in the mountains.
“Yes, Miss, I’ve been down an’ seen it. Shure tough on young Forrest. He had his all in that store.”
“It was too bad. Did you hear any gossip about it?”
“Nuthin’. Mexicans shure ain’t sayin’ a word. Looks funny to me.”
“Well, you take this note down to Mr. Clifton Forrest. Be sure you deliver it today...I’ll see you boys tomorrow and we’ll talk things over — after I see father.”
Upon Virginia’s return to the house she encountered her father moodily pacing the porch. After greeting him she asked him why her horses had been ordered away.
“Daughter, it’s news to me,” he replied, spreading his palms.
“What I’d like to know is this. Are those horses my property?”
“Reckon they are. You’re of age. I gave them to you.”
“I shall go to Watrous and fetch them back.”
“Wal, no one could prevent you. But it’ll only make Malpass sorer. An’ it’s a fact the horses are better off over there. More feed. It costs like sixty heah. An’, daughter, money is scarce.”
“But my allowance, father?”
“I’ll have to cut that off, for the present.”
“Oh! — Well, I can go to work at something.”
“You! At what?” he snapped.
“I might be a waitress or a clerk — if no better offered,” replied Virginia, lightly.
“Nonsense!...Reckon you ought to have some money in the bank. Hope you haven’t overdrawn your account?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea and don’t care in the least. You informed me, upon my return from the East, there was ten thousand left out of my — well, what I thought was mine. I paid my New York bills, which were pretty heavy. And it surely cost enough to entertain my friends. I suppose I’m as — as poor as Clifton Forrest.”
“Then you’re a beggar.”
“What a fall for Virginia Lundeen!...The humiliation of it has not increased my respect and — affection for you, father mine...Where is mother? I haven’t seen her.”
“She’s sick in bed.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. What ails her?”
“Reckon it’s this damned mess that’s knockin’ me,” he growled.
“I’ll go to mother,” said Virginia, soberly, entering the house.
She found Mrs. Lundeen sitting up, quite pale and sick, but evidently not so badly off as her husband had intimated. Nevertheless, Virginia suffered remorse for her neglect of her mother since that first quarrel following her arrival home. It pleased Virginia to grasp that her mother seemed no longer unapproachable.
“Father told me you’d worried yourself sick over this mess here,” said Virginia, presently.
“Perhaps. But I wasn’t so well before it came to a head,” replied Mrs. Lundeen. “I’d like to go to California, if I don’t feel better before winter sets in. Your father laughed. Said by that time we couldn’t afford to go even to Las Vegas. I can’t understand it at all.”
“I do, mother. The nigger in the woodpile is Malpass. He has worked father into some kind of a trap. He absolutely runs the place. Father can’t call his soul his own. I haven’t the least doubt that we’ll lose Cottonwoods.”
“For my part, I’d not care,” returned her mother, wearily. “I’d exchange with the Forrests any day. Down there I had work to do. This is no home. If I were you, Virginia, I’d go away.”
“Mother!” exclaimed Virginia. “Only a little while ago you were urging me to marry Malpass.”
“Yes, I know. Then I thought you might like the man, and it seemed a solution to our troubles. But I’m convinced now you couldn’t save us even if you married Malpass.”
“I’m of the same opinion,” returned Virginia, in grateful gladness at this unexpected attitude of her mother. “Have you told father that?”
“I have, and got called an old fool for my pains. It’s made me think, Virginia, that both Jed and Malpass have gone too far. They think they’re a law unto themselves. I do not count. You are only a means to an end, for your father. Malpass seems to want you the more you deny him. Some men are built that way. Usually they are the kind who tire after they get what they want.”
“Mother, I’m awfully glad to hear you say these things. It helps a good deal, believe me,” responded Virginia, warmly. “I can take care of myself. So don’t worry about me — or anything, for that matter. We’ll get along. And we must think of your health. I’m going in to town today and will ask the doctor about you...I’m happy, mother, that this trouble has brought us closer together.”
“So am I, dear. But don’t make too much of it before your father.”
Virginia drove to Las Vegas in a frame of mind somewhat similar to the one she had experienced the first day up at Emerald Lake. This, however, would have as its culmination the rendezvous with Clifton. The nearer Virginia got to that, the less she dared think of it. Could she play the part and deceive him? They would meet in the dark, though, she reflected; there would be a new moon, and he would not be able to see her plainly.
She reached the Las
Vegas bank, her first objective, after closing hours, but upon being recognized she was admitted. To her relief she found there was a little money left to her credit, and she cashed a check for this balance. Then she sought audience with Mr. Halstead, who had been connected with the church she used to attend. Once he had been a cattleman, as was evinced by his rugged, weathered countenance. Virginia asked him point-blank what was the condition of her father’s finances.
“He is overdrawn here,” replied the banker. “That has occurred before, though never to this present extent. I’m sorry to inform you we refused his last request for a loan. Of course his credit is good here, to a reasonable extent. But we couldn’t see our way to a loan of a hundred thousand. His Southern holdings are worth a million. But they appear to be involved rather deeply with his partner’s.”
“Has Mr. Malpass any dealings with your bank?”
“No. He has not even a checking account.”
“Where does he bank?”
“Albuquerque, so I’ve been informed, but only in small amounts. He must have extensive bank dealings elsewhere.”
“Who pays my father’s Mexican help?”
“No checks have been presented here since Malpass’ connection with your father. The presumption is that they are paid in cash.”
“Will you tell me frankly, Mr. Halstead, what you think of Malpass’ connection with my father?”
“Well, the connection has not inspired greater confidence in your father,” replied Halstead, evasively. “May I ask, Miss Lundeen, if there is any truth in the rumor that you are to marry Malpass?”
“None whatever,” returned Virginia, decisively. “My father wished it, but I refused absolutely.”
“No doubt your many Las Vegas friends will be glad to hear that.”
“You are at liberty to tell them...Thank you, Mr. Halstead, and good afternoon.”
Virginia deduced from this interview that Malpass had little if any reputable standing with Las Vegas men of affairs, and she was equally certain that her father was fast losing their confidence, if not more.
From the bank she went to the family physician, whom she had known as a little girl. He had been called to attend her mother during Virginia’s absence in the mountains. Like most doctors, he would not speak openly. Virginia left his office convinced that her mother had some organic ailment, which, though not serious at present, might eventually become so.