Wild Western Tales 2: 101 Classic Western Stories Vol. 2 (Civitas Library Classics)

by Various

  Nathaniel Leveson visited our county, opened an office, and began to lay his pulpy white hands upon everything which directly or indirectly might produce petroleum. In due season he invited Uncle Jap to dine with him at the Paloma Hotel, in San Lorenzo. The old man, with the hayseed in his hair, and the stains of bitumen upon his gnarled hands, ate and drank of the best, seeing a glorified vision of his Lily crowned with diamonds at last. The vision faded somewhat when Nathaniel began to talk dollars and cents. Even to Uncle Jap, unversed in such high matters as finance, it seemed plain that Leveson & Company were to have the dollars, and that to him, the star-spangled epitome of Yankee grit and get-there were to be apportioned the cents.

  "Lemme see," he said, with the slow, puzzled intonation of the man who does not understand; "I own this yere oil----"

  "Subject to the mortgage, Mr. Panel, I believe?"

  "That don't amount to shucks," said Uncle Jap.

  "Quite so. Forgive me for interrupting you."

  "I own this yere oil-field, lake I call it, and, bar the mortgage, it's bin paid for with the sweat of my--soul."

  He brought out the word with such startling emphasis, that Nathaniel nearly upset the glass of fine old cognac which he was raising to his lips.

  "Yas, my soul," continued Uncle Jap, meditatively. "I risked everything I'd got. Man," he leant across the gaily decorated table, with its crystal, its pink shades, its pretty flowers, and compelled his host to meet his flaming eyes,--"man, I risked my wife's love and respect. And," he drew a deep breath, "by God, I was justified. I got there. If I hadn't," the fire died down in his mild blue eyes, and the thin body seemed to wither and shrink,--"if I hadn't struck it, it would hev killed her, the finest lady in the land, an' me too. It was nip an' tuck with both of us. And now," his voice warmed into life again,--"and now you offer me fifty thousand dollars."

  "I am anxious to treat you right, Mr. Panel. Another glass of brandy? No. Between ourselves the market is getting weaker every day. Fifty thousand profit, perhaps, may seem a small sum to you, but I cannot offer more. You are at perfect liberty to refuse my cheque; others, perhaps----"

  Uncle Jap rose up grim and gaunt.

  "I've ate dinner with you," he murmured, "so I'll say nothing more than 'thank you' and 'good-bye.'"

  "Good-bye, Mr. Panel. At any time, if you have reason to change your mind, I shall be glad to talk business with you."

  Uncle Jap returned to his own hotel to pass a restless night. Next day he sought a certain rich man who had a huge ranch in our county. The rich man, let us call him Dives, had eaten Uncle Jap's figs, and taken his advice, more than once, about cattle.

  "Who's a-buyin' oil lakes?" demanded Uncle Jap.

  "Nathaniel Leveson."

  "Who else?"

  Dives eyed Uncle Jap keenly. Rich men don't tell all they know, otherwise they would not be rich. Still, those figs and that water- melon on a broiling July afternoon had tasted uncommonly good!

  "Look here, Mr. Panel, I think I can guess what has happened. Somebody has tried to squeeze you--eh?"

  "That's so."

  "Um! You're not the first."

  "I wan't squeezed."

  "Not yet, but----Mr. Panel, I should like to do you a service, and I know you to be an intelligent man. Do you see this sheet of blotting- paper?"

  The blotting-paper lay immaculate upon the desk. Dives took a clean quill, dipped it into ink, and held it poised over the white pad. Uncle Jap watched him with interest.

  "This," continued Dives, thoughtfully, "represents you and your ranch, Mr. Panel," he made a small dot upon the blotting-paper. "This," he made a much larger dot, "represents me and all I have. Now Leveson represents--this."

  With a violent motion, quite contrary to his usual gentle, courteous manner, Dives plunged the quill to the bottom of the ink pot, withdrew it quickly, and jerked its contents upon the blotting-paper. A huge purple blot spread and spread till the other small blots were incorporated.

  "D--n him!" spluttered Uncle Jap.

  Dives shrugged his shoulders, and smiled.

  "My advice is: take what Leveson offers."

  "Fifty thousand for millions?"

  "Possibly. Can you touch them, if Omnipotence forbids?"

  Dives stared moodily at the big purple blot; then picking up the sheet of blotting-paper he tore it to pieces with his nervous, finely-formed fingers, and dropped it into the waste-paper basket. When he looked up, he saw that Uncle Jap's mild blue eyes were curiously congested.

  "You might see So-and-so," Dives named a banker. "I'll write a note of introduction." Then he added with a faint inflection of derision: "I fear it will be of no service to you, because few business men care to buy trouble even at a bargain."

  All this Ajax and I heard from Uncle Jap, after he returned from San Lorenzo without selling Sunny Bushes to So-and-so. None the less, he brought back a pair of small diamond ear-rings.

  "Lily's ears ain't pierced," he explained; "but she'll hev a reel splendid time lookin' at 'em, jest as I uster hev with my nightie."

  "Your--nightie?"

  Uncle Jap chuckled and rubbed together his bony hands, cracking the joints.

  "Yas, my nightie. Never tole you boys about that, did I? Wal, about a month before Lily an' me was fixin' up to get merried, she made me a nightie. It was mos' too dressy fer a lady to wear, let alone a critter like me who'd allus slep' in his pants an' day shirt. 'Twas of fine linen, pleated, and fixed with ribands, yaller riband, I chose the colour. Lily was kinder stuck on pale blue, but I liked yaller best. Lily knew what I' do with that nightie, an' I done it. I put it away in the tissoo paper 'twas wrapped in, an' I hev it still. I've got more solid satisfaction out of lookin' at it than I ever hev out o' my bank book. An," he concluded warmly, "Lily's goin' ter feel jest that way about these yere sollytaires."

  What followed immediately afterwards is county history. Uncle Jap decided to borrow money to develop his bonanza. The Autocrat, with tentacles stretching to the uttermost ends of the earth, may--I dare not affirm that he did--have issued instructions that such money as Jaspar Panel asked for was to be paid. Jaspar Panel asked for a good deal, and got it. He sunk more wells and capped them; he built reservoirs, he laid down pipe line. The day of triumph dawned when an English company offered to take all the oil Uncle Jap could supply, provided it were delivered free on board their vessels. Then came the crushing blow that the railroad would not transport Mr. Panel's petroleum. If they did--this was not the reason given by the shipping agents--the Autocrat might be displeased.

  Meantime the banks politely requested Jaspar Panel to meet his obligations.

  Hitherto, Uncle Jap had been a man of simple and primitive beliefs. He had held, for instance, that a beneficent Providence will uphold Right against Might; he had pinned his faith to the flag under which he fought and bled when a boy; he had told his Lily (who believed him) that American citizenship is a greater thing than a Roman's in Rome's palmiest day: a phrase taken whole from the mouth of a Fourth of July orator. Last of all, he had believed devoutly in his own strong hands and will, the partnership of mind and muscle which confronts seemingly insuperable obstacles confident that it can destroy them.

  And now, hour by hour, day by day, conviction settled upon his soul that in this world one only reigned supreme: the Autocrat of Oil, whose High Priest was Nathaniel Leveson. After heart-rending months of humiliation, upon the eve of foreclosure by the banks, Uncle Jap wrote a forlorn letter to Nathaniel, accepting his offer of fifty thousand dollars for the lake of oil. Mr. Leveson, so a subordinate replied, was not buying oil properties! For the moment he was interested in other matters ... Uncle Jap happened to read next day that Leveson, treading in the footsteps of his Master, was about to present a splendid church to the people of San Lorenzo. Uncle Jap stared at the paper till it turned white, till he saw in the middle of it a huge purple blot ever-increasing in size.

  That evening he cleaned his old six-shooter, which had made the climate of
the county so particularly pestilential for the wizard with the hazel twig.

  "Pore critter," he muttered as he wiped the barrel, "he was down to his uppers, but this feller------" Mrs. Panel, putting away the supper things, heard her husband swearing softly to himself. She hesitated a moment; then she came in, and seeing the pistol, a gasp escaped her.

  "What air you doin' with that, Jaspar Panel?"

  Uncle Jap coughed.

  "There's bin a skunk around," he said. "I've kind o' smelled him for weeks past, hain't you?"

  "I never knowed you to shoot a skunk with anything but a shot-gun."

  "That's so. I'd disremembered. Wonder if I kin shoot as straight as I used ter?"

  For answer his wife, usually so undemonstrative, bent down, took the pistol from his hand, put it back into the drawer, and, slightly blushing, kissed the old man's cheek.

  "Why, Lily, what ails ye?"

  His surprise at this unwonted caress brought a faint smile to her thin lips.

  "Nothing."

  "Ye ain't tuk a notion that yer goin' to die?"

  "Nothing ails me, Jaspar," her voice was strong and steady. "I'm strong as I was twenty year ago, or nearly so. I kin begin life over agen, ef I hev to."

  "Who said you hed to?" enquired her husband fiercely. "Who said you hed to?" he repeated. "Susan Jane Fullalove? I'd like ter wring her dam neck. Oh, it wan't her, eh? Wal, you take if from me that you ain't agoin' to begin life agen onless it's in a marble hall sech as you've dreamed about ever since you was shortcoated. Let me hear no more sech talk. D'ye hear?"

  "I hear," she answered meekly, and went back to her kitchen.

  * * * * *

  Next day she came to us across the cow-pasture as we were smoking our pipes after the mid-day meal. We guessed that no light matter had brought her afoot, with such distress upon her face.

  "I'm in trouble," she said nervously.

  "We are your friends," said Ajax gravely.

  "Jaspar's gone to town," she gasped.

  Uncle Jap, since the striking of the oil, had been in the habit of going to town so often that this statement aroused no surprise. We waited for more information.

  "I'm scared plum ter death," Mrs. Panel continued. "I want ter foller him at onst. Jaspar's taken the team. I thought maybe you'd hitch up and drive me in this afternoon--now."

  The last word left her lips with a violence that was positively imperative.

  "Certainly," said Ajax. He turned to leave the room. We neither of us asked a question. Upon the threshold he addressed me:

  "I'll bring the buggy round while you change."

  I reflected that it was considerate of Ajax to allow me to drive Mrs. Panel the twenty-six miles between our ranch and San Lorenzo. I nodded and went into my bedroom.

  * * * * *

  For the first ten miles, Mrs. Panel never opened her lips. I glanced occasionally at her impassive face, wondering when she would speak. Somehow I knew that she would speak, and she did. It was like her to compress all she had left unsaid into the first sentence.

  "Jaspar's gone plum crazy with trouble! he took his six-shooter with him."

  After that, details given with a descriptive realism impossible to reproduce. The poor creature revealed herself to me during the next few minutes as I feel sure she had never revealed herself to her husband.

  "He's mad, plum crazy," she pleaded. "Nobody knows what he's suffered but me. I don't say it ain't a jedgment, mebbe it is. We thought we was jest about right. The pride we took in Sunny Bushes was sinful; yas, it was. The Lord has seen fit to chastise us, an' I'm willin', I tole Jaspar so, ter begin agen. We're healthy, an strong, though we don't look it, I'll allow. Jaspar is plum crazy. His words las' night proved it. He said we might begin life agen in a marble hall sech as I hed dreamed about. Good land o' Peter! I never dreamed of marble halls in all my life, but I dassn't contradict him."

  "He believes you dreamed of them," I said, "and he is quite sure you ought to live in them."

  "He thinks the world o' me," said Mrs. Panel, in a softer tone, "but this world an' the next won't turn him from what he's set his mind to do. I'd oughter be ashamed o' speakin' so of him, but it's so. Mercy! I hev been talkin'."

  She said no more till we descended from the buggy in the livery stable where Jaspar was in the habit of putting up his horses.

  "You ain't seen Mr. Panel, hev you?" she asked the ostler.

  "He's around somewheres," the man replied. With this information we started out to look for him. Away from the familiar brush hills, confronted by strange faces, confused, possibly, by the traffic, my companion seemed so nervous and helpless that I dared not leave her. Almost unconsciously, we directed our steps towards the Amalgamated Oil Company's office. Here we learned that Leveson was in town, and that Uncle Jap had called to see him.

  "Did he see him?" Mrs. Panel's voice quavered.

  "No," the clerk answered curtly; then he added: "Nobody sees the boss without an appointment. We told Mr. Panel to call to-morrow."

  If the clerk had spoken with tongues of angels Lily could not have assumed a more seraphic expression.

  "An' where is he now?" she asked.

  "Your husband, ma'am? I can't tell you."

  "I mean Mr. Leveson."

  "He's in there," the private room was indicated, "and up to his eyes in work. He won't quit till he goes to dinner at the Paloma. D'ye hear the typewriters clicking? He makes things hum when he's here, and don't you forget it."

  "I shall never forget that," said Mrs. Panel, in an accent which made me remember that her grandfather had been a graduate of Harvard University. "Good-afternoon."

  We walked on down the street. Suddenly, Mrs. Panel staggered, and might have fallen had I not firmly grasped her arm.

  "I dunno' what ails me," she muttered.

  "Did you eat any breakfast this morning?"

  "I dunno' as I did," she admitted with reluctance.

  "Did you eat any dinner?"

  "Mebbee I didn't." Her innate truthfulness compelled her to add with a pathetic defiance: "I couldn't hev swallered a mossel to save my life."

  I took her to a restaurant, and prescribed a plate of soup and a glass of wine. Then I said with emphasis:

  "Now, look here, Mrs. Panel! I want you to rest, while I hunt up Mr. Panel. When I find him I'll bring him to you."

  "An' s'pose he won't come?"

  "He will come."

  "No, he won't; not till he's done what he's set his mind to do. Was you aimin' to hunt fer Jaspar up an' down this town?"

  "Certainly. It's not as big as you think."

  "'Pears to me it'd be a better plan to keep an eye on the other feller."

  With a woman's instinct she had hit the mark.

  "Perhaps it would," I admitted.

  "I noticed one or two things," she continued earnestly. "Near the office is an empty lot with trees and bushes. I'd as lief rest there as here ef it's the same to you. Then you kin look around for Jaspar, if ye've a mind to."

  "And if I find him?"

  "Watch him, as I shall watch the other feller."

  "And then----"

  "The rest is in the dear Lord's hands."

  She adjusted the thick veil which Southern Californian women wear to keep the thick dust from their faces, and together we returned to Leveson's office. Passing the door, I could hear the typewriters still clicking. Mrs. Panel sat down under a tree in the empty lot, and for the first time since we had met that day spoke in her natural tones.

  "I come away without feeding the chickens," she said.

  I looked at my watch; it was nearly six. One hour of daylight remained. Leveson, I happened to know, was in the habit of dining about half-past six. He often returned to the office after dinner. Between the Hotel Paloma, which lay just outside the town and the office ran a regular service of street cars. Leveson was the last man in the world to walk when he could drive. It seemed reasonably certain that Jaspar, failing to see Leveson at the office, would try
to speak to him at the hotel. From my knowledge of the man's temperament and character, I was certain that he would not shoot down his enemy without warning. So I walked up to the hotel feeling easier in my mind. The clerk, whom I knew well, assigned me a room. I saw several men in the hall, but not Uncle Jap.

  "Does Mr. Leveson dine about half-past six?" I asked.

  The clerk raised his brows.

  "That's queer," he said. "You're the second man to ask that question within an hour. Old man Panel asked the same thing."

  "And what did you tell him?"

  "Mr. Leveson don't dine till seven. He goes to the church first."

  If the man had said that Leveson went to Heaven I could not have been more surprised. Then I remembered what I had read in the local papers. I had not seen the church yet. I had not wished to see it, knowing that every stone in it was paid for with the sweat--as Uncle Jap had put it--of other men's souls.

  "Where is this church?"

  "You don't know? Third turning to the left after passing the Olive Branch Saloon."

  "Leveson owns that too, doesn't he?"

  The clerk yawned. "I dare say. He owns most of the earth around here, and most of the people on it."

  I walked quickly back towards the town, wondering what took Leveson to the church. No doubt he wanted to see if he were getting his money's worth, to note the day's work, perhaps to give the lie to the published statement that he built churches and never entered them. Nearly half-an-hour had passed since I left Mrs. Panel.