by Rex Beach
CHAPTER VIII
The luncheon hour was long in arriving, and when it did come aroundCalvin Gray regretted that he had elected to play a game ofmake-believe with "Miss Good," for she rigidly held him to his promise,and however adroitly he undertook to ascertain who or what she was, shefoiled him. It gave her a mischievous pleasure to evade his carefullylaid conversational traps, and what little he learned came from MaBriskow. Briefly, it amounted to this: Miss Good was what the elderwoman called "home folks," but she had been schooled in the East.Moreover, she was in the oil business. This last bit of intelligencenaturally intrigued the man, and he undertook to gain furtherillumination, but only to have the girl pretend that he knew all aboutit. He accepted this checkmate with the best possible grace, butrevenged himself by assuming the airs and privileges of a friend moreintimate even than Miss Good had implied, a pretense that confused andeven annoyed her. For some reason this counterfeit pleased him; it wasextremely agreeable even to pretend a close acquaintance with this girl.
The luncheon went off gaily enough, then Gray was again banished withinstructions to return at closing time.
"You took a mean, a malicious advantage of an offer intended only tospare your feelings. And you haven't any," he told Miss Good when theyhad a chance for a word alone.
"I have no feelings?"
"None. Or you'd see that I'm perishing of curiosity."
She shook her head, and her blue eyes laughed at him provokingly."Curiosity is fatal only to cats. It is good for people."
"I shall find out all about you."
"How?"
"By cross-examining the Briskows, perhaps."
"But they're waiting to have you tell them what you know. I've seen tothat."
"If they ask any questions, I'll invent a story. I'll act confused,self-conscious. I'll make them think you are a much dearer friend thanI have pretended, so far; dearer, even, than I can hope you ever willbe."
"That wouldn't be fair."
"There are occasions when everything is fair. Perhaps these storepeople know something--"
"Nothing whatever."
"Then, for Heaven's sake, release me from my pledge!" Gray spokedesperately. "When I return, permit me to ask those thousand questions,and what others occur to me. Won't you?"
The girl pondered this request briefly, then smiled. "Very well. If youare still curious, when you see me, I'll tell you who I am."
"A bargain! I'll be back early." More seriously, Gray declared: "I musttell you right now how perfectly splendid I think you are. You havecompletely renewed my belief in human kindness, and I'm sure your namemust be Miss Good."
But a disappointment awaited Calvin Gray when, late that afternoon, hereturned to the store. Miss Good had gone. At first he refused tobelieve Ma Briskow's statement, but it was true: she had disappeared asquietly and as unobtrusively as she had appeared, and, what was moreannoying, she had left no word whatever for him. This was practicaljoking, for a certainty, and Gray told himself that he abhorredpractical jokes. It was a jolt to his pride to have his attentions thusignored, but what irked him most was the fact that he was stopped, byreason of his deceit, from making any direct inquiries that might leadto a further acquaintance with the girl.
Mrs. Briskow, however, was in no condition either to note his dismay orto volunteer information upon any except one subject; to wit, corns.Human hearts were of less concern to her, for the time being, thanhuman feet, and hers were killing her. She began a recital of hersufferings, as intimate, as agonizing, and as confidential as if Graywere a practicing chiropodist. What she had to say about tight shoeswas bitter in the extreme; she voiced a gloomy conviction that thealarming increase in suicides was due to bunions. The good womanconfessed that she dearly loved finery and had bought right and leftwith reckless extravagance, but all the merchandise in this departmentstore was not worth the anguish she had endured this day. With herstiff little bonnet tilted carelessly over her wrinkled forehead, shedeclared emphatically that she would gladly swap all her purchases atthis moment for a tub of hot water.
"Where is Allie?" Gray inquired.
"Lord knows! She's som'eres around bein' worked over by a couple ofwomen. Gettin' her hair washed an' her finger nails cured an' I dunnowhat not. Mercy me! The things Miss Good had 'em do to her! An' themoney we've spent! Allie's gone hog wild." The complaint ended in astifled moan induced perhaps by some darting pain, then without furtherado Ma Briskow unbuttoned one shoe and removed it. "Whew!" She leanedback in her chair, wiggled her stockinged toes, and feebly fannedherself. "But wait till you see her. I can't scarcely reco'nize my ownflesh an' blood. I never seen such a change in a human person."
Gray pretended to listen as the good woman babbled on, but he wasthinking about the girl who had disappeared. He was surprised at thekeenness of his chagrin. He had seen Miss Good but a short time, andshe had made no effort whatever to excite his interest; nevertheless,she remained a tantalizingly vivid picture in his mind. It wasextraordinary.
So engrossed was he in his thoughts that he did not notice AlleghenyBriskow until she stood close beside him. Then, indeed, he experienceda shock, for it was difficult to recognize in this handsome, modishyoung woman the awkward, ill-dressed country girl he had seen at noon.Allie was positively stunning. She was completely transformed from thesoles of her well-shod feet to the tip of her French coiffure, and whatwas more astonishing, she had lost much of her self-consciousness andcarried herself with a native grace that became her well.
"Why, _Allie!_" Gray exclaimed. "You're wonderful! Let me see you." Hestood off and gazed at her while she revolved before him.
"Sakes alive! Who'd ever s'pose you'd look like _that!_" the motherexclaimed.
"Miss Good told me I'd look nice, but I didn't believe her. Do I?"
"You're wonderful, Allie." Gray said it with conviction.
"Honest? You ain't laughin' at me?" The amazon's voice quavered.
"Can't you see? Look at yourself. I'm proud of you."
"I--She said--" Allegheny twisted her hands, she cast an appealingglance at her mother, but the latter was staring at her in openamazement, slowly nodding her head and clucking.
"Tse! Tse! Tse!" It was an approving cluck, and it had a peculiareffect upon the girl. Allegheny's tears started, she turned suddenlyand hid her face in her hands.
Gray crossed quickly to her side, saying: "There! We've overdone it thefirst day, and you're tired."
"I _ain't_ tired." His sympathy brought audible sobs; the girl'sshoulders began to heave.
"Well, _I_ am," the mother complained. "I'm wore to the bone. Allie!You dry up an' stop that snivelin' so we kin go home and I kin let myfeet swell, an' scream."
"You're not too tired, I hope, to have dinner with Allie and me in thebig dining room at the Ajax?" Gray said, gayly. "You'll be all rightafter an hour's rest, and--'I want to show her off, if her nose isn'ttoo red."
"I 'ain't seen that girl cry in ten years," Ma declared, in mingledwonderment and irritation. "Why, she didn't cry when Number One blowedin."
Allie spoke between her sobs. "There wasn't nothin' to cry for, then.But--Miss Good said I--I'd look jest as purty as other folks when I gotfixed up. An' _he_ says--I do."
Gray decided that all women are vain. Nevertheless, it surprised him todiscover the trait so early in Allegheny Briskow.
It was on the second day thereafter that Gus Briskow appeared at thehotel. He came unexpectedly, and he still wore his rough ranch clothes.After an hour or more spent with his wife and daughter, he went down toGray's room and thanked him for the assistance he had rendered the twowomen.
Followed a few moments of desultory conversation, then he put an abruptquestion: "Mr. Gray, you're a rich man, ain't you?"
"I--am so considered."
"Um-m! Dunno's I'm glad or sorry."
"Indeed! What difference can it make to you?"
"A lot. It's like this: my boy Buddy has took a turrible shine to you,an' he can't talk about nothin' else. I was sort
of hopin'--"
"Yes?"
"Buddy's ignerunt. He can read an' write an' figger some, but he's gotabout the same company manners as a steer, an' he's skeered of crowds.When he sees strangers he's liable to charge 'em or else throw up hishead an' his tail an' run plumb over a cliff. He'd ought to go toschool, but he says he's too big, an' he'd have to set with a lot oflittle children. Him an' Allie's alike, that way--it r'ars 'em up ontheir hind feet to be laughed at."
"Get a tutor for them."
"A what?" When Gray had explained the meaning of the word, Mr.Briskow's face cleared. "That's what I figgered on, but I didn't knowwhat you called 'em. That's why I'm sorry you're so well off. Y' seeI'd of paid you anything--I'd of doubled whatever you're gettin'--" Thespeaker raised a hopeful gaze; he paused as if to make sure that hishearer was beyond temptation. "I thought mebbe him and you'd like totravel some--go to furrin places--see the hull world. I kin afford it."
"Thank you for the compliment, but--"
"I got some big deals on, an' Buddy's got to learn enough so's to hangonto what's comin' to him an' Allie. He needs a man like you to learnhim, an' be an example. It would be a payin' job, Mister Gray."
It was in a voice graver than usual that the younger man spoke:"Briskow, you're sensible enough to understand plain talk. I'm not afit man to teach Buddy what he ought to know. In fact, I'm about theworst person you could select."
"How so?"
"Because I'm a good deal of a--rotter. I couldn't permit Buddy to makea mess of his life, such as I've made of mine."
The father sighed. "I s'pose you know, but--Well, I'm disapp'inted. Butit wasn't hully on that account I come to Dallas. Ma told me over thetelephone how nice you been an' what you done for her 'n' Allie, so Isays to myself I'll square things by givin' him a chance to make somemoney."
Gray stirred slightly in his chair and regarded the speaker more keenly.
"When oil come in at Ranger, nobody thought it would get out our way,but Ma had a dream--a lot of dreams--about oil on our farm, so I got anoutfit to come there an' drill. Folks thought we was crazy, and wedidn't expect they'd find much, ourselves--a few bar'l a day would oflooked big--but I allus had ambitions to be good an' rich, so I gotoptions on quite a bit of acreage. It didn't take no money at the time,'cause land was what people had most of. Along with the rest, there's ahundred an' sixty right next to ours--hill stuff that wouldn't feed agoat. It's wuth a lot of money now, but the option's 'most run out."
"When does it expire?"
"Saturday."
"That's to-morrow."
Gus Briskow nodded. "It's cheap at a thousand dollars an acre, an' itcosts two hundred."
"Of course you'll take it."
"Nope."
"Why not?"
"Per one thing, I got a lot of other land just as good an' mebbebetter, an' I been takin' it up out of the royalties that come in. Wegot enough sure money in sight to do us, but I promised Ma to playsafe, an'--we can't take everything. You kin have that option, MisterGray, for nothin'. You kin sell the lease inside of a week an' makefifty thousand dollars, or you kin hold it an' make mebbe a million.All it'll cost you is thirty-two thousand dollars. I don't make a centout of it."
"Thirty-two thousand dollars! Not much, is it?"
"It ain't nothin' to a man like you."
Gray nodded and smiled queerly as he thanked the nester, then from hispockets he removed several crumpled wads of currency and a handful ofsilver. These he counted before saying: "What capital I have isentirely liquid--it's all in cash. There is eighty-seven dollars andforty-three cents. It is every dollar in the world that I possess."
"Huh?" Gus Briskow's bright eyes searched the smiling countenancebefore him. "You're--jokin'. I thought you said you was rich."
"I am rich. I don't owe a nickel, and won't, until my hotel bill isdue, day after to-morrow. I'm in full possession of all my faculties.I'm perfectly healthy and cheerful. I know men who would pay a milliondollars for my health alone, and another million to enjoy my frame ofmind. That's two million--"
"Well--doggone _me_!" There was a pause, then the speaker brightened."Mebbe you'll take Buddy, after all? You kin set your own wages."
Gray shook his head. "There are two good reasons why I couldn't accept,even if I wished. I've told you one; I'm too fond of you Briskows torisk ruining Buddy."
"What's the other one?"
"A purely personal reason. I have a definite something to do here inTexas. Before I can accomplish it, I shall have to make a lot of money,but that I shall do easily. I make money rapidly when I start."
"You gotta git goin' afore long." Briskow allowed his eyes to roveabout the spacious Governor's suite. "'Specially with only eighty-sevenforty--"
"That is nearly eighty-seven dollars more than I had when I arrived.Three weeks ago I was an utter stranger here; to-day I know everybodyworth knowing in a business way, and some of them are my friends."
"If you could learn Buddy to make friends like that--"
But Gray raised his hand. "I derive a certain amusement from my ownpeculiar characteristics and capabilities, but I should detest them inanother."
"Well, you sure need money, and--I kin he'p you out."
"Thank you, but I sha'n't borrow. If the time were not so short, Icould probably turn this lease you so kindly offered me. But somethingelse will happen along."
Briskow sighed. "I could of sold it myself--thought I had it sold to abunch from Wichita, but they tricked me. I offered it the day you wasat our house for eighty thousand and Nelson more 'n half agreed to--"
"_Who?_"
Briskow looked up at the tone of this inquiry. "One of the fellers fromWichita Falls. I s'pose he knowed the option was about run out; anyhow,he's been holdin' me off from day to day till it's too late now fer meto--"
"What is his name?" Gray broke in, sharply. "Name's Nelson. BellNelson's son. Bell's hard-boiled, but--"
"Henry Nelson?"
"That's him."
Gray rose from his chair and strode swiftly to the window. He stoodthere staring down into the street for a moment before saying, curtly,"Go on!"
"You know them Nelsons?"
"I know--Henry."
"He's hard-boilder 'n his old man. They got a lot o' money behind'em--too much money to act like he done with me. I sure hate to see himgit that Evans lease for next to nothin', after the way he done. I'dcall it cheat-in', but--well, I can't han'le it."
The man at the window wheeled suddenly and his face was white, hisbrows were drawn down. "By God!" he cried, tensely. "He _won't_ get it.Where's that option?"
"I got it right here." Briskow handed over a paper. "An' I got the hulltitle abstrack, too. Had it all ready for Nelson."
When he had swiftly scanned the document, Gray said: "This deal meanslittle to you, Briskow, but it means much to me, and I'll make it worthsomething to both of us. At first I thought the time was too short,but--I work best when I work fast. You've had your chance and failed.Now then, step aside and let a man run who knows how."
Mr. Roswell, president of the bank where Gray had first made himselfknown, was a shrewd, forceful man who had attained a position inbusiness and arrived at a time of life when he could well afford toindulge his likes and his dislikes. Those likes and dislikes werestrong, for his was a positive character. As is the case with mostsuccessful men who pride themselves upon their cold caution andbusiness acumen--and Mr. Roswell did so pride himself--he really was aperson of impulse, and intuition played a much larger part in hisconduct of affairs than he would have acknowledged. Such people makemistakes, but they also make friends; occasionally they read characterwrong, but they inspire loyalty, and big institutions are founded uponfriendship and loyalty as well as upon stability and fair dealing.
Roswell had liked Gray upon their first meeting, and that liking haddeepened. Owing to that fact, he had neglected to secure a report uponhim, assuring himself that there was always time for such formalities.He was cordial to-day when Gray strode into hi
s office bringing GusBriskow with him.
The banker listened with interest to what he was told, then he studiedthe map that Briskow spread upon his desk showing the location of hisown and other near-by wells.
"That looks like a sure thing," Roswell said, finally. "As sure asanything in oil can be. What is on your mind?"
"I'd like to get the opinion of the bank's oil expert," Gray told him.
This was a matter easily disposed of; the expert was summoned and herendered a prompt opinion. He knew the property; he considered it acheap lease at a thousand dollars an acre. It was proven stuff andwithin thirty days it would probably treble in value. When he had gone,the banker smiled.
"Well, Gray," said he, "I knew you'd land something good. You're ahustler. You'll make a fortune out of that land."
Gray handed him Gus Briskow's option, and the assignment thereof, theink upon which was scarcely dry. "There's the joker. It expiresto-morrow night and--it will go to the Nelsons. They've double-crossedMr. Briskow."
"Then don't let them get away with it. Take it yourself."
"It is now three o'clock and this is the golfing season in New York,"Gray told him. "I couldn't reach my--associates and get any actionbefore Monday."
"No funds of your own available?"
"Not enough, at such short notice."
"Well?"
"That lease is worth one hundred and sixty thousand dollars, isn't it?"The banker nodded. "I'm going to sell it before six o'clock for--eightythousand. I know people here who will take it, but I've come first toyou. Get together a little syndicate right here in the bank, and buyit. I'll agree to take it off your hands within thirty days at onehundred and sixty thousand dollars. In other words, it is worth to meeighty thousand dollars to have you carry it for a month."
"Is your guaranty any good?"
"That is for you to determine. Assume that it is not, and I'll bettermy first offer. I'll undertake to sell off the land in twenties righthere in Dallas, double your money, and divide the profits thereafterwith you. It is a safe speculation and a quick one. You know I can putit through."
Mr. Roswell considered briefly before replying. "There's no use denyingthat we've made money on deals like this--everybody has. So it'snothing new. There's a big play on Ranger stuff and we couldn't lose.But I know nothing about you except the little you've told me. When Igo into a deal I put my trust more in the man than the proposition."
"And I trust my own judgment of human character more than that ofstrangers," Gray said, quickly. "So do you. Thirty days is a long timewith me, and the oil business is just my speed. Permit me to remind youthat time is flying and that I have given myself only three hours inwhich to turn this property. I intend to beat Nelson, and apply thatbeating on account of an old score. This is more than a mere businessdeal."
"I like your energy," the banker confessed, "and I'm inclined to betsome of my own money on you. Now"--he pushed a button on hisdesk--"let's see if there are any others here who feel as I do." It wasearly evening when Gus Briskow returned to his wife's and hisdaughter's rooms at the Ajax. He slipped in quietly and sank into achair.
"Mercy me! I thought you was run over," Ma Briskow exclaimed.
"I feel like I was," the nester declared, with a grin. "Say! MisterGray sold the Evans lease an'--we got more money than ever."
"Then mebbe you can afford a new suit," Allie told him. "You look likesin."
Her father nodded, but his mind was full of the incidents of thatafternoon and he began at once to recount them. He told the storybadly, but in a language that the women understood. He had not gonefar, however, when the girl interrupted him to exclaim:
"Wait! Why, Pa! You mean to say Mister Gray 'ain't got no money?"
"He had less 'n a hundred dollars. An' him livin' here like a king witheverybody bowin' an' scrapin'!"
Ignoring the effect upon Allie of this intelligence, he continued hisrecital. "All I done was set around while him an' them bank peopletalked it over," he said, finally. "Then they got their lawyer in an'he examined the title papers. Seemed like he'd never git through, buthe did, an' they signed some things an' we come out, an' Mister Graytold me I'd made forty-eight thousand dollars."
"Goodness me!" Ma Briskow's eyes widened. "Why, that Evans place ain'twuth the taxes."
"It's more 'n likely wuth a million. But think! Him tellin' me _I'd_made forty-eight thousand dollars! It give me a jolt, an' I says _I_didn't make it. I told him I'd fell down an' turned the hull thing overto him. 'It's _you_ that's made forty-eight thousand,' I says."
"_What?_" Allie inquired, sharply. Then when her father had repeatedhimself, she asked with even greater intensity: "Wha'd he say to that?He didn't take it, did he?"
"He laughed kinda queer an' says all I got to do to give him a goodnight's rest is to wire Henry Nelson the deal's closed. An' him withless 'n a hundred dollars!"
Allie spoke again in great relief. "Lord! You give me a turn." Herexpression altered, her lips parted in a slow smile. "So! He's pore,eh? Pore as we was. Well, I declare!" She rose and turned her back uponher father.
"No, he ain't pore," Briskow said, irritably. "Not now he ain't. I saysit's his deal an' his money, an' we got plenty. An' I stuck to it."
Allie wheeled suddenly at this announcement. She uttered a cry ofprotest; then, "What are you talkin' about?" she roughly demanded.
"We had some argyment an' I got kinda r'iled. Finally he says if I feelthat way we'll go pardners. He wouldn't listen to nothin' else,an'--that's how it stands. He made twenty-four thousand an' I--"
"You--You _fool!_"
Gus Briskow looked up with a start to find his daughter standing overhim, her face ablaze, her deep bosom heaving. He stared at her in frankamazement, doubting his senses. Never had Allegheny used toward him aword, a tone like this, never had he seen her look as she did at thismoment. He could not believe his eyes, for the girl had become ascowling fury, and she seemed upon the verge of destroying him with herstrong hands, a task she was amply able to accomplish.
"Allie-_Allie!_" the mother gasped. She, too, was aghast. "You--you'retalkin' to your pa!"
"You give him twenty-four thousan' dollars? _Give_ it to him? Wha'd youdo it for? Wha'd you--?" Allie's voice failed her completely, shegroped at her throat, uttering unintelligible, animal-like sounds.
"Why, Allie, you're _mad!_ And after all he done for me an' you," Mrs.Briskow cried, accusingly. "You oughter be ashamed."
"Sure! Didn't he make us twenty-four thousan' dollars, where wewouldn't of got nothin'? An' us rich as we are, an' him broke? I'msupprised at you." A harsh exclamation burst from the girl--to theastonished parents it sounded like an oath, but it could not havebeen--then she swung herself heavily about and rushed blindly into thenext room, slamming the stout metal door behind her with a crash thatthreatened to unhinge it.
"Well, I be--darned!" Gus Briskow turned a slack, empty face upon thepartner of his joys. "I--I never s'posed that girl would turnout--_greedy_."
The mother's countenance slowly wrinkled into lines of grief and worry,she wrung her hands and rocked from side to side. "I dunno what's comeover the child," she moaned, tearfully. "She behaves so queer over themsilk stockin's an' corsets an' lingeries an' things that she skeers me.Sometimes I'm afeerd she's goin' crazy--or something."