Flowing Gold

by Rex Beach

  CHAPTER XIX

  Newton's eating places were not appetizing at best, but a meal could beendured with less discomfort by night than by day, for at such timesmost of the flies were on the ceilings. The restaurant Gray entered wasabout what he had expected; along one side ran a quick-order counter atwhich were seated several customers; across from it was anoilcloth-covered table, perfectly bare except for a revolvingcenterpiece--one of those silver-plated whirligigs fitted with a glasssalt-and-pepper shaker, a toothpick holder, an unpleasant oil bottle,and a cruet intended for vinegar, but now filled with some mysteriousembalming fluid acting as a preservative of numerous lifelike insectremains. Here, facing an elderly man in a wide gray-felt hat, Grayseated himself.

  Gray's neighbor was in no pleasant mood, for he whacked impatiently atsuch buzzing pests as were still on the wing, and when a perspiringGreek set a plate of soup before him he took umbrage at the presence ofthe fellow's thumb in the liquid. The argument that followed angeredthe old man still further, for it arrived nowhere except to prove thatthe offending thumb was the property of the proprietor of therestaurant, and by inference, therefore, a privileged digit.

  When a departing customer left the door open, the elderly dinergrumbled bitterly at the draught and draped his overcoat over his bentshoulders.

  "Dam' Eskimos!" he muttered. "----raised in a chicken coop--Windy as aderrick!"

  Gray liked old people, and he was tolerant of their crotchets.Irascibility indicates force of character, at least so he believed, andold folks are apt to accept too meekly the approach of decay. Here wasa spirit that time had not dulled--it was like wine soured in an oldcask. At any rate, wine it had been, not water, and that was something.

  Most of the counter customers had drifted out when, without warning,the screen door banged loudly open and Gray looked up from his plate tosee his recent acquaintance of the gambling table approaching. Thistime purpose was stamped upon the man's face, but whether it wasdeliberate or merely the result of more drinking there was no telling.He lurched directly up to the table and stared across at Gray.

  "Slapped my face, didn't you?" he cried, after a menacing moment.

  "I did, indeed," the speaker nodded, pleasantly.

  "You ain't going to slap it again. You ain't going to slap anybody's--"

  "What makes you think I won't?" Gray became aware as he spoke that hiselderly neighbor had raised to the intruder a countenance stamped witha peculiar expression of incredulity, almost of anger, at theinterruption, and that the two remaining counter customers had turnedstartled faces over their shoulders, while the proprietor, his armsfull of dishes, had paused beside the swinging door to the kitchen.

  That which occurred next came unexpectedly. The stranger whipped outfrom under his coat a revolver, at the same time voicing a profaneanswer to the challenge. The proprietor uttered a bleat of terror; hedropped his dishes and dived out of the room; the men on the stoolsscrambled down and plunged after him.

  As Calvin Gray rose to his feet it was with a flash of mingled angerand impatience. This quarrel was so utterly senseless, it served solittle purpose.

  "My friend," he cried, sharply, "if you don't put up that gun, one ofus will go to a hospital."

  In spite of the intruder's haste in drawing his weapon, he appeared nowto lack the will promptly to use it--his laggard spirit required afurther scourge, so it seemed; something more to goad it into finalfury. It was a phenomenon by no means uncommon, for it is not easy toshoot down an unarmed victim.

  By way of rousing his savagery, the fellow uttered a bellow, then, likea warrior smiting his shield with his spear before the charge, he swunghis heavy weapon, smashing at one blow that silver-platedmerry-go-round with its cluster of bottles.

  A shower of toothpicks, fragments of glass, a spatter of oil andvinegar covered the old man in the end chair, and he rose with a crythat drew a swift glance from the desperado.

  Gray was upon the point of launching himself over the table when hewitnessed a peculiar transformation in his assailant. The man'sexpression altered with almost comic suddenness, he lowered his weaponand took a backward step. Gray, too, had cause for astonishment, forthe elderly man was moving slowly toward the disturber, his overcoat,meanwhile, hanging loosely from his left shoulder, like a mantle. Hisgray face had grown white, malignant, threatening; he advanced with aqueer, sidling gait, edging forward behind the shelter of his garmentas if behind a barricade. But what challenged Gray's instant attentionwas the certainty of purpose, the cold, confident menace behind the oldfellow's demeanor. There was something appalling about him; he hadsuddenly become huge and dominant.

  That he had been recognized was plain, for the armed man cried,agitatedly: "Look out, Tom! I don't want any truck with _you_."

  The deliberate advance continued; in a harsh voice Tom answered: "Idon't allow anybody to interfere with me when I'm eating!" For everystep he shuffled forward the man before him fell back a correspondingdistance.

  Again the newcomer rasped out his warning, and Gray, too, added hisvoice, saying: "Leave him to me, old man. This is my quarrel." As hespoke he moved around the end of the table, but the mantled figurehalted him with an imperious jerk of the head. Without in the slightestdiverting his steady gaze, Tom snapped:

  "Hands off, stranger! I won't have you buttin' in, either. I don'tallow anybody to interfere with me when I'm eating."

  Gray was checked less by the exasperation, by the authority in thespeaker's tone, than by the fact that the entire complexion of theaffair had changed. The ruffian, who had entered so confidently, was nolonger the aggressor; a mere look, a word, a gesture from this aged,unknown person had put him upon the defensive. More extraordinary stillwas the fact that his power of initiative was for the moment completelyparalyzed, and that he was tortured by a deplorable indecision. He wasfurious, that was plain, nevertheless his anger had been halted inmid-flight, as it were; desperation battled with an inexplicable dread.He raised his hands now, but more in a gesture of surrender than ofthreat.

  "Don't come any closer," he cried, hoarsely. "Don't do it, I tell you!_Don't--do it!_'" There was no longer any thickness to his tongue; hespoke as one quite sober.

  When for the third time that malevolent voice repeated, "I don't allowanybody to interfere with me when I'm eating," the solitary onlookerfelt an absurd desire to laugh. During intensely dramatic momentsnervous laughter is near the surface, and there was something rigidlydramatic about the methodical, sidling advance of that man halfcrouched behind his overcoat. Tom, as he had been called, gave Gray theimpression of Death itself marching slowly forward to drape that blackshroud upon his cowering victim.

  Brief as had been the whole episode, already passers-by had halted,staring faces were glued to the front windows of the cafe. Well theymight stare at those two tense figures, one advancing, the otherretreating, as if to the measures of some slow dance.

  "DON'T COME ANY CLOSER. DON'T DO IT, I TELL YOU!"]

  But the tempo changed abruptly. The desperado's back brought up againstthe swinging kitchen door; it gave to his weight and decision was bornof that instant. With a cry he flung himself backward, the spring doorsnapped to and swallowed him up with the speed of a camera shutter;then followed the sound of his heavy rushing footsteps.

  "Hell!" exclaimed the old man. "I had his buttons counted!" With thewords he let fall his overcoat, and there, beneath it, Gray beheld whathe had more than half suspected, what indeed was ample cause for thequarrelsome stranger's apprehension. Held close to the owner's body waswhat in the inelegant jargon of the West is known as a "dog leg." Theweapon, a frontier Colt's of heavy caliber, was full cocked under theold man's thumb; the hand holding it was as steady as the blazing eyesabove.

  With a smile Gray said, "Allow me to congratulate you, sir, upon a mostimpressive demonstration of the power of mind over matter."

  "A little killin' helps those scoun'rels," breathed the white-hairedwarrior. "Surgin' around, wreakin' vengeance on vinegar bottles! And mewit
h a bad indigestion!"

  "I don't often permit others to do my fighting. But you wouldn't let--"

  "I don't allow anybody--" doggedly began the former speaker, but thestreet door burst open, a noisy crowd poured into the room, a volley ofexcited questions was raised. Amid the confusion Gray heard his ownname shouted, and found himself set upon by two agitated friends,Mallow and Stoner. They had been combing Newtown for him, so theydeclared, and were near by when attracted by the excitement on thesidewalk. What was the trouble? Was Gray hurt?

  He assured them that he was not, and explained in a few words theorigin of the encounter. But other concerns, it seemed, occupied theminds of the pair, and before he had finished Mallow was dragging himtowards the door, crying, breathlessly: "Gee, Governor! You gave us arun. We've been coming since noon."

  "It was only by the grace of God," Stoner declared, "that we heard youwere out here and why you'd come. We managed to get a phone callthrough to Jackson, but it was--"

  "Jackson? I've been looking for him all the afternoon."

  "Sure! Mallow swore he was all right, but Mac and I don't know him, andwe figured he might turn a trick. Anyhow, Mallow and I jumped theLizzie and looped it. Boy! I tramped on her some, until we hit bottomthe other side of Burk. Mallow went clean through the top. I guess Ismashed the whole rear end, but we couldn't wait to see. They'll haveher stripped naked, tires, cushions, and all, before we get back.Motor, too, probably. We've been hitting it afoot, on wagons and pipetrucks--managed to get a service car finally, but it fell open like abook. Just one of those dam' unlucky trips."

  "Jackson didn't get to you, did he?" Mallow inquired, anxiously.

  "Get to me? No. Nor I to him." Gray spoke impatiently. "What is thisall about?"

  "Simply this, Governor: Jackson's well is a 'set-up'! For Nelson! Wenearly dropped dead when we found out that Parker kid had laid _you_against it. Why didn't you _tell us_--?"

  "What are you saying? I don't--"

  "The well's phony. Dry as a pretzel."

  "In what way? I saw the oil--"

  "Never mind. Lay off!"

  "I think I'm entitled to an explanation."

  "Well, then, it's salted!"

  "Impossible! I saw it pumping."

  "I'll say you did." Mallow chuckled. "Live oil, too; right out of oldMamma Earth. Cheap lease at seventy-five thousand, eh? It's like this:the pipe line of the Atlantic runs across Jackson's lease, and one darkand stormy night he tapped it. It wasn't a hard thing to do; just tooka little care and some digging. Now he runs the oil in, pumps it outand sells it back to them. He's a regular subsidiary of the great andonly Atlantic Petroleum Company. It can't last long, of course,but--oh, what a well to hand Nelson! What a laugh it would have been!"

  "Outrageous!" Gray exclaimed. "I can't believe you are in earnest."

  "It _is_ shocking, isn't it? Such dishonesty is incredible. And what anunhappy surprise for the company when they finally locate the leak!"

  Gray clamped a heavy hand upon the speaker's shoulder; harshly heinquired, "Do you mean to say that Miss Parker deliberately--"

  "She don't know anything about it."

  "You said she 'laid me' against it."

  "No, no! I merely tipped her to it because she's one of Nelson'sbrokers."

  "She's his sweetie," Stoner added. "He's going to marry her, so Mallowthought he'd surely fall for it, coming from her."

  "You--you're not fit to mention that girl's name, either of you."Gray's tone was one of quivering anger. "If you involve her in yourcrooked dealings, even indirectly, I'll--God! What a dirty trick." Heflung Mallow aside in disgust. "You ought to be shot."

  "Why, Governor! We wouldn't hurt that kid. She's aces."

  "I told you my fight with Nelson was to be fair and square."

  There followed a moment of silence. Mallow and Stoner exchangedglances. "What percentage of that goes?" the former finally inquired.

  "One hundred."

  "So? Then it's lucky Nelson didn't fall. But there's no harmdone--nobody's hurt."

  "It is lucky, indeed-for me. I'd have felt bound to make good his loss,if you had hooked him. I presume I ought to expose this swindle."

  "Expose Jackson?" Stoner inquired, quickly. When Gray nodded, there wasanother brief silence before the speaker ventured to say: "I know thisbird Nelson, and, take it from me, you're giving him the best of it. IfI hadn't known him as well as I do, I wouldn't of put in with you tobreak him. It's all right to trim a sucker once; it's like letting theblood of a sick man--he's better for it. But to ride a square guy todeath, to keep his veins open--well, I ain't in that kind of business.Now about this Jackson; you can land him, I s'pose, if you try, but itwould be lower than a frog's foot, after him playing square with you."

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "He could have stung you, easy, couldn't he? You surged out here onpurpose to buy the lease, but he hid out all afternoon to avoid you."

  "He is a thief. He is stealing hundreds of dollars a day."

  "Sure! From the Atlantic, that has stolen hundreds of thousands fromthe likes of him--yes, millions. It was the Atlantic that broke themarket to sixty-five cents, filled their storage tanks and contracted amillion barrels more than they had tankage for, then gypped the priceto three dollars. I can't shed any tears over that outfit."

  "Let's not argue the ethics of big business. The law of supply anddemand--"

  "Supply and demand, eh? Ever strike you as queer that crude neverbreaks as long as the big companies have got their tanks full? Theprice always toboggans when they're empty, and comes back when they'refilled up. That's supply and demand with the reverse English, ain't it?Say, the Atlantic and those others play with us outsiders like we wasmice. When their bellies get empty they eat as many of us as they want,then they let the rest of us scurry around and hunt up new fields. Werun all the risks; we spend our coin, and when we strike a new poolthey burgle us over again." Stoner was speaking with a good deal ofheat. "Big business, eh? Well, here's some little business--dam'little. The Atlantic leased a lot of scattered acreage I know about anddrilled it. Pulled off their crews at the top of the sand and drilledin with men they could trust. It turned out good, but they capped theirwells, wrecked their rigs, and, of course, that condemned the wholeterritory. Then they set about buying it all in, cheap--throughdummies. Double-crossed the farmers, see? Friend of mine took a chance;put down a well on his own. The usual thing happened; they broke him.It took a lot of doing, but they broke him. One little trick they didwas to cock a bit and drop it in the hole. That prank cost him sixteenthousand dollars before he could 'side track' the tool. He quit,finally, less 'n a hundred feet from big pay. Then, having bought upsolid for near nothing they came back and started business, laughingmerrily. That's the Atlantic."

  "A splendid lecture on commercial honesty. I am inspired by it, and Ireverence your scruples, but--I grope for the moral of the story."

  "The moral is, mind your own business and--and give a guy a chance."

  "Um-m! Suppose we leave it at that for the present."

  Mallow, who had remained silent during his friend's argument, greetedthis suggestion with relief. He was glad to change the subject. "Good!"he cried, heartily. "I'd about as soon face Old Tom Parker, like thatfellow in the restaurant did, as to face Jackson. He'd sink a stillsonin my head, sure, if--"

  "Parker? Was that old man Miss Parker's father?"

  "Certainly! What d'you think ailed that gunman? D'you think he got theflu or something, all of a sudden? There ain't anybody left toughenough to hanker for Tom's scalp. He's pinned a rose on all of thoseold-timers, and he's deadly poison to the new crop."

  For the first time Calvin Gray understood clearly the reason for theunexpected outcome of that encounter in the cafe. No wonder thestranger's trigger finger had been paralyzed. Barbara's father, indeed!How stupid of him not to guess. On the heels of his first surprise cameanother thought; suppose that old Paladin should consider that he,Gray, had shown weakness in allowing an
other to assume the burden ofhis quarrel? And suppose he should tell his daughter about it! Thatwould be a situation, indeed.

  "I must find him, quickly," Gray declared. "Perhaps he'll ride back totown with us."

  It was not a difficult task to locate the veteran officer, and Tom wasdelighted at the chance to ride home with his new acquaintance.

  That journey back to civilization was doubly pleasant, for Mr. Parkercherished no such feelings as Gray had feared, and, moreover, heresponded quickly to the younger man's efforts to engage his liking.They got along famously from the start, and Tom positively blossomedunder the attentions he received. It had been a trying day for him, buthis ill humor quickly disappeared in the warmth of a new-foundfriendship, and he talked more than was his custom. He was even led tospeak of old days, old combats, of which the bloodless encounter thatevening was but a tame reminder. The pictures he conjured up werecolorful.

  A unique and an engaging person he proved to be; an odd compound ofgentleness and acerbity, of kindliness and rancor; a quiet, guileless,stubborn, violent old man-at-arms, who would not be interrupted whilehe was eating. He was both scornful and contemptuous of evildoers. Allneeded killing.

  "Hard luck, I call it, for a budding desperado to wreck a career ofpromise the way that wretched fellow did," Gray told him with a laugh."Out of all the men in Texas, to pick you--"

  "Oh, he ain't a bud! He's quite a killer."

  "Indeed?"

  "He kills Mexicans and niggers and folks without guns, mostly. Low-downstuff! He's got three or four, I believe. I never could see why theNelsons kep' him."

  There was a brief silence. "I beg pardon?" said Gray.

  "He's been on the Nelson pay roll for years--doing odd jobs that wasn'tfit to be done. But I guess they got tired of him, anyhow he's beenhanging around Wichita for the last two or three weeks. He's been in anout of our office quite a bit."

  "Your office? What for?"

  "I dunno, unless he took a shine to 'Bob.'"

  "Not--really?"

  Mr. Parker uttered an unpleasant sound. "She never said anything aboutit, but I suspicioned she had to order him out, finally. I'd of splithis third shirt button if he'd stood his ground. He knew I hadsomething on him, but he couldn't figure just what it was." Old Tom'steeth shone through the gloom. "A man will 'most always act like thatwhen he don't know just where he's at. I knew where _I_ was at, all thetime, only I wanted to see that button plain. I allus know where _I'm_at."

  Later, when the journey was over and Tom Parker had been dropped at hisgate, Gray spoke to his two companions.

  "Did you hear what he said?"

  "We did."

  "Do you believe I was framed?"

  Both Mallow and Stoner nodded. "Don't you?" the former inquired. Whenno answer was forthcoming, he said: "Better give us the flag, Governor.We're rar'ing to go."

  "You mean--?"

  "You know what I mean. Nelson's so crooked his bedclothes fall off. Wepulled a boner this time, but Brick has got another window dressed forhim."

  "I'll think it over," said Gray.