Flowing Gold

by Rex Beach

  CHAPTER XXII

  On the morning after the fight Mallow knocked at Gray's door, then inanswer to an indistinct and irritable command to be gone, he madehimself known.

  "It's me, Governor. And I've got Exhibit A."

  "Really?" came the startled query. There was a stir from within, thelock snapped and the door opened.

  "I've got a little friend here that I want you to--" Mallow pausedinside the threshold, his mouth fell open, he stared in frankamazement. "Sweet spirits of niter!" he gasped. "What happened to_you?_"

  "I was playing tag in the hall with some other old men, and one of themstruck me."

  "My God, you're a sight!" Mallow remained petrified. "I never saw aworse mess."

  "Come in and close the door. I am vain, therefore I have a certainshyness about exposing my beauty to the curious gaze. Pardon me if Iseat myself first; I find it more comfortable to sit than to stand, torecline than to sit." Stiffly the speaker let himself into anupholstered divan and fitted the cushions to his aches and his pains,his bruises and his abrasions. He sighed miserably. His features werediscolored, shapeless; his lips were cut; strips of adhesive tape heldthe edges of a wound together; his left hand was tightly bandaged andthe room reeked with the odor of liniment.

  "You've been hit with a safe, or something," Mallow declared."Evidences of some blunt instrument, as the newspapers say; maybe apair of chain tongs."

  "Blunt and heavy, yes. Buddy Briskow and I had an argument--"

  "That big bum? Did he lay it on you like that? Say, he's got themakings of a champ!"

  "Pride impels me to state that he got the worst of it. He is scarcelypresentable, while I--"

  "Your side won?"

  "It did. Now, where is the boy?"

  "He's outside." Without shifting his astonished gaze, Mallow raised hisvoice and cried, "Hey, Bennie!" The door opened, a trim, diminutivefigure entered. "Bennie, mit my friend Colonel Gray."

  The youngster, a boy of indeterminate age, advanced and shook hands.There was no mistaking him; he was Margie Fulton's son in size, incoloring, in features. "I told Bennie you could use a bright kid abouthis age. And he's bright."

  It required no clever analysis of the lad to convince Gray that he wasindeed bright, as bright--and as hard--as a silver dollar. He had alikable face, or it would have been likable had it been in repose. Itwas twitching now, and Gray said, with a smile, "Go ahead and laugh,son."

  The urchin's lips parted in a wide grin, and he spoke for the firsttime. "Did the Germans do that?" The effect of his voice was startling,for it was deep and husky; it was the older man's turn to be astonished.

  "He could pass for fifteen on the street," Mallow said; "but when hetalks I chalk him down for thirty-five. How old are you, Ben?"

  "Seventeen. What's the big idea, anyhow?" The question was directedimpudently at the occupant of the divan. "Did you send all the way toHot Springs to get a guy you can lick?"

  "Your mother is here in Dallas, my boy."

  "Yeah?" There was a pause. "How's it breaking for her?"

  "Um-m, very well. I thought she'd like to see you."

  Bennie cocked his head, he eyed the speaker curiously, suspiciously."Come clean," he rumbled. "Mallow said you could use me."

  "I can. I will."

  The boy shrugged. "All right, Sharkey. I s'pose it'll come out, intime. Only remember, I've got twenty coming, win or lose."

  "Of course" Gray waved toward the dresser, upon which was a handful ofbills. "Help yourself. Better make it twenty-five. Then wait outside,please. We will join you in a few minutes."

  "And don't make it thirty," Bennie's traveling companion sharplycautioned.

  When the door had closed, Gray gave his friend certain instructions,after which he limped to the telephone and called Arline Montague. "MayI ask you to step down to Buddy's room?" he inquired, after makinghimself known. "Oh, it will be quite all right--We three must have alittle talk--But he _couldn't_ see you last night. He was quite ill,really; I sat up with him most of--" There was a longer hiatus then."Hadn't we better argue that in Buddy's presence? Thank you. In fiveminutes, then."

  As he and Gray prepared to leave, Mallow said, sourly: "Margie is agood little dame, in her way, and I feel like a--like a damned'stool.'"

  "My dear fellow," the other told him, "I understand, and I'd gladlytake another beating like this one to escape this wretched denouement."

  When Ozark Briskow answered Gray's request for admittance, he wasdeeply embarrassed to find Miss Montague also waiting; his stammeredprotest was interrupted by her sharp inquiry:

  "What is the meaning of all this mystery? He said you were too sick tosee me."

  "Permit me to explain," Gray began, as he closed the door behind them."Buddy and I came to blows over you; you were, in a manner of speaking,an apple of discord between us, and the melancholy results you behold.Jealousy of your charms was not my motive; I merely asked Buddy todefer a contemplated action. He refused; I insisted. Argument failed tobudge either of us and--"

  The young woman's sympathetic regard of Gray's victim changed to aglare of hostility as she turned upon the speaker, crying: "You_brute!_ You ought to be arrested!"

  "He ast me to wait, Arline--"

  "To delay asking you a question which I felt should be more seriouslyconsidered. In the absence of his family I took it upon myself to--"

  "To butt in!" Miss Montague exclaimed, with curling lip.

  "Quite so. I merit your disapproval, but not your disdain."

  With some heat Buddy declared: "Pa an' Ma know that I got a mind of myown. It won't do 'em any good to come."

  "See here," the woman demanded. "What have you been telling Buddy aboutme? I told him all there was to tell."

  "Quite all? I fear you have not been as frank as you would have mebelieve. That, in fact, explains my connection with the affair. Believeme when I say that I am interested only in seeing justice done to bothof you young people, and in making sure that you do not deceive eachother. It is an impulse of artless youth to trick itself in glowingcolors, but you should know the whole truth about Buddy and he aboutyou. If, after you are thoroughly acquainted with each other, you stillmaintain a mutual regard I shall have nothing further to say--except tobeg that I be allowed to show my true friendship for both of you."

  "Well, spring the bad news," said Miss Montague. Briskow now displayedthe first open resentment he had shown since his defeat of the daybefore. "You licked me, Mr. Gray, an' I took my medicine," he growled."You changed my looks, but you didn't change my mind. I'm waitin' forthe folks to come, but I ain't goin' to listen to 'em."

  "Let him get this off his chest, Buddy. Go ahead with the scandal,Saint Anthony."

  Gray bowed. "Suppose we ignore the early convent training and the OldKentucky Home and agree that they are pleasant fictions, like theestate which you are in such imminent danger of inheriting. Those, I'msure you will admit, are entirely imaginary." Buddy Briskow's swolleneyelids opened wider, his tumid lips parted, and an expression ofsurprise spread over his dropsical countenance.

  "Step on it," sneered Miss Montague. "Dish the dirt!"

  "Buddy's belief, however, that your stage career was blasted and youryoung life laid waste by the scion of a rich New York house should, inthe interests of truth, be corrected."

  "He knows I was married."

  "True. But not to Bennie Fulton, the jockey."

  "That is a--lie!"

  "Nor that the estimable Mr. Fulton, instead of perishing upon the fieldof glory, dodged the draft and is doing as well as could be expected ofa jockey who has been ruled off every track in the country, and is nowa common gambler against whom the finger of suspicion is leveled--"

  "It's a lie!" the woman stormed. Of Buddy she inquired: "You don'tbelieve that, do you? You don't intend to listen to that sort of stuff?"

  The object of this appeal was torn by conflicting emotions. Doubt is aweed that sprouts fastest in dull minds; suspicion is the ready armorof ignorance; to young Brisk
ow came the unwelcome vision of those oilwells. Was Gray telling the truth? Could it be that Arline had made afool of him? But no, she was smaller, prettier, more adorable thanever, now that she was whipped by this gale of anger, and a girl likethat could not be a deceiver. Buddy longed desperately to believe herrefutation of the charge. He closed his eyes and made himself believe.

  "Even now," Gray was saying, "if you would tell the boy all he ought toknow, I would take myself off and have nothing more to say."

  "You-you make me _sick!_" Miss Montague cried, vibrantly. "What righthave _you_ to preach? What kind of a man are you? If he believed yourlies for a minute I'd never want to see him again. He has been a truefriend to me"--her voice quavered, caught in her throat--"the only truefriend I ever had. _I_ don't care whether he's rich or poor, but menlike you are all alike. What chance has a girl got against you? Youwant to use his money, so you p-poison his mind--break a woman'sheart--just b-because you--hate me." The last words were sobbed forth.Miss Montague broke down.

  "Hell!" hoarsely exclaimed young Briskow. "You're makin' her cry!"

  Gray sighed; he stepped to the door, opened it and called, "Come in,both of you."

  Arline Montague's shoulders ceased to shake, she lifted her blond headalertly. Then she uttered a breathless exclamation.

  Buddy, meanwhile, had been staring at the door, and he was surprisedwhen, instead of his family, he saw entering a strange man and a boysmall of stature but old of face, a boy insouciant, impudent,swaggering. It was this boy who spoke first.

  "Hello, momma!" he cried.

  At sound of that voice Buddy recoiled, for it was deeper than his own.His expression of dismay was no doubt ludicrous, at any rate theurchin's lively eyes leaped to his face and remained there, while agrin spread over his features.

  "Hully Gee!" rumbled the lad. "Here's _another_ one that ought to beburied!"

  "Mrs. Fulton"--it was Gray speaking--"I took the liberty of asking yourson--"

  Buddy Briskow heard no more, for his ears were roaring. Her son! Thatvoice! Being little more than a boy himself, nothing could have hurthim more cruelly than this; his impulse was to flee the room, for hisworld had come down in crashing ruin. She _had_ lied! She _had_ made afool of him. Gray had been right.

  The others were still talking when Buddy broke in faintly. His batteredvisage was white, his lips were colorless. "I reckon this--ends mypart of the entertainment," said he. Slowly he seated himself andbowed his head in his hands, for he had become quite ill.

  Arline Montague--Margie Fulton--once the blow had fallen, behavedrather well; she took Bennie in her arms and kissed him, then in answerto his quick look of dismay at her agitation, she patted him on theshoulder and said: "It's all right, son. You didn't know."

  "Didn't know what?" demanded the lad. "Say--" He stared angrily fromone face to another. "Is it a plant?"

  "Hush! You wouldn't understand."

  Bennie's suspicions now were in full play, and his gaze came to restupon Calvin Gray; his eyes began to blaze. "You--you big bum!" hecried. "I might have known you were a double-crosser."

  "Hush, Bennie, please!"

  "I'll get you for this." The midget was quivering with rage. "You'lllook worse 'n that, you--you big bum!"

  "Take my key. Here!" The mother thrust her room key into the boy'shand. "Run along. I--I'll see you in a few minutes." To Mallow shesaid: "Take him out, please. You brought him."

  Mallow, flushing uncomfortably, took Bennie by the wrist and draggedhim to the door.

  "Dirty work!" said the woman, when the two had gone. Her eyes were darkwith anger as she stared at Gray.

  "It must look so to you," he agreed. "Frankly, I didn't enjoy it."

  "Bah!" Margie turned to Briskow, but in his attitude, his averted gaze,she read the doom of her hopes. One final chance remained, however, anddesperately she snatched at it. "Buddy!" she cried. "_Buddy!_" Hervoice was poignant as she pleaded. "I couldn't tell you the truth. Iwanted to--I laid awake nights trying to get the courage, but I wasafraid you wouldn't understand. I'd have told you the whole thing, ifyou'd ever given me the chance. You know I've been married; does itmake so much difference that I have a son?" When the object of herappeal only stirred, she went on, reproachfully: "Are you going toallow this--this man to--come between us?"

  "I wouldn't believe you now, if--" Buddy choked. "I'm through!"

  "You mean that?" The young fellow nodded. "Very well!" Something in thetone of the last words, some accent of desperation, caused Buddy toraise his head. He was in time to see Margie fumble with her purse andextract something therefrom; to Buddy's eyes it resembled a bottle."There is no use fighting any more. You have ruined my life."

  "My God!" young Briskow yelled, in dismay. "Don't do that! Stop her!"He leaped to his feet and lunged for the poison vial which wastrembling upon Arline's lips. Gray, too, had been galvanized intoaction, but of an unexpected nature; he grappled with Buddy and heldhim. "Look out!" the latter gasped. "She's killin' herself." The Texanwas weak with horror; he could only paw impotently at his captor andcry: "Arline! You wouldn't do _that?_ For _me?_ Lemme go. Arline--"

  "This is the end," moaned the woman, still holding the bottle to herlips. Her despair was tragic; nevertheless, she did not instantly hurlherself into the hereafter. This hesitation at meeting death was onlynatural, perhaps, for none but the bravest can leap into the unknownwithout a moment of farewell.

  "Drink hearty!" Gray exclaimed, over his shoulder, meanwhile closingtighter his embrace of the terrified youth.

  Buddy's struggles suddenly ceased, for at last the bottle had beendrained; the girl was groping blindly toward the nearest chair.

  "God'lmighty! You let her do it!" he cried, hoarsely. "You--you_murderer_! We--we gotta get a doctor, quick."

  "Nonsense! Water won't hurt her; and that's all it is. She's known as'the Suicide Blonde.'"

  "Say! You're bursting with information, aren't you?" It was MissMontague, tottering upon the brink of the grave, who voiced thisexplosive inquiry. Her drooping shoulders straightened, she raised herhead and flung the empty bottle violently from her. Her face wasdeathly white, to be sure, but not with darting agonies. "You know_everything_, don't you? You make plain the past, the present, and thefuture. Well, Madame Thebes, you're under the wire with the horseshoeon your neck." With head erect and with firm tread she moved to thedoor; she turned there and blazed forth in bitter scorn, her bobbedcurls shaking as she spoke: "Take that selling plater back to the carbarn, where he belongs. I'm off boobs for life. I knew you had a jinxon me the minute I saw you, for I broke my mirror the day you breezedin. Seven years bad luck? My God, you're all of that and more! Why,you'd bring bad luck to a church! I'll beat it now while you givelittle Rollo his bottle and rock him to sleep. If he cries, tell meand--and I'll furnish the rock."

  The door slammed to behind the diminutive fury, and Gray sank feeblyinto a chair. He was laughing silently.

  "By Jove! She's splendid!" he chuckled. "Buddy, I--I like that woman."

  It was midforenoon of the next day. Mrs. Fulton, after a restlessnight, was packing her trunks; her room was in disarray, what with opensuitcases and piles of dresses, lingerie, shoes and the like strewncarelessly about. She had halted her labors for a second time to scan abrief note that had arrived a few moments before and ran as follows:

  DEAR MRS. FULTON,--I am not really such a bad sort as you consider me,and I'm genuinely interested in that boy of yours. Let's cry quits andhave a serious talk about him and--perhaps other things.

  Sincerely yours,

  CALVIN GRAY. She was thus engaged when there came a knock, and inanswer to her voice the writer entered.

  "Thank you for letting me come up," he began. "I'm becoming accustomedto dodging chambermaids and scurrying up back stairs. But I'm lookingbetter, don't you think?"

  "There's only one way you'd look better to me," the woman said,unsmilingly, "and that is laid out."

  "Please put me at my ease. I am physically sore and menta
llydistressed."

  "_You_ sore, distressed! Humph! I wouldn't have consented to see youexcept for what Mallow told me. After what he said I'd like to give youa piece of my mind. What right have _you_ doing a thing like this? Doyou know what I think of you?"

  "I do. Also what Mallow thinks of me, for he told me. You see, hebelieves firmly that I am a--well, a person of much looser principlesthan I really am, and my protestations of honesty only excite hisveiled derision."

  "He says he's sorry. Sorry! After spilling the beans."

  "Mrs. Fulton, I have learned that life is a mixed affair, and that mostof our actions are the results of conflicting motives. Yes, and that weourselves are products of conflicting forces, good and evil. Few of usare as good as we would like to have people believe nor as bad as weappear. I wonder if you will believe me when I say that I--like you."

  "Certainly not."

  "Nevertheless, I do. For one thing, you are a good fighter and a goodloser. I try to be, but I fear I lack your spirit. I would not havehurt you willingly."

  The woman tossed her head and turned away; when she spoke, it waswearily: "I might have known I couldn't make the jump. I never did wina big race. A good loser, eh? Well, I've had enough practice at it. Howis Buddy? Hurt, I suppose. His young life is blasted; he'll never trustanother woman."

  "He is standing it pretty well, and is greatly cheered by the fact thathe can see out of his left eye practically as well as ever. He is goingback to the oil fields and learn the business. I am going to put him towork. What are you going to do with Bennie?"

  "Do with him? What can I do with him?"

  "He is a bright boy."

  "I'm bright, too, but I have all I can do to get by."

  "It is a shame to think he will grow up into what his father was."

  Margie Fulton wheeled and her blue eyes were dark. "I suppose you thinkI'm a bad mother. But what do you know about it? How do you know whatI've gone through for him; the sacrifices I've made? I've made plentyand they came hard."

  "I'd like to help you make a man of him."

  "What? _You_? How?"

  "I'd like to put him in business and teach him that there is no profitin short-changing customers; that the real wise guy isn't the fellowwho gets the best of every bag of peanuts, but the one who can go backto the same customer and sell him another bag. The abstract principlehas been put much more succinctly, but I doubt if it would carry thesame weight with him. I'd enjoy giving the boy a hand up, but--he ismore than I'd care to tackle alone."

  "There's Mallow to help you. He'd be a refining influence." Themother's lip curled.

  "How about you?"

  "Me?"

  "Isn't the--sort of life you are living becoming a bit tiresome? Aren'tyou about fed up on uncertainties?" The object of these queries drew adeep breath; her eyelids flickered, but she continued to stare at thespeaker. "Worry brings deeper wrinkles than old age. Wouldn't you liketo tie to something solid and be able to show Bennie that you are, atheart, the sort of woman I consider you? He'll soon be getting oldenough to wonder if you are what he thinks you are or if--"

  "I suppose you learned this--bayonet practice in the army," Mrs. Fultonsaid, hoarsely.

  "Anybody can make a good living in a country like this if he caresenough to try. I'll back you if you need money."

  "And--what's the price?"

  "My price? Oh, I'd feel well repaid if some day Bennie acknowledgedthat I was a 'regular guy,' and if you agreed."

  "Is that all?"

  "Quite all. Is there something you do--well?"

  "I can cook. I'm a good cook. Women like me usually have hobbies theynever can follow--and I have two. I can make a fool of a stove, andI--I can design children's clothes, wonderful things, new things--"

  "Will you come to Wichita Falls and start a restaurant and make goodthings to eat, if I supply the money and the customers?"

  "_Will_ I?" The speaker's face had flushed, her eyes had begun tosparkle. "Then it's a bargain," Gray declared, gayly. "Why, you'll getrich, for it is the chance of a lifetime. I'll guarantee patronage;I'll drum up trade if I have to turn sandwich man and ring a bell.Leave the details to me."

  Margie Fulton sank slowly into the nearest chair, regardless of thefact that it was piled full of lacy, white, expensive things; her voicequavered, broke, as she said: "Gee, Mr. Gray! I figured there must besome decent men in the world, but--I never thought I'd meet one."