The weary work of packing had gone on endlessly in the bare rooms of the old Huff house and now Virginia, with two kittens in her arms and the mother cat following behind, was passing it all in review. A solid row of packing boxes, arrayed on the front gallery, awaited the motor truck; and here and there in corners lay piles of discarded treasures that were destined to go to Charley for loot. He was hanging about, with his pistol well in front, on the watch for Stiff Neck George; but up to that moment the Widow had not said the word that would start the mad rush for plunder. Her trunks were all packed, the china nested in barrels and the bedding sewed up in burlap; but still from day to day she put off the evil moment, and Virginia did not try to hurry her. The house had been their home for ten years and more and, though Los Angeles would be fine with its palm trees and bungalows, it was a strange land, far away. And what would they do in that city of strange faces and hustling, eager real-estate agents? It was that which held the Widow back. “Now you go back there,” she hissed in her ear, “and I want you to be nice to him–he may have come back about the mine.” Virginia went out the door and, as Wiley Holman saw her standing there, he leapt out and came up the steps. “Well, well,” he said, “just in time to say good-by. And I wanted to see you, too.” He smiled down at her boyishly and Virginia’s eyes turned gentle as he took both her hands in his. “I’ve got some news to tell you,” he burst out eagerly; “not news that will buy you anything but something to remember when you’re gone.” “It’s just mother,” she said and at the mention of her name Mrs. Huff came boldly out. “Why, good morning, Wiley,” she said, smiling over-sweetly. “Seems to me you’re awful early.” “Yes,” answered Wiley, trying vainly to seem polite, “I just stopped off to say good-by!” He offered her his hand, but the Widow ignored the hint and took the conversation to herself. “Well, I’m real glad you came,” she went on sociably, “because I wanted to see you on a matter of business. In fact, I’ve been kind of waiting, on the chance that you might come through. Oh, I know that I don’t count, but you can see Virginia afterwards; and I wanted to consult you about my stock. Yes, I know,” she hastened on, as his face turned grim, “I haven’t treated you fairly at all. I should have taken your offer, when you said you’d give ten cents for every share of stock that I had. But I took them to that Blount and he gave me next to nothing, and now he’s holding the stock. But what I wanted to ask was: Isn’t there some way we can arrange it to get it back and sell it to your father?” “No, I don’t think so,” answered Wiley, putting down the kitten, “and–well, I guess I’d better go.” He rose up reluctantly, but the Widow would not hear to it and Virginia beckoned him to stay. “Not to you,” returned Wiley. “I saw Blount only yesterday and he says it belongs to him.” “Well, it does not!” declared the Widow, but as no one contradicted her, she took a different tack. “Are you coming back?” she asked, smiling brightly. “Are you going to open up the mine?” Wiley’s face fell for a moment. “What gave you that idea?” he inquired bluffly, but the Widow pointed a finger and laughed roguishly. “I knew it,” she cried. “I’ve known it for months–and I wish you the best of good luck.” “Oh, you do, eh?” grunted Wiley, and stood undecided as Mrs. Huff continued her assurances. He had come there to see Virginia, but business was business and the Widow seemed almost reasonable. “Huh, that’s funny,” he said at last. “I thought you had it in for me. What’s the chance for getting a quit-claim?” “A quit-claim!” echoed the Widow, suddenly pricking up her ears. “Why, what do you want that for, now?” “Well, you’re going away,” explained Wiley quietly, “and it might come in handy, later, if I should want to take over the mine. Of course you’ve got no title–and no stock, for that matter–but I’ll give you a hundred dollars, all the same.” “I’ll take it!” snapped the Widow and Wiley broke out laughing as he reached for his fountain pen. “All right,” bridled the Widow and watched him cynically as he wrote out the quit-claim and check. “Oh! Actually!” she mocked as he put the check in her hands. “I just wanted to see if you were bluffing.” “Well, you know now,” he answered and sat in stony silence until she departed with a triumphant smirk. Then he glanced at Virginia and motioned towards the street, but she sighed and shook her head. “No,” she said, “I can’t leave the house–mother is likely to start any time, now.” “I suppose you’ll be glad to go,” he suggested at last as she sat down and gathered up the kittens. “The old town is sure awful dead.” “Yes–I guess so,” she agreed half-heartedly. “You’d think so, but we don’t seem to go.” “Is there anything I can do for you?” he inquired after a silence. “You know what I told you once, Virginia.” “Yes, I know,” she answered bitterly, “but–Oh, I’m ashamed to let you help me, after the way I acted up about Charley.” “Well, forget it,” he said at length. “I guess I Virginia looked up inquiringly and he beckoned her into the corner where no one could overhear his words. “Blount sent for me yesterday–trying to sell me the mine,” he whispered in her ear, “and I made him show me his stock. And when I looked on the back of his promotion certificates–the ones he got for promoting the mine–I found by the endorsements that he’d sold every one of them before or during the panic. Do you see? They were street certificates, passing from hand to hand without going to the company for transfer, but every broker that handled them had written down his name as a memorandum of the date and sale. Don’t you see what he did–he set your father against my father, and my father against yours, and all the time, like the crook he is, he was selling them both out for a profit. I could have killed him, the old dog, only I thought it would hurt him more to whipsaw him out of his mine; but listen now, Virginia, don’t you think we can be friends–because my father never robbed anybody of a cent! He thought more of the Colonel than he did of me; and I’ve started out, even if it is a little late, to prove that he was on the square.” He stopped abruptly, for in his rush of words he had failed to note the anger in her eyes, until now she turned and faced him. “If I can!” hedged Wiley. “But for the Lord’s sake, Virginia, don’t tell what I said to your mother! It won’t make any difference, because she’s given me a quit-claim–but what’s the use of having any trouble?” “Yes, sure enough!” murmured Virginia, with cutting sarcasm. “She might even demand her rights!” “Well, maybe you liketo fight!” burst out Wiley angrily, “and if you do, all right–hop to it! But I’ll tell you one thing; if you can’t be reasonable, I can be just as bullheaded as anybody!” “Yes, you can,” she agreed and then she sighed wearily, and waved it all away with one hand. “Well, all right,” she said, “I’m so sick and tired of it that I certainly don’t want any more. And since I’ve taken your money, as you know very well, I’m going to go away and give you peace.” Her eyes blinked fast, to hold back the tears, and once more the son of Honest John weakened. “No, I don’t want you to go away,” he answered gently, “but–isn’t there something I can do before you go? I have to fight my way, you know that yourself, Virginia; but don’t let that keep us from being friends. I’m a mining engineer, and I can’t tell you all my plans, because that sure would put me out of business; but why can’t you trust me, and then I’ll trust you and–what is it you’ve got on your mind?” “You wouldn’t understand,” she said with a sigh. “You’re always thinking about money and mines. But a woman is different–I suppose you’ll laugh at me, but I’m worried about my cats.” “About your cats!” he echoed, and she smiled up at him wistfully and then looked down at the kittens in her lap. “Yes,” she said, “you know they were left to me when the people moved out of town, and now I’ve got eight of them and I just know that old Charley-” “He’ll starve ’em to death,” broke in Wiley, instantly. “I know the old tarrier well. You give ’em to me, Virginia, and I swear I’ll take care of ’em just the same as I would of–you.” “Oh,” smiled Virginia, and then she gave him her hand and the old hatred died out in her eyes. “That’s good of you, Wiley, and I certainly appreciate it; because no one would trust them with Charley. I’m going to take the two kittens, but you can have the rest of them and–you can write to me about them, sometimes.” “Every week,” answered Wiley. “I’ll take ’em back to the ranch and the girls will look after them when I’m gone. We’ll have to put them in sacks, but that will be better-” “Yes, that’s better than starving,” assented Virginia absently, and Wiley rose suddenly to go. There was something indefinable that stood between “Here,” he said, throwing her stock down before her, “I told you to hold onto that, once.” |