Money Magic: A Novel Page 4

  CHAPTER IV

  HANEY MEETS AN AVENGER

  Haney took the train back to his mountain town in a mood which made himregard his action as that of a stranger. Whenever he recalled Bertha'strusting clasp of his hand he felt like removing his hat--the stir ofhis heart was close akin to religious reverence. "Faith, an' she'staking a big risk," he said. "But I'll not see her lose out," he added,with a return of the gambler's phrase. "She has stacked her chips on theright spot this time."

  With all his brute force, his clouded sense of justice, this gambler,this saloon-man, was not without qualifying characteristics. He was aCelt, and in almost every Celt there is hidden a poet. Quick to wrath,quick to jest and fierce in his loves was he, as is the typical Irishmanwhom England has not yet succeeded in changing to her own type.Moreover, he was an American as well as a Celt (and the American is themost sentimental of men--it is said); and now that he had been surprisedinto honorable matrimony he began to arrange his affairs for his wife'spleasure and glory. The words in which she had accepted him lingered inhis ears like phrases of a little hesitating song. For her he had soldhis gambling halls, for her he was willing at the moment to abandon theassociates of a lifetime.

  He was sitting in the car dreamily smoking, his hat drawn low over hisbrows, when an acquaintance passing through the car stopped with a wordof greeting. Ordinarily Haney would have been glad of his company, buthe made a place for him at this time with grudging slowness.

  "How are ye, Slater? Set ye down."

  "I hear you've sold your saloons," Slater began, as he settled intoplace.

  Haney nodded, without smiling.

  His neighbor grinned. "You don't seem very sociable to-day, Mart?"

  "I'm not," Haney replied, bluntly.

  "I just dropped down beside you to say that young Wilkinson went brokein your place last night and has it in for you. He's plum fuzzy withdrink, and you better look sharp or he'll do you. He's been on therampage for two days--crazy as a loon."

  "Why does he go after me?" Haney asked, irritably. "I'm out of it. 'Tislike the fool tenderfoot. Don't he know I had nothing to do with hisbust-up?"

  "He don't seem to--or else he's so locoed he's forgot it. All I know ishe's full of some pizen notion against you, and I thought I'd put you onyour guard."

  They talked on about this a few minutes, and then Slater rose, leavingHaney to himself. But his tender mood was gone. His brow was knit. Hebegan to understand that a man could not run a bad business for twentyyears, and then at a day's notice clear himself of all its trailing evilconsequences. "I'll vamoose," he said to himself, with resolution. "I'llput me mines in order, and go down into the valley and take the girlwith me--God bless her! We'll take a little turn as far as New York.I'll put long miles between the two of us and all this sporting recordof mine. She don't like it, and I'll quit it. I'll begin a new lifeentirely." And a glow of new-found virtue filled his heart. Of Wilkinsonhe had no fear--only disgust. "Why should the fool pursue me?" herepeated. "He took his chances and lost out. If he weren't a 'farmer'he'd drop it."

  He ate his supper at the hotel in the same abstraction, and then, stillgrave with plans for his new career, went out into the street to findWilliams, his partner. It was inevitable that he should bring up at thebar of his former saloon; no other place in the town was so much likehome, after all. Habit drew him to its familiar walls. He was glad tofind a couple of old friends there, and they, having but just heard ofthe sale of his outfit, hastened to greet and congratulate him. Of hisgreatest good-fortune, of his highest conquest, they, of course, knewnothing, and he was not in a mood to tell them of it.

  The bar-room was nearly empty, for the reason that the miners had notyet finished their evening meal, and Haney and his two cronies had justtaken their second round of drinks when the side door was burstviolently open, and a man, white and wild, with a double-barrelledshotgun in his hand, abruptly entered. Darting across the floor, hethrust the muzzle of his weapon almost against Haney's breast and fired,uttering a wild curse at the moment of recoil.

  The tall gambler reeled under the shock, swinging half way about, hishands clutching at the railing, a look of anguish and surprise upon hisface. The assassin, intent, alert, would have fired again had not aby-stander felled him to the floor. The room filled instantly withexcited men eager to strike, vociferous with hate; but Haney, with onepalm pressed to his breast, stood silent--curiously silent--his lipswhite with his effort at self-control.

  At length two of his friends seized him, tenderly asking: "How is it,old man? Are you hurt bad?"

  His lips moved--they listened--as he faintly whispered: "He's got me,boys. Here's where I quit."

  "Don't say that, Mart. You'll pull through," said his friend, chokingly.Then with ferocious impatience he yelled: "Somebody get the doctor! Damnit all, get moving! Don't you see him bleed?"

  Haney moved his head feebly. "Lay me down, Pete--I'm torn to pieces--I'mall in, I'm afraid. Get me little girl--that's all I ask."

  Very gently they took him in their arms and laid him on one of thegambling-tables in the rear room, while the resolute barkeeper pushedthe crowd out.

  Again Haney called, impatiently, almost fiercely: "Send forBertie--quick!"

  The men looked at each other in wonder, and one of them tapped his browsignificantly, for no one knew of his latest love-affair. While stillthey stared Williams came rushing wildly in. All gave way to him, andthe young doctor who followed him was greeted with low words ofsatisfaction. To his partner, whom he recognized, Haney repeated hiscommand: "Send for Bertie." With a hurried scrawl Williams put down thegirl's name and address on a piece of paper, and shouted: "Here!Somebody take this and rush it. Tell her to come quick as the Lord willlet her." Then, with the tenderness of a brother, he bent to Haney. "Howis it, Mart?"

  Mart did not reply. His supreme desire attended to, he sank into apatient immobility that approached stupor, while the surgeon worked withintent haste to stop the flow of blood. The wound was most barbarous,and Williams' eyes filled with tears as he looked upon that magnificenttorso mangled by buckshot. He loved his big partner--Haney was indeedhis highest enthusiasm, his chief object of adoration, and to see himriddled in this way was devil's work. He lost hope. "It's all over withMart Haney," he said, chokingly, a few minutes later to the men crowdingthe bar-room--and then his rage against the assassin broke forth. Hebecame the tiger seeking the blood of him who had slain his mate. Hiscurses rose to primitive ferocity. "Where is he?" he asked.

  To him stepped a man--one whose voice was quiet but intense. "We'veattended to his case, Williams. He's toeing the moonlight from alamp-post. Want to see?"

  For an instant his rage flared out against these officious friends whohad cheated him of his share in the swift delight of the avenger. Thentears again misted his eyes, and with a dignity and pathos which hadnever graced his speech before he pronounced a slow eulogy upon hisfriend: "No man had a right to accuse Mart Haney of any trick. He tookhis chances, fair and square. He had no play with crooked cards or'doctored' wheels. It was all 'above board' with him. He was dead gameand a sport, you all know that, and now to be ripped to bits withbuckshot--just when he was takin' a wife--is hellish."

  His voice faltered, and in the dead silence which followed thisrevelation of Haney's secret he turned and re-entered the inner room, towatch beside his friend.

  The hush which lay over the men at the bar lasted till the barkeepersoftly muttered: "Boys, that's news to me. It does make it just tootough." Then those who had hitherto opposed the lynching of the murdererchanged their minds and directed new malediction against him, and thosewho had handled the rope took keener comfort and greater honor tothemselves.

  "Who is the woman?" asked one of those who waited.

  This question remained unanswered till the messenger to the telegraphoffice returned. Even then little beyond her name was revealed, but eachof the watchers began to pray that she might reach the dying man beforehis eyes should close forever. "He can't live til
l sunrise," said one,"and there is no train from the Junction till morning. She can't gethere without a special. Did you order a special for her?"

  "No, I didn't think of it," the messenger replied, with a sense ofshortcoming.

  "It must be done!"

  "I'll attend to that," said Slater. "I know the superintendent. I'llwire him to see her--and bring her."

  "Well, be quick about it. Expense don't count now."

  It was beautiful to see how these citizens, rough and sordid as many ofthem were, rose to the poetic value of the situation. As one of them,who had seen (and loved) the girl, told of her youth and beauty, theyall stood in rigidly silent attention. "She's hardly more than a child,"he explained, "but you never saw a more level-headed little businesswoman in your life. She runs the Golden Eagle Hotel at Junction, anddoes it alone. That's what caught Mart, you see. She's as straight as aUte, and her eyes are clear as agates. She's a little captain--just themate for Mart. She'll save him if anybody can."

  "Will she come? Can she get away?"

  "Of course she'll come. She'll ride an engine or jump a flat-car to gethere. You can depend on a woman in such things. She don't stop tocalculate, she ain't that kind. She comes--you can bet high on that. I'monly worrying for fear Mart won't hold out till she gets here."

  Meanwhile, every man in the room where Haney lay, sat in silence, withan air of waiting--waiting for the inevitable end. The bleeding had beenchecked, but the sufferer's breathing was painful and labored, and thedoctor, sitting close beside him, was studying means to prolong life--hehad given up hope of saving it. With stiffened lips Haney repeated nowand again: "Keep me alive till she comes, doctor. She must marryme--here. I want her to have all I've got--_everything_!"

  At another time he said: "Get the judge--have everything ready!"

  They understood. He wished to dower his love with his wealth, to placein her hands his will, beyond the reach of any contestant, and thisresolution through the hours of his agony, through the daze of hisweakness persisted heroically--till even the doctor's throat filled withsympathetic emotion, as he thought of the young maiden soon to be thrustinto this tragic drama. He answered, soothingly: "I'll do all I can,Mart. There's a lot of vitality in you yet. We won't give up. You'llpull through, with her help."

  To this Haney made no reply, and the hours passed with ghostly step. Itwas a most moving experience for the young doctor to look round thatwide room littered with scattered cards, the wheels of chance motionlessat the hazard where the last gambler's bet had ended. In the "lookout'schair," where Haney himself used to sit, an unseen arbiter now gloomed,watching a game where life was the forfeit. A spectral finger seemed torest upon the blood-red spot of every board. No sound came from thedrinking-saloon in front. The miners had all withdrawn. Only thebarkeeper and a few personal friends kept willing vigil.

  About nine o'clock an answering telegram came to Slater: "Girl justleaving on special. Will make all speed possible."

  Haney faintly smiled when Williams read this message to him. "I knewit," he whispered, "she'll come." Then his lips set in a grim line. "AndI'll be here when she comes." Thereafter he had the look of a man whohangs with hooked fingers in iron resolution above an abyss, husbandingevery resource--forcing himself to think only of the blue sky above him.

  A little later the priest knocked at the door and asked to see the dyingman, but to this request Haney shook his head and whispered. "No, no;I've no strength to waste--'tis good of him. Wait! Tell him to behere--to marry us--" And with this request the priest was forced to becontent. "May the Lord God be merciful to him!" he exclaimed fervently,as he turned away.

  Once again, about midnight, the wounded man roused up to say: "Theceremony must be legal--I want no lawsuits after. The girl must beprotected." He was thinking of his brothers, of his own kind, rapaciousand selfish. Every safeguard must be thrown around his sweetheart'slife.

  "We'll attend to that," answered Williams, who seemed able to read hispartner's thoughts. "We'll take every precaution. He wants the judge tobe present as well as the priest," he explained to the doctor, "so thatif the girl would rather she can be married by the Court as well as bythe Church."

  Every man in the secret realized fully that the girl was being endowedwith an immense fortune, and that she would inevitably be the quarry ofevery self-seeking relative whose interest would be served by attackingher rights in the premises. "The lawsuits must be cut out," wasWilliams' order to the judge. "Mart's brothers are a wolfish lot. Wedon't want any loose ends for them to catch on to."

  From time to time messages flashed between the oncoming train and thefaithful watchers. "It's all up grade, but Johnson is breaking allrecords. At this rate she'll reach here by daylight," said Slater. "Butthat's a long time for Mart to wait on that rough bed," he added toWilliams, with deep sympathy in his voice.

  "I know that, but to move him would hasten his death. The doctor isafraid to even turn him. Besides, Mart himself won't have it. 'I'mbetter here,' he says. So we've propped him into the easiest positionpossible. There's nothing to do but wait for the girl."