glanced at Charley, but he was staring blankly away.
“I don’t like that man,” spoke up Charley at last, “he kicked my dog, one time.”
“And he bootlegs something awful,” added the Widow, desperately, for fear that the chatter would lag. “There doesn’t a day go by but some drunken Piute comes whooping up the road, and that bunch of Shooshonnies─”
“Yes, he sells to the bucks,” observed Death Valley, slyly. “They’re no good–they get drunk and tell. But you can trust the squaws–I had one here yesterday─”
“You what?” shrieked the Widow, and Charley looked up startled, then rose and whistled to his dog.
“Go lay down!” he commanded and slapped him till he yelped, after which he slipped fearfully away.
“The very idea!” exclaimed the Widow frigidly and then she glanced at Wiley.
“Mr. Holman,” she began, “I came out here to talk business–there’s nothing round-the-corner about me. Now what about this tax sale, and what does Blount mean by allowing you to buy it in for nothing?”
“Well, I don’t know,” answered Wiley. “He refused to pay the taxes, so I bought in the property myself.”
“Yes, but what does he mean?”
The Widow’s voice rose to the old quarrelsome, nagging pitch, and Wiley winced as if he had been stabbed.
“You’ll have to ask him, Mrs. Huff, to find out for sure; but to a man with one leg it looks like this. Whatever you can say about him, Samuel J. is a business man, and I think he decided that, as a business investment, the Paymaster wasn’t worth eighty-three, forty-one. Otherwise he would have bought it himself.”
“Unless, of course,” added the Widow scornfully, “there was some understanding between you.”
“Oh, yes, sure,” returned Wiley, and went on with his eating with a wearied, enduring sigh.
“Well, I declare,” exclaimed the Widow, after thinking it over, “sometimes I get so discouraged with the whole darned business you could buy me out for a cent!”
She waited for a response, but Wiley showed no interest, so she went on with her general complaint.
“First, it was the Colonel, with his gambling and drinking and inviting the whole town to his house; and then your father, or whoever it was, started all this stock market fuss; and from that time it’s gone from bad to worse until I haven’t a dollar to my name. I was brought up to be a lady–and so was Virginia–and now we’re keeping a restaurant!”
Wiley pulled down his lip in masterful silence and set the breakfast tray aside. It was nothing to him what the Widow Huff suffered–she had brought it all on herself. And whenever she was ready to write to his father she could receive her ten cents a share. That would keep her as a lady for several years to come, if she had as many shares as she claimed; but there was nothing to his mind so flat, stale and unprofitable as a further discussion of the Paymaster. Indeed, with one leg wound up in a bandage, it might easily prove disastrous. So he looked away and, after a minute, the Widow again took up her plaint.
“Of course,” she said, “I’m not a business woman, and I may have made some mistakes; but it doesn’t seem right that Virginia’s future should be ruined, just because of this foolish family quarrel. The Colonel is dead now and doesn’t have to be considered; so–well, after thinking it over, and all the rest of it, I think I’ll accept your offer.”
“Which offer?” demanded Wiley, suddenly startled from his ennui, and the Widow regarded him sternly.
“Why, your offer to buy my stock–that paper you drew up for me. Here it is, and I’m willing to sign it.”
She drew out the paper and Wiley read it silently, then rolled it into a ball and chucked it into the corner.
“No,” he said, “that offer doesn’t hold. I didn’t know you then.”
“Well, you know me now!” she flashed back resentfully, “and you’d better come through with that money. I’ve taken enough off of you and your father without standing for any more of your gall. Now you write me out a check for twenty thousand dollars and here’s my two hundred thousand shares. I know you’re robbing me but I simply can’t endure it–I can’t stay here a single day longer!”
She burst into angry tears as he shook his head and regarded her with steady eyes.
“No,” he said, “you can’t do business that way. I haven’t got twenty thousand dollars.”
“But–you offered it to me! You wrote out this paper and put it right under my eyes─”
“No,” he said, “I never offered you twenty thousand–I offered to take an option at that price. I wanted to see that mine, and I wanted to see it peaceably, and I thought I could do it that way; but that piece of paper simply gave me the option of buying the stock if I wanted to.”
“Well, you wanted to buy the stock–you were crazy to get hold of it–and now, when I’m willing, you won’t take it!”
“No, that’s right,” agreed Wiley, leaning back against his pillow. “And now, what are you going to do about it?”
“I’m going to kill you!” shrieked the Widow in a frenzy. “I’m going to makeyou take it! I declare, it seems like every single soul is against me–and me a poor helpless woman!”
She sank back in a chair and began to sob hysterically and Wiley looked about for the old shotgun. It was far too short, but it had served once as a crutch, and in a pinch it must serve him again. Keno was no place for him, he saw that very plainly, and it was better to risk the long drive across the desert than to stay with this weeping virago. If she didn’t kill him then she would kill him later, and he was powerless to strike back in defense. She would take advantage of every immunity of her sex to obtain her own way in the end. He located the gun–it was down behind his bed where he had dropped it when they helped him in–but as he was fishing it up the door burst open and Virginia stood looking at her mother. Behind her appeared Death Valley Charley, his eyes blinking fearfully; but at sight of the Widow he ducked around the corner while Virginia came resolutely in.
“Oh, mother!” she burst out in a pleading, reproachful voice, “can’t you see that Wiley is sick? Well, what’s the use of creating a scene when it’s likely to make him worse?”
“I don’t care!” wailed the Widow. “I hope he dies. I wish I’d killed him–I do!”
“You do not!” returned Virginia, and shook her reprovingly. “I declare, I wonder what poor father would think if he heard how we’d treated a guest. Now you go back to the house and don’t you come out again until Mr. Holman sends for you.”
“You shut up!” burst out the Widow, pushing her brusquely aside. “I guess I know what I’m about. But I’ll fool you,” she cried, whirling about on Wiley as she started towards the door. “I’ll sell my stock to Blount!”
She paused for the effect but Wiley did not answer and she returned to pursue her advantage.
“I know you!” she announced. “You and old Honest John–you’re trying to steal my mine. But I’m going to fool you, I’m going right down to Vegas
