Acres of Unrest (8 page)

It had been arranged that—when the shop was too choked with smoke that would not blow up through the chimney or through the front door—the side door could be opened, and this would make a cleansing draft. Now the little door was used by Mr. Mike Jarvin to peek in at the big cripple; the instant that he saw the barrel of the Colt leveled upon him, Jarvin hastily dropped something into his coat pocket and hoisted his hands above his head.

“Why, here you are,” said Jarvin. “Here you are, youngster, and it seems that a gent can’t drop in on you without having a gun pointed at his head. Be reasonable, young man, and tell me why you take the drop on me like this?”

“Be reasonable, Jarvin,” said Peter, “and tell me why you come sneaking through my side door?”

“Because,” Jarvin said instantly, “I wanted to see you at your work without letting you know that I was here.”

“Did you?” Peter smiled.

“Yes. We’re all hearing a lot about the neat way that you can sling a sledge around. Just point that Colt another way, son, will you?”

“Come closer,” said Peter.

“Closer?”

“Do what I say. And mind that you come slowly and keep your hands up. I would hate to harm you,
but I’ll have to sink a bullet in you, Jarvin, if you make any queer-looking moves.”

“By heaven,” Jarvin said, “I think that you’d murder me.”

“You’re overdue,” said Peter. “Long overdue for a murder, Jarvin. How you’ve managed to escape so long, I can’t make out. Nobody else could make out, either, I’m sure. As a matter of fact, I think that I’d collect a vote of thanks, with the sheriff the first one to congratulate me, if I were to kill you, Jarvin.”

“Well, well,” said Mike Jarvin, beaming suddenly and broadly. “I suppose that you would, at that. And now, what do you want with me?”

He stepped obediently closer, and, as he did so, Peter reached into the side pocket of the big man’s coat, bringing forth a handsome gun. He dangled it before the eyes of Mr. Jarvin, his thick forefinger thrust through the trigger guard.

“There you are, Jarvin. There’s enough reason to keep you covered. You had this gat in your hand when you stood outside of the little door, yonder, and you hoped that you would be able to push that door open, send a slug of lead through me, and then walk away, though why the devil you should want to murder me, I can’t guess.”

“You’re wrong, Peter,” said the fat man.

“Do you know me well enough to call me Peter?”

“Oh, yes, and you might as well call me Mike.”

“Are we old friends?”

“We’re going to be the best of old friends before we’re through with each other. That’s what I hope, Peter.”

“Jarvin, you’re a rare old scoundrel.”

“An old scoundrel is no worse than a young
one, Peter. But leave this rough talk be and let’s be friends.”

“Why,” Peter said, narrowing his eyes a little, “I’ll do as you say, about that.”

“Thanks. Only, I wanted to tell you that I didn’t come here to kill you, my son. I simply came here to have a little private talk with you.”

“With a gun pointed at my head?”

“Exactly!” exclaimed the fat man, and he smiled with the greatest unction.

“Humph,”
muttered Peter. “You are very frank. But go on with this matter and tell me more. I’m interested, Jarvin.”

“I came in to talk with you, feeling that it would be a good thing if I had a slight advantage of you, while we was changing words. And I thought that that advantage might as well be in the shape of a gun leveled at you.”

“Thanks,” said Peter, “but why come at all?”

“I’ll tell you,” said Jarvin, “a good deal quicker than I had intended to. The fact is, Hale, that I know everything.”

The eye of Peter neither darkened nor brightened. It remained calmly fixed upon the face of the other, “You know everything?” he said. “Good. Very few people have said that before you. They’ve usually been put in padded cells. But you know everything, then?”

Mr. Jarvin broke into the softest laughter. “I knew it,” he said. “Cursed if I didn’t guess that you would take it this way. I knew that you’d be cool and that you’d give nothing away. I knew that. But it’s no good, Pete. I admire you for your crust, but it’s too late. I’ve got the lowdown on you.”

“You have?”

“I have.”

“You talk like a very confident man,” said Peter.

“Come, come. We ain’t a pair of kids. I got gray hairs, and you never was less than about forty years old…
too
old for the good of some folks.”

“Too old for the good of some?”

“That’s what I said.”

“You might give me an example, however.”

“I’ll give you a couple of them.”

“Go ahead.”

“The Buttrick boys. You know a good deal too much for them, Pete. Eh? Well, I have you there, eh?” And he broke into huge laughter, his enormous body quivering and quaking with his mirth like a mountainous jellyfish.

When he had ended his laughter he said: “And what do you say to that, Pete? Come, come, you ain’t gonna play the dumb man any more, are you?”

“You can put your hands down,” Peter said.

“That’s right. Be sensible. And give me back that gun.”

“I like this gun very well. I may add it to my collection.”

“All right, son. You add it to your collection. I won’t let a little thing like that stand between us. But now I tell you straight…I know everything and I can prove everything. You hear me?”

“Go on talking,” said Peter. “You have a pleasant voice.”

“Now, kid, I like you. In the first place, I got a fancy to any man that can handle the two Buttrick boys the way that you done. A cripple like you. When I got onto the trail and found out who it was that had done the trick, I wouldn’t hardly believe
it, all at once. Only, I knew that it must of been an amateur crook, in a way.”

“How did you know that?”

“No real professional would’ve floated all of that money onto the market as quick as you done, Pete.”

“Wouldn’t they?”

“Never in the world. However, what’s fifteen or sixteen thousand dollars to me? I’m too rich to value it…wouldn’t value it against the services of a man like you, if you was inclined to work for me, Peter.”

“I’m not inclined, though.”

“Think it over, Peter. Think it over. There’s plenty of time. I’ll come back tomorrow. Or, if you make up your mind tonight, just touch a match to one of the dead bushes on the hill behind your barn. Y’understand? I’ll be watching and I’ll send right down for you. But in the meantime, I’ve got the cold dope on you. I can prove that you got that money from me…the money that you’ve been spending on this here ranch. Well, this looks pretty good to me, this ranch work. Except that I’ve got an idea that nothing good comes out of crookedness…and it won’t with you, either. Look at me. I’ve always been a crook. I’m never happy except when I’m drunk. Which is most of the time, I suppose. But I tell you this here so’s you can think it over when you get a chance. You hear me?”

“I hear you.”

“Come up to work for me. Leave this here ranch, where you’ve sure fixed everything so’s to keep your old man happy the rest of his life, and I’ll fix you up with a salary fat enough to make you contented. Besides, I can teach you ways of making
money faster than you ever thought about before. Come with me, kid, and your happy days are just beginning…that’s all. But if you won’t come with me, I’ll put you in the penitentiary as sure as you’re a foot high!”

“Unless I shoot you down, Mike.”

“You’re cold and you’re hard. But you ain’t a murderer. No, I’m safe with you…though scared. Safe, though damned afraid of you, big boy.”

“No other alternative for me, Mike?”

“Why, yes. I’ll play fair with you. I wouldn’t pin a good shifty man like you against the wall. You collect sixteen thousand dollars and pay it to me inside of a week or a month, and I won’t charge you no interest. But where would you get that much cash…unless you stole it again?”

“There are other ways,” Peter said, nodding.

“Well,” said the fat man, “I don’t know what the other ways might be, outside of stealing or inheriting it, or borrowing. So long, Pete. I’m due in another place. Think it over. I look to see that fire start tonight.” And Mike Jarvin walked out of the little shop.

Peter watched him go, whistling softly and thoughtfully to himself until a shadow slipped across the front doorway of the shop, and he looked up into the darkened face of his cousin, Charlie.

“Your fat friend…whoever he may be…is a fool, after all,” Charlie announced with a sneer. “He might have known that the easiest way of all is to marry money. Am I right, Peter?”

Peter drummed light fingertips upon his chin. “Perhaps you’re right, Charlie,” he said. “Perhaps you’re right. Though I hate to poach on your preserves.”

The hammer that Peter Hale had raised for the next stroke descended softly and then dropped into the muffling sawdust that covered the floor of the smithy.

“A little eavesdropping for honest Charlie,” he said.

“A little eavesdropping,” admitted Charlie frankly. “And I only thank heaven that I had a chance to hear the truth about you, Peter. I came here pretty much determined to talk things out with you like a friend, but now I see that I can fight it out with a crook, and that’s what I intend doing.”

“Fighting?” Peter smiled.

“Not with fists,” Charlie said, flushing. “I wouldn’t take any advantage of you. But we’ve heard how you can shoot. How you fanned the feathers out of the crow and then dropped it on the wing. And if you can really shoot with a Colt like that, you’ve got it all over me.”

Peter raised himself and stood awkwardly on his steel-braced legs. When he was sitting down, one could easily forget that there was anything wrong with him. But when he stood up in this fashion, he appeared the mere wreck of a man.

“Shooting, Charlie?” he asked. “Do you mean that?”

“Why, curse you!” broke out Charlie. “Of course I
mean it. Because I won’t live without her. You don’t want her, except for her money. She’s a fool, from your way of looking at things, and you’d never think of marrying her, except that Mike Jarvin has your back against the wall. Oh, what a lot of fools we’ve all been not to connect the Jarvin robbery with the time when you started spending your money like water. He was your rich friends in the East.”

“You’re right,” admitted Peter. “Everything that you say is true. But I give you this warning, Charlie. I don’t want trouble with you. You’re a fine fellow. A lot cleaner, and a darned sight more honest than I am. I don’t want to spoil your life for you, but at the same time I have to tell you that I can’t let you interfere in this. I’ve put my father through eleven years of purgatory. I’ve taken it into my mind to pay him back with a little comfort and happiness. Your father stacked up money and land for you. Well, there it is for you to take. My father invested money and pain in the attempt to make a fine man of me. And I know that he failed, but I want to keep him from seeing that he failed. To gain that point, I’d kill ten men like you, Charlie. I warn you now. You’ll have no chance against me. I have no nerves. My hand is as steady now as the hour hand of a clock. And I shoot fast and straight. I’ve always loved guns. Charlie, if you force this thing through, you’re a dead man. If you’ll get out of it and let me be, why, we’ll fight things out in a different manner. The girl has a right to change her mind about you, if she pleases, hasn’t she?”

“She has, I suppose,” Charlie said gloomily. “If I thought that she’d be happy with you, I wouldn’t step in. But you ain’t her kind. You’re too deep
for her. You’re too mean and cool for her. You’ve knocked her off balance, being so strange to her. But if you step out of the picture, she’ll forget you and remember me again. You hear me talk?”

Peter sighed, and then a faintly cruel smile touched his lips. “I’ve stated my viewpoint from the beginning to the end,” he said. “Now you may do as you please. You have a gun at your hip, I think?”

“I have. Are you ready?”

“Oh, I’m ready. Though I hate this business, Charlie.”

“Curse you and your snaky ways! I’m gonna do a good thing for the world when I rid it of you. Here’s at you, Pete.” He reached for his gun, a quick and snapping movement, which any good cowpuncher on the range must have approved of highly. It was a vital fifth of a second slower than Peter’s answering gesture. That light-triggered gun exploded, and the bullet, flying straight for the heart of Charlie, encountered on its way the Colt that Charlie Hale was jerking up to fire.

The heavy chunk of lead, landing solidly on the weapon, tore it from the finger tips of Charlie and flung it against his face. So he staggered. The revolver landed heavily on the floor, and Charlie dropped upon one knee, his handsome face bathed in crimson, for the front sight had sliced through the skin to the bone. He was only down for an instant. There was plenty of the fighting blood of the Hales in him. He came to his feet like a leaping tiger and drove straight in at Peter.

The face of Peter turned cold with a cruel satisfaction as he balanced his gun for the finishing shot. He covered the heart; he covered the head.
Then, suddenly changing his mind, he struck with the barrel of the gun and dropped Charlie, senseless, at his feet.

He leaned and scooped out a handful of water from the tempering tub and dashed it into the face of his cousin. Charlie, gasping and reeling, came unsteadily to his feet again.

“How does it come that I’m still living?” Charlie gasped.

“Because it occurred to me,” Peter said in his deep, calm voice, “that this girl and her affair is the business of life to you, Charlie. While to me, she’s only a game…only a game. And why should you be crushed for the sake of another…touchdown?”

“Touchdown?” said Charlie. “I don’t know what you mean.” Peter did not answer. He had picked up the fallen sledge and he was balancing it deftly in his hand.

The anxiety with which Mike Jarvin awaited the result of the invitation that he had extended to Peter Hale was demonstrated that evening as he walked out in front of the shack in which he lived at the mine. Behind him and beside him were ever the two Buttrick boys, one of them limping, and both of them more saturnine and ferocious than ever, since their disgraceful defeat at the hands of a single robber. However, Mike Jarvin paid no heed to them. His attention was fixed on the black heart of the night in the valley below. It was more than half a day’s ride to follow the winding trail that wove among the mountains. But it was a scant span of miles, to go as the bird flies or the eye looks. And Mike Jarvin studied that strip of dark shadow until the two Buttrick boys stared, also.

Presently, as a yellow eye of fire formed suddenly in the hollow beneath them, they heard big Mike Jarvin murmur: “By the eternal, the young fool is going to come to me…and throw the rest of his life away.”

“Who is coming?” asked snarling Lefty Buttrick.

“My lucky day,” Mr. Jarvin said, and broke into a joyous laughter.