Mary Fortune was pacing up and down her room in something very like a rage. Her trunk, half-packed, stood against the wall and her pictures lay face down on the bed, and she hovered between laughter and tears. It seemed as if every evil passion in her nature had been stirred up by this desperate affray and in the fierce swirl of emotions her joy in her victory was strangely mingled with rage at Rimrock. After scheming for months to prove her superiority, and arranging every possible detail, she had been cut down in her pride and seen her triumph turned to nothing by his sudden decision to sulk. Just at the very moment when she was preparing to be gracious and give him his precious mine back he had balked like a mule and without sense or reason stormed off on his way to Old Mexico.
She returned to her packing and was brushing away a tear that had fallen somehow on a fresh waist when there was a trampling in the lobby and she heard a great voice wafted up from the corridor below.
"Come on!" it thundered like the hoarse rumbling of a bull. "Come on, I tell ye; or you'll tear my arm loose where it's knit. You dad-burned cub, if I had two good hands—— Say, come on; ain't you got a lick of sense?"
It was L. W. Lockhart and, from the noise in the hallway, he seemed to be coming towards her door. She listened and at a single rebellious grunt from Rimrock she flew to the mirror and removed the last trace of the tear. He was bringing Rimrock for some strange purpose, and—yes, he was knocking at her door. She opened it on a struggle, Rimrock begging and threatening and trying gingerly to break away; and iron-jawed L. W. with his sling flying wildly, holding him back with his puffed-up game hand.
"Excuse me, Miss Fortune," panted L. W. brokenly, "but I just had to fetch this unmannerly brute back. He can't come, like he did, to my place of business and speak like he did about you. You're the best friend, by Gregory, that Rimrock Jones ever had; and I'll say that for myself, Miss, too. You've been agoodfriend to me and I'll never forgit it, but Rim is jest naturally a fool!"
He stopped for breath and Rimrock set back sullenly without raising his eyes from the floor.
"Now!" said L. W. as he winced at the pull, "you can decide what you're going to do. Are you going to bust my arm, where I got it shot in two jest by fighting Ike Bray for your mine; or are you going to stan' up here and apologize like a gentleman for saying Miss Fortune sold you out."
"I'll apologize, doggone you," answered Rimrock between his teeth, "if you'll shut up and let go my coat."
"Well, all right, then," sighed L. W. as he cradled his injured arm, "I'll wait for you at the head of the stairs."
"You do and I'll kill you," returned Rimrock savagely. "Go on, now—and don't you come back."
He waved a threatening hand at the belligerent L. W. and watched him till he passed down the stairs. Then, turning to Mary, he set his mouth and looked her over grimly.
"Well, I apologize," he said. "Does that make you feel better? And now I hope I may go."
"No, you can't," she replied. "Now it's my turn to apologize. And I hope you have good luck."
She held out her hand and he glanced at it questioningly, then reached out and took it in his.
"I mean it," he said with sudden earnestness. "I sure-enough apologize. I'm sorry for what I done."
She patted his hand where it still held hers fast and bowed her head to keep back the tears.
"It's all right," she said. "We could never be happy. It's better to have you go."
"I'll come back!" he said with impulsive gladness. "I'll come back—if you say the word."
"Well—come back, then," she answered. "But not to quarrel; not to haggle, and backbite and scold! Oh, it makes me so ashamed! I used to be reasonable; but it doesn't seem possible now. I can't even save your mine, that you killed a man over and went to prison to defend; I can't even do that but in such a hateful way that you won't accept it as a gift."
"Aw, you take it too hard," protested Rimrock feebly. "Say, come on over here and sit down." He led her reluctantly to the ill-fated balcony, but at the divan she balked and drew back.
"No, not there," she said with a little shudder, and turned back and sank down in a chair.
"Well, all right," agreed Rimrock, but as he drew up another he suddenly divined her thought. "Say, I apologize again," he went on abjectly, "for that time—you know—when she came. I was a Mexican's dog, there's no use talking, but—oh, well, I've been a damned fool."
"You mustn't swear so much," she corrected him gently; and then they gazed at each other in silence. "It's strange," she murmured, "how we hated each other. Almost from the first day, it seems. But no, not the first! I liked you then, Rimrock; better than I ever will again. You were so clean and strong then, so full of enthusiasm; but now—well, I wish you were poor."
"Ain't I broke?" he demanded and she looked at him sadly as she slowly shook her head.
"No, you're rich," she said. "I'm going to give you back the mine, and then I'm going away."
"But I don't want it!" he said. "Didn't I tell you to keep it? Well, I meant it—every word."
"Ah, yes," she sighed. "You told me—I know—but to-morrow is another day. You'll change your mind then, the way you always do. You see, I know you now."
"You do not!" he denied. "I don't change my mind. I stick to one idea for years. But there's something about you—I don't know what it is—that makes me a natural-born fool."
"Yes. I make you mad," she answered regretfully. "And then you will say and do anything. But now about the mine. I left Mr. Stoddard in the office just biting his fingers with anxiety."
"Well, let him bite 'em," returned Rimrock spitefully, "I hope he eats 'em off. If it hadn't been for him, and that Mrs. Hardesty, and all the other crooks he set on, we'd be friends to-day—and I'd rather have that than all the mines in the world."
"Oh, would you, Rimrock?" she questioned softly. "But no, we could never agree. It isn't the money that has come between us. We blame it, but it's really our own selves. You will gamble and drink, it's your nature to do it, and that I could never forgive. I like you, Rimrock, I'm afraid I can't help it, but I doubt if we can even be friends."
"Aw, now listen!" he pleaded. "It was you drove me to drink. A man can get over those things. But not when he's put in the wrong in everything—he's got to win, sometimes."
"Yes, but, Rimrock, there has never been a time when you couldn't have had everything you wanted—if you wouldn't always be fighting for it. But when you distrust me and go against me and say that I've sold you out, how can a woman do anything but fight you back? And I will—I'll never give up! As long as you think I'm not as good as you are—just as smart, just as honest, just as brave—I'll never give in an inch. But there has never been a time during all our trouble, when, if you'd only listened and trusted me, I wouldn't have helped you out. Now take that letter that I wrote you in New York—I warned you they would jump your claim! But when you didn't come and complete your assessment work, I went up and jumped it myself. I got this great scar——" she thrust back her hair—"coming down the Old Juan that night. But I did it for you, I didn't do it for myself, and then—you wouldn't take back your mine!"
She bowed her head to brush away the tears and Rimrock stared and smiled at a thought.
"Well, I'll take it now," he said consolingly. "But I didn't understand. I didn't know that you want to give things—I thought you were on the make."
"Well, I was!" she declared, "I wanted all my rights—and I want them all to-day. But if you'd trust me, Rimrock, if you'd always depend on me to do the best that a woman can I'd—I'd give you anything—but you always fight me. You always try totake!"
"Well, I won't any more," replied Rimrock penitently, yet with a masterful look in his eyes. "But you'll have to make it easy, at first."
"Why, what do you mean?" she asked rather tremulously. And then she blushed and glanced swiftly about.
"All right, Rimrock," she whispered as she took both his hands and then slipped into his arms. "I'll give you anything—if you'll only let me. But remember, I do it myself."
"Now, let's talk reason," said Rimrock at last as he put away her hands. "Let's be reasonable—I don't know where I'm at. Say, where have I been and what have I been up to? Am I the same feller that blowed into town on the blind baggage, or is this all a part of the dream?"
"It's a part of the dream," answered Mary with a sigh. "But if you help, Rimrock, it may come true."
"Do you mean it?" he demanded. "Well, I guess you must or you wouldn't give me a kiss like that. Say, you think a lot of me, now don't you, Little Spitfire? I believe you'd go through hell for me."
"No, I wouldn't," she replied. "That's just where I draw the line—because you'd be going through hell, too. You're a good man, Rimrock—you've got a good heart—but you're a drunken, fighting brute."
"Hmm!" shrilled Rimrock, "say, that don't sound very nice after what you said a minute ago."
"We're talking reason, now," said Mary, smiling wanly, "I was excited a minute ago."
"Well, get excited again," suggested Rimrock, but she pushed his hands away.
"No," she said, "I kissed you once because—well, because I liked you and—and to show that I forgive what you've done. But a woman must consider what love might mean and I'll never marry a drunkard. I know women who have and they all regretted it—it took all the sweetness out of life. A woman expects so much—so much of tenderness and sympathy and gentleness and consideration—and a drunken man is a brute. You know it, because you've been there; and, oh, you don't know how I'd hate you if you ever came back to me drunk! I'd leave you—I'd never consent for a minute to so much as touch your hand—and so it's better just to be friends."
She sighed and hurried on to a subject less unpleasant.
"Now, there's the matter of that claim. You know I hold title to the Old Juan and it gives me control of the mine. Even Stoddard acknowledges it, although he'll try to get around it; and if we press him he'll take it to the courts. But now listen, Rimrock, this is a matter of importance and I want you to help me out. I want you to attend to getting my discovery work before the ninety days has expired. Then we'll draw up a complete and careful agreement of just what we want at the mine and Whitney H. Stoddard, if I know anything about him, will be only too glad to sign it. I told him before I left him that this chicanery must cease and that you must be given back your mine. I told him you must run it, and that Jepson must be fired—but Rimrock, there's one thing more."
"What's that?" enquired Rimrock rousing up from his abstraction and she smiled and patted his hand.
"You mustn't fight him," she suggested coaxingly. "It interferes with the work."
"Fight who?" he demanded and then he snorted. "What, me make friends with Stoddard? Why, it's that crooked hound that's at the bottom of all this. He's the man that's made all the trouble. Why, we were doing fine, girl; we were regular pardners and I wasn't drinking a drop. I was trying to make good and show you how I loved you when he butted in on the game. He saw he couldn't beat us as long as we stood together and so he sent out that damnable Mrs. Hardesty. He hired her on purpose and she worked me for a sucker by feeding me up with big words. She told me I was a wonder, and a world-beater for a gambler, and then—well, you know the rest. I went back to New York and they trimmed me right, and if it wasn't for you I'd be broke. No, I'll never forget what you did for me, Mary; and I'll never forget what he did, either!"
"No, I hope you won't," she said, winking fast, "because that's what's ruined your life. He can always whip you when it comes to business, because you fight in the open and he never shows his hand. And he's absolutely unscrupulous—he'd think no more of ruining our happiness than—than you do, when you're fighting mad. Oh, if you knew how I suffered during all those long months when you were stock-gambling and going around with—her."
"Aw, now, Mary," he soothed, wiping away the sweat from his brow; and then he took her into his arms. "Now, don't cry," he said, "because I went back there to look for you—I paid out thousands of dollars for detectives. And when I saw you that time, when you came down the stairway in that opera house back in New York, I never went near her again. I quit her at the door and had detectives out everywhere; but, you went away, you never gave me a chance!"
"Well," she sobbed, "we all make mistakes, but—but I was so ashamed, to be jealous ofher. Couldn't you see what she was? Couldn't you tell that type of woman? Oh, Rimrock, it was perfectly awful! Everybody that saw you, every woman that looked at her, must have—oh, I just can't bear to think about it!"
"My God!" groaned Rimrock; and then he was silent, looking sober-eyed away into space. It came over him at last what this woman had borne from him and yet she had been faithful to the end. She had even befriended him after he had accused her of treachery, but she had reserved the privilege of hating him. Perhaps that was the woman of it, he did not know; if so, he had never observed it before. Or perhaps—he straightened up and drew her closer—perhaps she was the One Woman in the world! Perhaps she was the only woman he would ever know who would love him for himself, and take no thought for his money. She had loved him when he was poor——
"Say," he said in a far-away voice, "do you remember when I saw you that first time? You looked mighty good to me then. And I was so ragged, and wild and woolly, but you sure came through with the roll. The whole roll, at that. Say, I ain't going to forget that—Rimrock Jones never forgets a friend. Some time when you ain't looking for it I'm going to do something for you like giving that roll to me. Something hard, you understand; something that will take the hide off of me like parting with the savings of a lifetime. But I haven't got anything to give."
"Yes, you have," she said, "and it will hurt just the same. It is something you had on then."
"Huh, I didn't have hardly anything but my clothes and my gun. You don't mean——"
"Yes, I mean the gun."
"Oh!" he said, and fell into silence while she watched him from beneath her long lashes. He reached back ruefully and drew out his pistol and twirled the cylinder with his thumb.
"That's a fine old gun," he said at last. "I sure have carried it many a mile."
"Yes," she answered, and sat there, waiting, and at last he met her eyes.
"What's the idea?" he asked, but his tone was resentful—he knew what was in her mind.
"I just want it," she said. "More than anything else. And you must never get another one."
"How'm I going to protect myself?" he demanded hotly. "How'm I going to protect my claims? If it wasn't for that gun, where'd the Old Juan be to-day?"
"Well, where is it?" she asked and smiled.
"Why——"
"Why, you lost it," she supplied. "And I won it," she added. "It stands in my name to-day."
"Yes, but Andrew McBain——"
"Was he any smarter than Stoddard? Well, I didn't need any gun."
"Yes, but look who you are!" observed Rimrock sarcastically and balanced the old gun in his hand.
"Well, there we are," she remarked at last. "Right back where we started from."
"Where's that?" he enquired.
"Back to our first quarrel," she sighed. "A woman never forgets it. It's different, I suppose, with a man."
"Yes, I reckon it is," he agreed despondently. "We try to forget our troubles."
"Does it help any to get drunk?" she asked impersonally and he saw where the conversation had swung. It had veered back again to his merits as a married man and the answer had come from his own lips. He knew too well that look in her eye, that polite and polished calm. Mary Fortune was not strong for scenes. She just made up her mind and then all the devils in hell could not sway her from her purpose. And she had rejected him as a gun-fighter and a drunkard.
"Here! Now!" he exclaimed, rising to his feet in alarm. "Now here, don't get me wrong! Say, I'd give my heart's blood, just for one more kiss—do you think I'll hold out on this gun? Here, take it, girl, and if I ever drink a drop I want you to shoot me dead!"
He handed over the gun and she took it solemnly, but with a twinkle far back in her eyes.
"I couldn't do that," she said, "because I love you too much, Rimrock."
"And another thing," he went on, smiling grimly as she kissed him.
"What's that?" she asked.
"Well, I'll give you 'most anything, if you'll only ask for it; but remember, I do it myself."
THE END