Rimrock Jones Page 8

  CHAPTER VIII

  A FLIER IN STOCKS

  It was as dazzling to Rimrock as a burst of sunshine to a man just comeup from a mine--that look in Mary Fortune's eyes. He went out of heroffice like a man in a dream and wandered off by himself to think. Butthat was the one thing he could not negotiate, his brain refused towork. It was a whirl of weird flashes and forms and colors, like afuturist painting gone mad, but above it all when the turmoil hadsubsided was the thought of going back. He had told her when he lefther that he would come around again, and that fixed idea had held tothe end. But how? Under what pretext? And would she break down hispretense with that smile?

  Rimrock thought it over and it seemed best at the end to invite her totake a ride. There were certain things in connection with their minewhich he wished very much to discuss, but how could he do it in thehotel lobby with the Gunsight women looking on? Since his rise toaffluence one of them had dared to speak to him, but she would never doit again. He remembered too well the averted glances with which theyhad passed him, poor and ragged, on the street. No, he hated thempassionately as the living symbols of Gunsight fraud and greed; thesoft, idle women of those despicable parasites who now battened on whathe had earned.

  But Mary Fortune, how else was he to meet her without envious eyeslooking on; or stealthy ears of prying women, listening at keyholes tocatch every word? And out on the desert, gliding smoothly along in thebest hired automobile in town, where better could he give expression tothose surging confidences which he was impelled against his judgment tomake? It was that same inner spirit that made all his troubles, nowurging him he knew not where. All he knew for certain was that the shywoman-look had crept back for a moment into her eyes; and after thatthe fate of empires was as nothing to the import of her smile. Did shefeel, as he felt, the mystic bond between them, the appeal of his youngman's strength; or was that smile a mask, a provocative weapon, to veilher own thoughts while she read through his like a book? He gave itup; but there was a way of knowing--he could call out that smile again.

  The idle women of the Gunsight Hotel, sitting in their rockers on theupper porch, were rewarded on that day for many a wasted hour. Forlong months they had watched McBain's typist, with her proud way ofignoring them all; and at last they had something to talk about.Rimrock Jones in his best, and with a hired automobile, came gliding upto her office; and as he went tramping in every ear on the veranda wasstrained to catch his words.

  "Aw, don't mind those old hens," he said after a silence, roaring itout that all could hear. "They're going to talk anyway so let's take aride; and make 'em guess, for once, what I say."

  There was nothing, after that, for the ladies to do but retire in thebest form they could; but as Mary Fortune came out in an auto' bonnetwith a veil and coat to match they tore her character to shreds frombehind the Venetian blinds. So that was her game--she had thrown overMcBain and was setting her cap for Rimrock Jones. And automobileclothes! Well, if that wasn't proof that she was living down a pastthe ladies would like to know. A typewriter girl, earning less thatseventy dollars a month, and with a trunk full of joy-riding clothes!

  With such women about her it called for some courage for Mary Fortuneto make the plunge; but the air was still fragrant, spring was on thewind and the ground dove crooned in his tree. She was tired, worn outwith the deadly monotony of working on day by day; and she had besidesthat soul-stirring elation of having won in the great game for herstock.

  "It'll be a stockholders' meeting," Rimrock had explained in her ear."We represent a majority of the stock. I want to tell you somethingbig, where nobody else will hear. Come on, let your typewriting slide!"

  And Mary Fortune had laughed and run scampering up the stairs and comedown with her gloves and veil, and as the automobile moved off she hadthat joyous sensation of something about to happen. They drove out oftown on the one straight road that led to the Gunsight mine and Rimrockwas so busy with the mechanics of his driving that she had a chance toview the landscape by herself. The white, silty desert, stretching offto blue mountains, was set as regularly as a vineyard with the waxy,dark-green creosote bushes; and at uncertain intervals the fluted giantcactus rose up like sentinels on the plain. All the desert trees thatgrew near the town--the iron-woods and palo verdes and cat-claws andmesquite and salt-bushes--had been uprooted by the Mexicans in theirsearch for wood; but in every low swale the grass was still green andthe cactus was crowned with gorgeous blossoms.

  "Isn't it glorious?" she sighed as she breathed the warm air andRimrock looked up from studying his clutches.

  "The finest God ever made!" he said as his engine chugged smoothlyalong. "By George, I was glad to get home. Ever been in New York?Well, you know what it's like then; give me Arizona, every time. Butsay, that's some town; I stayed at the Waldorf, where the tips are adollar a throw. Every time you turn around, or the boy grabs your hat,you give him a dollar bill. Say, I put up a front--they all thought Iwas a millionaire--have you ever been down to the curb market? Oh,don't you know what that is? Why, it's the place near Wall streetwhere they sell stock in the middle of the street."

  He negotiated a sand wash and nearly stripped a gear as he threw in thelow by mistake.

  "You bet, quite a country!" he went on unconcernedly. "I thought Iknew sign language, but those curb brokers have got me beat. I can sitdown with an Indian and by signs and sand-pictures I can generally makehim savvy what I want, but those fellers back there could buy and sellme while I was asking the price of a horse. I was down there on Broadstreet and a man in the crowd jumped up and let out a yell.

  "'Sold!' says a feller that's standing next to me, and began to makesigns to a fellow in a second-story window and writes something down ona pad. I asked a man that was taking me around--they treated me rightin that town--what in the world was going on, and he told me they'dmade a trade in stock. The first fellow says:

  "'Sell five hundred shares of So-and-So at seventy-nine!' and thesecond man raises his right hand like an Indian how-sign and there's atwenty thousand-dollar trade pulled off. They both write it down on aslip of paper and the man in the window does the telephoning. Say, I'mgoing back there when I got a stake, and try my hand at that game."

  An expression of pain, as of some evil memory, passed swiftly over MaryFortune's face and she turned from gazing at the mountains to give hima warning shake of the head.

  "Don't you do it!" she said; but when he asked her why not she shut herlips and looked far away.

  "You must've got bit some time," he suggested cheerfully, but sherefused for the moment to be drawn out.

  "Perhaps," she replied, "but if that's the case my advice is all themore sound."

  "No, but I'm on the inside," he went on impressively. "I know some ofthose big ones personally. That makes the difference; those fellowsdon't lose, they skim the cream off of everything. Say, I ought toknow--didn't I go in there lone-handed and fight it out with a king offinance? That's the man we're in with--I can't tell you his name,now--he's the one that owns the forty-nine per cent. They're crazyabout copper or he'd never have looked at me--there's some big marketfight coming on. And didn't he curse and squirm and holler, trying tomake me give up my control? He told me in years he had never gone intoanything unless he got more than half _for a gift_! But I told him'no,' I'd been euchered out of one mine; and after his expert hadreported on the property he came through and gave me my way. And afterthat! Say, there was nothing too good for me. He agreed to spendseveral million dollars to pay for his share of the mine and then hegave me that roll of bills to bind the bargain we'd made. By George, Ifelt good, to go there with two thousand dollars and come back with abig roll of yellowbacks; but before I went away he introduced me to afriend and told him how to show me the sights.

  "This friend was a broker, by the name of Buckbee, and believe me, he'son the inside. He took me around and showed me the Stock Exchange andput me wise to everything. We were up in the gallery and,
on the floorbelow us, there were a whole lot of posts with signs; and a bunch ofthe craziest men in the world were fighting around those posts. Fight?They were tearing each other's clothes off, throwing paper in the air,yelling like drunk Indians, knocking each other flat. It was so rough,by George, it scared me; but Buckbee told me they were selling stocks.There were thousands of dollars in every yell they let out, they talkedsigns like they were deaf and dumb, and every time a man held up hisright hand it meant: Sold! And they wrote it down on a slip."

  Rimrock paused in his description to make some hurried adjustments ashis machine slowed down to a stop, but after a hasty glance he burstinto a laugh and settled back in his seat.

  "Well, what do we care?" he went on recklessly. "This desert is allthe same. We can sit right here and see it all, and when it comes timeto go back I'll shake the old engine up. But as I was telling you,playing the stock market is all right if you've got some one to put youwise."

  "No, it isn't," she answered positively. "I've been there and I know."

  "Well, listen to this then," went on Rimrock eagerly, "let me show youwhat Buckbee can do. I dropped in at his office, after I'd received myroll, and he said: 'Want to take a flier?'

  "'Sure,' I said, 'here's a thousand dollars. Put it on and see how farit will go.' Well, you can believe me or not, in three days' time hegave me back over two thousand dollars."

  He nodded triumphantly, but the woman beside him shook her head andturned wearily away.

  "That's only the beginning," she answered sadly, "the end is--whathappened to me."

  "What was that?" he asked and she gazed at him curiously with a look hedid not understand.

  "Well, you can see for yourself," she said at last, "this is the firstpleasure I've had for a year. I used to have a home with servants towait on me; and music, and society and all, and when my father died andleft me alone I might even then have kept on. But--well, I'll tell itto you; it may make you stop and think the next time you meet one ofthose brokers. My father was a judge and the ethics of his professionprevented him from speculating in stocks, but he had an old friend, hiscollege classmate, who had made millions and millions on the StockExchange. He was one of the most powerful financiers in New York andwhen my father died he made the request that Mr. Rossiter should investmy legacy for me. My father knew that the money he left would barelykeep me, at the best; and so he asked this old friend of his to seethat it was safely invested.

  "So when the estate had been administered I went to see Mr. Rossiterand, after discussing different investments, he told me of a plan hehad. It seems he was at the head of a tremendous combination thatcontrolled the price of a certain stock and, although it was strictlyagainst the rules, he was going to give me a tip that would double mymoney in a few weeks. I was afraid, at first, but when he guaranteedme against loss I took all my money to a certain broker and boughtforty-three thousand shares. Then I watched the papers and every day Icould see the price of it going up. One day it nearly doubled and thenit went back, and then stopped and went up and up. In less than amonth the price went up from twenty-three cents to nearly fifty andthen, just at a time when it was rising fastest, Mr. Rossiter called meto his office again. He took me back into his private room and told mehow much he had loved my father. And then he told me that the time hadcome for me to take my profits and quit; that the market was safe for aman of his kind who was used to every turn of the game, but the bestthing for me now was to get my money from my broker and invest it incertain five per cent. bonds. And then he made me promise, as long asI lived, never to buy a share of stock again."

  She paused and sighed.

  "Can you guess what I did?" she asked. "What would you do in a caselike that? Well, I went to the broker and sold back my shares and thenI stood watching the tape. I had learned to read it and somehow itfascinated me--and my stock was still going up. In less than two hoursit had gone up twenty points--it was the only stock that was sold! Andwhen I saw what I could have gained by waiting--what do you think Idid?"

  "You turned right around," answered Rimrock confidently, "and boughtthe same stock again."

  "No, you're wrong," she said with a twist of the lips, "I'm a biggergambler than that. I put up all my money on a ten-point margin and wascalled and sold out in an hour. The stock went tumbling right after Ibought it and, before I could order them to sell, the price had gonedown far below my margin and the brokers were in a panic. Theywouldn't stop to explain anything to me--all they said was that I hadlost. I went back home and thought it over and decided never to lethim know--Mr. Rossiter, I mean; he had been so kind to me, and I hadn'tdone what he said. I found out afterwards that, shortly after I hadleft him, he had deliberately wrecked the price; and he, poor man, wasthinking all the time, what a favor he had done his old friend'sdaughter."

  She laughed, short and mirthlessly, and Rimrock sat looking at her, hiseyes once more big with surprise. She was not the inexperiencedcreature he had taken her for, she was a woman with high spots in hercareer.

  "Well, then what did you do?" he enquired at last as she showed nodisposition to proceed. "How'd you come to get out here? Did you knowold McBain or----"

  "Say, can't you start that engine?" she spoke up sharply. "Let's go onand forget about the rest. I'm here, we know that; and I only told youwhat I did to break you of gambling in stocks."

  "No, that engine is stalled," he said with authority, "but I'll get itto go, when it's time. But say, tell me something--we're going to befriends, you know--does Rossiter know where you are now?"

  "Oh, yes," she answered, "I write to him frequently. He thinks I'm outhere for my health. I have this trouble, you know, and the doctorsadvised me to come out where the air is dry."

  "Well, you're a peach," observed Rimrock admiringly. "And the old manstill thinks you're rich? What'll he say, do you think, when he hearsof your latest--getting in on this Tecolote strike?"

  "Oh, I won't dare tell him," she answered quickly. "I'm afraid hewouldn't approve. And may I make a suggestion? If you'll throw onyour spark I think your engine will run."

  "Say, you scare me!" said Rimrock with a guilty grin. "You're so smartyou make me afraid. I'll crank her up, too--do you think that wouldhelp some? Huh, huh; I get caught every time!"