CHAPTER XVII
A STACK OF GOLD PIECES
John Engle rapidly came to assume the nature and proportions of astubborn bulwark standing sturdily between Roderick Norton and thefires of criticism, which, springing from little, scattered flames werenow a wide-spread blaze amply fed with the dry fuel of many fields.Again there had been a general excitement over a crime committed, muchtalk, various suspicions, and, in the end, no arrest made. Men who hadstood by the sheriff until now began to lose faith in him. Theyrecalled how, after the fight in the Casa Blanca, he had let Gallowaygo and with him Antone and the Kid; their memories trailed back to thekilling of Bisbee of Las Palmas and the evidence of the boots. Theybegan to admit, at first reluctantly, then with angry eagerness, thatNorton was not the man his father had been before him, not the man theyhad taken him to be. And all of this hurt Norton's stanch friend, JohnEngle. All the more that he, too, saw signs of hesitancy which hefound it hard to condone.
"Let him alone," he said many a time. "Give him his chance and a freehand. He knows what he is doing."
From that point he began to make excuses, first to himself and then toothers. People were forgetting that only a short time ago the sheriffhad lain many days at the point of death; that his system had beenovertaxed; that not yet had his superb strength come back to him. Waituntil once more he was physically fit.
It was merely an excuse, and at the outset no man knew it better thanthe banker himself. But as time went by without bringing results andtongues grew sharper and more insistent everywhere, Engle grewconvinced that there was a grain of truth in his trumped-up argument.He invited Norton to his home, had him to dinner, watched him keenly,and came to the conclusion that Norton was riding on his nerves, thathe had not taken sufficient time to recuperate before getting his feetback into the official stirrups, that the strain of his duties wastelling on him, that he needed a rest and a change or would go topieces.
But Norton, the subject broached, merely shook his head.
"I'm all right, John," he said a little hurriedly and nervously. "I amrun down at the heels a bit, I'll admit. But I can't stop to restright now. One of these days I'll quit this job and go back toranching. Until then . . . Well, let them talk. We can't stop themvery well."
Suspicion of the Quigley mines robbery had turned at first toward delRio. But he had established an alibi. So had Galloway. So had Antoneand the Kid.
"There is nothing to do but wait," Norton insisted. "It won't be longnow."
Engle, having less than no faith in Patten's ability, went to VirginiaPage. She saw Norton often; what did she think? Was he on the vergeof a collapse? Was he physically fit?
"All of this criticism hurts him," said the banker thoughtfully. "Iknow Rod and how he must take it, though he only shrugs. It's gall andwormwood to him. He's up against a hard proposition, as we all know;if he is half-sick, I wonder if the proposition isn't going to be toomuch for him? Can't you advise him, persuade him to knock off for acouple of weeks and clear out? Get into a city somewhere and forgethis work. Why, it's the most pitiful thing in the world to see a manlike him lose his grip."
"He is not quite himself," she admitted slowly. "He is more nervous,inclined to be short and irritable, than he used to be. You may beright; or it may be simply that his continued failure to stop thesecrimes is wearing him down. I'll be glad to watch him, to talk withhim if he will listen to me."
But first she forced herself to what seemed a casual chat with Patten,finding him loitering upon the hotel veranda. She suggested to himthat Norton was beginning to show the strain, that he looked haggardunder it, and wondered if he had quite recovered from his recentillness?
Patten, after his pompous way, leaned back in his chair, his thumbs inhis armholes, his manner that of a most high judge.
"He's as well as I am," he announced positively. "Thin, to be sure,just from being laid up those ten days. And from a lot of hard ridingand worry. That's all."
Out of Patten's vest-pocket peeped a lead-pencil. Curiously enough, itcarried her mind back to Patten's incompetence. For it suggested thefountain pen which of old occupied the pencil's place and which thesheriff had taken in his haste to secrete a bit of paper with Patten'sscrawl upon it. She wondered again just what had been on that paper,and if it were meant to help Norton prove that Patten had no right tothe M.D. after his name? The incident, all but forgotten, remainedprominently in her mind, soon to assume a position of transcendentimportance.
And then, one after the other, here and there throughout the countycame fresh crimes which not only set men talking angrily but which drewthe eyes of the State and then of the neighboring States upon thiscorner of the world. Newspapers in the cities commented variously,most of them sweepingly condemning the county's sheriff for afigurehead and a boy who should never have been given a man's place inthe sun. New faces were seen in San Juan, in Las Estrellas, LasPalmas, Pozo, everywhere, and men said that the undesirable citizens ofthe whole Southwest were flocking here where they might reap withothers of their ilk and go scot free. Naturally, the Casa Blancabecame headquarters for a large percentage of the newcomers.
"The condition in and about San Juan," commented one of the mostreputable and generally conservative of the attacking dailies, "hasbecome acute, unprecedented for this time in our development. Thecommunity has become the asylum of the lawless. The authorities haveshown themselves utterly unable to cope with the situation. Awell-known figure of the desert town who long ago should have gone tothe gallows is daily growing bolder, attaching to himself the wildestof the insurging element, and is commonly looked upon as a crimedictator. Unless there comes a stiffening in the moral fiber of thelocal officers, we dread to consider the logical outcome of theseconditions."
And so forth from countless quarters. Galloway openly jeered atNorton. New faces, looking out from the Casa Blanca, grinned widely asthe sheriff now and then rode past. Engle and Struve and Tom Cutter,anxious and beginning to be afraid of what lurked in the future, met atthe hotel and sought to hit upon a solution of the problem.
"Norton has got something up his sleeve," growled the hotel keeper,"and he's as stubborn as a mule. He's after Galloway, and it begins tolook as though he were forgetting that his job is to serve the countyfirst and his own private quarrels next. I've jawed him up and down;it only makes him shake his head like a horse with flies after him."
The three, hoping that their combined arguments might have weight withNorton, went to him and did not leave him until they had made clearwhat their thoughts were, what the whole State was saying of him. And,as Struve had predicted, he shook his head.
"These later robberies haven't been Galloway's work," he told thempositively. "They were pulled off by the same man who stuck up Kembleof the Quigley mines. Inside of a week I'll get something done; I'llpromise you that. But let me do it my way."
Engle alone of the three drew a certain satisfaction from the interview.
"He has promised something definite," he told them. "Did you ever knowhim to do that and fail to keep his word? Maybe we're getting a littleexcited, boys."
The latest crime had been the robbery of the little bank at PackardSprings. The highwayman had gone in the night to the room of thecashier, forced him to dress, go to the bank, and open his safe. Theresult was a theft of a couple of thousand dollars, no trace leftbehind, and a growing feeling of insecurity throughout the county. Itwas for this crime that Norton meant and promised to make an arrest.
Exactly seven days from the day of his promise Norton rode into SanJuan and asked for Tom Cutter. Struve, meeting him at the hotel door,looked at him sharply.
"Made that arrest yet, Norton?" he demanded. Norton smiled.
"No, I haven't," he admitted coolly. "But I've got a few minutesbefore my week's up, haven't I? Fix me up with something to eat andI'll have a talk with you and Tom while I attend to the inner man."
But over his meal, while Cutter and Struve watched h
im impatiently, hedid little talking other than to ask carelessly where del Rio was.
"Damn it, man," cried Struve irritably. "You've hinted at him beforenow. If he's a crook, why don't you go grab him? He's in his room."
Norton swung about upon Struve, his eyes suddenly filled with fire.
"Look here, Struve," he retorted, "I've had about a bellyful ofbadgering. I'm running my job and it will be just as well for you tokeep your hands off. As for why I don't make an arrest . . . Come on,Tom. You, too, Julius," his smile coming back. "I'm going to get delRio."
"I don't believe . . ." began Struve.
"Seeing is believing," returned Norton lightly. "Come on."
Followed by the two men, Norton went direct to del Rio's room, at thefront of the house, just across the hall from Virginia's office. Atdel Rio's quick "_Entra_," he threw open the door and went in. DelRio, seated smoking a cigar, looked up with curious eyes which did notmiss the two men following the sheriff.
"You are under arrest for the bank robbery at Packard Springs," saidNorton crisply.
"_Que quiere usted decir_?" demanded the Mexican, to whom the Englishwords were meaningless.
Norton threw back his vest, showing his star. And while he kept hiseye upon del Rio he said quietly to Cutter:
"Look through his trunk and bags."
Del Rio, understanding quickly enough, sat smoking swiftly, his eyesnarrowing as they clung steadily to Norton's. Cutter, a rising hope inhis breast that at last his superior had made good, went to the trunkin the corner. Del Rio shrugged and remained silent.
Cutter began tumbling out upon the floor an assortment of clothing,evincing little respect for the Mexican's finery. Suddenly, when hishands had gone to the bottom, he sat back upon his heels, a leapinglight in his eyes.
"Caught with the goods on, by God!" he cried. "Look here, Struve!"
He had whipped out a canvas bag which gave forth the chink of gold.Another came after it. And across each bag was stamped "PackardSprings Bank."
Del Rio's eyes had wandered a moment to Cutter and the evidence. Thenthey came back to Norton, filled with black malevolence. One did notneed to understand the southern language to grasp the meaning of thewords muttered under his breath.
Within the half-hour Strove, Cutter, and Engle had apologized toNorton; after this, they promised him to keep their hands off and theirmouths shut.
That evening Virginia and Norton sat long together on Struve's veranda.There was more silence than talk between them. Norton seemedabstracted; the girl was plainly constrained, anxious, and found itdifficult to keep her mind upon the thin thread of conversation joiningtheir occasional remarks. Abruptly, out of one of their wordlessintervals, she said quickly:
"Congratulate me on being a rich woman! I got a check from an old,almost forgotten, patient to-day. A hundred dollars, all in one lump!It's a fortune in San Juan, isn't it?"
Norton laughed with her.
"I feel like spending it all in a breath," she ran on. "I went rightaway to Mr. Engle and had him cash it so that I could see what fivetwenty-dollar gold pieces looked like. And I chinked them and playedwith them like a child! Do you think I am growing greedy for gold inmy old age? . . . You ought to see them piled up, though; fivetwenties. Isn't gold a pretty thing? I've a notion to go get them andshow them to you; they're right on my table ..."
She broke off suddenly, her hand on his arm.
"Did you see some one out there at the corner of the house?" she askedquickly. "Do you think . . ."
Then she laughed again and settled back in her chair.
"Already thinking somebody is going to steal my gold! My fivetwenties. Just to punish myself I am going to leave them on my officetable all night; do you suppose I'll be wondering all the time ifsomebody is crawling in at a window and taking them?"
Five minutes later she said good night and left him.
"I'll be up early in the morning," she said laughingly. "Just to makesure that my gold is there!"
An hour later Virginia Page, sitting fully dressed in the darkness ofher bedroom, got quietly to her feet and went to the door leading toher office. With wildly beating heart she stood listening, seeking topeer through the crack of the door she had left ajar. She had heardthe faint, expected sound of some one moving cautiously.
Now she heard it again, then the rustling of loose papers lying on hertable, then the faint, golden chink of yellow-minted disks. As shesuddenly scratched the match in her hand, drawing it along the wall,she threw the door open. The tiny flame, held high, retrieved the roomfrom darkness into sufficient pale light. The man at her table whirledupon her, an exclamation caught in his throat, one hand going to hiship, the other closing tight upon what it held.
She came in, her eyes steadily upon his, her face deathly pale. As thematch fell from her fingers she went to the open window and drew downthe shade. Then she lit a second match, set it to her lamp, and sankwearily into her chair.
"Shall we thresh matters out, Mr. Norton?" she asked.