Home > Authors Index > William MacLeod Raine > Gunsight Pass > This page
Gunsight Pass, a fiction by William MacLeod Raine |
||
Chapter 29. Three In Consultation |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER XXIX. THREE IN CONSULTATION The grizzled railroad builder fixed Sanders with an eye that had read into the soul of many a shirker and many a dishonest schemer. "How long have you been with the Jackpot Company?" "Not long. Only a few days." "How much stock do you own?" "Ten thousand shares." "How did you get it?" "It was voted me by the directors for saving Jackpot Number Three from an attack of Steelman's men." Graham's gaze bored into the eyes of his caller. He waited just a moment to give his question full emphasis. "Mr. Sanders, what were you doing six months ago?" "I was serving time in the penitentiary," came the immediate quiet retort. "What for?" "For manslaughter." "You didn't tell me this yesterday." "No. It has no bearing on the value of the proposition I submitted to you, and I thought it might prejudice you against it." "Have you been in any trouble since you left prison?" Dave hesitated. The blazer of railroad trails rapped out a sharp, explanatory question. "Any shooting scrapes?" "A man shot at me in Malapi. I was unarmed." "That all?" "Another man fired at me out at the Jackpot. I was unarmed then." "Were you accused of holding up a stage, robbing it, and killing the driver?" "No. I was twenty miles away at the time of the hold-up and had evidence to prove it." "Then you were mentioned in connection with the robbery?" "If so, only by my enemies. One of the robbers was captured and made a full confession. He showed where the stolen gold was cached and it was recovered." The great man looked with chilly eyes at the young fellow standing in front of him. He had a sense of having been tricked and imposed upon. "I have decided not to accept your proposition to cooperate with you in financing the Jackpot Company, Mr. Sanders." Horace Graham pressed an electric button and a clerk appeared. "Show this gentleman out, Hervey." But Sanders stood his ground. Nobody could have guessed from his stolid imperturbability how much he was depressed at this unexpected failure. "Do I understand that you are declining this loan because I am connected with it, Mr. Graham?" "I do not give a reason, sir. The loan does not appeal to me," the railroad builder said with chill finality. "It appealed to you yesterday," persisted Dave. "But not to-day. Hervey, I will see Mr. Gates at once. Tell McMurray so." Reluctantly Dave followed the clerk out of the room. He had been checkmated, but he did not know how. In some way Steelman had got to the financier with this story that had damned the project. The new treasurer of the Jackpot Company was much distressed. If his connection with the company was going to have this effect, he must resign at once. He walked back to the hotel, and in the corridor of the Albany met a big bluff cattleman the memory of whose kindness leaped across the years to warm his heart. "You don't remember me, Mr. West?" The owner of the Fifty-Four Quarter Circle looked at the young man and gave a little whoop. "Damn my skin, if it ain't the boy who bluffed a whole railroad system into lettin' him reload stock for me!" He hooked an arm under Dave's and led him straight to the bar. "Where you been? What you doin'? Why n't you come to me soon as you ... got out of a job? What'll you have, boy?" Dave named ginger ale. They lifted glasses. "How?" "How?" "Now you tell me all about it," said West presently, leading the way to a lounge seat in the mezzanine gallery. Sanders answered at first in monosyllables, but presently he found himself telling the story of his failure to enlist Horace Graham in the Jackpot property as a backer. The cattleman began to rumple his hair, just as he had done years ago in moments of excitement. "Wish I'd known, boy. I've been acquainted with Horace Graham ever since he ran a hardware store on Larimer Street, and that's 'most thirty years ago. I'd 'a' gone with you to see him. Maybe I can see him now." "You can't change the facts, Mr. West. When he knew I was a convict he threw the whole thing overboard." The voice of a page in the lobby rose in sing-song. "Mister Sa-a-anders. Mis-ter Sa-a-a-anders." Dave stepped to the railing and called down. "I'm Mr. Sanders. Who wants me?" A man near the desk waved a paper and shouted: "Hello, Dave! News for you, son. I'll come up." The speaker was Crawford. He shook hands with Dave and with West while he ejaculated his news in jets. "I got it, son. Got it right here. Came back with the Governor this mo'nin'. Called together Pardon Board. Here 't is. Clean bill of health, son. Resolutions of regret for miscarriage of justice. Big story front page's afternoon's papers." Dave smiled sardonically. "You're just a few hours late, Mr. Crawford. Graham turned us down cold this morning because I'm a penitentiary bird." "He did?" Crawford began to boil inside. "Well, he can go right plumb to Yuma. Anybody so small as that--" "Hold yore hawsses, Em," said West, smiling. "Graham didn't know the facts. If you was a capitalist an' thinkin' of loanin' big money to a man you found out had been in prison for manslaughter and that he had since been accused of robbin' a stage an' killing the driver--" "He was in a hurry," explained Dave. "Going East to-morrow. Some one must have got at him after I saw him. He'd made up his mind when I went back to-day." "Well, Horace Graham ain't one of those who won't change his views for heaven, hell, and high water. All we've got to do is to get to him and make him see the light," said West. "When are we going to do all that?" asked Sanders. "He's busy every minute of the time till he starts. He won't give us an appointment." "He'll see me. We're old friends," predicted West confidently. Crestfallen, he met the two officers of the Jackpot Company three hours later. "Couldn't get to him. Sent word out he was sorry, an' how was Mrs. West an' the children, but he was in conference an' couldn't break away." Dave nodded. He had expected this and prepared for it. "I've found out he's going on the eight o'clock flyer. You going to be busy to-morrow, Mr. West?" "No. I got business at the stockyards, but I can put it off." "Then I'll get tickets for Omaha on the flyer. Graham will take his private car. We'll break in and put this up to him. He was friendly to our proposition before he got the wrong slant on it. If he's open-minded, as Mr. West says he is--" Crawford slapped an open hand on his thigh. "Say, you get the _best_ ideas, son. We'll do just that." "I'll check up and make sure Graham's going on the flyer," said the young man. "If we fall down we'll lose only a day. Come back when we meet the night train. I reckon we won't have to get tickets clear through to Omaha." "Fine and dandy," agreed West. "We'll sure see Graham if we have to bust the door of his car." _ |
||