The Mesa Trail Part 8

"Aiblins, yes!" The thin lips of Sandy curled back. "We hadn't looked for such quick action, Abel. That Aimes is a good man! I s'pose this news don't grieve ye none, after what the lady done to you. How's your head?"

A fleeting contraction pa.s.sed across the face of Dorales. His eyes narrowed to thin slits. His nose quivered like the nose of a dog sniffing game.

"Thank you, it's quite well," his voice was low and cruel. "If you think best, I shall go down there immediately."

Mackintavers crammed a cigar between his teeth and chewed at it for a moment.

"Aiblins, yes," he mused aloud. "Somebody has blocked us on this moving-the-capital bill. I won't get hold of the skunk right away, neither; we might's well call it off until the next session.

"Tell ye what, Abel! I'm fixing to spend a while at my ranch, so I'll go south with ye. I'll need ye mighty bad to get that business of the Injun G.o.ds moving along, because I got my heart set on doin' that up brown.

But as ye say, this mine means millions-the biggest strike in the state in a long time. The a.s.sayer was positive it was strontianite and not merely barytes?"

"Dead certain," a.s.sented Dorales.

"Well, it won't be such a long job; I'll be at the ranch where ye can reach me quick. We'll have to find out what Aimes has done, then make plans and go ahead. If there's one thing that the Lord gave me ability to do, it was to handle mining deals!"

"With a cold deck," added Dorales. "Very well. If we go by auto, we can save a good deal of time."

Mackintavers grimaced. "I ain't built for long trips, but go ahead. Get the big car, Abel. Want to run her yourself? All right. Land me at the ranch, then go on to Zacaton City with the ranch flivver, unless ye want the big car."

"The flivver is the thing down there."

"Aiblins, yes. And mind! What we got to do is to get that Crump female clear off'n her location; that's all. Aimes has evidently found some means of gettin' her arrested. We can take that for granted. By the time you get there, she'll be in the calaboose.

"You telephone me at the ranch with a full account of what's happened, and I'll have a scheme ready for ye. The main thing is to get possession of the property; maybe we can frame a deal on this fellow Shea-it's all held in his name, ain't it? That was a foxy move, but not foxy enough to fool us long! Get possession, Abel, and the law will do the rest for us."

"It ought to!" Dorales showed white and even teeth as he smiled.

Mackintavers met those steely eyes beneath their strangely black brows, and his square mouth unfolded in a grin.

"Get possession, that's all!" he uttered.

"Consider it done, Sandy. If you'll be ready in an hour, I'll be around with the car."

CHAPTER VI-THADY SHEA SMELLS WHISKEY

The little town of Zacaton City, within easy trucking distance of the railroad, formed the nucleus of a goodly mining centre. Its residential section was extensive, and consisted of adobes occupied by "native"

miners or workmen. Its business section was made up chiefly of a bank, the Central Mercantile Store, hardware, drug, and harness shops, and a soda-water parlour that adjoined the Central Mercantile. This last was a blind pig, maintained with circ.u.mspection and profit by Ben Aimes, manager of the store. Aimes also ran the combination hotel-garage across the street.

Thady Shea came into town about sunset. He had broken bread on the way, and disdained to seek further dinner. Having been much cautioned, he was wary of danger. Leaving the dust-white flivver at the garage, he went to the express office and sent off his ore samples and letter, then he sought the emporium of Ben Aimes.

The two native clerks being busy, Aimes, a brisk fellow of thirty, espied the tall figure of Shea, and in person took charge of the customer.

"Well, partner, what can I do for you?" he inquired, cheerfully. "Can't say as I've seen you before. Stranger in town?"

Shea fumbled in his pocket for the list of supplies, and transfixed the merchant with his cavernous black eyes. He had been particularly warned against Aimes.

"Friend," he trumpeted, "you say sooth. Truth sits upon thy lips, marry it does!"

Aimes blinked rapidly. "Stranger, I don't get you! You're a prospector?"

"That, sir, is somewhat of my present business," boomed Shea. "Yet have I seen the day when every room hath blazed with lights and brayed with minstrelsy, when thick-eyed musing and cursed melancholy fled from before me like twin evil spirits! Make ready, friend, thy pencil for its task."

Those sonorous tones drew grinning attention from others. Aimes, quite overcome by the rounded periods and the imposing gestures, asked no more questions, but devoted himself to making ready packages as Shea read off from his list the supplies required.

Two or three loafers sauntered along and listened to Shea's enunciation with awed delight. When the end of the list was reached, the amounts totalled, and the money handed over, Thady Shea carelessly crumpled up the list and tossed it behind the counter.

His arms filled with the bundles, he left the store and crossed the street to his car. He had laid up the flivver for the night, and now attended to having it filled with gas and oil. He stated to the mechanic that he might be here for several days; at this juncture, it occurred to him that he had forgotten that axe helve which Mrs. Crump had demanded especially.

Meantime, Ben Aimes had retrieved the list of supplies, and had stared at the uncrumpled paper with amazed recognition. He swiftly summoned one of the idling loafers.

"If this ain't the writing of Mrs. Crump, I'm a liar! You chase over to the garage and get the number o' that feller's car-hump, now!"

Thady Shea reentered the store, in blissful ignorance that he was done for, and demanded his axe helve. Ben Aimes, in blissful ignorance of what that axe helve was destined to mean to him and to others, filled the order. Then, handling Shea his change, Aimes gave him a meaning wink.

"Step into the sody parlour a minute, stranger! Have a cigar on the store."

The offer was entirely innocuous. Shea greatly desired to avoid any argument or trouble, so he followed Aimes into the adjoining room, which at this hour was deserted. Aimes procured cigars, then went to the soda fountain.

"Want you to try somethin' new we got here," he said, and paused. "What did you say your name was?"

"My cognomen, sir, is Shea. Thaddeus Shea."

"Well, Shea, just hold this under your nose and see if it smells like sody."

Unsuspicious as any innocent, Shea took the proffered gla.s.s and held it to his nose. A tremor ran through him-an uncontrollable shiver that sent fever into his eyes. He lowered the gla.s.s slightly and forced a ghastly smile. Already defeat had engulfed him.

"Friend, I am sorry thus to disappoint you, but I have sworn that never--"

"Shucks!" Aimes grinned and held up his own gla.s.s. To meet it, that of Shea again came within sniffing distance. "Just one between business acquaintances, Mr. Shea. It's the finest licker ever got to this city!

Absolutely twenty year old, partner. One little snifter now-don't it smell good? The real thing, the real thing!"

Thady Shea's entire system was impregnated by that whiff. His big fingers closed upon the little gla.s.s with a convulsive contraction.

"One, sir, and one only!" he declaimed. "To the dead G.o.d Bacchus, all hail!"

He tossed down the drink and smacked his lips.

It was upon a Sat.u.r.day evening that these things happened. That smell had done the business for Thady Shea; that raw odour of whiskey, which in a flash had permeated to the very deeps of his being with its awful lure. No guile, no argument could have forced him to drink, but that sniff had ruined him utterly.

Twenty minutes later, in maudlin confidence, he was relating to Ben Aimes how two miners of his acquaintance had driven several hundred miles in deadly fear of being hoisted by dynamite at every jolt.

Shea mentioned no names. Drunk or not, he knew subconsciously that he must mention no names. Also subconsciously, he knew that he must hang on to his axe helve or Mrs. Crump would be much disappointed in him. So he was still hanging on to it when, after a parting drink, he was thrust forth into the cold night air. That parting drink had been soggy with opiates.