The Story of the Foss River Ranch Part 39

He sighed and looked for sympathy. Old John seemed too amazed to respond. He had never realized that the raider's efforts were solely directed against Lablache. The money-lender went on.

"And that is why I have come to you, my oldest friend. I feel you should be the first to know, for with no one else in Foss River have I lived in such perfect harmony. And, besides, you are the most interested."

The latter was in the tone of an afterthought. Strangely enough the careless way in which it was spoken carried the words well home to the rancher's muddled brain.

"Interested?" he echoed blankly.

"Why, yes. Certainly, you are the most interested. I mean from a monetary point of view. You see, the winding up of my business will entail the settling up of--er--my books."

"Yes," said the rancher, with doubtful understanding.

"Then--er--you take my meaning as to how--er--how you are interested."

"You mean my arrears of interest," said the gray headed old man dazedly.

"Just so. You will have to meet your liabilities to me."

"But--but--man." The rancher spluttered for words to express himself.

This was the money-lender's opportunity, and he seized it.

"You see, John, in retiring from business I am not altogether a free agent. My affairs are so mixed up with the affairs of the Calford Trust and Loan Co. The period of one of your mortgages, for instance--the heaviest by the way--has long expired. It has not been renewed. The interest is in arrears. This mortgage was arranged by me jointly with the Calford Trust and Loan Co. When I retire it will have to be settled up. Being my friend I have not troubled you, but doubtless the company will have no sentiment about it. As to the others--they are debts of honor. I am afraid these things will have to be settled, John. You will of course be able to meet them."

"G.o.d, man, but I can't," old John exclaimed. "I tell you I can't," he reiterated in a despairing voice.

Lablache shrugged his obese shoulders.

"That is unfortunate."

"But, Lablache," said the rancher, gazing with drunken earnestness into the other's face, "you will not press me?"

"Why no, John, of course not--as far as I am personally concerned. I have known you too long and have too much regard for you and--yours. No, no, John; of course I am a business man, but I am still your friend.

Friend--eh, John--your friend."

The rancher looked relieved, and helped himself to more whisky. Lablache joined him and they silently drank. "Poker" John set his empty gla.s.s down first.

"Now Lablache, about these lia-liabilities," he said with a hiccup.

"What is to be done?"

"Well, John, we are friends of such old standing that I don't like to retire from business and leave you inconvenienced by the process.

Perhaps there is a way by which I can help you. I am very wealthy--and wealth is a great power--a very great power even in this wild region.

Now, suppose I make a proposition to you."

CHAPTER XXIV

"POKER" JOHN ACCEPTS

"Ah!"

There was a tone of drunken suspicion about the exclamation which was not lost on Lablache.

"If you were suddenly called upon to meet your liabilities to me, John,"

said the money-lender, smiling, "how would it fix you?"

"It would mean ruin," replied John, hoa.r.s.ely.

Lablache cleared his throat and snorted. Then he smiled benignly upon his old companion.

"That's just what I thought. Well, you're not going to be ruined--by me.

I'm going to burn the mortgages and settle with the Calford Trust and Loan Co. myself--"

The rancher feared to trust his ears.

"That is if you are willing to do something for me."

In his eager hope John Allandale had leant forward so as not to miss a word the other said. Now, however, he threw himself back in his chair.

Some suspicion was in his mind. It might have been intuition. He knew Lablache well. He laughed cynically.

"That's more like you," he said roughly.

"One moment," said the money-lender; the smile vanished from his lips.

"Fair play's good medicine. We'll wipe out your debts if you'll tell your niece that you want her to marry me."

"I'll--I'll--"

"Hold on, John," with upraised hand, as the old man purpled with rage and started to shout.

"I'll see you d.a.m.ned first!" The rancher had lurched on to his feet and his fist came down with a crash upon the corner of the table. Lablache remained unmoved.

"Tut tut, man; now listen to me." The old man towered unsteadily over him. "I can't understand your antipathy to me as a husband for your niece. Give your consent--she'll do it for you--and, on my wedding day, I burn those mortgages and I'll settle 100,000 dollars upon Jacky.

Besides this I'll put 200,000 dollars into your ranch to develop it, and only ask ten per cent, of the profits. Can I speak fairer? That girl of yours is a good girl, John; too good to kick about the prairie. I'll make her a good husband. She shall do as she pleases, live where she likes. You can always be with us if you choose. It's no use being riled, John, I'm making an honest proposition."

The rancher calmed. In the face of such a generous proposal he could not insult Lablache. He was determined, however. It was strange, perhaps, that any suggestion for his influence to be used in his niece's choice of a husband should have such a violent effect upon him. But "Poker"

John was a curious mixture of weakness and honor. He loved his niece with a doting affection. She was the apple of his eye. To him the thought of personal benefit at the cost of her happiness was a sacrilege. Lablache understood this. He knew that on this point the rancher's feelings amounted to little short of mania. And yet he persisted. John's nature was purely obstinate, and obstinacy is weakness. The money-lender knew that obstinacy could be broken down by steady determination. However, time, with him, was now everything. He must clinch the deal with as little delay as possible if he would escape from Foss River and the ruinous attacks of Retief. This thought was ever present with him and urged him to press the old man hard. If John Allandale would not be reasonable, he, Lablache, must force an acceptance of his terms from him.

The rancher was mollified. His dulled brain suddenly saw a loop-hole of escape.

"I guess you mean well enough, Lablache. But say, ask the child yourself."

The other shook his ma.s.sive head.

"I have--she has refused."

"Then why in thunder do you come to me?"