Ridgway of Montana

W >> William MacLeod Raine >> Ridgway of Montana

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They talked at haphazard for a few minutes before the young women cantered
away. As Hobart trudged homeward he knew that in the eyes of these two
women, at least, he had not been a fool.

CHAPTER 14. A CONSPIRACY

Tucked away in an obscure corner of the same issue of the papers which
announced the resignation of Lyndon Hobart as manager of the Consolidated
properties, and the appointment of James K. Mott as his temporary
successor, were little one-stick paragraphs regarding explosions, which had
occurred the night before in tunnels of the Taurus and the New York. The
general public paid little attention to these, but those on the inside knew
that Ridgway had scored again. His spies had carried the news to him of the
projected capture of these two properties by the enemy. Instead of
attempting to defend them by force, he had set of charges of giant powder
which had brought down the tunnel roofs and effectually blocked the
entrances from the Consolidated mines adjoining.

With the indefatigable patience which characterized him, Harley set about
having the passages cleared of the rock and timber with which they were
filled. Before he had succeeded in doing this his enemy struck another
telling blow. From Judge Purcell he secured an injunction against the
Consolidated from working its mines, the Diamond King, the Mary K, and the
Marcus Daly, on the absurd contention that the principal ore-vein of the
Marcus Daly apexed on the tin, triangle wedged in between these three great
mines, and called by Ridgway the Trust Buster. Though there was not room
enough upon this fragment to sink a shaft, it was large enough to found
this claim of a vein widening as it descended until it crossed into the
territory of each of these properties. Though Harley could ignore court
injunctions which erected only under-ground territory, he was forced to
respect this one, since it could not be violated except in the eyes of the
whole country. The three mines closed down, and several thousand workmen
were thrown out of employment. These were immediately reemployed by Ridgway
and set to work both in his own and the Consolidated's territory.

Within a week a dozen new suits were instituted against the Consolidated by
its enemy. He harassed it by contempt proceedings, by applications for
receiverships, and by other ingenious devices, which greatly tormented the
New York operator. For the first time in his life the courts, which Harley
had used to much advantage in his battles to maintain and extend the trusts
he controlled, could not be used even to get scant justice.

Meanwhile both leaders were turning their attention to the political
situation. The legislators were beginning to gather for the coming session,
and already the city was full of rumors about corruption. For both the
Consolidated and its enemy were making every effort to secure enough votes
to win the election of a friendly United States senator. The man chosen
would have the distribution of the federal patronage of the State. This
meant the control of the most influential local politicians of the party in
power at Washington as well as their followers, an almost vital factor for
success in a State where political corruption had so interwoven itself into
the business life of the community.

The hotel lobbies were filled with politicians gathered from every county
in the State. Big bronzed cattlemen brushed shoulders with budding lawyers
from country towns and ward bosses from the larger cities. The bars were
working overtime, and the steady movement of figures in the corridors
lasted all day and most of the night. Here and there were collected groups,
laughing and talking about the old frontier days, or commenting in lowered
tones on some phase of the feverish excitement that was already beginning
to be apparent. Elevators shot up and down, subtracting and adding to the
kaleidoscope of human life in the rotundas. Bellboys hurried to and fro
with messages and cocktails. The ring of the telephone-bell cut
occasionally into the deep hum of many voices. All was confusion, keen
interest, expectancy.

For it was known that Simon Harley had sent for $300,000 in cold cash to
secure the election of his candidate, Roger D. Warner, a lawyer who had all
his life been close to corporate interests. It was known, too, that Waring
Ridgway had gathered together every element in the State that opposed the
domination of the Consolidated, to fight their man to a finish. Bets for
large sums were offered and taken as to the result, heavy odds being given
in favor of the big copper trust's candidate. For throughout the State at
large the Consolidated influence was very great indeed. It owned forest
lands and railroads and mines. It controlled local transportation largely.
Nearly one-half the working men in the State were in its employ. Into every
town and village the ramifications of its political organization extended.
The feeling against it was very bitter, but this was usually expressed in
whispers. For it was in a position to ruin almost any business man upon
whom it fastened a grudge, and to make wealthy any upon whom it chose to
cast its favors.

Nevertheless, there were some not so sure that the Consolidated would
succeed in electing its man. Since Ridgway had announced himself as a
candidate there had been signs of defection on the part of some of those
expected to vote for Warner. He had skillfully wielded together in
opposition to the trust all the elements of the State that were hostile to
it; and already the word was being passed that he had not come to the
campaign without a barrel of his own.

The balloting for United States senator was not to begin until the eighth
day of the session, but the opening week was full of a tense and suppressed
excitement. It was known that agents of both sides were moving to and fro
among the representatives and State senators, offering fabulous prices for
their votes and the votes of any others they might be able to control. Men
who had come to the capital confident in their strength and integrity now
looked at their neighbors furtively and guiltily. Day by day the
legislators were being debauched to serve the interest of the factions
which were fighting for control of the State. Night after night secret
meetings were being held in out-of-the-way places to seduce those who clung
desperately to their honesty or held out for a bigger price. Bribery was in
the air, rampant, unashamed. Thousand-dollar bills were as common as
ten-dollar notes in ordinary times.

Sam Yesler, commenting on the situation to his friend Jack Roper, a fellow
member of the legislature who had been a cattleman from the time he had
given up driving a stage thirty years before, shook his head dejectedly
over his blue points.

"I tell you, Jack, a man has to be bed-rocked in honesty or he's gone.
Think of it. A country lawyer comes here who has never seen five thousand
dollars in a lump sum, and they shove fifteen thousand at him for his vote.
He is poor, ambitious, struggling along from hand to mouth. I reckon we
ain't in a position to judge that poor devil of a harassed fellow. Mebbe
he's always been on the square, came here to do what was right, we'll say,
but he sees corruption all round him. How can he help getting a warped
notion of things? He sees his friends and his neighbors falling by the
wayside. By God, it's got to the point in this legislature that an honest
man's an object of obloquy."

"That's right," agreed Roper. "Easy enough for us to be square. We got good
ranches back of us and can spend the winter playing poker at the Mesa Club
if we feel like it. But if we stood where Billy George and Garner and
Roberts and Munz do, I ain't so damn sure my virtue would stand the strain.
Can you reach that salt, Sam?"

"Billy George has got a sick wife, and he's been wanting to send her back
to her folks in the East, but he couldn't afford it. The doctors figured
she ought to stay a year, and Billy would have to hire a woman to take care
of his kids. I said to him: 'Hell, Billy, what's a friend for?' And I
shoves a check at him. He wouldn't look at it; said he didn't know whether
he could ever pay it, and he had not come down to charity yet."

"Billy's a white man. That's what makes me sick. Right on top of all his
bad luck he comes here and sees that everybody is getting a big roll. He
thinks of that white-faced wife of his dragging herself round among the
kids and dying by inches for lack of what money can buy her. I tell you I
don't blame him. It's the fellows putting the temptation up to him that
ought to be strung up."

"I see that hound Pelton's mighty active in it. He's got it in for Ridgway
since Waring threw him down, and he's plugging night and day for Warner.
Stays pretty well tanked up. Hopper
tells me he's been making threats to kill Waring on sight."

"I heard that and told Waring. He laughed and said he hoped he would live
till Pelton killed him. I like Waring. He's got the guts, as his miners
say. But he's away off on this fight. He's using money right and left just
as Harley is."

Yesler nodded. "The whole town's corrupted. It takes bribery for granted.
Men meet on the street and ask what the price of votes is this morning.
Everybody feels prosperous."

"I heard that a chambermaid at the Quartzite Hotel found seven thousand
dollars in big bills pinned to the bottom of a mattress in Garner's room
yesterday. He didn't dare bank it, of course."

"Poor devil! He's another man that would like to be honest, but with the
whole place impregnated with bribery he couldn't stand the pressure. But
after this is all over he'll go home to his wife and his neighbors with the
canker of this thing at his heart until he dies. I tell you, Jack, I'm for
stopping it if we can."

"How?"

"There's one way. I've been approached indirectly by Pelton, to deliver our
vote to the Consolidated. Suppose we arrange to do it, get evidence, and
make a public exposure."

They were alone in a private dining-room of a restaurant, but Yesler's
voice had fallen almost to a whisper. With his steady gray eyes he looked
across at the man who had ridden the range with him fifteen years ago when
he had not had a sou to bless himself with.

Roper tugged at his long drooping mustache and gazed at his friend. "It's a
large order, Sam, a devilish large order. Do you reckon we could deliver?"

"I think so. There are six of us that will stand pat at any cost. If we
play our cards right and keep mum the surprise of it is bound to shake
votes loose when we spring the bomb. The whole point is whether we can take
advantage of that surprise to elect a decent man. I don't say it can be
done, but there's a chance of it."

The old stage-driver laughed softly. "We'll be damned good and plenty by
both sides."

"Of course. It won't be a pleasant thing to do, but then it isn't exactly
pleasant to sit quiet and let these factions use the State as a pawn in
their game of grab."

"I'm with you, Sam. Go to it, my boy, and I'll back you to the limit."

"We had better not talk it over here. Come to my room after dinner and
bring Landor and James with you. I'll have Reedy and Keller there. I'll
mention casually that it's a big game of poker, and I'll have cards and
drinks sent up. You want to remember we can't be too careful. If it leaks
out we lose."

"I'm a clam, Sam. Do you want I should speak of it to Landor and James?"

"Better wait till we get together."

"What about Ward? He's always been with us."

"He talks too much. We can take him in at the last minute if we like."

"That would be better. I ain't so sure about Reedy, either. He's straight
as a string, of course; not a crooked hair in his head. But when he gets to
drinking he's likely to let things out."

"You're right. We'll leave him out, too, until the last minute. There's
another thing I've thought of. Ridgway can't win. At least I don't see how
he can control more than twenty five votes. Suppose at the very last moment
we make a deal with him and with the Democrats to pool our votes on some
square man. With Waring it's anything to beat the Consolidated. He'll jump
at the chance if he's sure he is out of the running himself. Those of the
Democrats that Harley can't buy will be glad to beat his man. I don't say
it can be done, Jack. All I say is that it is worth a trial."

"You bet."

They met that night in Yesler's rooms round a card-table. The hands were
dealt for form's sake, since there were spies everywhere, and it was
necessary to ring for cigars and refreshments occasionally to avoid
suspicion. They were all cattlemen, large or small, big outdoors sunburned
men, who rode the range in the spring and fall with their punchers and
asked no odds of any man.

Until long past midnight they talked the details over, and when they
separated in the small hours it was with a well-defined plan to save the
State from its impending disgrace if the thing could be done.

CHAPTER 15. LASKA OPENS A DOOR

The first ballots for a United States senator taken by the legislature in
joint session failed to disclose the alignment of some of the doubtful
members. The Democratic minority of twenty-eight votes were cast for
Springer, the senator whose place would be taken by whoever should win in
the contest now on. Warner received forty-four, Ridgway twenty-six, eight
went to Pascom, a former governor whom the cattlemen were supporting, and
the remaining three were scattered. Each day one ballot was taken, and for
a week there was a slight sifting down of the complimentary votes until at
the end of it the count stood:

Warner 45
Ridgway 28
Springer 28
Pascom 8

Warner still lacked ten votes of an election, but It was pretty thoroughly
understood that several of the Democratic minority were waiting only long
enough for a colorable excuse to switch to him. All kinds of rumors were in
the air as to how many of these there were. The Consolidated leaders boldly
claimed that they had only to give the word to force the election of their
candidate on any ballot. Yesler did not believe this claim could be
justified, since Pelton and Harley were already negotiating with him for
the delivery of the votes belonging to the cattlemen's contingent.

He had held off for some time with hints that it would take a lot of money
to swing the votes of such men as Roper and Landor, but he had finally come
to an agreement that the eight votes should be given to Warner for a
consideration of $300,000. This was to be paid to Yesler in the presence of
the other seven members on the night before the election, and was to be
held in escrow by him and Roper until the pact was fulfilled, the money to
be kept in a safety deposit vault with a key in possession of each of the
two.

On the third day of the session, before the voting had begun, Stephen
Eaton, who was a State senator from Mesa, moved that a committee be
appointed to investigate the rumors of bribery that were so common. The
motion caught the Consolidated leaders napping, for this was the last man
they had expected to propose such a course, and it went through with little
opposition, as a similar motion did in the House at the same time. The
lieutenant-governor and the speaker of the House were both opposed to
Warner, and the joint committee had on it the names of no Consolidated men.
The idea of such a committee had originated with Ridgway, and had been
merely a bluff to show that he at least was willing that the world should
know the whole story of the election. Nor had this committee held even
formal meetings before word reached Eaton through Yesler that if it would
appoint a conference in some very private place, evidence would be
submitted implicating agents of the Warner forces in attempts at bribery.

It was close to eleven o'clock when Sam Yesler stepped quietly from a side
door of his hotel and slipped into the street. He understood perfectly that
in following the course he did, he was taking his life in his hands. The
exposure of the bribery traffic would blast forever the reputations of many
men who had hitherto held a high place in the community, and he knew the
temper of some of them well enough to be aware that an explosion was
probable. Spies had been dogging him ever since the legislature convened.
Within an hour one of them would be flying to Pelton with the news that he
was at a meeting of the committee, and all the thugs of the other side
would be turned loose on his heels. As he walked briskly through the
streets toward the place appointed, his hand lay on the hilt of a revolver
in the outside pocket of his overcoat. He was a man who would neither seek
trouble nor let it overwhelm him. If his life were attempted, he meant to
defend it to the last.

He followed side streets purposely, and his footsteps echoed along the
deserted road. He knew he was being dogged, for once, when he glanced back,
he caught sight of a skulking figure edging along close to a wall. The
sight of the spy stirred his blood. Grimly he laughed to himself. They
might murder him for what he was doing, but not in time to save the
exposure which would be brought to light on the morrow.

The committee met at a road-house near the outskirts of the city, but only
long enough to hear Yesler's facts and to appoint another meeting for three
hours later at the offices of Eaton. For the committee had come here for
secrecy, and they knew that it would be only a short time before Pelton's
heelers would be down upon them in force. It was agreed they should divide
and slip quietly back to town, wait until everything was quiet and convene
again. Meanwhile Eaton would make arrangements to see that his offices
would be sufficiently guarded for protection against any attack.

Yesler walked back to town and was within a couple of blocks of his hotel
when he glimpsed two figures crouching against the fence of the alley. He
stopped in his tracks, watched them intently an instant, and was startled
by a whistle from the rear. He knew at once his retreat, too, was cut off,
and without hesitation vaulted the fence in front of a big gray stone house
he was passing. A revolver flashed from the alley, and he laughed with a
strange kind of delight. His thought was to escape round the house, but
trellis work barred the way, and he could not open the gate.

"Trapped, by Jove," he told himself coolly as a bullet struck the trellis
close to his head.

He turned back, ran up the steps of the porch and found momentary safety in
the darkness of its heavy vines. But this he knew could not last. Running
figures were converging toward him at a focal point. He could hear oaths
and cries. Some one was throwing aimless shots from a revolver at the
porch.

He heard a window go up in the second story and a woman's frightened voice
ask. "What is it? Who is there?"

"Let me in. I'm ambushed by thugs," he called back.

"There he is--in the doorway," a voice cried out of the night, and it was
followed by a spatter of bullets about him.

He fired at a man leaping the fence. The fellow tumbled back with a kind of
scream.

"God! I'm hit."

He could hear steps coming down the stairway and fingers fumbling at the
key of the door. His attackers were gathering for a rush, and he wondered
whether the rescue was to be too late. They came together, the opening door
and the forward pour of huddled figures. He stepped back into the hall.

There was a raucous curse, a shot, and Yesler had slammed the door shut. He
was alone in the darkness with his rescuer.

"We must get out of here. They're firing through the door," he said, and
"Yes" came faintly back to him from across the hall.

"Do you know where the switch is?" he asked, wondering whether she was
going to be such an idiot as to faint at this inopportune moment.

His answer came in a flood of light, and showed him a young woman crouched
on the hall-rack a dozen feet from the switch. She was very white, and
there was a little stain of crimson on the white lace of her sleeve.

A voice from the landing above demanded quickly, "Who are you, sir?" and
after he had looked up', cried in surprise, "Mr. Yesler."

"Miss Balfour," he replied. "I'll explain later. I'm afraid the lady has
been hit by a bullet."

He was already beside his rescuer. She looked at him with a trace of a
tired smile and said:

"In my arm."

After which she fainted. He picked up the young woman, carried her to the
stairs, and mounted them.

"This way," said Virginia, leading him into a bedroom, the door of which
was open.

He observed with surprise that she, too, was dressed in evening clothes,
and rightly surmised that they had just come back from some social
function.

"Is it serious?" asked Virginia, when he had laid his burden on the bed.

She was already clipping with a pair of scissors the sleeve from round the
wound.

"It ought not to be," he said after he had examined it. "The bullet has
scorched along the fleshy part of the forearm. We must telephone for a
doctor at once."

She did so, then found water and cotton for bandages, and helped him make a
temporary dressing. The patient recovered consciousness under the touch of
the cold water, and asked: what was the matter.

"You have been hurt a little, but not badly I think. Don't you remember?
You came down and opened the door to let me in."

"They were shooting at you. What for?" she wanted to know.

He smiled. "Don't worry about that. It's all over with. I'm sorry you were
hurt in saving me," said Yesler gently.

"Did I save you?" The gray eyes showed a gleam of pleasure.

"You certainly did."

"This is Mr. Yesler, Laska. Mr. Yesler--Miss Lowe. I think you have never
met."

"Never before to-night," he said, pinning the bandage in place round the
plump arm. "There. That's all just now, ma'am. Did I hurt you very much?"

The young woman felt oddly exhilarated. "Not much. I'll forgive you if
you'll tell me all about the affair. Why did they want to hurt you?"

His big heart felt very tender toward this girl who had been wounded for
him, but he showed it only by a smiling deference.

"You're right persistent, ma'am. You hadn't ought to be bothering your head
about any such thing, but if you feel that way I'll be glad to tell you."

He did. While they sat there and waited for the coming of the doctor, he
told her the whole story of his attempt to stop the corruption that was
eating like a canker at the life of the State. He was a plain man, not in
the least eloquent, and he told his story without any sense that he had
played any unusual part. In fact, he was ashamed that he had been forced to
assume a role which necessitated a kind of treachery to those who thought
they had bought him.

Laska Lowe's eyes shone with the delight his tale inspired in her. She
lived largely in the land of ideals, and this fight against wrong moved her
mightily. She could feel for him none of the shame which he felt for
himself at being mixed up in so bad a business. He was playing a man's
part, had chosen it at risk of his life. That was enough. In every fiber of
her, she was glad that good fortune had given her the chance to bear a part
of the battle. In her inmost heart she was even glad that to the day of her
death she must bear the scar that would remind her she had suffered in so
good a cause.

Virginia, for once obliterating herself, perceived how greatly taken they
were with each other. At bottom, nearly every woman is a match-maker. This
one was no exception. She liked both this man and this woman, and her fancy
had already begun to follow her hopes. Never before had Laska appeared to
show much interest in any of the opposite sex with whom her friend had seen
her. Now she was all enthusiasm, had forgotten completely the pain of her
wound in the spirit's glow.

"She loved me for the danger I had pass'd,
And I loved her that she did pity them.
This only is the witchcraft I have us'd.'"

Virginia quoted softly to herself, her eyes on the young woman so finely
unconscious of the emotion that thrilled her.

Not until the clock in the hall below struck two did Yesler remember his
appointment in the Ridgway Building. The doctor had come and was about to
go. He suggested that if Yesler felt it would be safe for him to go, they
might walk across to the hotel together.

"And leave us alone." Laska could have bitten her tongue after the words
were out.

Virginia explained. "The Leighs are out of the city to-night, and it
happens that even the servants are gone. I asked Miss Lowe to stay with me
all night, but, of course, she feels feverish and nervous after this
excitement. Couldn't you send a man to watch the rest of the night out in
the house?"

"Why don't You stay, Mr. Yesler?" the doctor suggested. "You could sleep
here, no doubt."

"You might have your meeting here. It is neutral ground. I can phone to Mr.
Ridgway," proposed Virginia in a low voice to Yesler.

"Doesn't that seem to imply that I'm afraid to leave?" laughed Yesler.

"It implies that we are afraid to have you. Laska would worry both on your
account and our own. I think you owe it to her to stay."

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