Good men and true, and Hit the line hardRhodes, Eugene Manlove
General
Good men and true, and Hit the line hard
Rhodes, Eugene Manlove
Cowboys -- Fiction; Frontier and pioneer life -- Fiction; New Mexico -- Fiction; Western stories
“But how do you know my uncle was behind Beck?”
“I don’t--that comes later. I am now giving you known facts only, and
you can build for yourself wherever they’ll fit.
“Bennett owns a heap of other people’s property. He began life
by ruining Brown and Almandares--take thy bill and write down
fifty--deliberately smashed ’em so he could get the wreckage. As he
began, he kept on--a wrecker. He has no heart, lungs, lights or liver.
I knew Almandares; and the good Lord never made a better man than that
old Mexican.
“Let me at once show you the impassable gulf between Bennett and a
common cheat like Beck, or like Scanlon--blacklegs, card sharps,
flimflammers. With the Beck kind, you lose only what they win. The
Bennett kind gladly makes you lose ten dollars so he can get one. To
end with, Beck and Scanlon showed a tenderness toward you not wholly
explained by your many charms of face and form. It was magnificent, but
it was not poker. And there’s where I first got the hunch.
“Having stolen the big bundle, they, or either of them, felt a certain
delicacy about cheating you for your small change; so what they won
from you they won fair. But banker Bennett, with his share put up in
moth balls, he’s so scared you might find out and pry it away from him
that he wants to hire you killed!”
Ducky Drake made an impassioned remark. It was a household word.
“What makes it a good deal worse,” added Jones with exceeding
bitterness, “is that he picked on me to let the contracts to.”
“Well, but----”
“But, nothing! That is one word I can’t bear. He offered to cancel
the mortgage on my stuff if I’d expurgate you. That means nearly two
thousand perfectly good bucks. Why? Would Bennett do that from civic
pride? Nary! He’s got a big bunch of your money--that’s why. Is there
any other possible reason?”
“Mere as I am,” said Ducky, “I can see that. There is not. But how does
all this involve the others? And what makes you hook up my uncle with
the kitty industry?”
“When a man loves money and not work; when a man has run through three
fortunes, two of ’em his own; when he turns up with a taxable income
made in Saragossa County--how did he make it? How can he make it?
Openly, in mines, sheep, cattle, storekeeping, liquor or law. But,
except for one cattle ranch, misses’ size, your uncle had no business
relations--openly.
“What kind of business is done secretly? Business that is very
profitable and not well thought of; counterfeiting--smuggling--gambling.
This wasn’t smuggling--too far from the border. Nor counterfeiting--else
he might have printed off enough to let him live in New York. Also, it
couldn’t possibly be counterfeiting, because it was gambling.
“Now, Beck and Scanlon run the only dens in Saragossa and at Ridgepole.
Because they are all involved, your uncle must have been hooked up with
gambling; and, because your uncle was hooked up with gambling, they’re
all involved.”
Ducky looked dazed; with tolerable reason.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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