The Forbidden Way

by George Gibbs

  *CHAPTER XVIII*

  *COMBAT*

  It had been a time of terrific struggles. For four months Wray'senemies had used every device that ingenuity could devise to harass himin the building of his new road, the Saguache Short Line; had attackedthe legality of every move in the courts; hampered and delayed, whenthey could, the movement of his material; bribed his engineers andemployes; offered his Mexicans double wages elsewhere; found animaginary flaw in his title to the Hermosa Estate which for a timeprevented the shipment of ties until Larry came on and cleared thematter up. Finally they caused a strike at the Pueblo Steel Works,where his rails were made, so that before the completion of the contractthe works were shut down. Tooth and nail Jeff fought them at everypoint, and Pete Mulrennan's judge at Kinney, whose election had takenplace before the other crowd had made definite plans, had been animportant asset in the fight for supremacy.

  The other crowd had appealed from his decisions, of course, but the lawso far had been on Wray's side, and there was little chance that thedecisions would be overruled in the higher court. But as Jeff wellknew, the Amalgamated crowd had no intention of standing on ceremony,and what they couldn't do in one way they attempted to accomplish in,another. Five carloads of ties on the Denver and Saguache railroad wereditched in an arroyo between Mesa City and Saguache. Wray's engineersreported that the trestles had been tampered with. Jeff satisfiedhimself that this was true, then doubled his train crews, supplied themen with Winchesters and revolvers, and put a deputy sheriff in the cabof each locomotive. After that an explosion of dynamite destroyed anumber of his flat cars, and a fire in the shops was narrowly averted.A man caught at the switches had been shot and was now in the hospitalat Kinney with the prospect of a jail sentence before him. Judge Weigelwas a big gun in Kinney, and he liked to make a big noise. He wouldkeep the law in Saguache County, he said, if he had to call on theGovernor to help him.

  More difficult to combat were the dissensions Jeff found among his ownemployes. The German engineers, like other men, were fallible, and lefthim when the road was half done because they were offered highersalaries elsewhere. His under-engineers, his contractors, his foremenwere all subject to the same influences, but he managed somehow to keepthe work moving. New men, some of them just out of college, wereimported from the East and Middle West, and the Development Company wasturned into an employment agency to keep the ranks of workmen filled.Mexicans went and Mexicans came, but the building of the road wentsteadily on. There were no important engineering problems to solve,since the greater part of the line passed over the plains, where thefills and cuts were small and the grading inexpensive. Seven months hadpassed since ground had been broken and the road, in spite of obstacles,had been nearly carried to completion.

  Already Wray had had a taste of isolation. For two months there hadbeen but one passenger train a day between Kinney and Saguache. To allintents and purposes Kinney was now the Western terminus of the road,and Saguache was beginning to feel the pinch of the grindstones.Notwithstanding the findings of the Railroad Commission, Judge Weigel'sdecision, and Jeff's representations through his own friends atWashington, the Denver and Western refused to put on more trains.Saguache, they contended, was not the real terminus of the road; thatthe line had been extended from Kinney some years before to tap a coalfield which had not proved successful; that Saguache was not a growingcommunity, and that the old stage line still in operation between thetwo towns would be adequate for every purpose. These were lies ofcourse, vicious lies, for every one knew that since the development ofthe Mesa City properties Saguache had trebled in size, and that thefreight business alone in ten years would have provided for the entirebonded indebtedness of the road. What might happen in time Jeff did notknow or care. It was a matter which must be fought out at length andmight take years to settle. The Chicago and Utah Railroad Company forthe present had command of the situation. To handle the business Jeffhad put on a dozen four-mule teams between Kinney and Saguache, whichcarried his freight and necessary supplies along the old trail over theBoca Pass, which was shorter by ten miles than the railroad, aheart-breaking haul and a dangerous one to man and beast. But it wasthe only thing left for him to do.

  Realizing the futility of any efforts at coercion, Jeff had relinquishedthe losing battle and had put his heart and soul into the building ofthe Saguache Short Line. He knew every stick and stone of it and rodealong the line from camp to camp, lending some of his own enthusiasm tothe foremen of the gangs, pitting one crowd against the other infriendly rivalry for substantial bonuses. At last the connecting linkswere forged and only a matter of twenty miles of track remained to belaid--when the Pueblo Steel Works shut down. This was a severeblow--one on which Jeff had not counted. The penalties for non-deliveryto which the steel company were liable were heavy, but Jeff did not wantthe penalties. Compared with his own magnificent financial prospects,the penalties were only a drop in the bucket. He wanted his road. Hisentire future depended upon its completion--the smelter, the DevelopmentCompany, and all his chain of mining, coal, and lumber properties.Without that road he was now at the mercy of his enemies.

  Twenty miles of rails! They seemed very little in the face of what hehad already accomplished. He had not counted on this, and had laid noalternative plans. The Denver and California people were powerless tohelp him. A subtle influence was at work among the steel companies,and, so far as Jeff could see, it would take him from three to fivemonths to get his rails from the West or East. In the meanwhile whatmight his enemies not accomplish in bringing about his downfall. Whatwould become of his pledges to the settlers on the Hermosa Estate--andthe lot-holders of Saguache, many of whose houses were only half builtwhile they waited for the material to complete them? These people werealready impatient, and in a short while, unless something could be doneto open connections, the storm must break.

  Some days before, by request, Jeff had met Cortland Bent in Denver. Hewas glad to learn that at last the Amalgamated had decided to come outinto the open and kept the appointment, wondering why the General hadchosen Cortland as his emissary. He had entered the offices of theChicago and Utah with his usual air of self-confidence, frankly curiousas to what part Cort could be expected to play in such a big game. Itdid not take him long to learn. They had not been talking more than afew moments before Jeff discovered that General Bent had made nomistake. The bored, abstracted air of the gilded youth, the mannerismswhich Jeff had been accustomed to associate with Cortland Bent, were forsome reason lacking. In the short time since they had last met a changeof some sort had come over his old acquaintance. He conveyed animpression of spareness and maturity, as though in a night he had meltedoff all superfluities of flesh and spirit. His eyes now seemed to bemore deeply set, their gaze, formerly rather deliberate, nowpenetrating, almost to a degree of shrewdness. He was no longer the boywho had been a failure. He was now the man who had tasted thebitterness of success.

  "I thought we might make one more effort for peace, Wray. That's whyI'm here. I'm fully informed as to the affairs of the AmalgamatedReduction Company and as to my father's previous conversations with you.I'm authorized to talk over your interests in the Valley. We thoughtbefore carrying out all our plans you might like to have a chance toreconsider."

  "That's pretty clever of you, Bent. I'm ready to talk business--anytime. Fire away!"

  "I will. By this time you have probably formed some sort of an idea ofthe kind of a proposition you're up against. I'm not making anypretence of friendship when I warn you that you're going to lose out inthe end. My instructions are to ask you to come in with us now. Laterperhaps you couldn't do it so advantageously."

  "H--m! I'm figuring my chances are getting better every minute, Bent."He paused and then added, smiling, "How would your crowd like to come inwith me? I've got a good thing--a very good thing. And I wouldn't mindselling a small block at a good figure. It seems a pity to cut eac
hother's throats, don't it? They'll be building houses of gold-bricksout here next year, and you and I will pay the bill--while we might beputting a snug profit into our pockets."

  Bent remembered another bluff of Wray's which had been expensive, so heonly laughed.

  "You once froze me out with a pair of deuces, Wray, but I'm holdingcards this hand," he finished quietly.

  "I haven't such a bad hand, Bent," drawled Jeff, shaking some Durhaminto a paper. "Even 'fours' wouldn't scare me." He put the drawingstring of his tobacco-bag in his teeth and closed the bag viciously."See here--we're wasting time. What are your offers? If they're notbetter than your father's were, it's not worth while talking."

  "Better than my father's?" Cortland couldn't restrain a gasp ofadmiration. "Why, Wray, your property isn't worth what it was."

  "Why not?" savagely.

  "Well, for one thing," said Cortland coolly, "your railroad connectionsare not what they might be. I might add to that, there's no assurancethey're going to be improved."

  "Not unless I give it to you. Trains are scheduled to run on theSaguache Short Line on the twenty-fifth of May."

  "They're not going to run, Wray." Jeff turned on him quickly, butCortland's eyes met his eagerly. "That's true," he added. "Believe itor not, as you choose."

  Jeff's sharp glance blurred quickly. Then he smiled and looked out ofthe window with his childish stare.

  "Oh, well," he said quietly, "we'll do the best we can."

  "You'd better take my advice and come in with, us now. We'll meet youin a fair spirit----"

  "Why?" asked Jeff suddenly. "Why should you meet me in any kind ofspirit. You've got things all your own way--at the upper end of theValley--now you say you've coppered my outlet at Pueblo."

  "Yes, that's true. But there are other reasons why we prefer to go nofarther without an effort to come to terms. We're frank in admittingthat when we can accomplish anything by compromise we prefer to do it.This fight has been expensive. It promises to be more expensive. But,no matter what your reasons, ours are greater, and no matter what moveyou make, the Amalgamated can check you. The Amalgamated will win inthe end. It always has. It always will. You've only to look at itshistory----"

  "Oh, I know its history," said Wray. "It's a history of organized crimein three states. You've had a succession of easy marks--of sure things.I'm another one. You've got a sure thing. Why don't you go ahead andplay it. Why do you want to talk about it? I wouldn't in your place.I'd clean you out and hang your bones up the way you did ConradSeemuller's, for the crows to roost on." Wray leaned forward andbrought his fist down on the table. "I know what your 'fair spirit'means, Cort Bent. It means that your 'sure thing' is a 'sellingplater'; that you've played your best cards and the tricks are still inmy hand."

  Cortland Bent's shoulders moved almost imperceptibly.

  "You're mistaken," he said shortly.

  "Well, you'll have to prove it. I lived for some years in Missouri."

  "Then you won't consider any basis for settlement?"

  "There's nothing to settle. You started this fight. Now finish it.Either your father wins--or I do. He wouldn't consider my figures inNew York. He'd be less likely to consider them now. They've gone upsince then."

  Cortland rose and walked to the window.

  "I warn you that you're making a mistake. This is neither a bluff nor athreat. I mean what I say. You're going to lose. You've been hamperedby lack of railroad facilities. How do you like it? Your own mineshave kept your plant busy, but you can't buy any ore and you can'tcompete with us. You'll never be able to."

  "I'll take my chances."

  "Then this is final?"

  "Yes." And, as Cortland Bent rose and took up his hat, "You go back tothose that sent you here and say that on the twenty-fifth of May theSaguache Smelting Company will be in the market for ore. I've nevercompeted with your company. I've always been content to take my profitat the current prices. But if it's necessary to be a hog to remain inthis business, I'll be the biggest hog now or get out of it. You tellyour people that in future I'll regulate my schedule to theirs, andwhatever the prices of the Amalgamated are, my prices will be better.Is that clear?"

  "Perfectly. I'm much obliged. Good morning."

  The interview had terminated rather suddenly--almost too suddenly to beentirely satisfactory to Jeff, who had at first seen in a talk withCortland Bent an opportunity to learn by inductive methods something ofthe future plans of his enemies. He realized, as he watched Bent'ssquared shoulders disappear through the door of an inner office, that inthis respect he had been entirely unsuccessful. Bent had revealednothing that Jeff did not know before. Jeff had a feeling, too, thatBent had retired with a slight advantage, even though it had been moralrather than tactical. Throughout the interview Bent had preserved thesame demeanor of quiet confidence, of repression and solidity, which, inspite of his advances, had more than offset Jeff's violence anddistemper. What had come over the man? Had he found himself at last?

  In his heart Jeff had always had a feeling of good-humored contempt forthe men of Cortland Bent's class, and the fact that Camilla preferredthis one to him had made him less tolerant of them even than before. Hewas unwilling to acknowledge to himself the slight sense of shock he hadexperienced in discovering that Cort Bent was now a foeman worthy of hisown metal. Their trails were crossing too often. It wasn't healthy foreither of them.

  He understood now why it was that Camilla had written him vaguely of anurgent matter about which she could not write, requesting permission tocome West at once. He had put it down to the whim of a woman--as he dideverything feminine he could not understand. It was all clear to himnow. She wanted to be near Cortland Bent and feared to take anydefinite step which might compromise her in the eyes of her husband. Hehad had some misgivings about her letters--they had seemed so frank, sowomanly and friendly, with a touch of regretful tenderness in them thatwas unlike anything Jeff could remember when they had been together.But he was glad now that he had refused her. Seeing Bent had broughtback into Jeff's mind the whole sad history of their mistaken marriage.There wasn't a day when he didn't miss her, and his business worrieswere never so thick about him that her image didn't intrude. Frequentlyhe found himself thinking and planning, as he used to plan, for Camilla;only to remember bitterly in time that the battle he was fighting wasonly for himself. And now the man she loved had come down to help thelegions of autocracy against him. He was glad of that. It would nervehim for the struggle. He could fight better with Cort Bent on the otherside.

  With an effort he put the thought of Camilla from his mind and wentabout his other business with a new determination to circumvent hisfoes. He always fought better when his back was to the wall, and hisconversation with Bent had confirmed the necessity of completing theShort Line at any cost.

  The drains upon his resources had been enormous. Three million dollarshad already been spent, and there was another million still to beprovided for. His expenses had been greater because of the unusualimpediments thrown in his way. The mine was paying "big," and therailroad and the banks were still backing him, but he knew that therewas a limit to the amounts he must expect from these quarters. He hadtried to buy rails in the open market and found that his enemies hadforestalled him. The mills agreed to take his orders, but during thepress of business refused to name a definite date for delivery. GeneralBent, whose friendship was necessary to the steel interests East andWest, had seen to that. But if the Amalgamated thought that the lack ofrails was going to stop the construction of the Short Line, they weregoing to have another guess.

  Already an alternative plan had suggested itself to Wray, a desperate,unheard-of plan which he could never have thought of except as a lastresort. But the more he thought of it, the more convinced he was that itwas the only solution of his problem. He would tear up the rails of theold narrow-gauge which ran from Mesa City up to the old coal field atTrappe. They were light rails, old and
rusty from disuse, but they were_rails_, and by the use of more ties and "blue-boards" for the timewould serve his purpose. With the sidings and a reserve supply of theD. & S. at Saguache, he managed to figure out enough to finish the ShortLine. He knew his engineers wouldn't approve--they couldn't approve, heknew, on any grounds but those of expediency, for such construction wasdangerous and would make the accomplishment of any kind of a fastschedule impossible, but they would give him his connection--withoutwhich all of his plans must fall to earth. By October, or perhaps bylate summer, he would manage to get standard rails somewhere. It wouldbe easier once the road was in operation. He couldn't help smiling whenhe went into the office of the Denver and California. If this was thelast card Bent's crowd could play, it was on the tallies that they wereto lose the game.

  His plans met with the approval of his friends, and Jeff went back toMesa City with a lighter heart than when he had left it. A hurriedconference with his engineers and directors, which exhausted some ofJeff's strength and most of his patience, and the old road was doomed todestruction. Nor was Jeff satisfied until three dilapidated flat carsloaded with Mexicans and tools were started over the line to the coalfields. Then he turned with a sigh under the "Watch Us Grow" sign andwent into his private office, where an accumulation of mining businessawaited him.

  But his sense of triumph was short-lived. The week had not ended beforeadvices of a disquieting nature reached him from Denver and Pueblo of aconsiderable activity in the stock of the Denver and California. Thisinformation in itself was not surprising, for during the past year therate-war and the unsettled condition of the country had made the stockof the road particularly vulnerable to manipulation? But back of thismovement, Symonds, the General Manager of the road, one of Wray'sstaunchest supporters, thought he detected powerful influences. Rumorsof a more startling character had transpired, signifying the transfer oflarge blocks of the stock to Eastern investors which seriouslythreatened the control of those in power. Other men, men of thedirectorate, Jeff discovered, also showed signs of apprehension. Areorganization of the road might mean anything--to Jeff it meant ruin,if the new stockholders were in any way identified with the Chicago andUtah. Was this Bent's crowd? For the first time Wray really appreciatedthe lengths to which his enemies were prepared to go to accomplish hisdownfall. He knew that they had already spent large sums and had usedall their influence in completing their control of the Denver andWestern, but a control of the Denver and California! It was simplyincredible!

  Letters from the banks were still more disquieting. Conditions, theywrote, were so unsatisfactory throughout the West that their boards ofdirectors had thought it advisable to call their loans on the stock ofthe Denver and Saguache Railroad Company. The uncertainty of thedevelopment of the Saguache Company's properties, owing to theimperfection of their railroad connections, made this course necessaryuntil they secured definite and satisfactory assurances as to thecompletion of the Saguache Short Line and the value of its contractswith the Denver and California Railroad Company. The receipt of theseletters in the same mail was a coincidence which showed Jeff that, inspite of all assurances to the contrary, his friends were weakeningunder fire and that the enemy had invaded his own country. They meant,in short, that unless he could meet the loans at once--eight hundredthousand dollars on stock really worth two millions and a half--thosesecurities would fall into the hands of the Amalgamated people.

  Eight hundred thousand dollars! It seemed a prodigious sum of moneynow. The "Lone Tree" would bring that in the open market--of course,but he and Pete could not sell the "Lone Tree." It was the backbone ofhis entire financial position! Really alarmed at the sudden disastrousturn the company's affairs had taken, he called a meeting of Mulrennan,Larry Berkely, Weigel, Willoughby, and other available directors, andthen hurried to Denver to see his friends in the D. & C.

  Other disappointments awaited him there. Symonds, and Shackelton, thevice-president, advised him for the sake of his head, as well, perhaps,as for their own, to compromise with his enemies if he could. Untilmore light was shed as to the new ownership of the D. & C. they couldmake him no further promises of assistance either moral or financial.He argued with them, pleaded with them at least for some pledge on thepart of the road with which he could reassure the banks. They werepowerless, they said. Their contracts, of course, would be a basis fora suit even under a new management. They could--or would do nothingmore.

  A suit? Jeff knew what that meant--interminable legal proceedings,while the ties of the Saguache Short Line rotted under the rails, andwashouts in the summer tore the roadbed to pieces; it meant the shuttingdown of his coal mines, the abandonment of his lumber camps, thecomplete isolation of his mines and smelter, which, if they did businessat all, must do it under all kinds of disadvantages.

  There was only one thing left to do, and that was to finish the ShortLine and put it into operation. Then, perhaps, the courts would upholdhim and force the D. & C. to live up to its contracts--no matter who wasin control. But how was he to redeem the eight hundred thousand instock? He had enough available capital to finish the Short Line, butnot enough to redeem the stock, too. He got on the Denver and Westernsleeper for Kinney that night, sore in mind and body. He was too tiredeven to think. Larry and Pete must help him now. Perhaps there wassome way. He fell into a troubled sleep, and about his ears CorneliusBent's railroad mocked at him in noisy triumph.

  * * * * *

  The arrival of the morning train from Saguache was an event in MesaCity. There were but two trains a day, and it was the morning trainwhich brought the mail and yesterday's newspapers from Denver. Forobvious reasons, the passenger traffic was small, and, as almost everymember of the Saguache community was personally known to almost everycitizen of Mesa City, the greetings as a rule were short and laconic,consisting of a rustic nod or the mere mention of a surname. Most ofthe travelers were men and descended from the combinationbaggage-smoker; but this morning Bill Wilkinson, the conductor (andbrakeman), a person by nature taciturn, appeared upon the platform ofthe rear coach bearing a lady's English traveling bag, and winked,actually winked, at Ike Matthews, the station master, who was waitingfor his envelope from headquarters. At least eight people saw that winkand fully eighteen the handbag, and, when a pretty lady in a dove-graytraveling suit appeared in the car doorway to be helped downceremoniously to the station platform, thirty-six eyes were agog andthirty-six ears were open to learn the meaning of the unusualoccurrence; for it was plainly to be seen that the visitor bore everymark of consequence and came from the East--surely from Denver--possiblyfrom Chicago.

  They saw her smile her thanks to Wilkinson, but when she looked ratherhelplessly about her and asked for a "coupe" or "station wagon" asnigger, immediately suppressed, arose from the younger persons in theaudience. The firm hand of Ike Matthews now took control of thesituation.

  "Do you want the hotel, ma'am?" he said.

  "Yes, I think so," said the lady. "But first I want to find Mr. JeffWray. Can you tell me where I can see him?"

  Her eyes searched the cottonwood trees along the creek opposite thestation, as though she hoped to find him there, searching in the wrongdirection for the town which had been described to her.

  "Yes, ma'am, if you'll come with me." Ike took up the bag and led theway around the corner of the building into Main Street, while theengineer and fireman hung out of their cab and with the crowd on theplatform followed the slim figure with their eyes until it vanished intothe crowd at the post-office.

  A clerk in the outer room of the Development Company's office buildingreceived the queer pair.

  "Mr. Wray is in, ma'am, but he's very busy." He looked at her timidly."I don't know whether he'll see you or not. Who shall I say?"

  The lady handed him a card, and, as he disappeared, she fingered in herpocketbook for change--then, after a glance at the station master,smiled at him instead.

  "I'm much obliged to you," s
he said gratefully. "I think I'll stay herenow. I'll find my way to the hotel."

  Matthews put the bag on a desk, awkwardly removed his hat and departed,while the lady sat and waited.

  In the inner office, his head in his hands, his elbows on his desk, hisbrows bent over some papers, sat Jeff, trying to bring cosmos out of thechaos of his affairs. His clerk entered, the card in his hand,wondering whether he had made a mistake. Hell had been let loose in theDevelopment Company for a week, and Mr. Wray, he knew, was in no humorfor interruptions. Jeff looked up with a frown.

  "Well--what is it?"

  "A lady--to see you."

  Jeff's head sank into his papers again.

  "Tell her I'm busy!" Then he looked up irritably. "What lady? Who isshe? I can't see anybody to-day."

  "I don't know. She doesn't belong around here." And he dropped thecard on the desk.

  Jeff picked it up and looked at it with a scowl, then started inamazement. What did it mean? He rose slowly, his brows perplexed, andput on his coat.

  "Tell her to come in," he said. He was still standing in the middle ofthe room looking at her card when Mrs. Cheyne entered.