IN THE MESH OF HIS OWN NET
But after full discussion, the Bald Knob mine owners decided to let the case go to the jury. They wanted to put the Dodsons on record in order to make stronger a criminal action against them later.
The evidence of the plaintiffs consisted of testimony to the effect that Singlefoot Bill had worked the claims, that he had a patent, and that he had sold the properties to the Dodsons. The contract of sale itself was offered in evidence. Both Robert and Ralph Dodson gave supplementary evidence as to the conditions under which the contract was made. Their story was clear, concise, and apparently unshaken. The only fact which had apparently not been clearly established was that Thornton had ever patented the claims. The records did not show the patent, but it was urged that the papers had been destroyed in the big fire. Oral testimony was introduced to substantiate this contention.
Ralph Dodson was the last witness for the plaintiffs. He was a good witness, quiet, very certain of his facts, smilingly sure of the issue. Plainly he had impressed the jury of farmers who were trying the case. They knew nothing of the history of the ground in dispute, and were ready to accept what they heard on its prima facie merits.
In cross-examination Browning asked a brisk and careless question. “You bought direct from this prospector Singlefoot Bill, Mr. Dodson?”
“Yes.”
“Not from any of his heirs or assigns or creditors?”
“No. The contract shows that I bought from William Thornton, known as Singlefoot Bill, the man who originally located and worked the claims.”
“Let me see. The date was——?”
“July 29th, 1867.”
“Quite sure that was the day on which you bought from this Singlefoot Bill?”
“Yes. The contract shows that.” Dodson spoke with contemptuous impatience.
“As I understand it, your title rests on the fact that you bought from William Thornton, known as Singlefoot Bill, on July 29th, 1867.”
“Yes, and on the fact that we have since continued to hold the property without selling it.”
“Bought from Singlefoot Bill himself, in person?”
“Yes. I’ve said so already twice.”
“You were there when he signed the contract, Mr. Dodson?”
“Yes.”
“Did he read it before signing?”
“Yes.”
“Casually or carefully?”
“Very carefully. I remember how long he was reading it.”
“You think he understood it all—knew exactly what he was doing?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“That is all.”
Dodson was surprised. He had expected a savage gruelling, a fierce attack on every point of his testimony. Instead of which the opposing lawyer had asked a few harmless questions and waved him aside.
Fifteen minutes later Ralph Dodson’s face had faded to an ashen gray. Browning had proved by competent witnesses, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that Singlefoot Bill was named Willis Thornton and not William Thornton, and that he was buried just six weeks before the date upon which it was claimed he had signed the contract.
The lawyer was now introducing evidence to prove that Singlefoot Bill had admitted three weeks before his death, before several witnesses, that he thought he would drop work on Bald Knob without patenting any of his prospects. Ralph was not listening to it. His face was a sneering mask, but inside he was a cauldron of seething emotion. What a fool he had been, yet how natural had been his folly. He had made sure of the date of William Thornton’s death and had obtained a specimen of his signature. This William was a prospector. He answered accurately the description of Singlefoot Bill. Who under Heaven could have guessed there was another Thornton to rise up from the dead and confront him with his guilt?
He knew the Bald Knob cases were lost. That was the least of a train of evils he had let loose on himself. For the first time he had been exposed to the public gaze as a crook. He had put himself within reach of the law. If his hired witnesses deserted him he might even go to the penitentiary.
But the emotion which predominated in him was not fear. It was hatred. As the trial progressed he saw clearly that Hugh McClintock had been the rock upon which his plans had shipwrecked, just as he had been the cause that had brought defeat to him when he ran for office and when he wooed Victoria Lowell. The fellow was for ever in his way. He blocked his vision so that he could find no pleasure in life. With all the bitterness of a vain man whose hopes and ambitions have been thwarted, he hated the man who had fought him to a standstill.
His hatred grew. For after the McClintocks and their friends had won the Bald Knob cases Ralph Dodson found his place in Nevada less secure. The big men at Virginia and Carson, so he chose to think, at least, were a bit less cordial to him. They could forgive shady work if it were not exposed, but if it failed they had no sympathy for it. He had made many enemies, and now they rallied round the McClintocks. He and his brother were indicted for forgery and for conspiracy to defraud by uttering a forgery. The Katie Brackett was pinching out. It began to look as though the firm had over-extended itself financially. His bitterness centred on one man, the one he chose to think responsible for the accumulation of trouble that was heaping upon him.
His brother came to him and whispered in his ear. They were in the office of the Katie Brackett at the time. The yellow-dotted eyes dodged furtively about the room. They rested on a map of the Piodie mines, on a calendar, on the waste-paper basket, on a broken pane in the window, anywhere but in the eyes of the man to whom he was mouthing a proposal.
For once Ralph did not want to meet his gaze. He listened sullenly. “I’ll not have a thing to do with it—not a thing,” he said at last. “It’s too dangerous. We’ve got too many men already who can ruin us by talking. Better drop it.”
“I’m not askin’ you to mix up in it. But I’ll tell you the truth. I’m scairt of that fellow. He’ll send us to the pen sure as he’s alive. I’ll fix his clock. You keep out of it.”
“I don’t want to hear a word about it. Not a word. Understand. I’ve forgotten what you told me. You’d better forget it, too.”
“Hmp! Mebbe you wantta go to serve time. I don’t. With that fellow outa the way we’d be all right. You don’t have to know a thing about it. I got a way to fix things. Sure have.”
“Well, don’t come to me about it. I’ll not listen to a word.”
Robert Dodson showed his bad teeth in an evil grin. He understood that he had been told to go ahead and play his own hand.