He broke into a hearty laugh. “Nonsense, Miss Huntington! Why, if we were to stop and consider the history of the dollar—the grief, misery, degradation, filth that each almighty dollar has been the means of creating—we’d be too nauseated to look at it, to say nothing of buying our daily bread with it and dropping it in the collection plates!”
“There may be a lot in that, but in my case the evidence is right before me—staring me out of countenance. To me, it’s just like selling a soul. And because I feel that way about it, I know I’m deeply indebted to Billy Gee——”
“Bosh!” cried Lex. “He’s a law-breaker—a dangerous desperado. He robs men, seizes other men’s belongings, appropriates to himself what isn’t his, threatens men’s lives to do it. Miss Huntington, anybody who captures such an animal, who rids the world of such an animal, deserves far more than your father received from the M. & S.” He had spoken brusquely, animated by a conscientious detestation of crime and criminals in any form. She was watching him, studying him curiously. “The only regret I have,” he added, “is that he had to die. I would rather see such a man wearing out his soul in prison.”
“He’s dead, did you say? Why, father wrote me that Mr. Warburton was of the opinion that——” A faint smile hovered about her lips, a tantalizing smile.
“Bob Warburton is a person of foresight; usually he knows what he’s talking about. But in this case—— Why, if Billy Gee were alive, Miss Huntington, we would have heard from him long ago. He was one of those ugly customers who have a mania for seeing their names in print. Isn’t it significant that our trains have not been robbed—not even molested—since the day of his capture? Billy Gee was a bred-in-the-bone crook, Miss Huntington, the type that never reforms. He perished on the desert, and I’m saying that with all due respect to the opinion of our good friend, Warburton.”
Dot did not reply. Her mind went back to the night she had parted with Billy Gee in the dark hayloft, the moon shining through the hole under the eaves, showing him standing knee-deep in the loose hay, reflecting on the bloody bandage around his head. She heard his voice again, saying:
“You’re goin’ to hear from me, Miss Huntington—some time. An’—an’ I hope you’ll be proud, like you jest said.” It was the sound of his voice, the way he had spoken those words, that remained ever vivid in her memory. To-day, she had met the mother of Billy Gee!
At this juncture Mrs. Liggs entered the parlor to announce that luncheon was ready. They seated themselves at the table in the cool little dining room, and their hostess poured the tea and led the conversation, which ran the gamut from reminiscences of bygone days in San José to a series of interesting episodes in and around Geerusalem. But she steered carefully clear of any mention of lawlessness, being fearful of bringing the name of her bandit son into the discussion and hearing Lex’s criticism of him—the chum he believed dead.
“You men folks think us women don’t know anything about business,” she laughed gayly. “But there’s some of us do, Lex, and I’m one of them. Of course, you’ll say that when it comes to selling overalls and socks and cotton shirts I’m fine, but that I ain’t got any idea about big business—real big business. Now, won’t you?”
The talk had turned to a speculation of Geerusalem’s future, Lex taking issue with Mrs. Ligg’s statement that as a gold-producer it would surpass both the Nevada camps of Goldfield and Tonopah.