The Silver Tombstone

Chapter Seventeen

Johnny started down a flagged walk, turned a corner around a darkened building and saw straight ahead a neat-looking cottage, with lighted windows.

“Oh, Mr. Henderson!” the watchman called.

The door of the cottage opened, framing Mike Henderson, fully dressed, in the lighted doorway.

“What is it?” he called testily.

“Here’s a couple of fellas just come up from the mine. Claim they broke through from the Silver Tombstone...”

Johnny stepped into the light from the doorway and Mike Henderson suddenly recognized him.

“I’ll be a monkey’s uncle!”

“Me, too,” said Johnny.

“Byron,” said Mike Henderson, “stay out here.”

“Shore will, Mr. Henderson.” The old watchman patted the stock of the shotgun. “Yell if you want me.”

Henderson stepped out of the doorway. “Come in, boys. I think we ought to have a little talk — about things.”

“Why not? It’s only four-five a.m.”

Henderson chuckled. “They never get you down, do they?”

“I’ve been down,” Johnny said sagely. “But now that I’m up, nothing will ever get me down again.” He winked at Sam Cragg, who was more cheerful than he had been in days. They had come through a trying ordeal — and Johnny Fletcher was his old, chipper self. That was good enough for Sam.

Johnny and Sam walked into Mike Henderson’s cottage and Henderson followed and closed the door. Inside the living room he went to a table at which he had evidently been working and threw a newspaper over some papers and drawings.

“All right,” he said then. “Let’s have the story.”

“You won’t believe it,” said Johnny.

“I won’t believe what? Joe Cotter and Danny Sage were here last night. I didn’t believe them, but I’m willing to believe you... now.”

“What’d they tell you?”

“Let’s have your story first.”

Johnny crossed to a big Morris chair, dropped in it and stretched out his legs. “You tell me.”

“Now wait a minute,” said Henderson. “You came out of my mine — trespassing...”

“Well,” said Johnny, “you may have something there. Okay, I’ll tell you the story. Joe Cotter and Danny Sage made a deal.”

“What do you mean — a deal?”

“Why, the last time I saw both of them they were exchanging bullets...”

“When was that?”

“Around four yesterday afternoon.”

“They were shooting at each other? Where...?”

“Over at the Silver Tombstone. To make a long story short, Danny Sage drove Sam and me out to the mine. We’d hardly got there when Joe Cotter showed up...”

“Alone?”

Johnny hesitated. “No, he had someone with him.”

Henderson nodded in satisfaction. “All right, I was just wondering if you were going to tell me a story... As a matter of fact, Joe Cotter stopped here and picked up Helen.”

“But he didn’t bring her back.”

Mike Henderson picked up a celluloid draftsman’s rule and began toying with it. “What happened at the Silver Tombstone?”

“Nothing special. Joe Cotter and Danny began shooting at each other, that’s all. And Danny wanted to protect us, so he let us down into the mine. And forgot to pull us up again.”

“You and—” Henderson nodded toward Sam Cragg.

“And Helen Walker.”

“Helen Walker went down into the mine with you?”

“She’s there yet.”

“No, I’m not,” said the voice of Helen Walker.

Johnny Fletcher sprang to his feet and faced Helen Walker, coming out of a bedroom.

“Holy Mother!” breathed Sam Cragg.

Johnny stared at her. It was Helen Walker, all right; Helen Walker wearing pajamas and dressing gown and as fresh as though she’d just enjoyed a good night’s sleep.

Johnny seated himself and weariness flowed into his body.

“I quit,” he said.

Sam Cragg was breathing hoarsely and his eyes threatened to pop from his head. Then he suddenly began growling and moved uneasily toward the door.

Mike Henderson came toward Johnny Fletcher and stood over him, his feet wide apart.

“Now let’s have the real story.”

“You tell me,” Johnny said heavily. “You and...” he inclined his head toward her, “...Helen.”

“My story’s simple enough,” said Helen Walker. “I just walked over to the elevator shaft and rode up to the surface.”

Johnny groaned, “Oh, stop it!”

“That’s the truth.”

“...The elevator just happened to be there... and it just happened to go up when you stepped into it?”

“Not exactly. Danny Sage was on the elevator and Joe Cotter operated the winch.”

“I’ll believe that part,” Johnny said. “Danny and Joe got together. But you said you just walked over to the elevator shaft... Just like that!”

“It wasn’t hard, once I got my bearings. The map is quite accurate.”

Johnny sat up. “What map?”

“The map of the mine — the shafts and all that.”

“You had that map all the time?”

“In my purse. Along with a pencil flashlight.”

“Goddamit!” cried Sam Cragg. “Goddamit to hell.”

Johnny held up a chiding finger. “There’s a lady present, Sam... I think.” He turned back to Helen. “Of course you didn’t know you had the map — and the flashlight, when you were still with us...”

“Oh, I knew all the time that I had them.” Helen smiled pleasantly. “As a matter of fact, I didn’t stray away from you. I left you, deliberately.”

Johnny got up from the chair. Mike Henderson stepped forward and held out a hand.

“Sam!” Johnny said sharply.

Sam advanced upon Henderson. The latter backed away. “Byron!” he yelled at the top of his voice.

Heels clicked upon the macadam outside. “I’m comm’,” cried the voice of Old Byron, the watchman.

The door slammed open. By that time Sam Cragg was beside it. Byron charged in and Sam reached out and took the shotgun from him as easily as if it had been a toy and Byron a child. The old watchman cried out in chagrin.

Laura Henderson appeared from the bedroom. She too, was in negligee and wearing a dressing gown. “Do we have to have these scenes in the middle of the night?” she asked.

“This one’s over now,” Johnny replied. “You can go back to bed.”

“It isn’t over yet, Fletcher,” Mike Henderson said, darkly. “Maybe I can’t prevent your walking out of here, but where’re you going to go? The desert isn’t big enough to hide you and in the morning Joe Cotter will be on your trail. Joe Cotter and some of Danny Sage’s relatives. They can trail a tarantula across the desert. You’re a murderer and...”

“I’m not a murderer,” Johnny exclaimed impatiently. “How many times do I have to tell people that?”

“You didn’t do a good job of convincing the California police. In fact, your running away was proof...”

“Stop it, Mike,” cut in Laura Henderson. “You’re wearing out that record...”

“I’ll play it until the cows come home. Fletcher and this gorilla were at that motel in San Bernardino. Hugh Kitchen was found in their car — and they’ve been trying to cut in on the Silver Tombstone ever since. What more do you want?”

“A lot more than that,” Johnny said. “Sam and I stopped at the motel by sheer accident. We’d never even heard of Hugh Kitchen. We’d never heard of the Silver Tombstone...”

“But you’ve heard plenty about it since then. And you threw in with Tompkins, the damned crook.” Mike Henderson shook his head angrily. “Pokes around in the Silver Tombstone for two years, then pretends he’s found a rich vein... Yes, he found it all right... in my mine.”

“In your mine?”

“What do you suppose this is all about? You can buy all the silver in the Silver Tombstone for a silver dollar. Tompkins wants to own the mine so he can dig into my mine...”

“That isn’t true, Mike,” Helen Walker said suddenly. “I thought we’d agreed...”

“I agreed to pay you fifty thousand for the Silver Tombstone,” Henderson stated. “I didn’t agree that there was a rich vein in your mine.”

“Then why would you pay fifty thousand dollars for it?”

“Because the lawsuits would cost more. I know all about the apex laws and I don’t want to get involved in them. Some stupid judge might even decide against me; so I’m willing to pay fifty thousand dollars...”

“To buy me off?”

“If you want to put it that way — yes.”

“Well, I don’t want to put it that way. The deal is off...”

“Now wait a minute!” cried Henderson. “You agreed...”

“I agreed, but I didn’t sign. I’m not taking charity.”

“Attagirl!” said Laura Henderson.

“Keep out of this, Laura,” Henderson snarled. “There’re some things you don’t know.”

“Not very many.”

“What’s an apex law?” Johnny asked.

Henderson gestured impatiently. “This isn’t the time for a course in mining law.”

“An apex law,” Laura Henderson began to explain, in defiance of her brother, “means that a mine owner can follow a vein wherever it leads, into adjoining mines even, provided only that the vein apexes — or begins — on his own claim. And it is virtually impossible to prove where a vein apexes...”

“Then what’s the sense of the law?” Johnny asked. “Lawyers have to live, don’t they? It’s a vicious law, in the hands of unscrupulous miners and lawyers. Up in Deadwood, South Dakota, George Hearst had to spend twenty-six million dollars in buying up adjoining claims just to protect his Homestake Mine from apex suits. And the Anaconda Copper Corporation paid F. Augustus Heinze eleven million for a claim consisting of nineteen square feet. They didn’t pay the money for the nineteen square feet, but to settle some one hundred and fifty suits that Heinze had outstanding against them at the time. Or that they had against Heinze...”

“Laura,” Mike Henderson broke in impatiently, “what’s the sense of all that?”

“I think Johnny Fletcher should have all the information he needs,” retorted Laura Henderson, “for if anyone is going to settle this mess, he’s the one.”

“Why, thanks,” said Johnny, surprised.

“He can settle it,” said Mike Henderson angrily, “by confessing.”

“You’re a stubborn cuss,” Johnny said. “Once you get your mind made up about something nothing can change it.”

“Nothing but proof otherwise.”

“Lend me a hundred dollars,” said Johnny, “and I’ll get you the proof.”

“I’d just as soon burn a hundred dollars as give it to you.”

Laura Henderson went into her bedroom. She returned in a moment with two fifty dollar bills. “Here’s the money!” She handed the bills to Johnny.

“Laura!” cried Mike Henderson.

“It’s my money.”

“You’re a fool.”

“Maybe I am,” Laura said calmly. “And maybe you’re the one who’s the fool. All I know is that Fletcher arrived in California without a cent and within a short time was flashing fifty dollar bills—”

“Stolen, no doubt!” cut in Mike Henderson.

“Perhaps. But at any rate he had enough ingenuity to get the money. Then he was arrested, escaped, and with the police of the entire state after him, he was able to go clear across the state, and almost through another. He’s had a lot of people working against him and he’s come through. I say he’s got something. And I’m willing to string along with him.”

“You’ll regret it.”

“No, she won’t,” Johnny said. “She’s the second smartest person in this setup. I say second, because the smartest one is the one who murdered Hugh Kitchen — the one I’m going to nail for you with this hundred dollars.”

“You understand,” said Mike Henderson, “you’re taking that money at the point of a gun—”

“He isn’t!” cried Laura. “I gave him the money.”

“You haven’t any money of your own. Whatever you have you’ve gotten from me.”

“Mike,” said Johnny, “you’re becoming an awfully obnoxious guy.”

“All this talk isn’t going to get us anywhere, Johnny,” interrupted Sam. “It’ll be morning in a little while and we want to be on our way by then.”

“A long ways, too,” said Johnny. He looked around the circle of faces. “Good-bye, now.”

Laura Henderson was the only one who replied. “Good-bye, Johnny Fletcher... and good luck.”

Johnny opened the door and stepped out. Sam followed, making a threatening gesture with the shotgun before closing the door.