Hard Money (11 page)

Bonal and Seay went straight to the room indicated by Maizie, where the buffet supper was being laid out on two huge tables that abutted one wall. There was a punch, which they both refused for whisky, and drinking it, Seay looked over the company. Bonal was already talking to two men.

A string orchestra struck up in an adjoining room. Under the sparkle of the chandelier, people had formed small conversational groups, the sweeping dresses of the women colorful and gay against the uniform black of the men. Seay noticed that most of the women here were middle-aged, although there were many young men. He saw Sharon and Hugh come in and mingle immediately with a group of people who seemed gathered around three girls whom he could not see.

“Finished?” Bonal asked, and Seay said yes, feeling the whisky warm him. “Then let's meet all these people.”

Bonal went from group to group, introducing him. These were the men of power in this camp, and their women. For the most part, they were amiable, accepting a friend of Charles Bonal's as their own. The younger people all seemed eager for Patti to come, and they waited with impatience.

When she finally did come there was a murmur of excitement in the rooms as word was whispered that she was here. Afterward, Maizie entered, with Patti beside her, and people moved toward them. Beside Maizie, Patti was short and almost girlishly slight, although she was a mature woman. Her yellow evening dress, low cut to expose the olive smoothness of her shoulders, was theatrically conceived and chosen. Her black hair was brushed cleanly off her forehead, and in it she wore a butterfly pin of pearls flanking a huge and flawless emerald. She wore no other jewelry, not even her wedding ring. But it was Patti's eyes that made her beauty—large, black as jet, with long sweeping eyelashes under full black brows. Her straight nose and girlish mouth were patrician, almost haughty, but her smile was as unaffected as that of a Roman flower girl.

Seay only glimpsed her, and then she was hidden by the people crowding around her.

“A beautiful woman,” Bonal murmured and turned immediately to resume his discussion of milling costs.

Maizie eventually emerged from the crush arm in arm with a woman whom she guided by stages across to where Seay stood, his broad back to her. He felt a hand on his arm and turned to confront her, his tall shoulders hunched a little to hear better.

“This is Phil Seay, Vannie,” Maizie said to the woman beside her. “Vannie Shore.” Before him, Seay saw a woman of about his own age, with hair as black as, and sleeker than, his own. Her pale blue dress was simple, severe, and there was a warm and reserved friendliness to her smile as if she had already heard of him and liked him before they met. She gave him her hand. It was a full handshake, like a man's, Seay thought, and he regarded her with quiet interest as he murmured the amenities.

“Vannie Shore,” he mused. “I'm in your debt for a couple of hundred feet of track, am I not?”

Vannie laughed huskily. “Which hasn't been paid back.”

“The Bonal Tunnel doesn't run on a cash basis,” Seay replied. “Maybe you've heard that.”

“I believe I've heard it mentioned in mining circles,” Vannie admitted, and they both smiled. Seay looked over her shoulder to find Sharon Bonal regarding him with a steady stare. She flushed, catching his stare, nodded slightly and turned away.

Vannie put her arm through Seay's and said, “Shan't we wait until the crowd's let up before you meet the guest?” and Seay agreed.

They found chairs, and Seay sat beside her and considered her with veiled curiosity. She was watching the room and its movement at once serene and interested. It came to Seay that this was a strong woman, who had known men and been loved by them, but he searched back through his mind for any remembered mention of her and found only Tober's. She felt his gaze and turned to him and smiled, acknowledging it.

“Have you ever wanted to watch something like this without being watched yourself?” she asked presently.

“I haven't seen enough of them to want to,” Seay replied.

“You don't mingle with these people, then?”

Seay shook his head, and Vannie confided, “Neither do I. I only came tonight because of Patti and because Maizie insisted.”

“Because of Patti?”

“Yes, she's staying with me tonight. I knew her in San Francisco.”

She caught the look of puzzlement in Seay's eyes, and she shook her head. “Please don't ask questions. Someone will tell you about me,” she said quietly, and there was a note of defense in her tone.

Seay only frowned and was silent. Presently, Vannie leaned toward him and said, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be brusque.” She regarded Seay now with the same sort of curiosity which only a moment ago he himself had shown.

“I begin to suspect something,” she said at last.

“So do I.”

“That Maizie introduced us because we're two of a kind?”

“Perhaps.”

“We are, aren't we?” Vannie asked slowly. “You don't like this, nor do I. Moreover, we don't belong here. Isn't that it?”

“You do,” Seay answered with quick and inexplicable loyalty. “I don't.”

“I don't either, really. Will you have supper with me tonight?”

For answer, Seay drawled, “I have a pipe hidden in my pocket, and I'd like a smoke. Do you suppose …?” His voice trailed off as he watched her.

“Yes, I do. Come on.”

The couples were just beginning to crowd into the room alcove, where the buffet supper was laid out. Seay knew they would not be missed. At the foyer door Ben was standing, hands in hip pockets, looking out at the carriages, whistling thinly and teetering.

“Hello, Ben,” Vannie said, and Ben jerked around and then relaxed. “Hello, Vannie.”

“Do you think you could manage to find your way out here with some food, Ben?” Vannie asked.

“Yes, ma'am,” Ben said emphatically. “I already took some out to Hugh Mathias.”

“Was that to the right or left?” Vannie asked gravely.

“To the left.”

Vannie turned to the right, and they walked down the long stone-flagged porch. Presently she paused and seated herself on the wide balustrade, and Seay stood beside her. His pipe packed and lighted, he inhaled deeply, a strange uneasiness within him. The murmur of the coachmen in some profane argument down by the carriage house drifted over to them and died, and it was quiet. Two forlorn frogs in the fountain sawed away fitfully.

“How still the night is,” Vannie murmured.

“It's a desert night.”

“You like it?”

“It's what I've seen most of my life. But I can't imagine liking another kind of night.” He was high and remote beside her, his restless face now hard and young in the soft light.

Ben padded out with food on a tray and pulled up a small table.

“Do you want this?” Seay asked abruptly of Vannie.

“No. Why did I ask for it? Convention, I suppose.”

“Trot off with it, Ben,” Seay said. “Maybe the boys out there would like it.”

“That makes two,” Ben said delightedly and went off with the tray, to hurry down the steps and disappear in the direction of the carriages, while Seay and Vannie laughed together. Seay sat on the balustrade now, his curiosity stirring, and watched this woman near him.

Presently Vannie murmured, “Tell me, has Charles Bonal a chance, a desperate chance to put the tunnel through?”

Seay said, “Yes,” promptly, curtly.

“I'm glad,” Vannie said, “and not because my good hunch will pay me.”

“Pay you?”

“Yes, Jake believed in Bonal before he died, and he loaned him money. I've loaned him more.”

Seay didn't comment, but again he found himself trying to recall a name which he knew very well he had never heard.

“You
do
mind your business, don't you?” Vannie murmured, and then she laughed shortly, almost nervously. “You see, I'm trying to tell you about me.”

“Then who is Jake?” Seay countered.

Vannie didn't answer immediately. “Jake Fell. He made his fortune and lost it in the rush of '49.”

“I've heard of him. Everybody has.”

“You see, I lived with him,” Vannie said simply. “That's what I'm trying to tell you. His wife was hopelessly insane for thirty years in an asylum back East. We—we just wanted to live together and we did—without marriage. He lived to see the beginning of this Tronah rush, lived long enough to make another fortune in the Golgotha mine and leave it to me.”

Seay swiftly came to his feet and stood beside her. “You don't have to do this,” he said brusquely. “I know now.” Vannie looked away. Sitting down then, facing her, he added, “Yes, we're two of a kind. And bless Maizie Comber for seeing it.”

Vannie's laugh was explosively warm and rich as she leaned back against the pillar. “My, but that's a relief. You see, I feel I always have to give fair warning before I can let myself like anybody. It's—a kind of protection, I suppose.”

Seay was about to answer when Ben appeared out of the darkness.

“They want you in there, Vannie,” Ben drawled.

“Why, Ben?”

“This opry singer is aimin' to sing,” Ben said. “They figured to have you play the piano.”

“Oh,” Vannie said shortly, then, “All right, Ben. I'll be in immediately.”

When Ben had gone Vannie sat still a moment, then rose. Seay was beside her. “Look here, Vannie. Where can I see you again?”

“Ask anywhere in town. I live on the primmest street in the primmest house and always keep my shades up.” She laughed again, that rich, disturbing laugh that had life and meaning to it and was strangely without bitterness. They walked in silence to the door. Hugh and Sharon were going in, and Sharon saw them. She nodded and said, “Hello, Vannie,” and Hugh spoke in complete friendliness. In those three seconds that Seay watched Sharon he could see nothing except genuine openness in her manner.

“Tell me,” he murmured to Vannie as they stepped inside. “Does …?”

Vannie looked swiftly up at him. “Yes, Phil, Sharon really likes me.”

Before he could mask the surprise in his face Vannie let go his arm and moved through the room. Seay stopped at the door and was glad that he could hang back here, where he would not have to sit before these people, who were crowding into chairs. Vannie walked straight to the ivory and gold piano and conversed briefly with Patti as the general talking quieted a little. He watched Vannie, not Patti, and he felt a curious pride in this woman.

Sharon Bonal said at his elbow, “Did you hear her tonight?”

Seay turned to find her standing beside him, the fragrance of her close and desirable. A slow hostility began to take hold of him, but her way now was amiable and casual enough, holding neither defiance nor amusement, only a kind of intimate reserve, without her anger and resentment, which, save for that first night at Union House, had been plain in her face and plainer in her manner. Whenever she saw him she had a fresh chaste loveliness that almost startled him. He was thinking that it might have been her speech, for the first time kind and welcoming, that made the change.

“I worked too late,” he answered.

“I've never heard her before,” Sharon went on. “I didn't know singing could be so lovely.”

“She's young, isn't she?”

“I don't know. She's almost as beautiful as Vannie, though,” Sharon said simply.

Obliquely, Seay looked at her, wondering what lay behind this comparison, but Sharon was observing Patti intently.

The first notes of the “
Ah! non giunge
” from
Sonnambula
came thin and precise, bringing silence. Seay felt a hand on his arm. Ben stood behind him, face urgent, and he jerked his head toward the foyer.

Sharon saw him and looked from Ben to Seay as Seay turned and muttered an excuse.

Sharon nodded slightly, and he followed Ben out onto the porch. Ben walked rapidly down the steps and turned to the left, and Seay caught up with him. “What is it, Ben?”

“I don't know. But it's important, I reckon.”

They headed out toward the carriage barns. Under the huge old cottonwood Ben stopped, and Seay brushed into him before he could check his pace. Something moved in the blackness near the trunk, and he wheeled to face it.

“Phil?” someone asked, and immediately Seay recognized Jimmy Hamp's voice. His horse shied a little at the noise, and Jimmy pulled him closer.

“Oh,” Seay said, his voice chill with dislike.

“You get over to the tunnel,” Jimmy said quietly. “Get over fast.”

“Why?”

“Trouble.”

Seay stepped closer. “What kind of trouble, Jimmy?”

“That's all I can tell you. Get over there and get over fast.”

There was quiet menace in Seay's voice as he reached for the reins of Jimmy's horse. “You sold me, Jimmy. Is this another one?”

“Get over to the tunnel, you bullheaded fool!”
Jimmy said desperately. “It'll be too late tomorrow to believe me when you'll likely find me with a slug in my back.”

He wheeled his horse, and Seay heard him gallop off toward the barns. For an irresolute second Seay stood motionless, and then he said to Ben, “Saddle me a horse, Ben. And hurry it!”

Chapter Eight

Over toward the tunnel mouth, in the light of the flares, men were frantically rigging a hitch for six mules. The string of cars waiting for the mules was already jammed with excited men when Seay rode up and dismounted. He caught sight of Lueter bent over a clevis, and he ran toward him. Putting a hand on his shoulder, Seay spun him around.

“What's happened?” he asked, his breath coming hard.

“Cave in!” Lueter cried. “Tober's already in there!”

“Are the men trapped?”

“I dunno. I think so. None of 'em came out!”