"I ain't going on with our agreement."
Simmons' face exhibited not a trace of concern.
"I may say," he returned smoothly, "that I am not completely surprised. I have been looking for something of the kind. I must remind you that our partnership is a legal and binding instrument; you can't break it, nor throw aside your responsibility, with a few words. It will be an expensive business for you."
"I'm willing to pay with what I've got."
The other held up a palm in his familiar, arresting gesture. "Nothing of that magnitude; nothing out of the way; I only wanted to remind you that a compensation should follow your decision. It puts me in a very nice position indeed. I gather from your refusal to continue the partnership that you do not intend to execute singly the original plan; it is possible that you will not hold the options against the coming of transportation."
"You've got her," Gordon declared; "I'm not going to profit seventy times over, tie up all that timber, from the ignorance of men that ought to rightly advantage from it. I--I--" Gordon rose to his feet in the harassing obscurity of his need; "I don't want to make! I don't want to take anything ... never again! I want--"
"You forget, unfortunately, that I am forced to be accessory to your--your change of heart. I may say that I shall have to pay dearly for your--your eleventh hour conversion. Timber will be--unsteady."
"Didn't you mention getting something out of it?"
"A mere detail to my effort, my time. What my timber will be worth, with what you throw on the market hawking up and down ... problematic."
Gordon Makimmon hesitated, a plan forming vaguely, painfully, in his mind. Finally, "I might buy you out," he suggested; "if you didn't ask too dam' much. Then I could do as I pleased with the whole lot."
"Now that," Valentine Simmons admitted, dryly cordial, "is a plan worth consideration. We might agree on a price, a low price to an old partner. You met the Company's agents, heard the agreement outlined; a solid proposal. And, as you say, with the timber control in your own hands, you could arrange as you pleased with the people concerned."
He grew silent, enveloped in thought. Then:
"I'll take a hundred thousand for all the options I bought, for my interest in the partnership."
"I don't know as I could manage that," Gordon admitted.
An unassumed astonishment marked the other's countenance. "Why!" he ejaculated, "Pompey left an estate estimated at--" he stopped from sheer surprise.
"Some of the investments went bad," Gordon continued; "down in Stenton they said I didn't move 'em fast enough. Then the old man had a lot laid out in ways I don't hold with, with people I wouldn't collect from. And it's a fact a big amount's got out here lately. Of course it will come back, the most part."
Simmons' expression grew skeptical.
"I know you too," Gordon added; "you'll want the price in your hand."
"I'm getting on," the storekeeper admitted; "I can't wait now."
"I don't know if I can make it," Gordon repeated; "it'll strip me if I do."
Valentine Simmons swung back to his desk. "At least," he observed, "keep this quiet till something's settled."
Gordon agreed.
XIII
Even if he proved able to buy out Simmons, he thought walking home, it would be a delicate operation to return the timber rights to where he thought they belonged. He considered the possibility of making a gift of the options to the men from whom they had been wrongfully obtained. But something of Simmons' shrewd knowledge of the world, something of the priest's contemptuous arraignment of material values, lingering in Gordon's mind, convinced him of the potential folly of that course. It would be more practical to sell back the options to those from which they had been purchased at the nominal prices paid. He had only a vague idea of his balances at the Stenton banks, the possibilities of the investments from which he received profit. He was certain, however, that the sum asked by Valentine Simmons would obliterate his present resources. Yet he was forced to admit that it did not seem exorbitant.
He continued his altruistic deliberations throughout the evening at his dwelling. It might be well, before investing such a paramount sum, to communicate with the Tennessee and Northern Company, receive a fresh ratification of their intention. Yet he could not do that without incurring the danger of premature questioning, investigation. It was patent that he would have to be prepared to make an immediate distribution of the options when his intention became known in Greenstream. He was aware that when the coming of a railroad to the County became common knowledge the excitement of the valley would grow intense.
Again, it might be better first to organize the timber of Greenstream, so that a harmonious local condition would facilitate all negotiations, and avert the danger, which Valentine Simmons had pointed out, of individual blindness and competition. But, in order to accomplish that, he would have to bring into concord fifty or more wary, suspicious, and largely ignorant adults. He would have to deal with swift and secret avarice, with vain golden dreams born of years of bitter poverty, privation, ceaseless and incredible toil. The magnitude of the latter task appalled him; fact and figure whirled in his confused mind. He was standing, and he suddenly felt dizzy, and sat down. The giddiness vanished, but left him with twitching fingers, a clouded vision. He might get them all together, explain, persuade.... Goddy! it was for their good. They needn't be cross-grained. There it would be, the offer, for them to take or leave. But, if they delayed, watch out! Railroad people couldn't be fooled with. They might get left; that was all.
This, he felt, was more than he could undertake, more than any reasonable person would ask. If he paid Valentine Simmons all that money, and then let them have back their own again, without a cent to himself, they must be content. They should be able to bargain as well as he--who was getting on and had difficulty in adding figures to the same amount twice--with the Tennessee and Northern.
The following morning he departed for Stenton.
Mountain Blood · The Wunder Library — complete classics, free to read, with narration.