CHAPTER XVI
WOLVERTON'S BAFFLED SCHEME
Mrs. Burton was somewhat surprised, one evening, when told that Mr. Wolverton was at the door, and desired to speak with her. Since the time his demand for a second payment of the interest had been met by a production of the receipt, he had kept away from the ranch. It might have been the mortification arising from baffled villainy, or, again, from the knowledge that no advantage could be gained from another interview. At all events, he remained away till the wheat was nearly harvested. Then he called, because he had a purpose to serve.
"Tell Mrs. Burton that I wish to see her on business," he said to the servant who answered his knock.
"You can show Mr. Wolverton in," said the widow.
Directly the guest was ushered into her presence.
"I needn't ask if I see you well, Mrs. Burton," he said, suavely. "Your appearance is a sufficient answer."
"Thank you," answered Mrs. Burton, coldly.
Aaron Wolverton noticed the coldness, but did not abate any of his suavity. He only said to himself: "The time will come when you will feel forced to give me a better reception, my lady!"
"I have called on a little business," he resumed.
"Is it about the interest?" asked the widow.
"No; for the present I waive that. I have been made the victim of a base theft, and it may cost me a hundred and fifty dollars: but I will not speak of that now."
"What other business can you have with me?"
"I have come to make you an offer."
"What!" exclaimed Mrs. Burton, indignantly.
Aaron Wolverton chuckled, thereby showing a row of defective and discolored teeth.
"You misunderstand me," he said. "I come to make you an offer for your wheat crop, which I suppose is nearly all gathered in."
"Yes," answered the widow relieved. "Robert tells me that it will be all harvested within three days."
"Just so. Now, I am willing to save you a great deal of trouble by buying the entire crop at a fair valuation."
"In that case, Mr. Wolverton, you will allow me to send for Robert. He attends to the business of the ranch, and understands much more about it than I do."
"Wait a minute, Mrs. Burton. Robert is no doubt a smart boy, but you give him too much credit."
"I don't think I do. He has shown, since his father's death, a judgment not often found in a boy of his age."
"She is infatuated about that boy!" thought Wolverton. "However, as I have a point to carry, I won't dispute with her."
"You may be right," he said, "but in this matter I venture to think that you and I can make a bargain without any outside help."
"You can, at any rate, state your proposition, Mr. Wolverton."
"Have you any idea as to the amount of your wheat crop?"
"Robert tells me there will be not far from fourteen hundred bushels."
Wolverton's eyes showed his pleasure. If he made the bargain proposed, this would bring him an excellent profit. "Very good!" he said. "It will be a great help to you."
"Yes; I feel that we are fortunate, especially when I consider that the ranch has been carried on by a boy of sixteen."
"Well, Mrs. Burton, I am a man of few words. I will give you a dollar and a half a bushel for your wheat, and this will give you, on the basis of fourteen hundred bushels, twenty-one hundred dollars. You are a very fortunate woman."
"But, Mr. Wolverton, Robert tells me he expects to get at least two dollars a bushel."
It must be remembered that grain was then selling at "war prices."
"I don't know what the boy can be thinking of," said Wolverton, contemptuously. "Two dollars a bushel! Why don't he say five dollars at once?"
"He gained his information from a St. Louis paper."
"My dear madam, the price here and the price in St. Louis are two entirely different matters. You must be aware that it will cost a good deal to transport the wheat to St. Louis."
"Surely it cannot cost fifty cents a bushel?"
"No; but it is a great mistake to suppose that you can get two dollars a bushel in St. Louis."
"I must leave the matter to Robert to decide."
"Excuse my saying that this is very foolish. The boy has not a man's judgment."
"Nevertheless, I must consult him before deciding."
Mrs. Barton spoke so plainly that Wolverton said, sullenly: "Do as you please, Mrs. Burton, but I would like to settle the matter to-night."
Robert was sent for, and, being near the house, entered without delay.
Mr. Wolverton's proposition was made known to him.
"Mr. Wolverton," said Bob, regarding that gentleman with a dislike he did not attempt to conceal, "You would make a very good bargain if we accepted your proposal."
"Not much," answered Wolverton, hastily. "Of course I should make a little something, but I am chiefly influenced in making the offer, by a desire to save your mother trouble."
"You would make seven hundred dollars at least, out of which you would only have to pay for transportation to St. Louis."
"That is a very ridiculous statement!" said Wolverton, sharply.
"Why so? The wheat will fetch two dollars a bushel in the market."
"Some one has been deceiving you."
"Shall I show you the paper in which I saw the quotations?"
"No; it is erroneous. Besides, the expense of carrying the grain to market will be very large."
"It won't be fifty cents a bushel."
"Young man, you are advising your mother against her best interests. Young people are apt to be headstrong. I should not expect to make much money out of the operation."
"Why, then, do you make the offer?"
"I have already told you that I wished to save your mother trouble."
"We are much obliged to you, but we decline your proposal."
"Then," said Wolverton, spitefully, "I shall have to hold you to the terms of the mortgage. I had intended to favor you, but after the tone you have taken with me, I shall not do so."
"To what terms do you refer, Mr. Wolverton?" asked the widow.
"I will tell you. I have the right at the end of six months to call for a payment of half the mortgage – fifteen hundred dollars. That will make, in addition to the interest then due, sixteen hundred and fifty dollars."
"Can this be true?" asked Mrs. Burton, in dismay, turning to Robert.
"It is so specified in the mortgage," answered Wolverton, triumphantly. "You can examine it for yourself. I have only to say, that, had you accepted my offer, I would have been content with, say, one quarter of the sum, knowing that it would be inconvenient for you to pay half."
Bob, as well as his mother, was taken by surprise, but in no way disposed to yield.
"We should be no better off," he said. "We should lose at least five hundred dollars by accepting your offer, and that we cannot afford to do."
"You refuse, then," said Wolverton, angrily.
"Yes."
"Then all I have to say is that you will rue this day," and the agent got up hastily, but upon second thought sat down again.
"How do you expect to get your grain to market?" he asked.
"I shall take it myself."
"What do you mean?"
"I shall store it on a boat I have purchased, and Clip and I will take it to St. Louis."
"You must be crack-brained!" ejaculated Wolverton. "I never heard of a more insane project."
"I hope to disappoint you, Mr. Wolverton. At any rate, my mind is made up."
Wolverton shuffled out of the room, in impotent rage.
"We have made him our enemy, Robert," said his mother, apprehensively.
"He was our enemy before, mother. He evidently wants to ruin us."
As Wolverton went home, one thought was uppermost in his mind. "How could he prevent Bob from making the trip to St. Louis?"
CHAPTER XVII
WOLVERTON'S POOR TENANT
Bob hired a couple of extra hands, and made haste to finish harvesting his wheat, for he was anxious to start on the trip down the river as soon as possible. His anticipations as to the size of the crop were justified. It footed up fourteen hundred and seventy-five bushels, and this, at two dollars per bushel, would fetch in market nearly three thousand dollars.
"That's a pretty good crop for a boy to raise, mother," said Bob, with pardonable exultation. "You haven't lost anything by allowing me to run the ranch."
"Quite true, Robert. You have accomplished wonders. I don't know what I could have done without you. I know very little of farming myself."
"I helped him, missis," said Clip, coveting a share of approval for himself.
"Yes," said Bob, smiling. "Clip has been my right-hand man. I can't say he has worked very hard himself, but he has superintended the others."
"Yes, missis; dat's what I done!" said Clip, proudly.
He did not venture to pronounce the word, for it was too much for him, but he was vaguely conscious that it was something important and complimentary.
"Then I must buy Clip a new suit," said Mrs. Burton, smiling.
"I'll buy it in St. Louis, mother."
When the grain was all gathered in Bob began to load it on the ferry-boat. Wolverton sent Sam round every day to report progress, but did not excite his nephew's suspicions by appearing to take unusual interest in the matter.
To prepare the reader for a circumstance which happened about this time, I find it necessary to introduce another character, who was able to do Bob an important service.
In a small house, about three-quarters of a mile beyond the Burton ranch, lived Dan Woods, a poor man, with, a large family. He hired the house which he occupied and a few acres of land from Aaron Wolverton, who had obtained possession of it by foreclosing a mortgage which he held. He permitted Woods, the former owner, to remain as a tenant in the house which once belonged to him, charging him rather more than an average rent. The poor man raised vegetables and a small crop of wheat, enough of each for his own family, and hired out to neighbors for the balance of his time. He obtained more employment on the Burton ranch than anywhere else, and Mrs. Burton had also sympathized with him in his difficult struggle to maintain his family. But, in spite of friends and his own untiring industry, Dan Woods fell behind. There were five children to support, and they required not only food but clothing, and Dan found it uphill work.
His monthly rent was ten dollars; a small sum in itself, but large for this much-burdened man to pay. But, however poorly he might fare in other respects, Dan knew that it was important to have this sum ready on the first day of every month. Wolverton was a hard landlord, and admitted of no excuse. More than once after the rent had been paid there was not a dollar left in his purse, or a pinch of food in his house.
A week before this time Dan was looking for his landlord's call with unusual anxiety. He had been sick nearly a week during the previous month, and this had so curtailed his earnings that he had but six dollars ready in place of ten. Would his sickness be accepted as an excuse? He feared not.
Wolverton's call was made on time. He had some expectation that the rent would not be ready, for he knew Dan had been sick; but he was resolved to show him no consideration.
"His sickness is nothing to me," he reflected. "It would be a pretty state of affairs if landlords allowed themselves to be cheated out of their rent for such a cause."
Dan Woods was at work in the yard when Wolverton approached. He was splitting some wood for use in the kitchen stove. His heart sank within him when he saw the keen, sharp features of his landlord.
"Good morning, Dan," said Wolverton, with suavity. His expression was amiable, as it generally was when he was collecting money, but it suffered a remarkable change if the money was not forthcoming.
"Good-morning, sir," answered Woods, with a troubled look.
"You've got a nice, snug place here, Dan; it's a fine home for your family."
"I don't complain of it, sir. As I once owned it myself, probably I set more store by it than a stranger would."
"Just so, Dan. You get it at a very low rent, too. If it were any one but yourself I should really feel that I ought to raise the rent to twenty dollars."
"I hope you won't do that, sir," said Woods, in alarm. "It's all I can do to raise ten dollars a month, with all my other expenses."
"Oh, well, I'll let it remain at the present figure as long as you pay me promptly," emphasizing the last words. "Of course I have a right to expect that."
Dan's heart sank within him. It was clear he could not expect any consideration from such a man. But the truth must be told.
"No doubt you are right, Mr. Wolverton, and you've found me pretty prompt so far."
"So I have, Dan. I know you wouldn't be dishonest enough to make me wait."
Dan's heart sank still lower. It was becoming harder every minute to own that he was deficient.
"Still, Mr. Wolverton, bad luck will come – "
"What!" exclaimed Wolverton, with a forbidding scowl.
"As I was saying, sir, a man is sometimes unlucky. Now, I have been sick nearly a week out of the last month, as you may have heard, and it's put me back."
"What are you driving at, Dan Woods?" demanded Wolverton, severely. "I hope you're not going to say that you are not ready to pay your rent?"
"I haven't got the whole of it, sir; and that's a fact."
"You haven't got the whole of it? How much have you got?"
"I can pay you six dollars, Mr. Wolverton."
"Six dollars out of ten! Why, this is positively shameful! I wonder you are not ashamed to tell me."
"There is no shame about it that I can see," answered Dan, plucking up his spirit. "I didn't fall sick on purpose; and when I was sick I couldn't work."
"You ought to have one month's rent laid by, so that whatever happens you could pay it on time."
"That's easy to say, Mr. Wolverton, but it takes every cent of my earnings to pay my monthly expenses. There's little chance to save."
"Any one can save who chooses," retorted Wolverton, sharply.
"Shall I get you the six dollars, sir?"
"Yes, give it to me."
"And you will wait for the other four?"
"Till to-morrow night."
"But how can I get it by to-morrow night?" asked Dan in dismay.
"That's your lookout, not mine. All I have to say is, unless it is paid to me to-morrow night you must move the next day."
With these words Wolverton went off. Dan Woods, in his trouble, went to Bob Burton the next day, and Bob readily lent him the money he needed.
"Thank you!" said Dan, gratefully; "I won't forget this favor."
"Don't make too much of it, Dan; it's a trifle."
"It's no trifle to me. But for you my family would be turned out of house and home to-morrow. The time may come when I can do you a service."
"Thank you, Dan."
The time came sooner than either anticipated.
CHAPTER XVIII
WOLVERTON'S WICKED PLAN
Wolverton was somewhat puzzled when on his next call Dan Woods paid the balance due on his rent.
"So you raised the money after all?" he said. "I thought you could if you made an effort."
"I borrowed the money, sir."
"Of whom?"
"It isn't any secret, Mr. Wolverton. I borrowed it of a neighbor who has always been kind to me – Bob Burton."
Wolverton shrugged his shoulders.
"I didn't know he had money to lend," he said.
"He always has money for a poor man who needs it."
"All right! I shall know where to go when I need money," responded Wolverton, with a grin.
"It suits me well enough to have the boy throw away his money," Wolverton said to himself. "It will only draw nearer the time when he will have to sue me for a favor."
That day Wolverton read in a St. Louis paper that wheat was steadily rising, and had already reached two dollars and six cents per bushel.
"I could make a fine thing of it if I had only received the Barton wheat at a dollar and a half a bushel," he reflected, regretfully. "If I had only the widow to deal with, I might have succeeded, for she knows nothing of business. But that confounded boy is always putting a spoke in my wheel. If he carries out his plan, and markets the wheat, it will set him on his feet for the year to come."
This reflection made Wolverton feel gloomy. There are some men who are cheered by the prosperity of their neighbors, but he was not one of them. He began to speculate as to whether there was any way of interfering with Bob's schemes. Generally when a man is seeking a way of injuring his neighbor he succeeds in finding one. This was the plan that suggested itself to Wolverton: If he could set the ferry-boat adrift when the grain was all stored it would float down stream, and the chances were against its being recovered. It would be mean, and even criminal, to be sure. For the first, Wolverton did not care; for the second, he would take care that no one caught him at it. He did not think of employing any one else in the matter, for he knew of no one he could trust; and he felt that he could do it more effectually than any agent, however trustworthy.
Wolverton was so full of the plan, which commended itself to him as both simple and effective, that he took a walk late in the evening from his house to the point on the creek where the boat was tethered.
Now, it so happened that Dan Woods, who had been employed all day, had occasion to go to the village in the evening to procure a few groceries from the village store. He delayed for a time, having met an old acquaintance, and it was half-past nine when he set out on his return homeward.
His way led him not only by the Burton homestead, but by the river bend where Bob kept his rowboat – the same point also where the ferry-boat was tied.
As he approached, he caught sight of a man's figure standing on the bank. Who it was he could not immediately distinguish on account of the darkness.
"It may be some one bent on mischief," he thought to himself. "I will watch him and find out, if I can, who it is."
He kept on his way stealthily till he was within a dozen feet, when he slipped behind a tree. Then it dawned upon him who it was.
"It's Aaron Wolverton, as I'm a living man," he ejaculated, inwardly. "What can he be doing here?"
It was Wolverton, as we know. The old man stood in silence on the bank, peering through the darkness at the shadowy form of the ferry-boat, which already contained half the wheat crop of Burton's Ranch – the loading having commenced that morning. He had one habit which is unfortunate with a conspirator – the habit of thinking aloud – so he let out his secret to the watchful listener.
"Sam tells me they expected to get half the crop on board to-day," he soliloquized. "I sent him over to get that very information, though he don't know it. It is too early to do anything yet. To-morrow night the whole cargo will be stored, and then it will be time to cut the rope and let it drift. I should be glad to see the boy's face," he chuckled, "when he comes down to the creek the next morning and finds the boat gone. That will put him at my mercy, and the widow, too," he added, after a pause. "He will repent too late that he thwarted me. I will work in secret, but I get there all the same!"
Wolverton clasped his hands behind his back and, turning, walked thoughtfully away. He did not see his tenant, who was crouching behind a tree not over three feet from the path.
Dan Woods had no very favorable opinion of Wolverton, but what he had heard surprised and shocked him.
"I didn't think the old man was as wicked as that!" he said to himself. "He is scheming to ruin Bob and his mother. Why should he have such a spite against them?"
This is a question which we can answer, but Woods became more puzzled the more he thought about it. One thing was clear, however; he must apprise Bob of the peril in which he stood. Even if he had not received the last favor from our hero, he would have felt in duty bound to do his best to defeat Wolverton's wicked plan.
The next morning, therefore, he made an early call at Burton's Ranch, and asked for a private interview with Bob. He quickly revealed to him the secret of which he had become possessed.
"Thank you, Dan," said Bob, warmly. "You have done me a favor of the greatest importance. I knew Wolverton was my enemy, and the enemy of our family, but I did not think he would be guilty of such a mean and wicked action. If he had succeeded, I am afraid we should have lost the farm."
"You won't let him succeed?" said Dan Woods, anxiously.
"No; forewarned is forearmed. I shall be ready for Mr. Wolverton!" And Bob closed his lips resolutely.
He deliberated whether he should let his mother know of the threatened danger, but finally decided not to do so. It would only worry her, and do no good, as whatever measures of precaution were to be taken, he must take. He did not even tell Clip; for though the young colored boy was devoted to him, he was lacking in discretion, and might let out the secret. Bob did not want to prevent the attempt being made. He wished to catch Wolverton in the act.
He did, however, take into his confidence a faithful man who had worked for his father ever since the ranch was taken, thinking it prudent to have assistance near if needed.
That day the rest of the wheat was stored on the ferry-boat. All would be ready for a start the next morning, and this Bob had decided to make. He sent Clip to bed early, on the pretext that he must have a good night's sleep, as he would be called early. If Clip had had the least idea of what was in the wind he would have insisted on sitting up to see the fun, but he was absolutely ignorant of it.
Wolverton had learned from Sam, who was surprised that his uncle should let him spend almost all his time with his friends, Bob and Clip, that the cargo had been stored.
"When do they start?" he asked, carelessly.
"To-morrow morning, uncle," Sam answered.
"If I had thought of it," said Wolverton, "I would have asked young Burton to take my wheat along, too."
"I don't think he would have room for it, Uncle Aaron. The boat is about full now."
"Oh, well; I shall find some other way of sending it," said Wolverton, carelessly.
About nine o'clock Wolverton stole out in the darkness, and made his way stealthily to the bend in the creek. He had with him a sharp razor – he had no knife sharp enough – which he judged would sever the thick rope.
Arrived at the place of his destination, he bent over and drew out the razor, which he opened and commenced operations. But there was an unlooked-for interference.
A light, boyish figure sprang from behind a tree, and Bob Barton, laying his hand on Wolverton's shoulder, demanded, indignantly:
"What are you doing here, Mr. Wolverton?"
Wolverton started, dropped the razor in the river, and, with an expression of alarm, looked up into Bob's face.