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Fighting Shepherdess, The

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<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> <h3>THE SURPRISE OF MR. WENTZ'S LIFE</h3></div> After an absence from Prouty of several weeks, Kate stepped off the train alone one afternoon and furnished the town with the liveliest sensation of its kind that it had known since the Toomeys had gone “on East.” Through the cooperation of the telephone and of breathless ladies dashing across lots and from house to house, the town, by night, had a detailed description of the clothes which had altered Kate’s appearance beyond belief. Mrs. Abram Pantin expressed the opinion that Kate’s Alaskan-seal coat which, in reality, represented the price of a goodly band of sheep, was merely native muskrat rather skilfully dyed. This verdict rendered before the Thursday afternoon session of the Y. A. K.’s, which had gathered to hear a paper by Mrs. Sudds upon the Ming Dynasty, afforded its members immense relief. Their fears, too, that the smart ear-rings Kate wore might be real pearls were assuaged by Mrs. Neifkins, who declared she had seen their counterpart in Butte for seventy-five cents. But the fact had soaked into the average citizen that Kate had “arrived.” Among those who admitted this was Mrs. Toomey, who lingered at the breakfast table the morning after Kate’s return, thinking of many things while she absently clinked her spoon against the edge of her cup. Jap had just left after an animated argument as to whether policy demanded the entertainment at dinner of the barber and his wife, who contemplated buying a sewing machine of a make for which Toomey was now the agent. Recalling the time when they had refused invitations right and left because there was no one in Prouty whom they had cared to know, a smile of bitterness came to her lips. Since then, she had eaten the pie of humbleness to the last crumb. She had become a self-acknowledged toady, a spineless sycophant, and for what? For the privilege of being invited to teas, bridge whists, of being sure of a place in the local social life. This morning she was doubting the wisdom of her choice. Kate’s sincere unswerving friendship might have been compensation enough for the anguish of being “left out.” Yet she could not exactly blame herself, for who could have foreseen that things would turn out like this? It was not remorse that Mrs. Toomey felt, but regret for not arraying herself on the side which ultimately would have brought her the most benefits. Mrs. Toomey never had been able to gather anything from Kate’s expression upon the few occasions that they had met since the girl had called her a “Judas Iscariot” and left the house, but she recalled that at each later encounter she had experienced the same sense of uneasiness. Was the feeling due to a guilty conscience, she asked herself, or was an implacable hatred that was biding its time, concealed by Kate’s enigmatic face? Mrs. Toomey concluded that this theory was farfetched—that it was not human nature to retain resentment for even a real wrong through such a lapse of years. Time took the keen edge off of everything, including the bitterest enemy. And yet, in spite of this comforting reassurance, there remained an inexplicable feeling of disquietude when she thought of the woman to whom she had proved an ingrate and a cowardly friend. While Mrs. Toomey’s mind was thus engrossingly occupied, Jasper was having his own troubles in the Security State Bank. Stimulated by three cups of strong coffee, Toomey had left the house full of hustle and hope—a state which was apt to continue until about eleven o’clock when the effect wore off, and then he might be expected home with another iridescent bubble punctured, and himself gloomy to the point of suicide. To-day Toomey’s feet as a means of locomotion seemed all too slow as he covered the distance intervening between his home and the bank. His black eyes were brilliant with caffeine and the excitement attendant upon a large and highly satisfactory idea which had come to him in the night. Having obtained a hearing, he rolled a cigarette with tremulous fingers while he unfolded his plan to Mr. Wentz. The banker listened with equanimity as he sat on the back of his neck with his fingers interlaced across his smart bottle-green waistcoat. Wentz’s lack of enthusiasm only increased Toomey’s eagerness. He leaned forward and declared with all vehemence: “Look at the territory I could cover, if I had an automobile! With a sideline of fruit trees, I can get an order of some kind out of every family in the northern part of the state. It’s a cinch, Wentz. I’m giving you a chance to make a good loan that you can’t afford to let pass.” Mr. Wentz yawned with marked weariness. “What’s a bank for if not to encourage legitimate enterprises in the community upon which it depends for its business? There isn’t a flaw in this proposition, Wentz! Can you show me one?” “It’s perfect from your side,” Wentz agreed, “but where would we get off if every family in the northern part of the state didn’t happen to need fruit trees or a sewing machine? We’d have a worn automobile on our hands and another of your familiar signatures on our already too large collection of promissory notes. Can’t see it, Jap.” Disappointment as well as Wentz’s words stung Toomey more deeply than he had been touched for a long time. A rush of blood dyed his sallow face as he grabbed his hat and started for the door. Opening it partly, he turned and flung a retort over his shoulder. “I’ll tell you what I think, Vermin!” Mr. Wentz winced. This perversion of his name had darkened his childhood days and he never had outgrown his antipathy to it. “I think,” Toomey went on, “that you’re shaky as the devil—that Neifkins’ big loss put such a crimp in you that an honest bank examiner could close your doors! I’ll bet my hat against a white chip that even a boys'-size ‘run’ could shut your little two by twice bank up tight as a drum!” It was a random shot, but the president’s face showed that it went home. He gathered himself immediately, but not before Kate who, on coming in brushed shoulders with the departing Toomey, had heard the speech and noted its effect. So Neifkins had had a big loss! She grasped the full significance of it at once and exultation filled her heart. Wentz looked at the “Sheep Queen” hard as she advanced. Astonishment and admiration were in his eyes when he recognized her at last. It was beyond belief that a mere matter of clothes could effect such a transformation as this. She looked the last word in feminine elegance. Filled with the wonder of it, he forgot for a moment the specter which had been his sleeping and waking companion for some weeks past and which had confronted him with the substance of reality at Toomey’s taunt. The banker went to meet Kate with an outstretched hand. “You’ve been gone a long time; I’ve been wondering when we’d see you back.” “I’ve been east,” she replied, casually. “The trip’s did wonders for you. You look—well, bloomin’ isn’t hardly strong enough. Miss Prentice, I want you to meet my wife—you must.” “Thanks—so much.” A certain dryness momentarily disconcerted Mr. Wentz. With a shade of chagrin Mr. Wentz returned to his desk, telling himself inelegantly that she was “feeling her oats.” Kate filled out a check in a deliberate and careful way and passed it in to the cashier, who had been noting the details of her appearance with unqualified interest. Her eyes had an increased brilliancy and there was a faint flush on her cheeks, but otherwise there was nothing in her impassive face to show how fast her heart was beating as she waited in the silence to learn if the blow she meant to strike had been well-timed or not. She was not kept long in suspense. The swift consternation which made the cashier’s color fade when he grasped the fact that the check was for the full amount of her deposit told her all she wished to know. The shadow of her enigmatic smile rested on her lips. She was curiously aware of every sound—the ticking of the flat clock against the wall, the scratching of Wentz’s pen, the steps of passersby on the sidewalk—as she waited for what seemed an unconscionable time for the cashier to speak. Panic was in his eyes when he finally raised them from the check. He stood uncertainly for a moment, then turned and walked quickly to the president’s desk. Wentz read it without lifting his head as it lay before him. He continued to stare at it as though he had been stunned, while Kate with her eyes fixed upon his face thrummed lightly on the counter with her finger tips. He had pictured something like this a thousand times, yet now that it actually had come he seemed as little prepared to meet it as if it were a crushing and complete surprise. He lifted his head as though with an effort. “Will you step here, please?” His voice sounded thick. The cashier quickly withdrew while Wentz arose slowly and opened the gate. As Kate sank slowly into the depths of a leather covered chair, the much-discussed coat, a fitting garment for a princess, with its ample cut and voluminous unstinted hem, swirled gracefully about her feet. Her gloves, her close-fitting hat with its well-adjusted veil drawn over her carefully-dressed hair—everything, to the smallest detail of the subdued elegance of her toilette—suggested not only discriminating taste but unlimited means with which to indulge it. The Sheep Queen toyed idly with a gold mesh-bag suspended by a chain about her neck, and her face was sphinx-like as she waited for Wentz to speak. The check fluttered as the banker picked it up at last and held it between his two trembling hands. “Is it necessary, Miss Prentice, that you have this money at once?” Kate replied evenly: “No—I can’t say that. Why?” He hesitated and the color swept hotly over his face. “It will be an accommodation to us if you will wait a few days.” “In what way?” Her calmness reassured him and he replied with a little less constraint: “This is a large sum for a small bank, and I don’t mind telling you confidentially that the payment of this check will leave us a little—er—short.” Kate raised her beautifully arched eyebrows and questioned: “Yes?” Wentz drew a deep breath of relief. “You see, I inferred that you would be leaving this with us for a considerable length of time and, anyway, I was sure that you would be considerate if it was not quite—not quite convenient to pay the full amount at once.” “What made you think that?” she asked softly. “Oh, our friendly relations, and all that,” he replied more easily. “Aren’t you taking a great deal for granted, Mr. Wentz?” The timbre of her voice—the deadly coldness of it—made him start. He had the sensation of an icicle being drawn slowly the length of his back. “Why, I—I don’t know,” he stammered. “Am I?” “Do you recall any reason, as you look back, why I should grant this favor that you ask?” Mr. Wentz distinctly squirmed. “N-no.” “Quite the contrary, if you’ll recollect.” “I hope,” with a deprecatory gesture of his white hand, “you are not laying that up against us, Miss Prentice? Surely you can understand that a bank must protect itself.” Kate’s eyes which had been violet were gray now. “But not to the extent that you did when you tried to put the screws on me for Neifkins’ benefit. With every means at your command you endeavored to take advantage of my necessity. And yet”—she gripped the fat arms of the leather chair as she threw off her mask of impassivity and cried in a voice that was hoarse with the emotion with which she shook—“that’s not the real reason that I’m going to close your doors, that I’m going to wreck you and your bank and give the finishing blow to this already bankrupt town! It’s for a woman’s reason that I am going to take my revenge. “You weren’t content to make a pauper of me. No, you couldn’t be satisfied with that, but you must hurt my woman’s pride—you must cut me to the quick with your studied insolence, the disrespect of your eyes, your manner, your tone, your speech, every time that business brought me here! “You couldn’t resist the temptation to hit me when I was down. It was so easy, and there was so little chance of being hit back. Besides, it gave you an agreeable feeling of importance, after having been so long ignored or patronized yourself. That’s why, Mr. Wentz,” the words sounded sibilant through her shut teeth, “you’re going to honor my check to-day—now—or suspend.” Wentz listened dumbfounded. The slight question which once had been in his mind as to whether or not she harbored resentment had long since been removed by her continued patronage and her even courtesy. He never had dreamed of such a vindictive, deep-rooted animosity as this. When he could speak he half started from his chair and cried sharply: “Miss Prentice! Kate! You won’t do that!” “Won’t I?” Her short laugh was hard as with a nervous movement she got up, and walking behind it, laid her folded arms on the back of the big leather chair. “Do you think I’ve been planning and working to this end all these years to weaken at your first outcry? To watch you squirm is a part of the reward I promised myself, Mr. Wentz.” He thrust out a supplicating hand: “Give us time—just a little time—that’s all I ask! We’ll tide over somehow if you’ll—” Kate interrupted bitterly: “There’s a familiar ring to that. My own words exactly, if you will recollect—and you sneered in my face.” She looked at him with narrowed eyes and her voice was flint: “The time you’ll get is the time it will require for me to go before a notary and swear that your bank is insolvent—twenty minutes—a half hour at most.” “For God’s sake—” His face was chalky when he sprang out of his chair as though to stop her forcibly when she laid her hand upon the gate. “Isn’t there some other way—some concession that we can make?” Wentz did not breathe, in the tense moment that she seemed to hesitate. “Yes,” she flashed, “there is one way to save your bank; turn over to me your and Neifkins’ stock, which will give me the control.” Wentz stood mute. She demanded imperiously: “Yes or no?” “You—you would retain me as president?” he asked, heavily. Her answer came with the decisive snap of a rapid fire gun. “Certainly not. You demonstrated your unfitness to occupy a position of such responsibility when you allowed yourself to be influenced by a man of Neifkins’ stripe, to say nothing of the lack of knowledge of human nature which you have shown in your dealings with me. “The man who enabled me to block your game when you thought you had me down and out—not through any particular kindness of heart or chivalry, but because he had the gift of insight into character—the discernment to recognize a safe loan—will take your place. Abram Pantin, if he wants it, will be this bank’s next president.” Wentz looked his amazement. So that was the source from which her money had come! The bank’s ancient enemy had taken what any other man in Prouty would have considered an extremely long chance. Wentz never had blamed himself, but this news made him wince. Pantin—the fox—rather anyone else! A rebellious expression came over the man’s face. With Abram Pantin in his chair his humiliation would be complete. “I won’t do it!” he blurted. “Then you’ll suspend. I don’t bluff. There isn’t a plea you can make, or a single argument, that will have any weight. There’s but this one way to save your reputation and your bank. Do you quite realize what failure means, coming at this time? It means the finishing touch to a nearly bankrupt town. It means that the temper of your depositors will be such that you’re liable to be lynched, when they learn that you might have kept the bank open and did not. Think twice, Mr. Wentz.” “God, but you’re cold-blooded!” He groped for the chair and sat down. “You pay me a compliment,” she answered, mockingly. “I take it you consent?” He muttered sullenly: “There’s nothin’ else. Yes.” <hr class='major' /> <div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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