As his closest friend, Jim Walker took charge of the body of Jim Fargo. He dug a grave near the live oak tree — and discovered the Silver Tombstone Mine — a vein of silver that apexed two feet below the surface of the ground and at fifty feet depth grew to a vein forty feet wide. Walker eventually took three million dollars out of the Silver Tombstone...
There was more about the Silver Tombstone, but Johnny put down the book and reflected upon Jim Fargo. An outlaw and a killer, who read poetry; who was no good whatever upon earth but in dying gave the world a fortune.
Johnny sighed heavily and let the book rest upon his knees. Again it fell open at the index and he began to scan it. After a moment he exclaimed. The legend, Tompkins, Dan, Page 117 had caught his attention. He turned to page 117 and found the reference to Tompkins, Dan.
“One of the original discoverers of the Apache Dance, Dan Tompkins sold his share for forty dollars and a pair of mangy mules.”
Johnny chuckled. The descendant of the original Dan Tompkins had inherited a certain share of his ancestor’s naïveté. Johnny looked for the name Ralston in the index, but could not find it. He tried Cotter, but drew a blank. Turning the page the name Henderson, Milo, caught his attention. He found the reference to Henderson on page 307. It read:
“A former Apache scout, Milo Henderson came to Tombstone in the first weeks of its existence, established the weekly newspaper, The Tombstone Lode and when the town grew so that he was enabled to make it a daily, sold out and retired to the San Carlos Mountains to become one of the biggest ranchers in the state...”
That was as far as Johnny was to read for some time. There was a soft tapping on the door. Johnny closed the book.
“Who is it?” he called peevishly.
“Helen Walker,” came the quiet reply.
Johnny whistled softly and sprang to his feet. He started for the door, then realized that the book was in his hands. He looked around for a place to hide it and saw the sofa. Stepping to it he picked up one of the three cushions, put the book underneath and dropped the cushion back into place. Then he went to the door and unlocked it.
There was a worried expression on Helen Walker’s face as she came into the room. “Surprised to see me?”
“A little,” Johnny admitted. He pointed to a chair. “Won’t you sit down?”
Helen Walker started for the chair, then detoured to the sofa. Johnny winced until Helen sat down on the cushion next to the one under which he had hidden the book.
“Decided to accept my offer for the Silver Tombstone?”
“No.” Helen hesitated, then added, “Not yet.”
Johnny seated himself in the big easy chair, facing her. The girl was primed; she had thought things over, was puzzled by his entry into the situation. And worried. So much so that she had been willing to swallow her pride and come to his hotel room... to pump him.
Johnny smiled and said nothing.
There was quiet for several seconds, then Helen saw that if anyone was to talk it would have to be Helen. “Just who are you, Mr. Fletcher?”
“Johnny Fletcher.”
“I know your name. Perhaps I should ask, what are you?”
“Just a guy trying to get along.”
“The offer you made for the mine — that wasn’t on your own behalf, was it?”
“No.”
Helen Walker inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly. “All right, Mr. Fletcher...”
“Johnny...”
Helen looked at him steadily and it seemed to him that there was more color in her features. “Johnny, then,” she said. “I guess I’ve got to confide in you. I’m worried...”
“About what happened in San Bernardino?”
Her eyes tightened in sudden pain. “I wasn’t in San Bernardino. I mean — I came through the town, naturally. You have to, driving from the east. But I... I knew nothing about... that thing.”
“Then what are you worried about?”
“Everything. I’m alone and everybody is opposed to me. My cousin, Tompkins...”
“I heard you last night.” Johnny inclined his head toward the window.
She nodded. “They’re trying to take the Silver Tombstone away from me.”
Johnny looked at her thoughtfully a moment. “You suspect, of course, that the Silver Tombstone is a valuable mine?”
“That seems obvious. It’s been shut down since 1886, but now suddenly everybody wants it. There can be only one reason. As a matter of fact, Tompkins admitted that he had discovered a rich vein of silver.”
“Supposing he has and supposing he sits tight. I understand it would cost a fortune to explore the shafts and find his vein. Are you in a position to put the money into the mine?”
“I have an automobile,” said Helen Walker. “And something like two hundred dollars in cash. That’s all.”
“What has Charles Ralston got?”
“A friend in New York who’ll back him for any amount. That’s where Hugh Kitchen came in; he was the representative of Charles’ friend... a man named Mainwaring, who owns a department store.”
Johnny screwed up his mouth. “Then it looks bad — Ralston has the money; Tompkins knows where the silver is. You...”
“I own the Silver Tombstone.”
“A hole in the ground. I read a book once in which there was a line that’s always stuck in my mind. Something about, ‘it takes a silver mine to run a silver mine.’ ”
Helen Walker leaned back wearily. At the same time her right hand dropped on the cushion beside her and she became aware that there was a bulky object under the cushion. It was the most natural thing in the world for her to raise the cushion.
She did — and found the book. The title registered instantly. “Tombstone Days!” she exclaimed. “Where did you get this?”
Johnny made a careless gesture, but Helen sat up and looked at him sharply. “This isn’t... Charlie Ralston’s?”
Johnny coughed lightly. “He loaned it to me.”
“Then it was Charlie who sent you to me?”
“No,” Johnny denied promptly, then winced as he realized that the denial narrowed the list of suspects down to one. Dan Tompkins. Helen saw it instantly.
“Tompkins!” she accused.
Johnny nodded.
“That simple-minded desert rat!” Helen exclaimed scornfully. “And he told you to offer three thousand for a mine that may be worth a million.”
“He knows where the silver is,” Johnny reminded her pointedly. “He told me that he spent two years poking around the innards of the Silver Tombstone before he found the lode.”
Helen got to her feet. “But if you’re working for Tompkins how come you...?” She held up the book.
“Ralston loaned it to me.”
She gave him a strange look. “Do you mind if I don’t believe that? As a matter of fact, Charles stole this book. It belonged to Uncle Jim. Right after one of Charles’ last visits he was looking for the book and couldn’t find it. He suspected Charles. Uncle Jim was greatly put out; he wanted me to have the book. Said it was one of a very few still in existence.”
She put the book under her arm.
Johnny got up. “Wait a minute.” He held out his hand. “I’ve got to return that book.”
“It’s mine!”
He shook his head. “Fight that out with Ralston-after I return the book.”
“I’m not going to do any more fighting — with anyone.”
Grimly Johnny advanced upon her. She retreated, then tried a quick flanking movement and headed for the door. Johnny dove after her, caught her about the waist. She whirled in his grasp, a fist doubled up. Johnny tried to duck, but took the punch on his cheekbone.