The times-news. [volume] (Hendersonville, N.C.) 1927-current, 1937-06-24
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Fred could get fancy prices from
them. Back around the l. in the
store, enough, was a different at
moSphere. The old coal stove still
functioncd there in winter. There
the atmosphere externally COM
mingled of the flavor of leather,
tobacco. human sweat. and con-
vcrsation. Fred liked this part of
his store better. He liked the
humblcst customers who gathered
there.
Golfers my name, one be-
whiskered arrival had just intro
duced himself. "This here's my
wife. Them's my sons, Paul and
Silas. And this here" Spoken
proudly "iS our Carolee."
PLEASED t'meetcha," said Fred
Potter, who would have said
"How do you do?" up front.
"We'rc from West Texas" Mr..
Golfer went on. eve seen the
horse on yorc roof, and | says to
invite, this here's a friendly
store"
Fred Potter beamed. THANK
YOU, sir. You're welcome here.
We do try to make friends. Set
down. Set down, all of you. No
hurry about doin' business here.
You figgering on taking up farm
Ing out here. Mr.. Golfer"
The old gentleman's expression
became serious. He was poorly
clad. His family was obviously
touched by poverty. In the bear
ing of both father and sons one
read the unmistable evidences of
an honest but buifeted people.
Paul Golfer held long rifle. He
could have been Is, or maybe
more. and SilaS was his homewhat
Sullcn-looking twin. In the sister,
however, was facial contradic-
tion--maybc it was pride, or de-
termination. Certainly it was
backed by inherent beauty.
eve amt farming no more, 4"
the old man cOnfded. IL hev got a
may to rich mine. | bought it
often Teller. We went busted
farming, four years in a row. |
done some mining once. | can
do 'er again. With this here map
/ might make m'Sclf rich! Who
knows"
"Your mine-it's in Arizona?'
Fred probed.
9TH same. It's in this SupcrSti-
ton Mountain right asst o here.
1t dates plumb back to Spanish
days. Carolec, she says it's prob
ably nothing to it, but | can tell.
/ can feel it.
Fred Potter swallowed. There
wasn't anything to say to that;
he had seen gold fever working
in many another hopeful soul.
You can't cure it. 1t has to run Its
course.
The door banged a sort OF hit
ting punctuation anyway, and
Fred went up front. Two men had
walked in, vastly different from
the Golfer, and one spoke boldly
to Fred.
care you Mr.. Potter" he ad-
dressed Fred. Blake, Stuart
Blake. This is my father here.
Say, Potter, we're going up into
Superstition Mountain for bit OF
vacation and want some outing
togs-boots, heavy sox, khaki SUIT
and such. The hotel says you have
them if anybody has. Right!
Outside on First Avenue, alert
Jime Burke, policeman, had OBJ
served the Blake's taxicab stop at
Potter's. More tourists, jim mus
ed; good spenders. 1t was a little
early in the morning to begin tag
ging over-parked cars, and the
dav day seemed too tranquil for
any sore of crime. jim didn't have
much to do.
He loafed around for 10 min
utes or so, finally decided to am
bile over to Fred Potter's himself:
Then. abruptly, the musing ana
the ambling were cut short.
CRACK rifle shot! -.
In the same instant, bits OF
plate glass tinkled to the sidewalk
A woman screamed.
With his pistol drawn, Ohicer
Burke sprinted the remaining 5O
fnnt nnh enterpd POtter'S.