Barker's Luck Page #6

"Barker's Luck" is a short story by Bret Harte, set in the American West during the Gold Rush era. The narrative follows the character of Jim Barker, a down-and-out miner who experiences a series of misadventures while trying to strike it rich. With Harte's signature blend of humor and poignant insights into human nature, the story explores themes of luck, perseverance, and the complexities of fortune. As Barker navigates the challenges of life in a boomtown, he ultimately learns important lessons about failure, friendship, and the unpredictable nature of luck.

• Short story

								

now. I trusted to the newspaper."

"And you mean to say you never examined the stock or the quotations, nor
followed it in any way, since you had it?"

"Never!" said Barker. "Never thought about IT AT ALL till I saw the
newspaper. So it's not worth anything?" And, to the infinite surprise of
the manager, there was a slight smile on his boyish face.

"I am afraid it is not worth the paper it's written on," said the
manager gently.

The smile on Barker's face increased to a little laugh, in which his
wondering companion could not help joining. "Thank you," said Barker
suddenly, and rushed away.

"He beats everything!" said the manager, gazing after him. "Damned if he
didn't seem even PLEASED."

He WAS pleased. The burden of wealth had fallen from his shoulders; the
dreadful incubus that had weighed him down and parted his friends from
him was gone! And he had not got rid of it by spending it foolishly. It
had not ruined anybody yet; it had not altered anybody in HIS eyes.
It was gone; and he was a free and happy man once more. He would go
directly back to his partners; they would laugh at him, of course, but
they could not look at him now with the same sad, commiserating eyes.
Perhaps even Kitty--but here a sudden chill struck him. He had forgotten
the bill of sale! He had forgotten the dreadful promissory note given to
her father in the rash presumption of his wealth! How could it ever be
paid? And more than that, it had been given in a fraud. He had no money
when he gave it, and no prospect of any but what he was to get from
those worthless shares. Would anybody believe him that it was only a
stupid blunder of his own? Yes, his partners might believe him; but,
horrible thought, he had already implicated THEM in his fraud! Even now,
while he was standing there hesitatingly in the road, they were entering
upon the new claim he had NOT PAID FOR--COULD NOT PAY FOR--and in the
guise of a benefactor he was dishonoring them. Yet it was Carter he
must meet first; he must confess all to him. He must go back to the
hotel--that hotel where he had indignantly left her, and tell the father
he was a fraud. It was terrible to think of; perhaps it was part of that
money curse that he could not get rid of, and was now realizing; but
it MUST be done. He was simple, but his very simplicity had that
unhesitating directness of conclusion which is the main factor of what
men call "pluck."

He turned back to the hotel and entered the office. But Mr. Carter had
not yet returned. What was to be done? He could not wait there; there
was no time to be lost; there was only one other person who knew his
expectations, and to whom he could confide his failure--it was Kitty. It
was to taste the dregs of his humiliation, but it must be done. He ran
up the staircase and knocked timidly at the sitting-room door. There was
a momentary pause, and a weak voice said "Come in." Barker opened the
door; saw the vision of a handkerchief thrown away, of a pair of tearful
eyes that suddenly changed to stony indifference, and a graceful but
stiffening figure. But he was past all insult now.

"I would not intrude," he said simply, "but I came only to see your
father. I have made an awful blunder--more than a blunder, I think--a
FRAUD. Believing that I was rich, I purchased your father's claim for my
partners, and gave him my promissory note. I came here to give him back
his claim--for that note can NEVER be paid! I have just been to the
bank; I find I have made a stupid mistake in the name of the shares upon
which I based my belief in my wealth. The ones I own are worthless--am
as poor as ever--I am even poorer, for I owe your father money I can
never pay!"

To his amazement he saw a look of pain and scorn come into her troubled
eyes which he had never seen before. "This is a feeble trick," she said
bitterly; "it is unlike you--it is unworthy of you!"

"Good God! You must believe me. Listen! it was all a mistake--a
printer's error. I read in the paper that the stock for the First
Extension mine had gone up, when it should have been the Second. I
had some old stock of the First, which I had kept for years, and only
thought of when I read the announcement in the paper this morning. I
swear to you--"

But it was unnecessary. There was no doubting the truth of that
voice--that manner. The scorn fled from Miss Kitty's eyes to give place
to a stare, and then suddenly changed to two bubbling blue wells of
laughter. She went to the window and laughed. She sat down to the piano
and laughed. She caught up the handkerchief, and hiding half her rosy
face in it, laughed. She finally collapsed into an easy chair, and,
burying her brown head in its cushions, laughed long and confidentially
until she brought up suddenly against a sob. And then was still.

Barker was dreadfully alarmed. He had heard of hysterics before. He felt
he ought to do something. He moved toward her timidly, and gently drew
away her handkerchief. Alas! the blue wells were running over now.
He took her cold hands in his; he knelt beside her and passed his arm
around her waist. He drew her head upon his shoulder. He was not sure
that any of these things were effective until she suddenly lifted
her eyes to his with the last ray of mirth in them vanishing in a big
teardrop, put her arms round his neck, and sobbed:

"Oh, George! You blessed innocent!"

An eloquent silence was broken by a remorseful start from Barker.

"But I must go and warn my poor partners, dearest; there yet may be
time; perhaps they have not yet taken possession of your father's
claim."

"Yes, George dear," said the young girl, with sparkling eyes; "and tell
them to do so AT ONCE!"

"What?" gasped Barker.

"At once--do you hear?--or it may be too late! Go quick."

"But your father--Oh, I see, dearest, you will tell him all yourself,
and spare me."

"I shall do nothing so foolish, Georgey. Nor shall you! Don't you see
the note isn't due for a month? Stop! Have you told anybody but Paw and
me?"

"Only the bank manager."

She ran out of the room and returned in a minute tying the most
enchanting of hats by a ribbon under her oval chin. "I'll run over and
fix him," she said.

"Fix him?" returned Barker, aghast.

"Yes, I'll say your wicked partners have been playing a practical joke
on you, and he mustn't give you away. He'll do anything for me."

"But my partners didn't! On the contrary--"

"Don't tell me, George," said Miss Kitty severely. "THEY ought never to
have let you come here with that stuff. But come! You must go at once.
You must not meet Paw; you'll blurt out everything to him; I know you!
I'll tell him you could not stay to luncheon. Quick, now; go. What?
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