CHAPTER XVI
On all the ranches along the Coldstream there was water in plenty. Theditches ran brimful. In the fields the soil was dark with gratefulmoisture; the roots of the grain drank deep, fed full on the storedfertility of ages magically released by the water, and shot suddenlyfrom small, frail plants, apparently lying thinly in the drills, intocrowding, lusty growths, vigorous, strong-stemmed, robust, throwingmillions of green pennants to the warm winds. Down the length of thefields at narrow intervals trickled little streams like liquid silverwires strung against a background of living emerald. Pullulation wasforced, swift, marvellous; one could almost hear the grain grow.
Though everything pointed to a bumper crop, this depended on acontinued water supply, and the ranchers took full advantage of thepresent, for none could tell how long the conditions would endure. Assoon as one piece of land had sufficient moisture the water was shiftedelsewhere; they allowed no overflow, no waste. This meant long hours,continuous, if not arduous work.
Naturally each ranch's main ditch was the heart of its water supply.From these, smaller ditches carried the supply to the different fields.These represented the arteries. The small streams trickling down thelong irrigation marks through the grain and root crops might be likenedto veins. To supply these it was necessary to tap the arteries everyfew yards; and the adjustment of these outlets, as ditches always lowerduring the heat of the day when suction and evaporation are thegreatest and rise in the cooler hours of the night, was a matter ofsome skill and difficulty.
Dunne and his entire force worked overtime, taking all they could getwhile they could get it. Glass, the timorous would-be investor, paidhim several visits. The first time Casey himself showed him over theranch, explaining the theory and practice of irrigation, telling himwhat crops could be grown, what could not be grown, and what mightperhaps be grown but as yet had not been proven. Glass absorbed thisinformation like a sponge. Once more he recited his doubts and fears,going over the same ground with wearying detail. Casey, on the secondvisit, handed him over to Tom McHale, who listened pityingly.
"This here Glass sure needs a guardian or a nursemaid or something," hetold Casey afterward. "He don't seem to know which way to string hischips. He makes me that tired I sorter suggests maybe he'd better prayabout it; and he says he's done that, too, but don't seem to git nostraight answer. So I tells him if the Lord don't know I surely don't.And then he says he'll ask his wife. His wife! Whatever do you think ofthat? I quit him right there!"
But Glass wandered from ranch to ranch, a harmless bore, relating hisperplexities to people too busy to listen. Finally he announced that hehad bought land and sent for his family. And on the strength of thisbegan his rounds again, eager for agricultural information.
At this time Casey received a letter from Wade giving the date of hislong-promised visit to Coldstream. He added that his wife and MissBurnaby would accompany him. They would stay, he said, in town, at thehotel. Immediately Casey went into committee with Tom McHale.
"Wade was coming here," he said. "The ladies complicate matters, butwe'll have to do the best we can. It's the house that worries me. It'snot furnished the way I'd like to have it. And then it's small. I guesswe'll have to move out, Tom."
"Sure," McHale agreed at once. "We can bed down anywheres. I'll rig upa couple of bunks in the new tool house. We're pretty well along withthe water. I can 'tend to that while you show 'em the country."
Straightway Casey commanded Feng, his Chinaman, to clean and scrub,much to that Celestial's disgust.
"What foh?" he demanded. "Housee plenty clean. Las spling me _hiyu_sclub, _hiyu_ wash, _hiyu_ sweep undeh bed. All light now."
"All right for man; no good for woman," Casey explained. "Two lady comestop, Feng."
"Ho!" said Feng, adjusting his mind to a new situation. "You and Tommally him?"
"No," Casey responded. "One married already. Ladies all same myfriends, Feng."
"No good." Feng announced with certainty. "Woman fliend no good. Alltime makee too much wo'k. All time kick at glub. Mebbyso want blekfustin bed. Mebbyso bling baby. Neveh give Chinaboy a dolla'. No good.S'pose you bling woman fliend me quit. Me go back to China."
"If you quit me now, one dead China boy stop," Casey threatened. Headded craftily: "This lady _tyee_ lady. All same mandarin's daughter._Hiyu_ rich!"
"Ho!" said Feng thoughtfully. "_Hiyu_ lich, eh? All light. Me cleanhousee."
But, though he had won this diplomatic victory, Casey was notsatisfied. Finally he took his perplexities to Sheila, enlisting heraid in problems of decoration and the like.
"Where does this Miss Burnaby come in?" she asked. "Who is she?"
Casey told her, and she frowned dubiously.
"Seems to me you butted into real society when you went outside, Casey.If she has all that money she's apt to be pernickity. I hate fussywomen. Is she pretty?"
"Why--yes, I think so," he admitted. "Oh, yes, she's pretty--no doubtabout that. But I don't think she's fussy. You'll like her, Sheila. Shedoesn't scare or rattle easily. In some ways she reminds me of you."
"Thank you. And how do you know she doesn't scare or rattle?"
He evaded the question. "I don't think she would."
"Why didn't you ever mention her before?"
"Never thought of it. I hadn't the least notion that Mrs. Wade wascoming, let alone Miss Burnaby. You see, it puts me up against it. I'llbe ever so much obliged if you'll help me out."
"I'll come over and arrange things in the rooms, of course," Sheilaacquiesced.
And so, when Casey awaited the coming of the train which bore hisguests, it was with the knowledge that his rough-and-tumble, quartershad been made as presentable as possible.
Wade and his party descended, attended by an obsequious porter ladenwith bags, and in a moment Casey was shaking hands.
"And so this is your country!" said Mrs. Wade eying her surroundingsrather dubiously. In her heart she was appalled at the prospect ofpassing several weeks in such a place.
"Well, some of it isn't mine," he laughed. "I wish it were. This isonly the makings, Mrs. Wade. Wait a few years. Now, here's what we do.We have dinner at the hotel. Afterward we drive out to the ranch whereyou are all to stay."
Wade and his wife protested. They couldn't think of it. Clyde saidnothing. Casey appealed to her.
"What do you say Miss Burnaby? Will you brave the discomforts of ashack in the dry belt?"
"I'm in the hands of my friends," she laughed.
"That includes me," said Casey. "Everything's fixed for you. This is mystamping ground, and I'm boss. What I say goes." He introduced Mr.Quilty, who was hovering in the background, and chuckled as thatgarrulous gentleman proceeded to unwind an apparently endless welcome.
"I like him," Clyde whispered.
"Pure gold," said Casey, and created a diversion. He helped Quiltydeposit the bags in the station.
"Thon's a fine gyurrl," said the latter, with a jerk of his thumbtoward the platform."
"Right," Casey replied.
"Oh, trust a quiet devil like yourself to pick wan out," said thelittle station agent. "I was the same meself, whin I was more youngernor what I am now. I fell dead in love with a fine, big gyurrl be th'name iv--iv--dom'd if I don't forget the name iv her, onless it wasMary or Josephine--no, thim came afther. What th' divil are ye laughin'at? Annyways, me an' this gyurrl that I loved that I forget the nameiv, was strollin' wan night be moonlight, d'ye see me, now? And we cometo where there was a stump risin' maybe two fut clear iv th'ground--ye'll wonder what th' stump had to do wid ut, but listen--and Istopped and put me arrm around her waist--or tried to; for a finecircumferenshus waist she had. Faix, a wan-arrmed man'd've been upagainst it intirely wid her--and I sez to her, 'Lena'--that was hername, Lena, I remimber now, and she was a Swede--'Lena,' I sez, 'luk atthe moon!' 'Ay see him,' she sez. 'Turn yer sweet face a little more tothe southeast,' I sez, that bein' to'rd the stump I mintioned before;an' when I had her at the right angle I made a lep up on
the stump andkissed her. Faix, and the same was a forced play, me bein' the height Iam, and her over six fut. 'I love yez,' I sez; 'say yez love me!'"
"Well, what did she say?" asked Casey, as Mr. Quilty paused for breath.
"She concealed her feelin's," Mr. Quilty replied sadly. "She said, 'Aytenk ve go home now. Ay don't vant no feller vat have to mek love med astep-ladder!' And afther that, mind ye, what does she do but take upwid another little divil wid no legs at all, havin' lost them under ashuntin' ingin. But his artfulness is such that he gets extra-longimitation wans, like stilts, to do his coortin' on. An', though helooks like a cross bechune a sparrow and a crane and has to carry anoil can when he walks or else creak like a stable door in Janooary, shemarries him and keeps him in luxury be takin' in washin' for the camps.And so, ye see, though I had stood on wan stump to kiss her, ivery timehe done the likes he had to stand on _two_!"
"Corney," said Casey gravely, "you are an awful liar."
"I will not be insulted by yez," Mr. Quilty retorted with equalgravity. "I will consider the soorce from which ut comes. G'wan out ofhere, before I do yez injury."
Immediately after dinner Casey brought up his road team, two wiry,slashing chestnuts. The Wades occupied the rear seat. Clyde sat besideCasey. The horses started with a rush that brought a gasp from Mrs.Wade. Clyde involuntarily caught the seat rail.
"It's all right," Casey assured them. "A little fresh, that's all. Theyknow they're going home. It's their way of saying they're glad. You,Dick--you, Doc! Behave, behave!" He had them in hand, checking theirimpatience to an easy jog, holding them fretting against the bit. "I'lllet them out in a mile or two. Do you know horses, Miss Burnaby?"
"A very little. I ride and drive; but I like quiet animals."
"Oh, these are quiet." He smiled back at Mrs. Wade.
"Are they?" that lady commented. "Then I don't want to drive behindwild ones."
A light wind was in their faces, blowing the dust backward. The townvanished suddenly, lost behind swells of brown grasses. The road woundtortuously onward, skirting little groves of cottonwoods, swingingalong gulches, sometimes plunging down them and ascending in longgrades on the thither side.
Clyde drank in the sweet, thin air eagerly. The city and her everydaylife seemed far behind. Heretofore her holidays had been passed inplaces where pleasure was a business. This was to be different. Shewould not look for amusement; she would let it come to her. She feltthat she was entering a world of which she knew little, peopled bythose whose outlook was strange. It seemed, somehow, that this journeywas to be fateful--that she had placed herself in the grip ofcircumstances which moved her without volition. Where and how, shewondered vaguely, would it end?
She glanced at Dunne's profile, shaded by the hat brim tilted over hiseyes against the sun; at his buckskin-gloved hands holding the reinsagainst the steady pull of the big chestnuts; downward over thedashboard at their hoofs falling with the forceful impact of hammersand yet rising with the light springiness of an athlete's foot,throwing the miles behind them scornfully. And she was dreamilycontent.
"You're going to like it," said Dunne suddenly.
"Am I?" she smiled. "How do you know? How did you know?"
"It's largely a guess. I was nervous at first."
"And now?"
"No. This is a plain, dusty trail, the grass is so dry it's almostdead, the scenery is conspicuously absent, the smell of leather andhorseflesh isn't especially pleasant--and yet you are not noticingthese things. The bigness and the newness of the land have got you,Miss Burnaby. You don't know it and you can't put it into words--Ican't myself--but the feeling is there. You are one of us at heart."
"Of 'us'?"
"The people of the new lands--the pioneers, if you choose, the moderncolonists, the trail blazers."
"I wonder." The idea was new. She considered it gravely. "My parentswere city folks; I have lived in the city all my life. And yet I thinkI have the feeling you speak of. Only I can't put it into wordseither."
"If you could you would be the most famous person in the world. Thesong is there, waiting the singer. It has always been there, waiting,and the singer has never come. We who hear it in our hearts have novoices. Now and then some genius strikes the chord by accident, almost,and loses it. I don't think any one will ever find it completely. Butif some one should! Heavens! What a grand harmony it would be."
She glanced at him curiously. He was not looking at her. His eyes wereon a little cloud, a white island in a sapphire sea. He seemed to bepaying no attention whatever to the road, to his surroundings. But asone of the chestnuts stumbled over a loose stone he lifted himinstantly with the reins and administered a sharp word of reproof and alight cut of the whip.
"He didn't mean to stumble," said Clyde.
"He should have meant not to. A horse that isn't tired and is payingattention to business should never stumble on a road. It's the slouchyhorse that breaks his kind owner's neck some day. Now I'm going to letthem out."
So far as Clyde could observe, he did absolutely nothing. Butimmediately, as though some subtle current had passed from his handsalong the lines, the horses' heads came up, their ears pricked forward,their stride quickened and lengthened, and the measured beat of theirhoofs became a quickstep. The horses themselves seemed to exult in thechange of pace, filling their great lungs through widened nostrils andexpelling the air noisily, shaking their heads, proud of themselves andtheir work.
Mrs. Wade laid a nervous hand on her husband's arm as the light wagonrattled down a descent. But Clyde sat quietly, her lips slightlyparted, her eyes shining as the warm wind poured past in a torrentplucking at vagrant strands of her coppery golden hair.
"Fifteen miles an hour," said Casey. "Like it?"
"It's better than fifty in a car," she replied.
"The difference between God-made and man-made horsepower. Some peoplecan't appreciate it."
"I can. It isn't the end--the pace alone. It's the means to the end."
"Plus the love of human flesh and blood for other flesh and blood.You've got it. I won't keep them at this. Too warm."
It was late afternoon when Chakchak came into view. It appearedsuddenly as they swung around the corner of a butte, lying below them,the emerald of its fields drenched with the gold of the sloping sun.
"My kingdom!" said Casey. "Welcome to it!"
Clyde was surprised, in a measure disappointed. She had pictured itdifferently. With her the word "ranch" had connoted large prairieareas, bald landscapes, herds of cattle, lonely horsemen, buildingsmore or less ugly, unrelieved by any special surroundings. Here weregreen fields, trees, water, painted barns, and a neat little house ofthe bungalow type.
"Why," she exclaimed, "it's a farm!"
"Thank you," he responded; "that's what we're trying to make it. Onlyout here we call them 'ranches.' Slightly more picturesque term,glorified by fiction, calculated to appeal to the imagination. Givesthe impression of a free, breezy life in which the horse does all thework. Invaluable in selling land. But in strict confidence I may saythat work on a farm in the East and on a ranch in the West aretwins--you can't tell t'other from which."
McHale appeared as they drove up, to relieve Casey of the horses. Hewas freshly shaven, and dressed with unusual care. Feng, in whitejacket and apron, grinned from his quarters, appraising the "_hiyu_lich gal," with an eye to possible dollars.
"Now, this house," Casey explained, as they entered, "belongs to youthree. It's yours to have, hold, and occupy for your sole use andbenefit while you are here. Is that sufficiently legal, Wade? TheChinaman is yours, too. He takes his orders from you. Mrs. Wade, yourroom is there. Miss Burnaby, that one is intended for you. But if youlike to change about, do so, by all means."
"And which is your room?" Wade asked.
"I'm bunking in one of the other buildings."
"What? We're putting you out of your own house!" Wade exclaimed. "Thatwon't do, Casey, really it won't. We won't let you."
"Of course not," his w
ife concurred.
"Indeed we won't," said Clyde.
But Casey was firm. He explained that he came and went at all hours,rose early, had to be where he could confer with McHale. He insisted onhis fictions, and ended by half convincing them.
Clyde, entering the room he had pointed out as hers, was struck by itsabsolute cleanness and daintiness. The curtains were tastefully draped,tied with ribbon; there were scarfs on dresser and stand, pin-cushionand pins, little trays for trifles. The bed was made with hospitalneatness.
A moment afterward Kitty Wade entered, looking around.
"Yours, too," she said. "No mere bachelor ever did these things, Clyde.The Chinaman is out of the question. It is to find the woman."
"We'll ask Mr. Dunne," said Clyde.
But it was not till after dinner that Kitty Wade did so.
"Miss McCrae was kind enough to fix up the rooms for you," Caseyreplied.
"Who is Miss McCrae?"
Casey pulled a handful of photographs from a drawer, and shuffled them.He handed one to Mrs. Wade.
"That's Sheila McCrae. I'll drive you over to Talapus, her father'splace, one of these days."
Clyde, moved by an interest which she could not understand, bent overKitty Wade's shoulder. The picture was an enlarged snapshot, but asplendid likeness. Sheila was standing, one hand by her side holdingher riding hat, the other, half raised to her hair, as if to arrange itwhen the shutter had opened. Her dark, keen face with its touch ofwistfulness looked full at them.
"What a nice-looking girl!" Kitty Wade exclaimed. "Don't you think so,Clyde?"
Clyde agreed perfunctorily. But, looking into the steady, fearless eyesof the pictured girl, she felt a vague, incomprehensible hostility.Kitty Wade glanced at her quickly, detecting the strained note. Clydefelt the glance, and inwardly resented it. Kitty Wade's eyes werealtogether too observant.
Desert Conquest; or, Precious Waters Page 16
