ELEANOR WHEELOCK
Jordan was driving a spirited team along the water-front when Jimmy came
up from the wharf, and he smiled when the latter swung himself up into
the light, four-wheeled vehicle. Jimmy was dressed tastefully in his
English shore-going clothes, and now looked very much unlike a
yacht-hand. He was well endued physically, and, though the bronze in his
face and a certain steadiness of gaze betrayed his calling, there was an
indefinite but unmistakable stamp upon him which he had acquired on
board the big mail-boats, and perhaps also in a greater measure from his
comrades on the battleship. Jimmy had certainly not cultivated it, and
was, in fact, not aware that he possessed it, but his companion had
already recognized it.
"Take a cigar, and light it before I let the team out. They look as if
they could go," he said.
Jimmy did so, and then found it somewhat difficult to keep his seat as
his comrade sent the horses through the city as fast as they could lay
hoof to the ground, and out of it past the clustering wooden hovels in
its less reputable quarter, and up the slope that led into the shadowy
bush. Roads are not remarkable for their smoothness anywhere in that
country, but it was evident that Jordan liked fast traveling and could
handle a team. He laughed when Jimmy said so.
"I come of farmer stock, and that's probably why I always had a notion
of the sea," he said. "If you look at it in one way, the thing's quite
natural."
"I suppose it is," said Jimmy. "Why didn't you go to sea?"
"It seemed to me one has mighty few chances of picking up money there,
though I found out quite early that the poor man has no great show
anywhere. It was a mortgage he couldn't pay off that broke up my
father."
He stopped for a moment, with a little confidential gesture. "I guess
that's why I wanted to do what I could for your father. In one or two
ways he's very much like the man I buried back in Washington. He was
straight--and it wasn't his fault if he didn't whale all the meanness
out of me--but, when smartness means getting your grip on what belongs
to somebody else, he was just a trifle slow. He worked hard, and gave
every man a hundred cents' worth for his dollar--and that's quite likely
why there was mighty little but a mortgage on the ranch when he died."
Jimmy was not astonished, in view of their short acquaintance, that his
companion should tell him this. He was aware that reticence is not a
prominent characteristic of the men of the Pacific Slope, and, besides
this, there was a rapidly growing sympathy between himself and Jordan.
Still, he sat silent, and his companion spoke again.
"I was about sixteen then, and I saw I had to make out differently," he
said. "Well, somehow I've done it--looked on this life as a battle where
the hurt man gets no mercy, and I've cleared quite a little money on my
royalties--but now and then the memory of those old days on the ranch
comes back to me. Then I feel that if ever it's necessary for me to get
my knife into any kind of mortgage man, it will be red right to the hilt
when it comes out again."
The snap in his companion's dark eyes and the hardening of his lips were
comprehensible to Jimmy, for he had once or twice been sensible of much
the same feeling. Jordan had, as is usual in the land to which he
belonged, expressed himself frankly, and perhaps a trifle crudely; but
Jimmy recognized that it was with very genuine tenderness and regret he
remembered the man he had buried long ago in Washington. He asked an
abrupt question, which did not, however, altogether change the subject.
"Will you be here any time?" he said.
"I don't quite know. There's no reason I shouldn't tell you what I can,
and I feel like talking now. I'm quite pleased to run that mill up the
Inlet for our people, that is, while they leave me to fix things as I
like them; but as I told you, Merril has been getting his grip on the
stock lately, and his views about the royalties on my patents don't
quite coincide with mine. I've a couple of other notions that will save
labor which our company has not bought up, and it's quite likely I'll
turn them over to the Hastings people. In the meanwhile I'm not going to
rush things, and it's probable I'll hang on until we've had the
stockholders' meeting."
"Then it's Merril who is standing in your way?"
Jordan smiled dryly. "Now you understand the thing. Seems to me neither
of us has any great reason to like that man."
Nothing more was said on that point, and by and by they left the scented
shadow of the pines, and clattered across a wooden bridge which spanned
the turbid, green Fraser, into a stretch of sunlit meadows and oatfields
formed by the silt the great river had brought down. In due time they
reached a wooden ranch flanked by shadowy bush, and Jordan, pulling the
team up before it, glanced down the long white road that leads to New
Westminster, a few miles away.
"I guess I'll go on to town, and come back for you," he said. "Still,
you had better make sure you're at the right place first."
Jimmy got down, and a man who had apparently heard the beat of hoofs,
commenced to throw down the split slip-rails which in Western Canada
usually serve as gates.
"Yes," he said, when Jimmy spoke to him, "this is Forster's ranch. In
fact, that is my name."
He was dressed in the bush-rancher's jean, but he had a pleasant face
with a certain hint of refinement in it, and smiled when Jimmy told him
who he was.
"Miss Wheelock's brother? Come right in and put your team up," he said.
"It's not more than an hour or so until supper. Your friend will come
with you?"
Supper is usually served at six o'clock in that country, and in no way
differs from the other meals of the day; while nobody acquainted with
its customs would have considered it an unusual thing for the rancher
to extend the invitation to Jimmy's companion. Jordan once more glanced
down the road to New Westminster, and, though none of them knew it, a
good deal was to depend on the fact that he elected to stay.
"Well," he said, turning to Jimmy, "I don't want to worry you, but the
fact is, one of the lumber people yonder has been writing me about my
gang-saw frame, and, after thinking the thing out last night, I'd sooner
hold him off a while. I'd have to call on the man if I drove into town,
and, after all, it might be wiser to keep clear of him."
"Then you had better get down," said Forster. "While Miss Wheelock talks
to her brother you can walk round the ranch with me. I don't see many
strangers, and I'm by no means busy."
Jordan got down, and, after spending an hour with Forster, was somewhat
astonished when he was presented to Miss Wheelock in the big general
room of the ranch. It was roughly paneled with cedar, very simply
furnished, and had, as usual, an uncovered floor, while the sunlight
that streamed through the uncurtained window fell upon the girl. She
stood still a moment looking at him when she had acknowledged his
greeting, and for once, at least, the sawmiller felt almost embarrassed,
for Eleanor Wheelock possessed, as her brother did not, a somewhat
striking personality.
Jimmy might have passed for a quiet Englishman; but his sister was
typically Western in everything but speech--tall, wiry, and a trifle
straight of figure, but with something that was almost imperious in her
attitude. She had light hair like Jimmy's, but there was a reddish gleam
in it, and her eyes which had a glint in them were of a paler blue,
while her skin was of a curious colorless purity. Jordan could not
analyze her features, but he felt that she was beautiful, and there was
a suggestion of vigor about her that further attracted him. One would
scarcely have called her domineering, but she had not, as her brother
recognized, the quiet graciousness and composure which half-concealed
Anthea Merril's strength of character. Jordan, however, was not too
discriminating. He liked vigor in any guise, and he noticed that one of
the two little girls who had entered with her clung to her hand.
"I think I passed you twice in Vancouver one day a month or two ago,"
she said.
Jordan made her a little inclination, and his Western candor was free
alike from awkwardness or any hint of presumption.
"Then I didn't see you. If I had done so, I should certainly have
remembered it."
Eleanor laughed, and turned to the others. "It's ten minutes since Jake
called you. Will you sit here, Jimmy, with Mr. Jordan next to you? Mrs.
Forster is away just now."
She moved to the head of the table, and the usual ranch supper of pork,
potatoes, flapjacks, hot cakes, desiccated fruits, and green tea was
brought in. Forster, who appeared to be a man of education, made an
excellent host, but it was Eleanor and Jordan who led most of the
conversation, and there was delicacy as well as keenness in their
badinage. Almost an hour had passed before the party rose, which was a
very unusual thing in that country, for the Westerner seldom wastes much
time over his meals. Then, as it happened, it was Jimmy who walked
round the ranch with Forster, while Jordan sat on the veranda with
Eleanor and the little girls while the shadows of the firs crept slowly
up to it. They talked about a good many things, while each felt that
they were just skirting a confidence, until the little girl who sat next
to Jordan looked up at him gravely.
"Why don't you go and see the cows with father and the other man?" she
asked.
Jordan laughed, but he looked at Eleanor. "Well," he said, "for one
thing, I guess it's a good deal nicer here."
Miss Wheelock met his glance with a directness which, had his
disposition and training been different, he might have found
disconcerting. She was, like himself, absolutely devoid of affectation,
and he felt that she was quietly making an estimate of him. Still, there
was not a great deal in his character that he had occasion to hide from
any one, and the evident sincerity of his observation was in itself an
excuse for it. It was characteristic of the girl that she let it pass,
not with the obvious intention of ignoring it because that appeared
advisable, but as though she had never heard it. When a thing did not
appeal to Eleanor Wheelock, she simply brushed it aside.
"Have you met the Miss Merril Jimmy mentioned?" she asked. "I almost
fancy she is the girl I used to see now and then when I was in Toronto.
What is she like?"
Jordan, who had met Anthea Merril in Vancouver, told her as well as he
was able, and Eleanor's lips set in a straight line.
"One could fancy you were not fond of Miss Merril," he said.
"I have never spoken to her; but I have no great reason to feel
well-disposed toward anybody of that family."
"Ah!" said Jordan; "that means Jimmy has told you what Merril is doing.
I'm no friend of that man's either, but I'm not quite sure one could
reasonably hold the girl responsible for her father."
"Especially when she's pretty? Still, she is his daughter, and must be
like him in some respects."
Jordan's eyes twinkled. "Do you consider yourself like your father?"
Eleanor flashed a swift glance at him. "You are keener than I expected.
In reality I am not like him in the least, though I don't know why I
should trouble to admit it. In any case, I think the rule generally
holds good."
She dismissed the subject abruptly, with a laugh. "After all, our
affairs can't interest you. You can't have seen very much of my
brother."
Jordan appeared to consider this. "I'm not sure that counts," he said.
"I seem to have been a friend of Jimmy's quite a long while. There are
people who make you feel that, even when it isn't so, although they may
not consciously want to. One can't tell how they do it--but I think you
have the power in you."
"I don't know," said Eleanor. "I am, however, by no means certain that I
was ever very anxious to make friends with anybody."
"That's comprehensible. You would sooner they wanted to make friends
with you, and if no one did, you would be sufficient for yourself."
Eleanor looked at him with a chilly smile. "You have a certain
penetration, but I don't know that there is any reason why I should
confess to you. How do you come to know anything about Mr. Merril?"
Jordan, who appeared to have no doubt as to her ability to understand
him, in which he was warranted, told her.
"Well," she said, "suppose this man's influence is too strong for you,
and you have to break your connection with the mill?"
"There are two or three other things I could turn to."
"One would suppose as much;" and Jordan took it as a compliment, which
perhaps it was, especially as the girl had not said it with the least
desire to gratify him. "Still, that is not what I mean. Would you try to
find any means of retaliating?"
"If he afterward got in my way--that is, thrust himself between me and
something I wanted to do--I would try all I could to get my foot on him,
and then perhaps keep it there a little longer than was necessary."
"You would go no further?"
Jordan knew what she meant, though he could not grasp her purpose in
pressing the point. "It wouldn't be business if I did. When a man starts
out to make money he can't afford to load himself up with purely
personal grievances. If another man tries to get the things you want you
naturally have to fight, but it's wiser to grin and bear it when he's
too smart for you. Still, there are cases when the feeling that you
would like to get even afterward is apt to be 'most too much for human
nature."
"And in some respects you could be very human?"
Jordan turned to her with the twinkle still in his eyes. "Well," he
said, "if I let any weakness of that kind master me in the present case,
I should be very much like the black-tail deer that turned around on the
man with the rifle. Still, one can't invariably be wise."
His manner was whimsical, but it seemed to Eleanor there was something
behind it, for when he broke off a faint glint which she understood
crept into his eyes.
"Sometimes accidents happen to the man with the rifle," she said. "In
the meanwhile, I rather fancy Jimmy is making signs to you."
"Then," said Jordan gravely, "I'm not sure I'm much obliged to him. But
before I go there's something I want to ask: would it be a liberty if I
came back here with him some day?"
"You would like to come?"
"Of course. Why do I ask?"
Eleanor laughed. "That is what I was wondering. I almost think a man
likely to get even with Mr. Merril would do what he wanted. Anyway, you
know the customs of the country as well as I do, and I scarcely think
Forster and his wife would mind."
Jordan rose, and kissed the child he picked up and held high in his
arms. "Well," he said, "since--Forster and his wife--wouldn't mind, I
shall very probably come along again by and by."
He turned and went down the veranda stairway, while the little girl
looked at her companion gravely.
"I like that man. He's nice," she said. "You like him too, don't you?"
Eleanor was beckoning Jimmy, but the child went on. "Well," she said,
"he thinks you nice, I know. I could tell it by the way he looked at
you. Perhaps you didn't see him, but I did."
Eleanor laughed, for she had naturally noticed every glance Jordan had
cast in her direction, and had understood it. That, however, did not
count for very much with her. She recognized in Jordan something that
pleased her, and she had a vague fancy that there were things he might
be able to do for Jimmy and her father in the difficulties she foresaw.
There was, she admitted reluctantly, after all, a good deal that a woman
could not do; but in the meanwhile the feeling went no further. Then
while Jordan and Forster harnessed the team, Jimmy joined her.
"You will have to stay in the Province, Jimmy. You can't go back to
sea," she said. "Your father will need somebody beside him now."
Jimmy only smiled, but the girl made a little gesture of comprehension.
"Oh," she said, "I know how hard it is for you. You will have to give up
your career."
"It can't be helped," said the man simply, "and I may make another
here."
Eleanor laid her hand on his arm, and pressed it. "I knew you would face
it like that. There's just one other thing. Hold on to that man Jordan;
I think he will make you a good friend."
"You like him?"
"That," said Eleanor, "is quite another matter. Anyway, he is a man who
could be depended on--and I think he could be firm on points where you
might waver. You are a little too good-natured, Jimmy."
Jordan drove his team up before they had said much more, and Forster
shook hands with Jimmy as he stood beside the vehicle.
"From what your sister has told us, I dare say you are a trifle anxious
about--things in general--just now," he said. "If it is any relief to
you, I would like to say that Mrs. Forster and I think very highly of
your sister, and that so long as she cares to stay with us we should be
very glad to do what we can for her."
Jimmy thanked the rancher, and swung himself up into the vehicle, while
Jordan turned to him as they drove away.
"They think very highly of her! They'd be--idiots if they didn't," he
said. "Of course, I don't know if that's quite the kind of thing you
appreciate from me."
Jimmy said nothing, as was usual with him when he was not sure what he
felt, but Jordan went on.
"I never expected to find you had a sister like that," he said. "She's
very different from you in many ways. One feels that's a girl with 'most
enough capacity for anything."
Jimmy looked at him with a whimsical smile, and Jordan laughed.
"Now," he said, "I might have expressed myself differently. What I mean
is that you're a good deal more like your father than she is."
"Ah!" said Jimmy. "Well, perhaps you're right. In fact, the same thing
has struck me occasionally."