WHAT THE STAKES REVEALED.
James Greenfield, returning to Kingston from his tour of inspection,
left at once for his own world--a world of offices with mahogany
furniture, of men with white collars and pale faces, of banks and trust
companies, and Good Business.
The afternoon of the day he left, Willard Holmes rode into the camp at
Dry River Crossing. The engineer explained that he was looking over the
route of a new main canal that was being surveyed by his men and that,
finding himself in the vicinity of Mr. Worth's headquarters, he had
taken the opportunity to call.
From Barbara as well as from Jefferson Worth and Abe Lee the Company
man received a hearty welcome with a cordial invitation to ride with
them the next day over the line of their work. Although Holmes watched
with peculiar sensitiveness, there was no sign from either of the three
that they had yet discovered the real significance of the South Central
deal or that they knew the part he had played in it. His desire to end
the whole unpleasant situation by going over the work with Mr. Worth
and the surveyor, and by confessing to Barbara how he had permitted her
father to walk into the trap, led him to accept the invitation.
The little party left camp early the next morning and following the
line of Black's survey found a mile or more of the canal already
completed, while a large force of men and teams was at work clearing
the ground and pushing the big ditch still farther in a general
southerly direction toward the Company canal fifteen miles away.
Abe Lee explained to Barbara that other camps were located at points
farther on, thus dividing the whole district to be excavated into
several sections. "You see," he said turning to Holmes, "the waste from
Dry River Heading coming down the old channel gives us water at several
points so that we can handle this work to a little better advantage
than we used to do with the first of the Company canals."
"I see," said the Company man. "And how many head of stock are you
working?"
"About fifteen hundred now, but we are increasing the force right
along. We expect to handle about twice that."
Instantly Willard Holmes saw that he could still save Jefferson Worth
from heavy financial loss. But it was to the interest of The King's
Basin Land and Irrigation Company for Jefferson Worth to lose heavily.
What should he do?
They had left the first section of the work now and were following the
line of the survey where the brush had been roughly cleared. The
engineer, preoccupied in his struggle with the question that confronted
him, had dropped behind the others, when suddenly Barbara, looking
back, checked El Capitan. "What's the matter, Mr. Holmes?" she called.
The others also looked back to see the engineer kneeling on the ground.
Jefferson Worth glanced quickly at his superintendent who chuckled
outright.
"What is it?" cried Barbara at Abe's unusual laugh. "What's the joke?"
Before either of the men could answer, Holmes sprang to his saddle and,
with a quick jab of his spurs in the horse's flanks, rejoined them on
the run. In his excitement the mental habits of his life asserted
themselves and he was again the typical corporation official dealing
with a mere private individual operating on a small scale. "Look here!"
he burst forth sharply to Abe; "these are not our Company stakes. You
are not following Black's line."
The surveyor grinned. "We followed it for a half mile this side of the
cut, then we branched off. You evidently did not notice."
"Where do you strike it again?"
"We don't strike it again."
"Then how do you get to the intake location?"
"We don't get to the intake _you_ located at all. We strike your canal
three miles farther up."
The Company's chief engineer retorted hotly: "But you can't do that.
Our survey shows"--he stopped.
"Your survey shows what?" came Abe Lee's sharp challenge. "You are
undoubtedly familiar with the data turned in by your man Black, for you
told Mr. Worth the quality of the soil before he closed the deal. What
else does your survey show?"
Before the engineer could answer, Jefferson Worth's cool voice broke
in. "You understand, Mr. Holmes, that there is nothing in my contract
with your Company that binds me to follow the line of your survey or
accept your location of the intake. The Company contracts to deliver
the water into my canal, that is all."
The engineer regained control of himself. "I beg your pardon, Mr.
Worth; and yours, Lee. I forgot myself. I see that my man Black made a
mistake."
Abe laughed dryly. "In checking over Black's work, Holmes, I found his
elevations correct at every point."
Holmes himself smiled as he said: "Well, Lee, whether you believe me or
not, I am very glad you checked over Black's work, and, Mr. Worth, with
all my heart I wish you success in your project."
"Thank you," said Worth, "I am already indebted to you for a valuable
piece of information."
"Indebted to me?"
"You remember what I asked you when I was going over this proposition
with Greenfield and Burk in the Company office?"
"I remember that you asked me about the soil in the district."
"You answered that the _soil_ was all right."
Holmes drew a long breath. "And you let Uncle Jim and Burk think--"
"I let them think what they wanted to think," said Jefferson Worth.
Barbara, who had listened with intense interest to the conversation, at
Holmes's unfinished remark and her father's reply moved El Capitan
slowly away from his place beside Worth's horse and went close to Abe
Lee. All the gladness was gone from the young woman's face now, and
while she maintained a show of interest it was plainly forced.
The banker, at his daughter's movement, retreated behind his gray mask
and for the rest of the trip spoke only when it was necessary, leaving
her entirely to the surveyor and Willard Holmes.
Barbara had understood from the talk of the men that her father, by
using the unsuspecting engineer, had in some way shrewdly gained a
business advantage over the Company. The incident forced her, as she
thought, to see with a cruel clearness that to Jefferson Worth this
splendid work of reclaiming the desert was nothing but the opportunity
to win larger financial gains; that he was still practicing the tactics
for which he was famous. She shrank from him unconsciously but to the
man as plainly as she had drawn back in fear that night years before.
As the baby had turned from him to the Seer then, the young woman
turned from him to Abe Lee now.
During the rest of the day Barbara kept so close to the surveyor's side
that Willard Holmes had no opportunity to talk with her alone, and when
they arrived again at the headquarters camp the engineer, promising to
call upon her soon in Kingston, left for one of his own camps a few
miles away.
That evening Jefferson Worth and his daughter sat alone under the arrow
weed ramada facing the river. Moving her camp chair closer in the
dusk--so close that, reaching out she laid her warm young hand on the
hand of her father--Barbara said in a low tone: "Daddy, I wish you
would tell me all about this South Central District business."
She felt the slim nervous fingers move uneasily. Never before had
Barbara asked him to explain any of his transactions. The man's habit
of retiring behind that gray mask whenever the subject of his business
was mentioned, together with the girl's instinctive shrinking lest his
answers to such a question should drive them farther apart, prevented.
But to-night, perhaps because Willard Holmes was concerned, perhaps
because of her peculiar interest in the work involved, Barbara forced
herself to ask.
"What do you want to know?"
At his expressionless tone it was to Barbara as though she felt the
chill of his cold mask coming between them, but she persisted and in
her voice was passionate earnestness. "I want to know all about it,
father; I must."
"Why?"
"Because"--she hesitated. "Because I understood from the conversation
to-day about the surveys that someone had made a mistake. I--I don't
want to make a mistake, daddy. Won't you please explain it all to me?
What was it that you let Mr. Greenfield and Mr. Burk think?"
Perhaps because of the memories of the place, or because it was the
first time Barbara had ever sought an explanation, or again perhaps it
was because Willard Holmes was interested, Jefferson Worth answered: "I
let them think I was a fool."
"But why was Mr. Holmes so excited to-day when he found out about those
stakes?"
"He discovered that I was not such a fool as they thought."
Then Jefferson Worth explained to the girl the whole situation. He made
clear Greenfield's reason for offering him the water rights; why he
would have taken the stock without investigation but for the hint he
received from the Company engineer's manner and the way Holmes had
answered that simple question about the soil; how he had made the
survey secretly, because Greenfield would have refused to close the
deal if he had known that Worth wanted it after he had it investigated,
and because if Greenfield believed the district stock to be valueless
he would sell at a very low figure rather than not sell at all; and how
it was that same low figure that enabled him to give the men who were
working on the canal a chance to acquire farms of their own.
When he had made it all plain, the young woman exclaimed: "And this man
Greenfield and those with him in the Company are the men who are doing
the Seer's work; who are making the reclamation of the desert possible!
I don't--I can't understand it."
"It is a very simple business deal," said Worth. "There is nothing
unusual about it. Greenfield and his men are good men; they are simply
defending their interests from a competitor. This Desert never could be
reclaimed at all without them or others like them."
"Tell me again, daddy; was Mr. Holmes _sure_ that this land was
worthless?"
"Certainly he was sure of it. He had all of Black's data giving the
elevations."
"And he knew that they were trying to sell it to you?"
"Yes."
"But did he know _why?_ Did he know it was a trap to ruin your work?"
"Certainly, he must have known."
The girl's voice trembled. "Oh, why--why didn't he tell you? Why didn't
he warn you?"
"He did."
"Yes, daddy, but he did not _intend_ to do it, for to-day he did not
know that he had until you explained. And I thought-I thought--" Her
voice ended in a sob.
"But Barbara, Holmes did just what he should have done. He is in the
employ of the Company. He had no right to interfere with their
business."
"Every man has a right to be a man," she answered hotly. "Abe wouldn't
have kept still. The Seer would not have helped them in their schemes.
I don't wonder that the Company discharged the Seer to give Mr. Holmes
his place!"
Jefferson Worth was silent for a little, then he said: "If I had
thought that you would blame Holmes I never would have told you."
"But you did right to tell me. I am glad, for I see now that I _was_
making a mistake--that I was making two mistakes. I misjudged you,
daddy--forgive me; and I--I have been mistaken about Mr. Holmes."
For an hour or more the two sat silent, the mind of each occupied with
thoughts that were much the same. Barbara for the first time felt that
she could enter fully into her father's life. She had at last seen
behind his gray mask and found herself in full sympathy with him. And
the lonely man knew that at last he had gained that for which his heart
hungered--the fullest companionship of the girl he loved as his only
child.
At last Barbara said softly: "Daddy, I am not going back to Kingston
to-morrow. I am going to stay here with you. You can have another tent
house built and Texas can go for Ynez who will bring what things I
need. I am going to make a home for you. You need me, daddy. You are so
alone in your work; no one understands you as I do now. Let me come and
help you."
Awkwardly Jefferson Worth put out his hand and drawing his daughter
closer said in a tone that Barbara had never heard before: "I was
wishing that you would want to stay. You--you are not afraid of me now,
Barbara?"
"Why, no, of course not; what a strange thing to ask! I have never been
afraid of you; why should I be?"
And Barbara thought that she spoke truly--that she had never feared
him; though Jefferson Worth knew better.
So another tent house was built and Texas went alone to Kingston, to
return with Ynez as Barbara had planned, and the young woman set about
making a home for her father in the rude desert camp.
Every day nearly she rode El Capitan out to some part of the work, and
the men who were toiling for more than wages learned to know her and to
hail her presence as a good omen. Many a rough fellow, dreaming of wife
or sweetheart and the home he would make for them in the desert as he
drove his team and held the bar of his Fresno, worked the harder for a
cheery word from the daughter of his employer.
And every evening under the ramada Barbara sat with her father, often
alone, sometimes with one or more of her little court; and always the
talk was of the work, save for the times when Pablo would come softly
to make music for his Senorita and then they would sit silently,
listening to the sweet harmonies that floated away into the night.
Often Barbara would go the short distance from the house to the old
wash; there to sit almost on the very spot where her mother had
perished beside the dry water hole; and watching the stream that now
flowed through the old channel, or looking away across the deep cut to
the sand hills that showed clearly in the distance, she would live over
the story as she had learned it that day with Texas--asking the old,
old question, to which there was still no answer.
One afternoon as she was sitting there, two wagons with a small party
of men appeared on the high bank of the stream opposite. As the men
climbed down from their seats, someone on horseback rode to the edge of
the cut and sat for a moment looking across. Even at that distance she
knew him; it was Willard Holmes. Watching she saw him turn and by his
motions guessed that he was giving some instructions to the men. Then
he rode away toward the Crossing.
Quickly Barbara returned to the rude porch of the tent house and in a
few minutes saw the engineer approach. Dismounting and throwing the
reins over his horse's head he came to her smiling, sombrero in hand.
"Buenas dias, Senorita. Please may I have a drink?"
"Certainly, Mr. Holmes; help yourself." She pointed to the olla hanging
in the shade of the ramada.
The engineer started at her cool reply, given as she would have
addressed a stranger, and, more to regain his composure than because he
was thirsty, helped himself from the earthen water jar. When he could
delay no longer he turned again to her, and forcing himself to speak as
if he had not noticed the lack of warmth in her greeting said: "I was
sorry to miss you in town. I called several times."
"I am keeping house here for father," she answered.
"Then we will be neighbors," he said with assumed lightness; "at least
half-way neighbors. A party of my surveyors will be camped over there
across the river. I will be with them part of the time."
When she made no reply to this, the man understood. Slowly he drew on
his gloves and, laying aside all pretense, said simply: "I have been
trying to see you, Miss Worth, because I wanted to tell you myself of
the miserable part I took in the shameful trick my uncle attempted to
play on your father. I see that you know all about it and I realize
that it is quite useless for me to ask you to forgive me."
He paused, but still the young woman was silent.
[Illustration: More to regain his composure than because he was thirsty
helped himself from the earthen water jar]
The man could not know how she was fighting to keep back the tears.
"You told me plainly that you could never forgive one who was untrue to
his work," he went on hopelessly, "and you are right. There was a time,
before I knew you, when I would have defended my action, when I would
have held that it was right; but I cannot now. Perhaps if I had known
you longer--But what's the use. I am a sad bungler in this great work,
Miss Worth. I am out of place in the big desert. I should have stayed
at home. I wish--I wish you had never wakened me to the possibilities
of life--real life. You would not need to feel ashamed for me now."
When she looked up he was mounting his horse. Almost she cried out to
him, but he rode quickly out of her sight.