Kay Parker was seated on the bench under the catalpa tree when Miguel
Farrel rode up the palm-lined avenue to the hacienda, that night; his
face, as he dismounted before her, conveyed instantly to the girl the
impression that he was in a more cheerful and contented mood than she
had observed since that day she had first met him in uniform.
She smiled a welcome. He swept off his hat and favored her with a bow
which appeared to Kay to be slightly more ceremonious than usual.
"Your horse is tired," she remarked. "Are you?"
"'Something accomplished, something done, has earned a night's
repose,'" he quoted cheerfully. "Rather a hard task to comb this ranch
for a few hundred head of cattle when the number of one's riders is
limited, but we have gotten the herd corraled at the old race-track."
He unbuckled his old leathern chaps, and stepped out of them, threw
them across the saddle and with a slap sent his horse away to the barn.
"You're feeling quite yourself again?" she hazarded hopefully.
"My foolish head doesn't bother me," he replied smilingly, "but my
equally foolish heart--" he heaved a gusty Castilian sigh and tried to
appear forlorn.
"Filled with mixed metaphors," he added. "May I sit here with you?"
She made room for him beside her on the bench. He seated himself,
leaned back against the bole of the catalpa tree and stretched his
legs, cramped from a long day in the saddle. The indolent gaze of his
black eyes roved over her approvingly before shifting to the shadowy
beauty of the valley and the orange-hued sky beyond, and a silence fell
between them.
"I was thinking to-day," the girl said presently, "that you've been so
busy since your return you haven't had time to call on any of your old
friends."
"That is true, Miss Parker."
"You _have_ called me Kay," she reminded him. "Wherefore this sudden
formality, Don Mike?"
"My name is Miguel. You're right, Kay. Fortunately, all of my friends
called on me when I was in the hospital, and at that time I took pains
to remind them that my social activities would be limited for at least
a year."
"Two of your friends called on mother and me today, Miguel."
"Anita Sepulvida and her mother?"
"Yes. She's adorable."
"They visited me in hospital. Very old friends--very dear friends. I
asked them to call on you and your mother. I wanted you to know Anita."
"She's the most beautiful and charming girl I have ever met."
"She _is_ beautiful and charming. Her family, like mine, had become
more or less decayed about the time I enlisted, but fortunately her
mother had a quarter section of land down in Ventura County and when a
wild-cat oil operator on adjacent land brought in a splendid well,
Señora Sepulvida was enabled to dispose of her land at a thousand
dollars an acre and a royalty of one-eighth on all of the oil produced.
The first well drilled was a success and in a few years the Sepulvida
family will be far wealthier than it ever was. Meanwhile their ranch
here has been saved from loss by foreclosure. Old Don Juan, Anita's
father, is dead."
"Anita is the only child, is she not?"
He nodded. "Ma Sepulvida is a lady of the old school," he continued.
"Very dignified, very proud of her distinguished descent--"
"And very fond of you," Kay interrupted.
"Always was, Kay. She's an old peach. Came to the hospital and cried
over me and wanted to loan me enough money to lift the mortgage on my
ranch."
"Then--then--your problem is--solved," Kay found difficulty in voicing
the sentence.
He nodded. She turned her face away that he might not see the pallor
that overspread it. "It is a very great comfort to me," he resumed
presently, "to realize that the world is not altogether barren of love
and kindness."
"It must be," she murmured, her face still averted.
"It was the dearest wish of my poor father and of Anita's that the
ancient friendship between the families should be cemented by a
marriage between Anita and me. For me Señora Sepulvida would be a
marvelous mother-in-law, because she's my kind of people and we
understand each other. Really, I feel tremendously complimented
because, even before the oil strike saved the family from financial
ruin, Anita did not lack opportunities for many a more brilliant match."
"She's--dazzling," Kay murmured drearily. "What a brilliant wife she
will be for you!"
"Anita is far too fine a woman for such a sacrifice. I've always
entertained a very great affection for her and she for me. There's
only one small bug in our amber."
"And that--"
"We aren't the least bit in love with each other. We're children of a
later day and we object to the old-fashioned method of a marriage
arranged by papa and mama. I know there must be something radically
wrong with me; otherwise I never could resist Anita."
"But you are going to marry her, are you not?"
"I am not. She wouldn't marry me on a bet. And of course I didn't
accept her dear old mother's offer of financial aid. Couldn't, under
the circumstances, and besides, it would not be kind of me to transfer
my burden to them. I much prefer to paddle my own canoe."
He noticed a rush of color to the face as she turned abruptly toward
him now. "What a heritage of pride you have, Miguel. But are you
quite certain Anita does not love you? You should have heard all the
nice things she said about you to-day."
"She ought to say nice things about me," he replied casually. "When
she was quite a little girl she was given to understand that her
ultimate mission in life was to marry me. Of course I always realized
that it would not be a compliment to Anita to indicate that I was not
head over heels in love with her; I merely pretended I was too bashful
to mention it. Finally one day Anita suggested, as a favor to her and
for the sake of my own self-respect, that I abandon the pose; with
tears in her eyes she begged me to be a gallant rebel and save her from
the loving solicitude of her parents to see her settled in life. At
that moment I almost loved her, particularly when, having assured her
of my entire willingness and ability to spoil everything, she kissed me
rapturously on both cheeks and confided to me that she was secretly
engaged to an engineer chap who was gophering for potash in Death
Valley. The war interrupted his gophering, but Anita informs me that
he found the potash, and now he can be a sport and bet his potash
against Señora Sepulvida's crude oil. Fortunately, my alleged death
gave Anita an opportunity to advance his claims, and he was in a fair
way of becoming acceptable until my unexpected return rather greased
the skids for him. Anita's mother is trying to give the poor devil the
double-cross now, but I told Anita she needn't worry."
Kay's eyes danced with merriment--and relief. "But," she persisted,
"you told me your problem was settled? And it isn't."
"It is. I'm going to sell about eighteen thousand dollars worth of
cattle off this ranch, and I've leased the valley grazing privilege for
one year for ten thousand dollars. My raid on Loustalot netted me
sixty-seven thousand dollars, so that my total bankroll is now about
ninety-five thousand dollars. At first I thought I'd let Bill Conway
have most of my fortune to help him complete that dam, but I have now
decided to stop work on the dam and use all of my energy and my fortune
to put through such other deals as may occur to me. If I am lucky I
shall emerge with sufficient funds to save the ranch. If I am unlucky,
I shall lose the ranch. Therefore, the issue is decided. 'God's in
his Heaven; all's right with the world.' What have you been doing all
day?"
"Painting and sketching. I'll never be a worth-while artist, but I
like to paint things for myself. I've been trying to depict on canvas
the San Gregorio in her new spring gown, as you phrase it. The arrival
of the Sepulvida family interrupted me, and I've been sitting here
since they departed. We had tea."
"Getting a trifle bored with the country, Kay? I fancy you find it
lonely out here."
"It was a trifle quiet while you were in hospital. Now that you're
back I suppose we can ride occasionally and visit some of the places of
local interest."
"By all means. As soon as I get rid of that little bunch of cattle I'm
going to give a barbecue and festival to the countryside in honor of my
guests. We'll eat a half dozen fat two-year-old steers and about a
thousand loaves of bread and a couple of barrels of claret and a huge
mess of chilli sauce. When I announce in the El Toro _Sentinel_ that
I'm going to give a _fiesta_ and that everybody is welcome, all my
friends and their friends and relatives will come and I'll be spared
the trouble of visiting them individually. Don Nicolás Sandoval
remarked when he collected that Loustalot judgment for me that he
supposed I'd do the decent thing, now that I could afford it. Mother
Sepulvida suggested it and Anita seconded the motion. It will probably
be the last event of its kind on such a scale ever given in California,
and when it is finished it will have marked my transition from an
indolent _ranchero_ to some sort of commercial go-getter."
"I see. Little Mike, the Hustler."
He nodded, rose and stood before her, smiling down at her with an
inscrutable little smile. "Will you motor me in to El Toro to-morrow
morning?" he pleaded. "I must go there to arrange for cattle cars."
"Of course."
"Thank you, Kay. Now, if I have your permission to withdraw, I think I
shall make myself presentable for dinner."
He hesitated a moment before withdrawing, however, meanwhile gazing
down on her with a gaze so intent that the girl flushed a little.
Suddenly his hand darted out and he had her adorable little chin
clasped between his brown thumb and forefinger, shaking it with little
shakes of mock ferocity. He seemed about to deliver some important
announcement--impassioned, even, but to her huge disgust he smothered
the impulse, jerked his hand away as if he had scorched his fingers,
and blushed guiltily. "Oh, I'm a sky-blue idiot," he half growled and
left her abruptly.
A snort--to a hunter it would have been vaguely reminiscent of that of
an old buck deer suddenly disturbed in a thicket--caused her to look
up. At the corner of the wall Pablo Artelan stood, staring at her with
alert interest; his posture was one of a man suddenly galvanized into
immobility. Kay blushed, but instantly decided to appear nonchalant.
"Good evening, Pablo," she greeted the majordomo. "How do you feel
after your long, hard day on the range?"
"_Gracias_, mees. Myself, I feel pretty good. When my boss hees
happy--well--Pablo Artelan hees happy just the same."
The girl noted his emphasis. "That's very nice of you, Pablo, I'm
sure. Have you any idea," she continued with bland innocence, "why Don
Miguel is so happy this evening?"
Pablo leaned against the adobe wall, thoughtfully drew forth tobacco
bag and brown cigarette paper and, while shaking his head and appearing
to ponder Kay's question, rolled a cigarette and lighted it. "We-l-l,
_señorita_," he began presently, "I theenk first mebbeso eet ees
because Don Miguel find heem one leetle piece paper on the trail. I am
see him peeck those paper up and look at heem for long time before he
ride to me and ask me many question about the _señorita_ and Señor Beel
Conway those day we ride to Agua Caliente. He say to me: 'Pablo, you
see Señor Beel Conway give to the señorita a writing?' '_Si, señor_.'
'You see Señorita Parker give to Señor Beel Conway a writing?' '_Si,
señor_.' Then Don Miguel hee's don' say sometheeng more, but just
shake hees _cabeza_ like thees," and Pablo gave an imitation of a
muchly puzzled man wagging his head to stimulate a flow of ideas.
A faintness seized the girl. "Didn't he say--_anything_?" she demanded
sharply.
"Oh, well, yes, he say sometheeng. He say: 'Well, I'bedam!' Then that
leetle smile he don' have for long time come back to Don Miguel's face
and hee's happy like one baby. I don' understand those boy ontil I see
thees business"--Pablo wiggled his tobacco-stained thumb and
forefinger--"then I know sometheeng! For long time those boy hee's
pretty parteecular. Even those so beautiful _señorita_, 'Nita
Sepulvida, she don' rope those boy like you rope it, _señorita_." And
with the license of an old and trusted servant, the sage of Palomar
favored her with a knowing wink.
"He knows--he knows!" the girl thought. "What must he think of me!
Oh, dear, oh, dear! if he mentions the subject to me I shall die."
Tears of mortification were in her eyes as she turned angrily upon the
amazed Pablo. "You--you--old sky-blue idiot!" she charged and fled to
her room.