THAT DANIELS GAL
“Tomorrow’s the great day, Mother Daniels. We begin roundin’ up. Four
weeks isn’t too much time.”
February found the winds still sharp, as they blew down from frozen
drifts on high slopes and in the shade of deep canyons. But the sun of
midday was warm and the ground was as dry as if it had not been covered
with snow two weeks before.
Three weeks of exhausting riding made the roundup nearly complete. It
had meant hard work for the six cowhands, bringing the cattle together
by ones, twos, sixes, out of canyons, off the open range, up on the
slopes, and driving them down steadily toward the big fenced corral that
lay ten miles from the house.
Ole Hossfoot had come down to help, and chose to ride night herd with
Russ. Esquibal worked so faithfully and efficiently that Raquel’s
suspicions were allayed, and she was ready to forgive him almost
anything when he cut out fifty head of steers from a big bunch of
yearlings and cows that were to calve that spring, and did it all in the
space of a day’s marvelous riding. The cattle were in surprisingly good
shape, clean, rangy, well grown.
“It’s a beautiful breed, that whiteface,” said Raquel to Ole Hossfoot.
“Mm--mm,” he assented, “that red color’s nice. But to tell the truth I
can’t see nothin’ beautiful in a cow. Can’t seem to get enthusiastic
over ’em none. Take a hoss now--,” and he was off, expatiating on the
beauties of the wild horses that had been breeding over north, come down
from Colorado, Montana, Nebraska.
“Soon’s this roundup’s over that’s where I’m going to get a new horse,”
Raquel decided, fired by his descriptions.
During the first week of the roundup, Raquel returned to the ranch house
to sleep. But as the outfit worked farther away from home at the
beginning of the second week, she rode up with a pack on her pony to the
door of the Raquelita, the roundup ranchito twenty miles from the house,
where the boys were now bunking. From the dust that followed her emerged
the Ford, driven by Jami, with Mrs. Peevey and Lena in the back seat.
“Here you, Russ, Mom says to eat these dried fruits or you’ll never get
over those boils.” And she threw a sack of provisions on the floor.
“We’re going to live high now, with Miz Peevey and Lena to cook for us.”
During the first week of the cow working, Raquel had telegraphed a
commission firm in Kansas City that she could ship one thousand head of
cattle by March first. She then advised the railroad office at El Paso
to have cars ready for her by that day. She found, however, that it
would be impossible to get any cars at all until March fifteenth, as
both Arizona and New Mexico ranches were shipping.
She went all the way into La Cruz to call the freight agent at El Paso
on the long distance telephone, and he assured her that he would do all
in his power to get her cars earlier, but that she should surely have
them not later than March fifteenth. So she notified Kansas City of the
change and, not waiting to hear from them, returned to the range.
It seemed then as if the extension of time had been providential, for
every kind of upset and delay descended on them. Twice there were
stampedes at night when the animals were “spooked” by no one knew what.
One night a bunch of three-year-olds carried away corral and wire fence
and fled into the hills; and they had to be pursued and brought together
all over again.
The overworked cowponies had to be reënforced by a half dozen fresh
horses from the big house. Russ rode night herd, falling asleep in the
saddle.
Had it not been for Ole Hossfoot’s vigilance and his stories that kept
up their spirits, they could not have brought the herd together again in
so short a time. At length twelve hundred head were rounded up from the
plain and from canyon and basin where they were hiding.
Early the next morning they were to be driven over to the ranch corrals.
A circle of soapweed flares was lit; as fast as one burned down some one
would touch a match to another. The leaping flames warmed the sharp air,
and signaled Mom, fifteen miles away, that all was well. They lit up a
sea of whitefaces and kept away those sinister, lurking dog shapes that
prowled in wide circles about the outfit.
Georgie slept, toasting his soaking feet by a bed of dying coals. Raquel
drowsed near. Good fortune seemed to be with her, for there was no
stampeding, no restlessness. Between eleven o’clock and midnight, as was
their habit, the cows got up to graze a bit on the grass which lay
beneath their feet. They swallowed it unchewed, turned around, and lay
down again, amidst a gentle stirring and rumbling.
With a prayer in her heart for no more mishaps, Raquel slept the
dreamless sleep of weary muscles and the boundless, pure air of the
prairie. Five or six hours later, just as it was growing light, she woke
to hear the milling about of the cattle, the mooing, and the call for
fresh feeding grounds.
That night found them within four miles of the house, so Raquel rode on
to El Rancho, as the boys would have the stock safely corralled before
noon next day. March fifteenth was still two days away.
But the next day at La Cruz, Raquel was to learn that business was not
accomplished merely by giving orders, sending telegrams, securing
promises. “No cars available for the fifteenth,” was the message she got
over the telephone from the El Paso freight agent. There was no further
word from the Kansas City commission firm, so she hurried back to Los
Ranchos to advise with Russ.
“The first time I’ve had my feet under a table in more than two weeks,”
she said as she sat at lunch with Mom. The sound of a car was heard
outside. Panchito came in to say that _un caballero_ wished to see the
padroncita.
Raquel went out to find a sporty-looking gentleman in a plaid ulster
sitting in a rented car. He jumped out and introduced himself as buyer
for the Kansas City firm with which she was dealing.
“Was in El Paso, Miss Daniels. Am buying to supply the Government. Just
thought I’d run up here and see you personally in regard to your wire.”
He showed her a copy of her telegram to his firm.
Feeders would bring only thirty-five dollars on the hoof, he said.
Feeders, as all cattle country folks know, are cattle shipped straight
from the range to be fed up by the packing companies on corn cakes and
hay until their meat is hardened and fit for market.
Raquel was disturbed and disappointed, but quickly calculated that as
they had brought in two hundred extra head they could ship every animal,
make enough to meet all expenses, and still have forty thousand dollars
clear. That would take care of the note, the option and the interest.
“But I can’t get cars until after the fifteenth, anyway,” she told him.
“Oh, I think I could swing that for you, Miss,” he replied easily. “If
you’ll just say the word on this deal and close right now, I think we
can manage to have those cars on the fifteenth.”
Caution made her refuse to close any deal until she had thought it over,
and could make other inquiries. She agreed to meet him in La Cruz two
days later.
Turning to the stock page of her paper that evening she found feeders
quoted at fifty-five dollars a head for the coming week. The rise in
beef that took place during the war, and that later was to bring every
head of stock to seventy-five and ninety dollars on the hoof, had begun.
Raquel was amazed. She sent Georgie riding in to La Cruz the first thing
next morning to telegraph inquiry to Kansas City and to wire El Paso
about her cattle cars again. He was to wait until three for the answers.
Georgie returned at four, and Raquel, who had been down at the shipping
pen ever since he had left that morning, met him at the big gate. She
seized the message he held out. It was from the El Paso freight agent,
stating that he could not let her have any cars until after April first.
On account of the war all transportation was congested and every
available inch of space had been tied up, by orders from “up above.”
Raquel’s fighting blood rose. She had felt all along that there was
“something up.”
“‘A. B.’ is back of this,” she said with tightened lips.
“He’s in Kansas City, Sis,” Georgie told her. “I heard ’em saying over
to Red Dog. Shipped round March first along with his cattle.”
“Well, I’ll go down to town and see why I can’t get my cars when I
ordered them a month ahead of time.”
It was unthinkable! She must have accommodations. What if she should
mismanage things--fail? She shook such a thought away from her. Surely
the freight office and the commission man were not trying to take
advantage of her just because she was a girl! Wait till tomorrow.
A glorious day dawned and the old car did not ease up on sixty miles an
hour until they reached La Cruz. Raquel was not thinking of
stone-bruised tires now.
She got El Paso on the telephone.
“Mr. Massey? We’ve done business with your road for years. What is the
matter about our cattle cars? Is that true? Why is it impossible to let
us have them?”
“Miss Daniels? I can’t say ma’am. It seems queer, I know. I had the
reservations for you for March fifteenth all right; then I got orders
clearing the way for shipments for ‘A. B.’ Meyers; then two Arizona
ranches were set ahead by orders from up above to March fifteenth, that
date given you. Unless you can get at it from higher up that’s final,
I’m afraid.” He spoke regretfully, for Mr. Daniels and Los Ranchos were
popular.
Raquel came out of the booth fighting mad. Yet her heart was sick, for
she felt in this mixup something that was not quite straight business.
What, what must she do? She was to see the Shift commission man at
two-thirty. He would return to El Paso at four-thirty. She might have to
take his offer rather than have any slip up. With half a mind to go down
to El Paso herself, she put off the decision till after three.
She went into the post office, and collected her mail, hoping to find
some inspiration there. Among the papers was a letter from Jimmy.
“By the time you have this,” he wrote, “Raquel my dear, I shall be back
at Fort Bliss. Won’t that be great? Being just outside El Paso, I’ll be
able to get in there fairly often. Why can’t you come down for a bit of
fun? I’m dying to go to a movie!”
Quick! Back to the telegraph office she flew. A message was soon
speeding over the wires to Lieutenant James Hovey, Fort Bliss. “What’s
holding back my cars?” was the query. “See what you can do for us and
wire if it will do any good for me to come down.”
While she waited for an answer she took Mom to lunch, and afterwards
wired another Kansas City firm. She sent the message to an old friend of
her father, Edward Lisle by name. A prompt reply came whizzing back from
Kansas City. At two o’clock, as she leaned over the telegraph counter,
the following message was handed her:
“Can not offer market price for Government
supply feeders, but $50 a head on delivery, and
$75 for fattened cattle of Lazy L grade.”
“Edward Lisle.”
What an offer! With a whoop of joy, Raquel rushed out across the street
to the car where she had left Mom with her bundles.
“Thought the bottom had dropped out of the cattle business, Mom, but
it’s O.K. still! Just let me meet this note and the Government can have
all we make above expenses afterwards. There’s something wrong
somewhere, though. I don’t know what or why. But I figure ‘A. B.’s’ got
something to do with it. Now if Jimmy can just get us some cars!”
At two-thirty exactly, in the lobby of the dingy little hotel, Emporio
Magnifico, she informed the commission agent that she could not close
with him on his terms.
“Well, Miss,” he replied angrily, “have your own way. But _I_ could get
you your cars and you’d have a quick turnover. Which is better?
Thirty-five thousand in hand when you want it, or delay? I tell you
straight, my girl, you’ll find it a pretty hard job gettin’ any
transportation at all for the next two months without some kind of pull.
_I_ know.”
“All right. That’s my problem,” Raquel came back, “but I’m not selling
my father’s cattle for fifteen dollars less than I can get. I’ll tell
you good day, sir.” And she left him standing there.
But out on the street her elation faded as she recalled suddenly that
now more than ever she must have cars. Would Jimmy be able to do
anything for her? He had not mentioned her letter, nor Lois. Maybe he
hadn’t received it.
Well, he would do all he could for Dad’s sake, anyway. And dismissing
her fears with a shake of the head, she crossed the street again and
went into the bank. Every one in town knew Raquel Daniels, and she knew
every one. But today she missed many a pleasant smile, and deprived
several ready youths of the opportunity of lifting their sombreros.
In the sanctum of the President, back of a little door marked “Private,”
she shook hands with a rotund little man whose nervous manner was in
strange contrast to her own quiet air.
“It’s about the note, and the interest, Mr. Putney,” she said, thinking
to herself, “My, he’s afraid of something else now--his new directors;
probably ‘A. B.’”
“Yes, yes. Not due for two weeks, my dear Miss Raquel.” Mr. Putney had
never forgotten his Eastern manners.
“No, sir. I was just going to say I’ll meet it on time. But I was just
wondering if there were any slip-up in getting my cattle cars on time if
I could get a few days’ extension?”
Mr. Putney looked worried.
“I trust such a thing won’t happen. It would be most unfortunate, Miss
Raquel, indeed, even for a stockholder of your father’s assets. For the
new directors have--well, ah--intimated that no extension would be
considered.”
Raquel was looking quite as self-possessed when she walked out of the
bank as she had when she walked in, but within her breast was a turmoil.
Back to the telegraph office she went.
Eagerly she tore open the yellow envelope that was eventually handed
across the counter.
“Don’t worry,” it ran, “will find out what’s what and get some action.
Can’t get away just now but will come up first chance. Jimmy.”
Raquel felt suddenly that it was surely mighty nice to have some man
folks to stand up for you and help you out sometimes. Leaving word with
the operator to have any further messages telephoned to Red Dog, she
turned the nose of her car out on the sandy mesa that rose gently to the
foot of her purpling mountains.
She would need five days to move in before April first. Two to get the
cattle into the railroad; two for transit; one for immediate payment.
She had four days’ grace. Why had she trusted any one? Engrossed with
her thoughts, and with the mechanical necessity of driving, she did not
speak until the little lighted _casitas_ of Red Dog shone ahead.
With their friendly twinkle a light of inspiration seemed to penetrate
the problem in Raquel’s mind. Her next move was all at once clear. But
she’d take no one into her confidence!
She’d do like Dad. For all he seemed to talk so much and so openly of
his affairs, when you stopped to think it over he never did really tell
anybody anything they couldn’t find out for themselves.
When she looked back on the days that followed they seemed like a
dream--of tense waiting, and daily trips from the big corral over to Red
Dog or La Cruz to find the occasional hopeful bulletins from Jimmy.
Then, on the night of the twenty-fifth, a ranger brought word that a Mr.
Hovey was calling her from El Paso. She drove into Red Dog to talk to
him over the telephone.
“Drive your cattle down tomorrow. There will be cars for twelve hundred
head at the La Cruz yards between six and seven tomorrow morning.
“Don’t ask how I did it! Just pull--that may not last more than
twenty-four hours. Will be up next week.” Jimmy’s far-away voice ended
in a satisfied chuckle.
At dawn with the bells of Los Ranchos tolling, all hands went down to
the big pens. The cattle had been resting and fattening for the past ten
days inside a half-mile fence. There was some pretty riding and roping
and some fancy cow work as they were herded up for the drive down to the
yards at La Cruz.
The hardest part of the drive was getting them up to the pass and over
it. But they made it by four that afternoon, and dropped down to the
mesa beyond Red Dog.
“There goes Daniels’ gal,” said the saloon keeper as he peered out.
“Seems like she’s kep’ agoin’ spite of old ‘A. B.’”
“_La Raquelita_ is not through yet. The _ganado_ are not _shipped_,”
said a swarthy sheepherder drinking there. “Many things happen on the
road.” There was a sneering smile on his face.
“What the ----, you yellow-livered woman beater, you!” roared Red Dog,
and pushed the man out through the door before he thought to ask him
what that meant, if anything.
And, being quite drunk himself, Red Dog fell asleep with his head on the
table, instead of riding after the dust of the Daniels girl’s outfit.
Camp was made three miles out of La Cruz, and never before had a
shipment of cattle seemed so momentous to Raquel.
“This is the most important shippin’ Los Ranchos ever did,” she grinned
at Russell over the soapweed fire.
“Well, the worst is over now,” he assured her. “Why don’t you go on in
to town in the car and get a good night’s sleep? Nothin’ will happen and
we’ll be right there in the mornin’, ready to start shippin’ at six.”
A cold, biting rain had been falling off and on ever since they had left
Red Dog--one of those miserable March visitations which even the land of
sunshine must endure if there is to be grass on the range. Raquel was
drenched from her waist down. Her boots had not been off for three days.
And now she was drying them on her feet before the fire so that she
would be able to get them on again after she did take them off. She
hated to leave her outfit now, but she was dead for sleep; and besides,
there were things for her to attend to in town.
“All right, boys, I will. Tomorrow’s Tuesday. We ship our cattle. They
arrive Thursday. And Friday morning, April first--and incidentally my
birthday, boys”--as if they didn’t know it--“I step into the First
National Bank for a few moments, and when I come out you can celebrate.”
They smiled gallantly, and Russ looked enormously relieved. No one knew
what the faithful cowboy had suffered during all these negotiations
about cars. Raquel’s apparent confidence had preserved the morale of the
whole outfit, although they knew nothing of the financial drama that was
being played.
So “_La Raquelita_” drove off through the misting rain. Her feverish
eyes concentrated on the washouts in the road ahead, for the ruts were
running rivers. She did not see the horse and rider, poncho-covered,
cowering behind a mesquite bush not fifteen feet from where she passed.
It was the dark sheepherder of Red Dog’s saloon. He rode a horse branded
with a large leaning H, that showed up clearly for a moment when the
searchlight of Raquel’s car swerved sidewise as the car skidded in the
mud.
“What was that?” Raquel wondered. But as her eyes were on the road in
front of her, so were her thoughts concentrated on what lay ahead, and
she lurched on.
At length she reached town, and a paved street. How grateful was the
hard little bed at El Emporio Magnifico, and the hot little room,
bursting with its sheet-iron stove!
Eight hours later Georgie stood by Raquel’s bed, shaking her to wake her
up. He shook and shook. “What was that? _What?_ The steers
_stampeded_?--Wait now, let’s get this straight. Last night, after I
left?
“Oh, stop sniffling, Georgie. What’s to prevent getting them back for a
late shipment tonight?
“Nearly half the rodeo?--Well, let Russ tell me himself then!”
Raquel sprang from bed. She was shaking with the shock of this
misfortune. This was more than a cowman’s luck. This was--disaster. Just
to miss the amount of the note! No use trying to dicker at the bank. She
was dressing rapidly, as these thoughts flashed through her mind. Six
hundred head at fifty dollars a head, was thirty thousand dollars. Where
could she get ten thousand more?
There was a knock at the door and a fat letter was pushed beneath.
“Registered letter come last night for Miss Raquel Daniels,” announced a
hoarse voice that sounded like music to Raquel. _Something_ had to
happen. This must be it. She had almost forgotten----
* * * * *
“And that was all there was to it, Jimmy,” said Raquel exultingly a week
later. She had reached that point in her story of the deal as she and
Jimmy sat before a fire in the ranch sitting-room.
It was a week from the Sunday after Raquel’s birthday. Jimmy had come
over for a day.
“Go on,” he roared. “It may be all as far as you are concerned, but you
haven’t told me yet a word of what really happened in between.”
“Well, when I got down to the yards, there were Jami and Russ lookin’ as
if they’d lost their last friend on earth. They had six hundred head of
cattle ready to ship, but six hundred more were out on the mesa. They
figured it would take a week to get them in, scattered as they were.
“Some one had deliberately spooked them, of course, and only Mom here
knew who that some one was.” Mom had come in and was rocking with
expressive contentment. You could generally tell Mom’s emotions by the
speed of her rocker.
“It seems that that same night about eight o’clock,” Raquel went on,
“Elena came up here crying her eyes out. She’d just come back from La
Bolsa, and didn’t know we’d gone with the cattle. Wanted to know where I
was and when we were taking _el ganado_ down into town to the railroad.
“She said that Pancho was a bad hombre, and though he had threatened her
she would not keep silent any more. Dad had always been kind to her, and
we cured her little girls just a few weeks ago.
“Well then, she would tell everything. Pancho was not only working here
at Los Ranchos; he was also working for ‘A. B.,’ and always told him
just what Los Ranchos was going to do. It was Pancho who stampeded the
cattle in order to hold things up as much as possible.
“And when I got ready to sell to some one else rather than the man whom
‘A. B.’ dealt with, and had managed to get the cars which Pancho said he
didn’t think I would get for a long time, Pancho got a message from ‘A.
B.’ to keep the cattle from being shipped.
“He and her first cousin--the La Bolsa sheepherder, brother of the
half-wit we met the day of the hunt, Georgie,--well, they did it. Were
going to do it, she said.
“It was the poor innocent half-wit who had taken the sheep over to La
Bolsa. They hadn’t been stolen by the lion at all! Pancho had made
Gabriel drive them over in the old oxcart. Remember how Old Cap carried
on, Georgie, at the start of the hunt, and how he wanted to chew Gabriel
up?”
“Yes, yes, but get on and tell about the _bank_ part!”
“I’m coming to it! Jimmy! Will you keep still a minute! Well, poor
Elena, she nearly had an _ataque_ when she found we’d already gone. I
tell you I _am_ getting to the bank part!
“So I told the boys to go ahead and ship what was there, because the
boys at the station had orders not to hold the cars longer than twelve
hours. Jami and Angel went along with ’em and arrived in Kansas City
Thursday all right.
“I guess even that was a disappointment to some folks, ’cause that meant
thirty thousand dollars, and any one can raise five or ten thousand,
some way. But I didn’t have to! Yes, some folks were sure disappointed
that day.”
Jimmy exploded in a curdling yell of impatience, but Raquel continued,
ignoring the interruption placidly.
“When I walked into the bank at ten-thirty in the morning, April first,
lookin’ very sour, and handed out a draft on the National City Bank, New
York City, for thirty-five thousand dollars, signed by Barry C. Marvin,
Sr., of Boston, there was surely some surprise. I wish you could have
seen Mr. A. B. Meyers’ face, and Mr. Putnam looked pleased in spite of
himself, though he was actually apologetic to ‘A. B.’”
“You see, that was the idea that came to me the night Mom and I were
motoring home from La Cruz. I said to myself, ‘I’ll tell Anne’s father
all about it. Maybe he’ll advance me the money. He can’t lose in the
long run. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll help. So I wrote him a letter right
away.
“I didn’t dare to hope for it, or scarcely think about it, even. I went
ahead to ship our cattle, so that whatever happened we’d be all right.
“Then, when they did finally manage to break up our herd that morning
and I was trying to think there in the hotel--I just couldn’t admit
failure, even though it seemed to stare me in the face--why, that
wonderful letter of Mr. Marvin’s came pokin’ under the door.
“It meant that I didn’t fail Dad; and that we could let half our range
rest for the next year. That even if we get another dry year we’ll have
fresh pasture. And we’ve got the calves to put on it and that’s more
than ‘A. B.’ has. And if this war lasts those calves are goin’ to be
badly needed next winter.”
“Rakie, you’re a financier! I am lost in pure and simple admiration. And
luck’s with you, too. The market’s gone up.” Jimmy pointed to a place he
had marked in the paper.
“I know. We can ship a thousand head in another week, including the six
hundred strays. Russ has got all but a few of them back now. They just
did us a good turn by savin’ half our shipment out for a higher price.
In fact, delayin’ the cars brought us fifty-five dollars a head for
those we did ship instead of fifty, and we’ll get sixty for this next
bunch.”
“Well, you owe that to ‘A. B.’ too, I suspect,” said Jimmy. “The delay
in the cars, I mean. I found out that it was he who pulled the wires
over the freight agent’s head, without lettin’ him know that it was the
Daniels’ ranch he had it in for, of course. Just slippin’ friends of his
in ahead. I found out, too, that his El Paso bank holds a couple of
notes of the agent’s.
“Your order for cars could just as well have gone through at any time,
barring the usual delays, I imagine, for when my friend, the Major, got
down there the morning after you wired me, the order was forthcoming
from the agent himself without any difficulty. There was a loud-mouthed
fellow in a plaid overcoat in the office at the same time, blustering
about something or other, but the agent just waved him aside.”
“That miserable commission man!” Raquel exclaimed. “Didn’t Dad warn me?
Offering me fifteen dollars a head less than the market, and trying to
tell me he could get me cars if I’d just close the deal right off.--You
know, I was pretty near ready to take his offer there for a time.
Everything looked so discouraging.” She made the admission shamefacedly.
“He thought he could put anything over on you because you were a girl
and he would just pocket the difference. He thought he had you either
way. If you had agreed to sell you would never have got your money in
time to meet the note. Wonder if Pancho knew anything about all this?”
Jimmy turned inquiringly to Mom. “Where is he?”
“He hasn’t come back. Elena doesn’t know where he is. Over at La Bolsa,
I guess, gettin’ ready to brand all the strays and drifters from
Colorado down he can lay his hands on, with that big old Flying H. Ain’t
nobody but Pancho would be that cute to make him such a handy brand.”
Mom had been silent as usual but there was nothing in the proceedings or
conversation that she had missed.
Had they been able to see Pancho at that moment--and it was too bad that
they could not--they would have beheld a most chagrined hombre. Leaning
over a little table in a barroom in La Cruz, he was glaring angrily at
the cattleman who sat opposite him.
“I have done all you said. Hol’ back the cow work three, four week; I
stop the sheepment. I want my money. _My esposa_, my wife, she no speak
to me. She’s good _amiga_ to _el padron, la padrona_; she think he can
not help take her father’s Rancho. Me, I _take_ what coming to me. I
want my money now.”
The cowman shook his head imperturbably.
“When I get mine you get yours, understand, _sabe_? I got nothing out of
this. The deal’s off. The hombre who was to pay both you and me on the
cattle deal didn’t pull it off, though I fixed the cars for the----,”
and he swore an ugly oath.
“The sale didn’t go through. He didn’t get any commission, see. And you
let that gal ship half anyway. What you kickin’ about anyway? You got a
ranch to work, ain’t you, a place to start you a herd? What’s the matter
with the Flying H, that little private brand o’ yo’rn?”
And with a laugh and an oath that but faintly expressed his disgust at
the situation “A. B.” waved Esquibal off and rose from the table.
It seemed that Raquel and Jimmy, too, had come to a time of
settlement--about the question of Lois. Jimmy had not mentioned Raquel’s
letter, but now, as they sat alone once more before the fire, while Mom
got supper and the boys were out at the chores, Jimmy told her that he
_had_ heard from his uncle.
It was while he was in Kansas, he said. His uncle had missed him in El
Paso anyway. They had been up in Colorado, but found it too cold there.
They were leaving for California, and would see him on the way back. It
was very possible that they might go on to the Orient.
It was plain that Jimmy was keenly disappointed to have missed his uncle
and Lois, and also to learn that she had failed him, and had been unkind
to Raquel. It worried him, too, this uncertainty as to their plans. It
was not a bit like his uncle, he said. But it was like Lois, Raquel
could not help thinking.