BORROWED PLUMES
"He speaks of a pretty round sum," said Walter Stone, returning the
letter that Collie had asked him to read. "I don't know but that the
land you speak of is a good investment. You were thinking of raising
stock--horses?"
"Yes, sir. The Oro people are making good at it. The land north of you
is good grazing-land and good water. Of course, I got to wait for a
while. Red says in the letter that my share of the claim so far is five
thousand. That wouldn't go far on that piece of land, but I've saved
some, too."
"You might make a payment to hold the land," said Stone.
"I don't like that way. I want to buy it all at once."
Walter Stone smiled. Collie was ambitious, and rather inexperienced. "So
you think you will leave us and go to mining until you have made enough
more to buy it outright?"
"Yes, sir. I don't want you to think I ain't satisfied here. I like it
here."
"I know you do, Collie. Well, think it over. Prospecting is gambling.
It is sometimes magnificent gambling. Miss Lacharme's father was a
prospector. We have never heard from him since he went out on the
desert. But that has nothing to do with it. If I didn't believe you'd
make a first-rate citizen, I shouldn't hesitate a minute about your
going. I'd rather see you ranching it. We need solid men here in
California. There are so many remittance-men, invalids, idlers,
speculators, and unbalanced enthusiasts that do more harm than good,
that we need a few _new_ landmarks. We need a few new cornerstones and
keystones to stiffen the structure that is building so fast. I realize
that we must build from the ground up--not hang out tents from the
trees. That day is past."
"It's a big thing--to be stuck on California more than getting rich,"
said Collie.
"Yes. The State of California is a bank--a new bank. The more depositors
we have, the stronger we shall be--provided our depositors have faith in
us. We have their good will now. We need solid, two-handed men who can
take hold and prove that investment in our State is profitable."
"You bet!" exclaimed Collie, catching some of the older man's
enthusiasm. Then he added with less enthusiasm: "But how about such
things as the Jap ranchers dumping carloads of onions in the rivers and
melons in the ocean, by the ton, and every one cut so it can't be used
by poor folks? If Eastern people got on to that they would shy off
pretty quick."
"Yes," said the rancher, frowning. "It's true enough that such things do
happen. I've known of boatloads of fish being dumped back in the ocean
because the middlemen wouldn't give the fishermen a living price. In
western Canada thousands of bushels of grain have been burned on the
ground because the Eastern market was down and the railroads would not
make a rate that would allow a profit to the farmer. Such things are not
local to California. California is in the limelight just now and such
things are naturally prominent."
"It looks awful bad for good fruit and vegetables and fish to be thrown
away when folks have to pay ten cents for a loaf of bread no bigger than
a watch-charm," said Collie.
"It is bad. Crookedness in real estate transactions is bad. We don't
want to waste our time, however, in feeling worried about it. What we
want to do is to show the other fellow that _our_ work is successful and
straight."
"Yes, sir. A fellow has got to believe in something. I guess believing
in his own State is the best."
"Of course. Now, about your leaving us. I had rather you would stay
until the Marshalls go. Louise and Mrs. Stone depend on you so much."
"Sure I will! You see, Red don't say to come, in his letter, but he sent
the check for three hundred if I did want to come. There's no hurry."
"All right. Hello, Louise! Dinner waiting?"
"Yes, Uncle Walter. How are you, Collie?" And Louise nodded to him.
"What are you two hatching? You seem so serious."
"Plans for the ultimate glory of the State," said Stone.
"Ultimate?"
"Yes. We've been going beneath the surface of things a little. Collie
expects to go even deeper, so he tells me."
Collie walked slowly toward the bunk-house. Halfway there he took
Overland's check from the letter and studied it. He put it back into his
pocket. As he passed the corrals, Apache nickered in a friendly way.
"Haven't got a thing for you," said Collie. "Not a bite. We're not goin'
to town to-day. To-morrow, maybe, for there'll be doings at the Oro
Rancho and we'll be there--we'll be there!"
With a run and a spring the young man leaped the gate and trotted into
the bunk-house.
Brand Williams was solemnly shaving. He turned a lathered face toward
Collie whose abrupt entrance had all but caused the foreman to
sacrifice his left ear. "Well," he drawled, "who is dead?"
"You mean, Who is alive? I guess. Say, Brand, what do you think that
Yuma horse over at the Oro is worth?"
"That dam' outlaw? Ain't worth the trouble of mentioning."
"But, oh, Brand, she's built right! I tell you! Short-coupled, and them
legs and withers! They ain't a pony in the valley can touch her. And
only three years old!"
"Nor a man neither," said Williams.
"She's been scared to death because the fellows was scared of her and
started in wrong."
"So'll the man be that tries to ride her. Say, I seen that
copper-colored, china-eyed, she-son of a Kansas cyclone put Bull O'Toole
so far to the bad once that his return ticket expired long before he got
back. I tell you, kid, she's _outlaw_. She's got the disposition of a
Comanche with a streak of lightnin' on a drunk throwed in. You keep off
that hoss!"
"Maybe," said Collie. "But I notice you put me to breakin' about all the
stock on this ranch that you can't handle yourself."
Which was true. Williams shaved and perspired in silence.
"Let's see," he said presently, emerging from the wash-basin. "When's
that barbecue comin' off?"
"To-morrow. As if you didn't know!"
"Sunday, eh? Well, you might as well get killed on a Sunday as any other
day. I suppose your askin' about that hoss means you are thinkin' of
ridin' her, eh?"
"I was thinkin' of it. They are putting her up as a chance for the man
that can. She has put three of their boys to the bad. Matt Gleason, the
Oro foreman, says he'll give her to any Moonstoner that can stay on her
two minutes."
"He said 'Moonstoner' particular?" queried Williams.
"He did. To me. I was over tryin' to buy her."
"You're plumb loco. So he said any _Moonstoner_ eh? Any Moonstoner. By
crip, I've a notion--Let's see, there's Miguel--he's too swift. Billy
Dime might make it if he didn't get too much red-eye in him first. Bud
ain't steady enough--and it wouldn't look right if I was the only rider
here to take a chance. I dunno."
"What you gaspin' about?" queried Collie.
"Nothin', kid. You can get hosses ready for all the ladies for to-morrow
mornin' at six sharp. Sabe? I got orders to send you over with 'em.
Mebby you're some proud now, eh? Well, don't fall off Apache pertendin'
you're so polite you can't spit."
"What you sore about, Brand?"
"I was thinkin' what a slashin' string of riders we got. Here a little
old ranch like the Oro says they'll give a hoss to any Moonstoner what
kin stay on him for two minutes. It's plumb sickenin'. Kids! Jest kids,
on this ranch."
"That so? Say, Brand, you ain't got rid of so much English talk at once
since I been here. You ought to talk more. You keep too quiet. Talking
sociable will help to take the wrinkles out of your neck."
"You talk so much you'll never live to get any."
"Say, Brand."
"Uhuh."
"Will you lend me the Chola spurs and that swell quirt old Miguel
plaited for you, and your Mexican bridle, just for to-morrow?"
"So that's what you been lovin' up to me for, eh?"
"Lovin' up to you, you darned old--darned old--_dude_, you."
"Hold on! You said it! Take the spurs! Take the quirt! Take the bridle!
Take the hat and gloves with the silk roses on! Anybody that's got nerve
enough to call _me_ a _dude_ can take anything I got. Say, you don't
want to borrow a pair of _pants_, do you?"
Honors were about even when Collie left the bunk-house, his arms laden
with the foreman's finery. He colored to his hair as he saw Louise
coming toward him. He fumbled at the gate, opened it, and stood aside
for her to pass. As she smiled and thanked him, he heard his name
called.
"Hey!" shouted Williams, coming suddenly from the bunk-house. "Hey,
Collie! You went away without them pants! I'll lend 'em to you--"
Collie, his face flaming, strode down the trail, the blood drumming in
his ears.