CHAPTER XII

CHANGING EVENTS

Among those who were first to welcome Justin on his return to Paradise

Valley were Steve and Pearl Harkness. They came to Clayton’s with

their little daughter, of whom they were proud. They made their call

in the evening. Harkness was clad in new brown over-alls and jacket of

the same material, and looked too big for them. Mrs. Harkness rustled

in a dress of real China silk, whose shade of red made her round red

face seem even hotter and redder than it was, Helen was fluffy in

white skirts that stood out like those of a ballet dancer. Clayton in

his dusty snuff-colored clothing, and Justin in his business suit of

checked gray were insignificant figures compared with Pearl Harkness

and her daughter.

“Now, Helen, what was it I told you to do?” said Pearl, lifting a

plump round finger and shaking it at Helen, as soon as Harkness had

finished his boisterous greetings.

Helen hesitated, and Pearl catching her up deposited her in Justin’s

lap.

“Now, what was it I told you to do?”

Then Helen remembered. Putting her chubby arms about Justin’s neck and

leaning hard on his breast, while she squeezed to the utmost of her

strength, she said:

“I love you, Justin; I love you!”

Justin clasped her tightly in his strong arms.

“I love you, too!” he declared, and kissed her.

Standing by while he held Helen thus, Pearl, with a touch that was

almost motherly, pushed the clustering dark locks back from his

forehead, revealing the scar of a burn. She gave it a little love pat.

“You won’t mind?” she said, and to Justin’s surprise her voice choked

with a sudden rush of tears. “You seem almost like my own boy, Justin.

You weren’t much more than a boy, you know, when you first came to the

ranch; and I can’t help remembering how you got that scar. I wanted to

see if it had gone away any.”

Harkness coughed suspiciously.

“If you ever git married, and your wife pulls out so much of your hair

that you’re bald-headed, that scar’s goin’ to show,” he said.

Pearl caught Helen out of Justin’s lap, with sudden agitation.

“Helen, you’re getting dirt all over Justin’s nice new clothes!” With

bare plump hand she brushed away some infinitesimal specks which

Helen’s shoes had left. “I ought to have looked at her shoes before I

put her up there! Why didn’t you tell me to, Steve? Helen, you’ll

never be a lady, unless you keep your shoes clean.”

“All them heroes and hero-wines of Pearl’s keeps their shoes ferever

spick an’ span an’ shinin’,” said Harkness. “People always do, you’ll

notice, in books; at least them she reads about do. She was readin’ a

book yisterday, and I looked at the picture of the hero. He had boots

on that come to his thighs, and they’d jist been blacked. And the

women in them books wear more fine clothes than you could find in a

milliner’s shop.”

“Clothes aren’t found in a milliner’s shop, Steve!” Pearl corrected,

as she settled Helen firmly on her feet and proceeded to spread out

the fluffy white skirts. “Justin will think you don’t know anything.”

Helen, escaping from her mother’s clutches, and apparently glad to

escape, made straight for Harkness, who caught her up, planted on her

cheek a resounding kiss, and then plumped her down astride of one big

knee. Pleased by this preference, his face was radiant.

“Justin,” his eyes shone with enthusiasm and delight, “there ain’t

anything like bein’ married. Try it. I used to think I was havin’ fun,

cuttin’ round skittish and wild like a loose steer on the range; this

ain’t fun, mebbe, it’s comfort.”

“From what I hear, Justin intends to try it one of these days,” said

Pearl, with a questioning look. “Don’t you think he is, Doctor

Clayton? You’re hearing things like that, aren’t you?”

Clayton laughed, and glanced at Justin’s flushing face.

“I can’t say what his intentions are, but if they concern a certain

young lady I could name, they have my hearty approval.”

“Yet it does seem almost like marrying relatives,” said Pearl. “I

can’t get used to that yet. I had a cousin that married another

cousin; and their children—well, you just ought to see their

children!”

“Monkeys, air they?” said Harkness.

“Monkeys! Why, Steve, they’re plum fools! They don’t know enough to

come into the house when it rains.”

“This would be a good country fer ’em to live in, then; don’t rain

here more’n one’t in a year, and I reckon they could strain their

intellects enough to git a move on ’em that often.”

He looked at Justin.

“Speakin’ of this country and rain, we’re reckonin’, Pearl and me,

that we’ll take up farmin’, fer a change; think it might be healthy

fer our pocket book. I’ve had notice from Davison to quit, the first

of the month. I told him I’d quit to-morrow, if it suited him and he

had a man to put in my place; that if he didn’t think I was earnin’

all the good money I got and a little bit more, I did, and I stood

ready to go on short notice, or without any notice at all. I’ve knowed

it was comin’ this good while, and I’ve been gittin’ ready fer it.

Davison and Fogg air sellin’ off a good many cattle. The rest they’re

goin’ to throw onto the mesa, an’ water at the water holes of the

Purgatoire; the gover’ment is orderin’ down the fences, and it would

take an army of cowboys to hold the cattle off the crops, with them

fences gone.”

Clayton was interested.

“Do you think of farming here in the valley?” he asked.

“Yes, we’re figgerin’ on buyin’ Simpson’s place; it’s well up toward

the head of the ditch, and if any water comes we’re reckonin’ that

will give us a whack at it. Simpson’s made me an offer to sell. I’m

jist waitin’ to see what’s goin’ to turn up here in the ditch line.”

“I tell him he’ll wait round till it’s too late,” said Pearl. “Fogg

will buy that land before he knows it; he’s buying up farms

everywhere, for himself and Davison.”

She turned to Justin with a smile.

“I’ve been wondering if you wouldn’t get married and settle down to

farming, too; you never liked ranching.”

Pearl was as much of a match-maker as any dowager of her favorite

novels.

“Pearl won’t never be satisfied until that weddin’ comes off,” said

Harkness. “These women air bound to have a weddin’ happenin’ about

one’t in so often, er they ain’t happy; if it can’t be their own

weddin’, another woman’s will do. The weddin’s of a neighborhood air

what keeps the old maids alive, I reckon; they live ferever, ye know,

drawin’ happiness out of other women’s marriages.”

“I’m not an old maid!” Pearl asserted with spirit.

“No; I happened along!”

Before Mr. and Mrs. Harkness departed that evening, Dicky Carroll,

galloping by, stopped for a few moments.

“I’ve got a job over at Borden’s,” he announced to Harkness. “He’ll be

a better man to git along with than Davison, anyway; so I’m kinder

glad to go. And if I stay round hyer longer I’ll be tempted to shoot

Ben full of handsome little holes; he’s been meaner than a polecat to

me ever sense that election.”

Then he shook hands with Justin and Clayton, who had come out into the

yard. The moonlight revealed him in full cowboy attire, with his rope

coiled at the saddle bow.

“They’re sayin’, Justin, that you helped to bu’st the cattle bizness

round hyer. I ain’t believin’ it; but if you did, what’s the dif?

There’ll be plenty of ranches fer as long a time as I’m able to

straddle a pony and sling a rope, ranches back where the farmers can’t

go. When I can’t ride a horse any longer I’ll quit cow-punchin’ and go

to playin’ gentleman like Ben. From the fine clothes he wears I judge

there’s money in it. Well, so long; luck to all of you!”

Fogg did not vary from his custom, when he visited Paradise Valley. He

came over to Clayton’s, and sat in the little study, in the chair he

loved, which, though big, was now almost too small for him. He put his

fat hands on the arms of the chair, stretched out his fat legs, and

with his watch chain shining like a golden snake across his big

stomach, talked as amiably and laughed as loudly as ever.

Lemuel Fogg believed that it is better to bend before the storm than

to be broken by it. The government at Washington had heard from the

farming settlers and irrigationists of the West. Many states had

spoken that winter, and their voice had been as one. The agricultural

element, feeble and scorned at first, was becoming a power. Congress,

heeding its voice, was beginning to devise ways and means by which

vast areas of public land hitherto thought fit only for grazing, if

for that, could be watered by irrigation. Even the East, long hostile

because it did not want more rich Western lands opened to compete with

Eastern agriculture, held modified opinions. The order of the land

department for the removal of the illegal fences on the public domain

was to be enforced, and the fences had begun to come down. Seeing the

hand of fate, Fogg and Davison had sold some of their cattle, were

contracting their grazing area, and had begun to take thought of other

things.

“We’ll go with the tide,” said Fogg, whom Davison followed in most

things pertaining to matters of business, for Fogg’s success had been

phenomenal. “What do we care whether it’s cattle or something else, if

we can get money out of it? Never buck against the government; it’s

too strong, and you’ll get into trouble. We’ll turn farmer; we’ll

irrigate.”

So Fogg and Davison were increasing their already considerable

holdings of land in Paradise Valley, by purchases from settlers and

from the mortgage companies. It was reported that in some places

ranchmen secured land by inducing their cowboys to settle on

quarter-sections and so obtain title from the government. Fogg and

Davison would not do that. Not because they were too scrupulous, but

because they were too wise. It would be an unpleasant thing to be

haled into court for land swindling by the government agents who were

ordering down the fences.

While thus securing the land, they had quietly obtained a controlling

interest in the irrigating canal which the settlers had constructed.

It was owned by a stock company; and before the farmers knew what was

occurring it was to all intents and purposes in the possession of

Davison and Fogg.

“It begins to look as though you were right, Justin, and that I was

wrong, up there in Denver,” said Fogg, sliding his fingers along his

watch chain and beaming on Justin. “I couldn’t see it then, but it

really looks it; anyway, your side seems to be winning out, and I

didn’t think it could.”

“I thought I was right,” Justin declared, with vigorous

aggressiveness.

“Yes, I know you did; but I thought you was wrong, and of course I had

to oppose you. But, anyway, it’s all right now; we’re going to make it

all right. Some few of the farmers are kicking because Davison and I

have got control of the ditch, but they’ll live to bless the day the

thing happened. We’ll strengthen their dam and enlarge the canal and

laterals and furnish plenty of water. Where they watered ten acres

we’ll water hundreds. We’ve got the money to do it with, and they

hadn’t; that’s the difference.”

His shining watch chain rose and fell on his heaving stomach, as he

talked. Looking at it, Justin could almost fancy it had been wrought

of that gold which Fogg, with heavy but nimble fingers, gathered from

even the most unpromising places. Fogg seemed almost a Midas.

Fogg did not take his departure before midnight, but when he went he

was in a very good humor with himself and all the world.

Justin Wingate, Ranchman · 第 12 / 22 章