Desert Conquest Part 27

With this prophecy, which he appeared to regret, Jim Hess patted his niece on the shoulder, told her not to worry about other people's troubles, and departed to keep his engagement.

Clyde immediately rang up Mrs. Wade, and, finding her at home, proceeded there at once, to "fix" matters; a thing by no means hard to accomplish, for Kitty Wade found the prospect of a lonesome vacation very unattractive, and was a willing conspirator.

"We'll just _make_ Harrison take us," she declared. "We'll have all sorts of a good time, too, riding and driving and fis.h.i.+ng and whatever else they do. Won't it be a relief not to have to dress up? And I'll be an ideal chaperon, dear, upon my word."

"Oh, my liking for Mr. Dunne hasn't reached that stage," laughed Clyde, flus.h.i.+ng a little, but too wise to pretend density. She had ever found that the best defence against such badinage lay in frankness. "But don't leave me alone with him, Kitty. It might end with his endowing me with his name and worldly goods. 'Mrs. Casey Dunne!' Euphonious, don't you think? I wonder if I should like to hear myself announced in that way?"

Kitty Wade glanced at her narrowly. Clyde's face expressed nothing but laughing amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Harrison has a high opinion of him," she said. "I believe his father was supposed to be wealthy until after his death, when Mr. Dunne was a boy. And he is very presentable. I think he deserves a great deal of credit."

"So do I," Clyde agreed heartily. "I told Mr. Wade that I was prepared to furnish whatever money was needed for this lawsuit of Mr. Dunne's."

"You did!" exclaimed Mrs. Wade. "Why, Clyde whatever for? How does it concern you?"

And Clyde told her for the first time of her first meeting with Casey Dunne.

"And you never told me!" Kitty Wade commented, as her husband had done.

"It's a real romance in real life. But I think you are the most generous girl I ever heard of. If you were in love with him, of course that would explain it. Aren't you, now--a little?"

"I'm not in love with him, Kitty--honestly I'm not," Clyde responded.

"I don't know whether I shall ever be or not. He did me a service which I would like to repay. I have more money than I know what to do with.

If money would help him over a rough place it was up to me. At least, that's how I looked at it. And as for going out to his country--why, I want to, that's all. I want to see the country which produces that sort of man. He's different from the others, somehow. I don't think he cares whether I have money or not. He wasn't going to recall himself to me till I practically recognized him. I know I'm good-looking and I know he knows it, but I don't think he cares. And he'd never have written me in this world or told me a thing about it himself if I hadn't written him first and asked him to."

"Why, Clyde!" Kitty Wade exclaimed in amazement.

"That's exactly what I did," Clyde a.s.severated. "If I were in love with him that would be the last thing I'd own up to, wouldn't it? Heavens above! Kitty, I know it's unmaidenly by all the old standards. You're married; you have your husband and your home and your interests. I have none of these things. You can't realize how utterly purposeless and idle and empty my life is. Just killing time. That was well enough a few years ago, and I enjoyed it. But now I'm as old as you are. I want something different from the daily and yearly round of sameness. If I were a man I'd work sixteen hours a day. If I had any special talent I'd cultivate it. But I haven't. I'm just an ordinary rich girl, in danger of physical and mental stagnation--in danger of marrying some equally rich man whom I don't love, in order to provide myself with new interests."

"Casey Dunne is a new interest, I suppose," said Kitty Wade dryly.

"I wish you wouldn't, Kitty," said Clyde.

"Then I won't," said Kitty Wade, "for I think you believe what you say.

Which," she added to herself, "is more than I do, young lady."

CHAPTER XVI

On all the ranches along the Coldstream there was water in plenty. The ditches ran brimful. In the fields the soil was dark with grateful moisture; the roots of the grain drank deep, fed full on the stored fertility of ages magically released by the water, and shot suddenly from small, frail plants, apparently lying thinly in the drills, into crowding, l.u.s.ty growths, vigorous, strong-stemmed, robust, throwing millions of green pennants to the warm winds. Down the length of the fields at narrow intervals trickled little streams like liquid silver wires strung against a background of living emerald. Pullulation was forced, swift, marvellous; one could almost hear the grain grow.

Though everything pointed to a b.u.mper crop, this depended on a continued water supply, and the ranchers took full advantage of the present, for none could tell how long the conditions would endure. As soon as one piece of land had sufficient moisture the water was s.h.i.+fted elsewhere; they allowed no overflow, no waste. This meant long hours, continuous, if not arduous work.

Naturally each ranch's main ditch was the heart of its water supply.

From these, smaller ditches carried the supply to the different fields.

These represented the arteries. The small streams trickling down the long irrigation marks through the grain and root crops might be likened to veins. To supply these it was necessary to tap the arteries every few yards; and the adjustment of these outlets, as ditches always lower during the heat of the day when suction and evaporation are the greatest and rise in the cooler hours of the night, was a matter of some skill and difficulty.

Dunne and his entire force worked overtime, taking all they could get while they could get it. Gla.s.s, the timorous would-be investor, paid him several visits. The first time Casey himself showed him over the ranch, explaining the theory and practice of irrigation, telling him what crops could be grown, what could not be grown, and what might perhaps be grown but as yet had not been proven. Gla.s.s absorbed this information like a sponge. Once more he recited his doubts and fears, going over the same ground with wearying detail. Casey, on the second visit, handed him over to Tom McHale, who listened pityingly.

"This here Gla.s.s sure needs a guardian or a nursemaid or something," he told Casey afterward. "He don't seem to know which way to string his chips. He makes me that tired I sorter suggests maybe he'd better pray about it; and he says he's done that, too, but don't seem to git no straight answer. So I tells him if the Lord don't know I surely don't.

And then he says he'll ask his wife. His wife! Whatever do you think of that? I quit him right there!"

But Gla.s.s wandered from ranch to ranch, a harmless bore, relating his perplexities to people too busy to listen. Finally he announced that he had bought land and sent for his family. And on the strength of this began his rounds again, eager for agricultural information.

At this time Casey received a letter from Wade giving the date of his long-promised visit to Coldstream. He added that his wife and Miss Burnaby would accompany him. They would stay, he said, in town, at the hotel. Immediately Casey went into committee with Tom McHale.

"Wade was coming here," he said. "The ladies complicate matters, but we'll have to do the best we can. It's the house that worries me. It's not furnished the way I'd like to have it. And then it's small. I guess we'll have to move out, Tom."

"Sure," McHale agreed at once. "We can bed down anywheres. I'll rig up a couple of bunks in the new tool house. We're pretty well along with the water. I can 'tend to that while you show 'em the country."

Straightway Casey commanded Feng, his Chinaman, to clean and scrub, much to that Celestial's disgust.

"What foh?" he demanded. "Housee plenty clean. Las spling me _hiyu_ sclub, _hiyu_ wash, _hiyu_ sweep undeh bed. All light now."

"All right for man; no good for woman," Casey explained. "Two lady come stop, Feng."

"Ho!" said Feng, adjusting his mind to a new situation. "You and Tom mally him?"

"No," Casey responded. "One married already. Ladies all same my friends, Feng."

"No good." Feng announced with certainty. "Woman fliend no good. All time makee too much wo'k. All time kick at glub. Mebbyso want blekfust in bed. Mebbyso bling baby. Neveh give Chinaboy a dolla'. No good.

S'pose you bling woman fliend me quit. Me go back to China."

"If you quit me now, one dead China boy stop," Casey threatened. He added craftily: "This lady _tyee_ lady. All same mandarin's daughter.

_Hiyu_ rich!"

"Ho!" said Feng thoughtfully. "_Hiyu_ lich, eh? All light. Me clean housee."

But, though he had won this diplomatic victory, Casey was not satisfied. Finally he took his perplexities to Sheila, enlisting her aid in problems of decoration and the like.

"Where does this Miss Burnaby come in?" she asked. "Who is she?"

Casey told her, and she frowned dubiously.

"Seems to me you b.u.t.ted into real society when you went outside, Casey.

If she has all that money she's apt to be pernickity. I hate fussy women. Is she pretty?"

"Why--yes, I think so," he admitted. "Oh, yes, she's pretty--no doubt about that. But I don't think she's fussy. You'll like her, Sheila. She doesn't scare or rattle easily. In some ways she reminds me of you."

"Thank you. And how do you know she doesn't scare or rattle?"

He evaded the question. "I don't think she would."

"Why didn't you ever mention her before?"

"Never thought of it. I hadn't the least notion that Mrs. Wade was coming, let alone Miss Burnaby. You see, it puts me up against it. I'll be ever so much obliged if you'll help me out."