The Pride of Palomar

  XIX

  When the Parkers emerged from the hacienda, they found Don Mike and Pabloholding the horses and waiting for them. Kay wore a beautifully tailoredriding-habit of dark unfinished material, shot with a faint admixture ofgray; her boots were of shining black undressed leather, and she wore apair of little silver-mounted spurs, the sight of which caused Pablo toexchange sage winks with his master. Her white-pique stock was fastenedby an exquisite little cameo stick-pin; from under the brim of ablack-beaver sailor-hat, set well down on her head, her wistful browneyes looked up at Don Mike, and caught the quick glance of approval withwhich he appraised her, before turning to her mother.

  "The black mare for you, Mrs. Parker," he suggested. "She's a regularold sweetheart and single-foots beautifully. I think you'll find thatstock-saddle a far more comfortable seat than the saddle Miss Kay isusing."

  "I know I'm not as light and graceful as I used to be, Mike," the amiablesoul assured him, "but it irks me to have men notice it. You _might_have given me an opportunity to decline Kay's saddle. There is such athing as being too thoughtful, you know."

  "Mother!" Kay cried reproachfully.

  Don Mike blushed, even while he smiled his pleasure at the lady'sbadinage. She observed this.

  "You're a nice boy, Michael," she murmured, for his ear alone. "Why, youold-fashioned young rascal!"--as Don Mike stooped and held out his hand.She placed her left foot in it and was lifted lightly into the saddle.When he had adjusted the stirrups to fit her, he turned to aid Kay, onlyto discover that the gallant Panchito had already performed the honorsfor that young lady by squatting until she could reach the stirrupwithout difficulty.

  Parker rode the gray horse, and Farrel had appropriated a pinto cow ponythat Pablo used when line-riding.

  With the hounds questing ahead of them, the four jogged up the SanGregorio, Don Mike leading the way, with Kay riding beside him. Fromtime to time she stole a sidelong glance at him, riding with his chin onhis breast, apparently oblivious of her presence. She knew that he wasnot in a mood to be entertaining to-day, to be a carefree squire ofdames; his mind was busy grappling with problems that threatened not onlyhim but everything in life that he held to be worth while.

  "Do we go through that gate?" the girl queried, pointing to a five-railgate in a wire fence that straggled across the valleys and up thehillside.

  He nodded.

  "Of course you do not have to go through it," he teased her. "Panchitocan go over it. Pie for him. About five feet and a half."

  "Enough for all practical purposes," she replied, and touched herridiculous little spurs to the animal's flank, took a firm grip on thereins with both hands, and sat down firmly in the saddle. "All right,boy!" she cried, and, at the invitation, Panchito pricked up his ears andbroke into an easy canter, gradually increasing his speed and taking thegate apparently without effort. Don Mike watched to see the girl riseabruptly in her seat as the horse came down on the other side of thegate. But no! She was still sitting down in the saddle, her littlehands resting lightly on the horse's neck; and while Farrel watched herin downright admiration and her mother sat, white and speechless on theblack mare, Kay galloped ahead a hundred yards, turned, and came backover the gate again.

  "Oh, isn't he a darling?" she cried. "He pulls his feet up under himlike a dog, when he takes off. I want to take him over a seven-foothurdle. He can do it with yours truly up. Let's build a seven-foothurdle to-morrow and try him out."

  "Fine! We'll build it," Don Mike declared enthusiastically, and Parker,watching his wife's frightened face, threw back his head and laughed.

  "You are encouraging my daughter to kill herself," the older womancharged Farrel. "Kay, you tomboy, do not jump that gate again! Supposethat horse should stumble and throw you."

  "Nonsense, mother. That's mere old hop-Scotch for Panchito. One doesn'tget a jumping-jack to ride every day, and all I've ever done has been topussyfoot through Central Park."

  "Do you mean to tell me you've never taken a hurdle before?" Don Mikewas scandalized. She nodded.

  "She'll do," Parker assured him proudly.

  Farrel confirmed this verdict with a nod and opened the gate. They rodethrough. Kay waited for him to close the gate. He saw that she hadbeen, captivated by Panchito, and as their glances met, his smile was areflection of hers--a smile thoroughly and childishly happy.

  "If you'd only sell him to me, Don Mike," she pleaded. "I'll give you aruinous price for him."

  "He is not for sale, Miss Kay."

  "But you were going to give him away to your late battery commander!"

  He held up his right hand with the red scar on the back of it, but madeno further reply.

  "Why will you not sell him to me?" she pleaded. "I want him so."

  "I love him," he answered at that, "and I could only part with him--forlove. Some day, I may give him to somebody worth while, but for thepresent I think I shall be selfish and continue to own him. He's a big,powerful animal, and if he can carry weight in a long race, he's fastenough to make me some money."

  "Let me ride him in the try-out," she pleaded. "I weigh just a hundredand twenty."

  "Very well. To-morrow I'll hitch up a work-team, and disk the heart outof our old race-track-- Oh, yes; we have such a thing"--in reply to herlifted brows. "My grandfather Mike induced my great-grandfather Noriagato build it way back in the 'Forties. The Indians and _vaqueros_ used torun scrub races in those days--in fact, it was their main pastime."

  "Where is this old race-track?"

  "Down in the valley. A fringe of oaks hides it. It's grass-grown and ithasn't been used in twenty-five years, except when the Indians in thispart of the country foregather in the valley occasionally and pull offsome scrub races."

  "How soon can we put it in commission?" she demanded eagerly,

  "I'll disk it to-morrow. The ground is soft now, after this recent rain.Then I'll harrow it well and run a culti-packer over it--well, by the endof the week it ought to be a fairly fast track."

  "Goody! We'll go in to El Toro to-morrow and I'll wire to San Franciscofor a stop-watch. May I sprint Panchito a little across that meadow?"

  "Wait a moment, Miss Kay. We shall have something to sprint after in afew minutes, I think." As the hounds gave tongue in a path of willowsthey had been investigating far to the right, Don Mike pulled up hishorse and listened. "Hot trail," he informed her. "They'll all bebabbling in a moment."

  He was right.

  "If it's a coyote, he'll sneak up the wash of the river," he informed thegirl, "but if it's a cat, he'll cut through that open space to tree inthe oaks beyond--Ha! There goes a mountain-lion. After him!"

  His alert pony went from a halt to a gallop, following a long, lithetawny animal that loped easily into view, coming from the distant willowthicket. In an instant, Kay was beside him.

  "Head him off," he commanded curtly. "This ruin of Pablo's is done in aquarter-mile dash, but Panchito can outrun that cat without trying.Don't be afraid of him. They're cowardly brutes. Get between him andthe oaks and turn him back to me. Ride him down! He'll dodge out ofyour way."

  She saw that he was uncoiling his riata as he spoke, and divined hispurpose, as, with a cluck and a boot to Panchito, she thundered after thebig cat, her heart thumping with mingled fear and excitement. Evidentlythis was an old game to Panchito, however, for he pinned his ears alittle and headed straight for the quarry. Seemingly he knew what wasexpected of him, and had a personal interest in the affair, for as hecame up to the animal, he attempted to run the panther down. The animalmerely snarled and gave ground, while gradually Panchito "hazed" himuntil the frightened creature was headed at right angles to the course hehad originally pursued. And now Don Mike, urging the pinto to top speed,came racing up and cut him off.

  "Catch him; catch him!" Kay screamed excitedly. "Don't let him getaway!" She drove Panchito almost on top of the panther, and forced thebeast to stop suddenly and dodge toward the approachi
ng Farrel. AsPanchito dashed by, Kay had a glimpse of Don Mike riding in, his loopedriata swinging in wide, slow concentric circles--casually, even. As shebrought Panchito round on his nimble heels, she saw Don Mike rise in hisstirrups and throw.

  Even as the loop left his hand, he appeared to have no doubt of theoutcome, for Kay saw him make a quick turn of his rope round the pommelof his saddle, whirl at a right angle, and, with a whoop of pure,unadulterated joy, go by her at top speed, dragging the panther behindhim. The loop had settled over the animal's body and been drawn tautaround his loins.

  Suddenly the pinto came to an abrupt pause, sliding on his haunches toavoid a tiny arroyo, too wide for him to leap. The strain on the riatawas thus momentarily slackened, permitting the big cat to scramble to allfours and turn to investigate this trap into which he had fallen.Instantly he charged, spitting and open-mouthed, and, for some unknownreason, Farrel led the screaming fury straight toward Kay and Panchito.The cat realized this, also, for suddenly he decided that Panchitooffered the best opportunity to vent his rage, and changed his courseaccordingly. Quick as he did so, Farrel whirled his pinto in theopposite direction, with the result that the panther left the ground witha jerk and was dragged through the air for six feet before strikingheavily upon his back. He was too dazed to struggle while Farrel draggedhim through the grass and halted under a lone sycamore. While the badlyshaken cat was struggling to his feet and swaying drunkenly, Farrelpassed the end of his riata over a limb, took a new hitch on his pommel,and ran out, drawing the screaming, clawing animal off the ground untilhe swung, head down, the ripping chisels on his front paws tearing thegrass up in great tufts.

  The pinto, a trained roping horse, stood, blown and panting, his feetbraced, keeping the rope taut while Farrel dismounted and casuallystrolled back to the tree. He broke off a small twig and waited, whilethe hounds, belling lustily, came nosing across the meadow. Kay rode up,as the dogs, catching sight of the helpless cat, quickened their speed toclose in; she heard Farrel shout to them and saw him lay about him withthe twig, beating the eager animals back from their still dangerous prey.

  Mr. and Mrs. Parker had, in the meantime, galloped up and stood by,interested spectators, while Don Mike searched round until he found ahard, thick, dry, broken limb from the sycamore.

  "This certainly is my day for making money," he announced gaily. "Here'swhere I put thirty dollars toward that three-hundred-thousand-dollarmortgage." He stepped up to the lion and stunned it with a blow over thehead, after which he removed the riata from the creature's loins, slippedthe noose round the cat's neck, and hoisted the unconscious brute clearof the ground.

  "Now then," he announced cheerfully, "we'll just leave this fellow tocontemplate the result of a life of shame. He shall hang by the neckuntil he is dead--dead--dead! We'll pick him up on our way back, andto-night I'll skin him. Fall in, my squad! On our way."

  "Do you do that sort of thing very often, Mr. Farrel?" Parker queried.

  "Life is a bit dull out here, sir. Any time the dogs put up a panther inthe open, we try to rope him and have a little fun. This is the firstone I have roped alone, however. I always did want to rope a panther allby myself. Ordinarily, I would not have told Miss Kay to head that catin toward me, but, then, she didn't flunk the gate back yonder, and I hada great curiosity to see if she'd flunk the cat. She didn't and"--heturned toward her with beaming, prideful eyes--"if I were out of debt, Iwouldn't trade my friendship with a girl as game as you, Kay, for theentire San Gregorio valley. You're a trump."

  "You're rather a Nervy Nat yourself, aren't you?" her droll mother struckin. "As a Christian martyr, you would have had the Colosseum toyourself; every tiger and lion in Rome would have taken to the talltimber when you came on."

  As he rode ahead, chuckling, to join her daughter, Farrel knew that atall events he had earned the approval of the influential member of theParker family. Mrs. Parker, on her part, was far more excited than hercolloquial humor indicated.

  "John," she whispered, "did you notice it?"

  "Notice what?"

  "I don't know why I continue to live with you--you're so dull! In hisexcitement, he just called her 'Kay.' Last night, when they met, she was'Miss Parker.' At noon to-day, she was 'Miss Kay' and now she's plain'Kay.'" A cloud crossed his brow, but he made no answer, so, woman-like,she pressed for one. "Suppose our daughter should fall in love with thisyoung man?"

  "That would be more embarrassing than ever, from a business point ofview," he admitted, "and the Lord knows this fellow has me worried enoughalready. He's no mean antagonist."

  "That's what the panther probably thought, John."

  "His decoration, and that stunt--dazzling to the average girl," hemuttered.

  "In addition to his good looks, exquisite manners, and, I am quitecertain, very high sense of honor and lofty ideals," she supplemented.

  "In that event, it is more than probable that a consideration of hisdesperate financial strait will preclude his indicating any livelyinterest in Kay." Parker glanced anxiously at his wife, as if seeking inher face confirmation of a disturbing suspicion. "At least, that wouldbe in consonance with the high sense of honor and lofty ideals with whichyou credit him. However, we must remember that he has a dash of Latinblood, and my experience has been that not infrequently the Latinos highsense of honor and lofty idealism are confined to lip-service only. Iwonder if he'd be above using Kay as a gun to point at my head."

  "I'm quite certain that he would, John. Even if he should becomeinterested in her for her own sake, he would, of course, realize that thegenuineness of his feeling would be open to suspicion by--well, mostpeople, who comprehend his position--and I doubt very much if, underthese circumstances, he will permit himself to become interested in her."

  "He may not be able to help himself. Kay gets them all winging."

  "Even so, he will not so far forget his ancestral pride as to admit it,or even give the slightest intimation of it."

  "He is a prideful sort of chap. I noticed that. Still, he's not a prig."

  "He has pride of race, John. Pride of ancestry, pride of tradition,pride of an ancient, undisputed leadership in his own community. He hasbeen raised to know that he is not vulgar or stupid or plebeian; hischaracter has been very carefully cultivated and developed."

  He edged his horse close to hers.

  "Look here, my dear," he queried; "what brought the tears to your eyes atluncheon to-day?"

  "There was a moment, John, when the shadow of a near-break came over hisface. Kay and I both saw it. He looked wistful and lonely and beaten,and dropped his head like a tired horse, and her heart, her very soul,went out to him. I saw her hand go out to him, too; she touched his armfor an instant and then, realizing, she withdrew it. And then I knew!"

  "Knew what?"

  "That our little daughter, who has been used to queening it over everyman of her acquaintance, is going to batter her heart out against thepride of Palomar."

  "You mean--"

  "She loves him. She doesn't know it yet, but I do. Oh, John, I'm oldand wise. I know! If Miguel Farrel were of a piece with the young menshe has always met, I wouldn't worry. But he's so absolutelydifferent--so natural, so free from that atrocious habit of never beingable to disassociate self from the little, graceful courtesies young menshow women. He's wholesome, free from ego, from that intolerable air ofproprietorship, of masculine superiority and cocksureness that seems soinseparable from the young men in her set."

  "I agree with you, my dear. Many a time I have itched to grasp thejaw-bone of an ass and spoil a couple of dozen of those young pups withtheir story-book notions of life."

  "Now, that Don Mike," she continued critically, "is thoughtful of andvery deferential to those to whom deference is due, which characteristic,coupled with the fact that he is, in a certain sense, a most patheticfigure at this time, is bound to make a profound impression on any girlof ready sympathy. And pity is akin to love."

  "I se
e," Parker nodded sagely. "Then you think he'll go down to defeatwith his mouth shut?"

  "I'm certain of it, John."

  "On the other hand, if he should succeed in sending me down to defeat,thereby regaining his lost place in the sun, he might--er--"

  "Let us be practical, John. Let us call a spade a spade. If he regainsthe Rancho Palomar, his thoughts will inevitably turn to the subject of amistress for that old hacienda. He has pride of race, I tell you, and hewould be less than human if he could contemplate himself as the last ofthat race.

  "John, he did not capture that panther alive a few moments ago merely tobe spectacular. His underlying reason was the thirty-dollar bounty onthe pelt and the salvation of his cattle. And he did not capture thatBasque this morning and extort justice, long-delayed, with any thoughtthat by so doing he was saving his principality for a stranger. He willnot fight you to a finish for that."

  "What a philosopher you're getting to be, my dear!" he parriedironically. And, after a pause, "Well, I see very clearly that if yourpredictions come to pass, I shall be as popular in certain circles as theproverbial wet dog."

  Her roguish eyes appraised him.

  "Yes, John; you're totally surrounded now. I suppose, when you realizethe enormity of the odds against you, you'll do the decent thingand--"

  "Renew his mortgage? Not in a million years!" Parker's voice carried astrident note of finality, of purpose inflexible, and he thumped thepommel of his saddle thrice in emphasis. He was a man who, althoughnormally kind and amiable, nevertheless reserved these qualities for useunder conditions not connected with the serious business of profiting byanother's loss. Quite early in life he had learned to say "No." Hepreferred to say it kindly and amiably, but none the less forcibly; somemen had known him to say it in a manner singularly reminiscent of thelow, admonitory growl of a fierce old dog.

  "But, John dear, why are we accumulating all this wealth? Is not Kay oursole heir? Is not--"

  "Do not threaten me with Kay," he interrupted irritably. "I play my gameaccording to the time-honored rules of that game. I do not ask forquarter, and I shall not give it. I'm going to do all in my power toacquire the Rancho Palomar under that mortgage I hold--and I hope thatyoung man gives me a bully fight. That will make the operation all themore interesting.

  "My dear, the continuous giving of one more chance to the Farrels hasproved their undoing. They first mortgaged part of the ranch in 1870;when the mortgage fell due, they executed a new note plus the accruedinterest and mortgaged more of the ranch. Frequently they paid theinterest and twice they paid half the principal, bidding for one morechance and getting it. And all these years they have lived like feudalbarons on their principal, living for to-day, reckless of to-morrow.Theirs has been the history of practically all of the old Californiafamilies. I am convinced it would be no kindness to Don Miguel to givehim another chance now; his Spanish blood would lull him to ease andforgetfulness; he would tell himself he would pay the mortgage _manana_.By giving him another chance, I would merely remove his incentive tohustle and make good."

  "But it seems so cruel, John, to take such a practical view of thesituation. He cannot understand your point of view and he will regardyou as another Shylock."

  "Doubtless," he replied; "nevertheless, if we are ever forced to regardhim as a prospective son-in-law, it will be comforting to know that evenif he lost, he made me extend myself. He is a man and a gentleman, and Ilike him. He won me in the first minute of our acquaintance. That iswhy I decided to stand pat and see what he would do." Parker leaned overand laid his hand on that of his wife. "I will not play the bully'spart, Kate," he promised her. "If he is worth a chance he will get it,but I am not a human Christmas tree. He will have to earn it." After asilence of several seconds he added, "Please God he will whip me yet.His head is bloody but unbowed. It would be terrible to spoil him."