The Pride of Palomar
CHAPTER XXV
Bill Conway driving up the San Gregorio in his prehistoric automobile,overtook Kay and her mother walking home from the Mission, and drovethem the remainder of the distance back to the hacienda. Arrived here,old Conway resurrected the stolen spark plugs and returned them toParker's chauffeur, after which he invited himself to luncheon.Apparently his raid of the night previous rested lightly on hisconscience, and Parker's failure to quarrel with him lifted himimmediately out of any fogs of apprehension that may have clouded hissunny soul.
"Hello, Conway," Parker greeted him, as the old contractor came intothe dining room and hung his battered old hat on a wall peg. "Did youbring back my spark plugs?"
"Did better'n that," Conway retorted. "The porcelain on one plug wascracked and sooner or later you were bound to have trouble with it. SoI bought you a new one."
"Do any good for yourself in El Toro this morning?"
"Nope. Managed to put over a couple of deals that will help the boyout a little, though. Attached your bank account and your bank stock.I would have plastered your two automobiles, but that tender-heartedMiguel declared that was carrying a grudge too far. By the way, whereis our genial young host?"
"Horse bucked him off this morning. He lit on a rock and ripped afurrow in his sinful young head. So he's sleeping off a headache."
"Oh, is he badly hurt?" Kay cried anxiously.
"Not fatally," Parker replied with a faintly knowing smile. "But he'sweak and dizzy and he's lost a lot of blood; every time he winks forthe next month his head will ache, however."
"Which horse policed him?" Bill Conway queried casually.
"The gray one--his father's old horse."
"Hum-m-m!" murmured Conway and pursued the subject no further, nor didhe evince the slightest interest in the answers which Parker framedglibly to meet the insistent demand for information from his wife anddaughter. The meal concluded, he excused himself and sought Pablo, ofwhom he demanded and received a meticulous account of the "accident" toMiguel Farrel. For Bill Conway knew that the gray horse never buckedand that Miguel Farrel was a hard man to throw.
"Guess I'll have to sit in at this game," he decided, and forthwithclimbed into his rattletrap automobile and returned to El Toro.
During the drive in he surrendered his mind to a contemplation of allof the aspects of the case, and arrived at the following conclusions:
Item. Don Nicolas Sandoval had seen the assassin walking in from thesouth about sunset the day previous. If the fellow had walked all theway across country from La Questa valley he must have started about twoP.M.
Item. The Potato Baron had left the Farrel hacienda about one o'clockthe same day and had, doubtless, arrived in El Toro about two o'clock.Evidently he had communicated with the man from La Questa valley(assuming that Don Miguel's assailant had come from there) by telephonefrom El Toro.
Arrived in El Toro, Bill Conway drove to the sheriff's office. DonNicolas Sandoval had returned an hour previous from the Rancho Palomarand to him Conway related the events of the morning. "Now, Nick," heconcluded, "you drift over to the telephone office and in your officialcapacity cast your eye over the record of long distance telephone callsyesterday afternoon and question the girl on duty."
"_Bueno_!" murmured Don Nicolas and proceeded at once to the telephoneoffice. Ten minutes later he returned.
"Okada talked to one Kano Ugichi, of La Questa, at 2:08 yesterdayafternoon," he reported.
"Considerable water will run under the bridges before Kano Ugichireturns to the bosom of his family," Conway murmured sympathetically."He's so badly spoiled, Nick, we've decided to call him a total lossand not put up any headstone to his memory. It is Farrel's wish thatthe matter be forgotten by everybody concerned."
"I have already forgotten it, my friend," the urbane Don Nicolasreplied graciously, and Bill Conway departed forthwith for the Hotel deLas Rosas.
"Got a Jap name of Okada stopping here?" he demanded, and was informedthat Mr. Okada occupied room 17, but that he was ill and could not beseen.
"He'll see me," quoth Bill Conway, and clumped up the stairs. Herapped peremptorily on the door of room 17, then tried the knob. Thedoor opened and the old contractor stepped into the room to find thePotato Baron sitting up in bed, staring at him. Uttering no word, BillConway strode to the bed, seized the Japanese by the throat andcommenced to choke him with neatness and dispatch. When the man's facewas turning purple and his eyes rolling wildly, Conway released hisdeath-grip and his victim fell back on the mattress, whereupon BillConway sat down on the edge of the bed and watched life surge back intothe little brown man.
"If you let one little peep out of you, Okada," he threatened--andsnarled ferociously.
"Please, please," Okada pleaded. "I no unnerstan'. 'Scuse, please.You make one big mistake, yes, I zink so."
"I do, indeed. I permit you to live, which I wouldn't do if I knewwhere to hide your body. Listen to me, Okada. You sent a countrymanof yours from the La Questa valley over to the Rancho Palomar to killDon Miguel Farrel. I have the man's name, I know the hour youtelephoned to him, I know exactly what you said to him and how much youpaid him to do the job. Well, this friend of yours overplayed hishand; he didn't succeed in killing Farrel, but he did succeed ingetting himself captured."
He paused, with fine dramatic instinct, to watch the effect of thisbroadside. A faint nervous twitch of the chin and the eyelids--thenabsolute immobility. The Potato Baron had assumed the "poker face" ofall Orientals--wherefore Bill Conway knew the man was on his guard andwould admit nothing. So he decided not to make any effort to elicitinformation, but to proceed on the theory that everything was known tohim.
"Naturally," he continued, "that man Pablo has ways and means of makingeven a stubborn Jap tell everything he knows. Now listen, O child ofNippon, to the white man's words of wisdom. You're going to departfrom El Toro in a general northerly direction and you're going to do itimmediately if not sooner. And you're never coming back. The day youdo, that day you land in the local calaboose with a charge ofconspiracy to commit murder lodged against you. We have the witnessesto prove our case and any time you're tried by a San Marcos County jurybefore a San Marcos County judge you'll rot in San Quentin for life.And further: If Miguel Farrel should, within the next two years, dieout of his own bed and with his boots on, you will be killed on generalprinciples, whether you're guilty or not. Do I make myself clear ormust I illustrate the point with motion pictures?"
"Yes, sir. 'Scuse, please. Yes, sir, I zink I go very quick, sir."
"Three cheers! The sooner the quicker--the next train, let us say.I'll be at the station to see you off."
He was as good as his word. The Potato Baron, mounting painfully thesteps of the observation car, made hasty appraisal of the stationplatform and observed Bill Conway swinging his old legs from his perchon an express truck. He favored Okada with a very deliberate nod and asweeping, semi-military salute of farewell.
When the train pulled out, the old contractor slid off the expresstruck and waddled over to his automobile. "Well, Liz," he addressedthat interesting relic, "I'll bet a red apple I've put the fear ofBuddha in that Jap's soul. He won't try any more tricks in San MarcosCounty. He certainly did assimilate my advice and drag it out of town_muy pronto_. Well, Liz, as the feller says: 'The wicked flee when noman pursueth and a troubled conscience addeth speed to the hind legs.'"
As he was driving out of town to the place of his labors at AguaCaliente basin, he passed the Parker limousine driving in. BetweenJohn Parker's wife and John Parker's daughter, Don Miguel Jose Farrelsat with white face and closed eyes. In the seat beside his chauffeurJohn Parker sat, half turned and gazing at Don Miguel with troubledeyes.
"That girl's sweeter than a royal flush," Bill Conway murmured. "Iwonder if she's good for a fifty thousand dollar touch to pay my cementbill pending the day I squeeze it out of her father? Got to havecement to build a dam--got to have cash to get cement--got
to have adam to save the Rancho Palomar--got to have the Rancho Palomar beforewe can pull off a wedding--got to pull off a wedding in order to behappy--got to be happy or we all go to hell together. . . . Well . . .I'm going down to Miguel's place to dinner to-night. I'll ask her."
The entire Parker family was present when the doctor in El Toro washedand disinfected Farrel's wound and, at the suggestion of Kay, made anX-ray photograph of his head. The plate, when developed, showed asmall fracture, the contemplation of which aroused considerableinterest in all present, with the exception of the patient. Don Mikewas still dizzy; because his vision was impaired he kept his eyesclosed; he heard a humming noise as if a lethargic bumble bee had takenup his residence inside the Farrel ears. Kay, observing him closely,realized that he was very weak, that only by the exercise of a verystrong will had he succeeded in sitting up during the journey in fromthe ranch. His brow was cold and wet with perspiration, his breathingshallow; his dark, tanned face was now a greenish gray.
The girl saw a shadow of deep apprehension settle over her father'sface as the doctor pointed to the fracture. "Any danger?" she heardhim whisper,
The doctor shook his head. "Nothing to worry about. An operation willnot be necessary. But he's had a narrow squeak. With whom has he beenfighting?"
"Thrown from his horse and struck his head on a rock," Parker repliedglibly.
Kay saw the doctor's eyebrows lift slightly. "Did he tell you that waswhat happened?"
Parker hesitated a moment and nodded an affirmative.
"Wound's too clean for that story to impress me," the doctor whispered."Not a speck of foreign matter in it. Moreover, the wound is almost ontop of his head. Now, if he had been thrown from a horse and hadstruck on top of his head on a rock with sufficient force to laceratehis scalp and produce a minor fracture, he would, undoubtedly, havecrushed his skull more thoroughly or broken his neck. Also, his facewould have been marred more or less! And if that isn't good reasoning,I might add that Miguel Farrel is one of the two or three men in thisworld who have ridden Cyclone, the most famous outlaw horse in America."
Parker shrugged and, by displaying no interest in the doctor'sdeductions, brought the conversation to a close.
That the return trip to the ranch, in Don Mike's present condition, wasnot to be thought of, was apparent from the patient's condition. Hewas, therefore, removed to the single small hospital which El Toroboasted, and after seeing him in charge of a nurse the Parker familyreturned to the ranch. Conversation languished during the trip; adisturbed conscience on the part of the father, and on the part of Kayand her mother an intuition, peculiar to their sex and aroused by thedoctor's comments, that events of more than ordinary portent hadoccurred that day, were responsible for this.
At the ranch Parker found his attorney who had motored out from ElToro, waiting to confer with him regarding Bill Conway's adroitmanoeuver of the morning. Mrs. Parker busied herself with some fancywork while her daughter sought the Farrel library and pretended toread. An atmosphere of depression appeared to have settled over therancho; Kay observed that even Pablo moved about in a furtive manner;he cleaned and oiled his rifle and tested the sights with shots atvarying ranges. Carolina's face was grave and her sweet falsetto voicewas not raised in song once during the afternoon.
About four o'clock when the shadows began to lengthen, Kay observedPablo riding forth on his old pinto pony. Before him on the saddle hecarried a pick and shovel and in reply to her query as to what hepurposed doing, he replied that he had to clean out a spring where thecattle were accustomed to drink. So she returned to the library andPablo repaired to a willow thicket in the sandy wash of the SanGregorio and dug a grave. That night, at twilight, while the familyand servants were at dinner, Pablo dragged his problem down to thisgrave, with the aid of the pinto pony, and hid it forever from thesight of men. Neither directly nor indirectly was his exploit everreferred to again and no inquiry was ever instituted to fathom themystery of the abrupt disappearance of Kano Ugichi. Indeed, the soleregret at his untimely passing was borne by Pablo, who, shrinking fromthe task of removing his riata from his victim (for he had a primitiveman's horror of touching the dead), was forced to bury his dearestpossession with the adventurer from La Questa--a circumstance whichserved still further to strengthen his prejudice against the Japaneserace.
The following morning Pablo saddled Panchito for Kay and, at herrequest, followed her, in the capacity of groom, to Bill Conway's campat Agua Caliente basin. The old schemer was standing in the door ofhis rough temporary office when Kay rode up; he advanced to meet her.
"Well, young lady," he greeted her, "what's on your mind this morningin addition to that sassy little hat."
"A number of things. I want to know what really happened to Mr. Farrelyesterday forenoon."
"My dear girl! Why do you consult me?"
She leaned from her horse and lowered her voice. "Because I'm yourpartner and between partners there should be no secrets."
"Well, we're supposed to keep it a secret, just to save you and yourmother from worrying, but I'll tell you in confidence if you promisenot to tell a soul I told you."
"I promise."
"Well, then, that scoundrel, Okada, sent a Jap over from La Questavalley to assassinate Miguel and clear the way for your father toacquire this ranch without further legal action and thus enable theirinterrupted land deal to be consummated."
"My father was not a party to that--oh, Mr. Conway, surely you do notsuspect for a moment--"
"Tish! Tush! Of course not. That's why Miguel wanted it given outthat his horse had policed him. Wanted to save you the resultantembarrassment."
"The poor dear! And this wretch from La Questa shot him?"
"Almost."
"What became of the assassin?"
Bill Conway pursed his tobacco-stained lips and whistled a few bars of"Listen to the Mocking Bird." Subconsciously the words of the songcame to Kay's mind.
She's sleeping in the valley, In the valley, She's sleeping in the valley, And the mocking bird is singing where she lies.
"I'm afraid I don't want to discuss that boy and his future movements,Miss Parker," he sighed presently. "I might compromise a third party.In the event of a show-down I do not wish to be forced under oath totell what I know--or suspect. However, I am in a position to assureyou that Oriental activities on this ranch have absolutely ceased. Mr.Okada has been solemnly assured that, in dealing with certain whitemen, they will insist upon an eye for an optic and a tusk for a tooth;he knows that if he starts anything further he will go straight to thatundiscovered country where the woodbine twineth and the whangdoodlemourneth for its mate."
"What has become of Okada?"
"He has dragged it out of here--drifted and went hence--for keeps."
"Are you quite sure?"
"Cross my heart and hope to die." With an unclean thumb Mr. Conwaydrew a large X on the geometrical center of his ample circumference."When you've been in the contracting business as long as I have, MissParker," he continued sagely, "you'll learn never to leave importantdetails to a straw boss. Attend to 'em yourself--and get your regularration of sleep. That's my motto."
She beamed gratefully upon him. "Need any money, Bill, old timer?" sheflashed at him suddenly, with delightful camaraderie.
"There should be no secrets between partners. I do."
"_Quanto_?"
"_Cinquenta mille pesos oro, senorita_."
"Help!"
"Fifty thousand bucks, iron men, simoleons, smackers, dollars--"
She reached down and removed a fountain pen from his upper vest pocket.Then she drew a check book and, crooking her knee over Panchito's neckand using that knee for a desk, she wrote him a check on a New Yorkbank for fifty thousand dollars.
"See here," Bill Conway demanded, as she handed him the check, "howmuch of a roll you got, young woman?"
"About two hundred thousand in cash and half a million in Libertybonds. When I was ab
out five years old my uncle died and left me hisestate, worth about a hundred thousand. It has grown under my father'smanagement. He invested heavily in Steel Common, at the outbreak ofthe war, and sold at the top of the market just before the armisticewas signed."
"Well," Conway sighed, "there is a little justice in the world, afterall. Here at last, is one instance where the right person to handlemoney gets her hands on a sizable wad of it. But what I want to know,my dear young lady, is this: Why purchase philanthropy in fiftythousand dollar installments? If you want to set that boy's mind atease, loan him three hundred thousand dollars to take up the mortgageyour father holds on his ranch; then take a new mortgage in your ownname to secure the loan. If you're bound to save him in the long run,why keep the poor devil in suspense?"
She made a little moue of distaste. "I loathe business. The loaningof money on security--the taking advantage of another's distress. Mr.Bill, it never made a hit with me. I'm doing this merely because Irealize that my father's course, while strictly legal, is not kind. Irefuse to permit him to do that sort of thing to a Medal of Honor man."He noticed a pretty flush mount to her lovely cheeks. "It isn'tsporty, Mr. Bill Conway. However, it isn't nice to tell one'sotherwise lovable father that he's a poor sport and a Shylock, is it?I cannot deliberately pick a fight with my father by interfering in hisbusiness affairs, can I? Also, it seems to me that Don Mike Farrel'spride is too high to permit of his acceptance of a woman's pity. I donot wish him to be under obligation to me. He might misconstrue mymotive--oh, you understand, don't you? I'm sure I'm in an extremelydelicate position."
He nodded sagely. "Nevertheless," he pursued, "he _will_ be underobligation to you."
"He will never know it. I depend upon you to keep my secret. He willthink himself under obligation to you--and you're such an old and dearfriend. Men accept obligations from each other and think nothing ofit. By the way, I hold you responsible for the return of that fiftythousand dollars, not Don Mike Farrel. You are underwriting his battlewith my father, are you not?"
"Yes, I am," he retorted briskly, "and I've got more conceit than abarber's cat for daring to do it. Wait a minute and I'll give you mypromissory note. I'm paying seven per cent for bank accommodationslately. That rate of interest suit you?"
She nodded and followed him to his office, where he laboriously wroteand signed a promissory note in her favor. Pablo, remaining politelyout of sound of their conversation, wondered vaguely what they were upto.
"Don Mike has told us something of the indolent, easy-going natures ofhis people," Kay continued, as she tucked the note in her coat pocket."I have wondered if, should, he succeed in saving his ranch without toogreat an expenditure of effort, he would continue to cast off the spellof 'the splendid, idle forties' and take his place in a world of alertcreators and producers. Do you not think, Mr. Bill, that he will bethe gainer through my policy of keeping him in ignorance of my part inthe re-financing of his affairs--if he dare not be certain of victoryup to the last moment? Of course it would be perfectly splendid if hecould somehow manage to work out his own salvation, but of course, ifhe is unable to do that his friends must do it for him. I think itwould be perfectly disgraceful to permit a Medal of Honor man to beruined, don't you, Mr. Bill?"
"Say, how long have you known this fellow Miguel?"
"Seventy-two hours, more or less."
He considered. "Your father's nerve has been pretty badly shaken bythe Jap's attempt to kill Miguel. He feels about that pretty much as adog does when he's caught sucking eggs. Why not work on your fathernow while he's in an anti-Jap mood? You might catch him on therebound, so to speak. Take him over to La Questa valley some day thisweek and show him a little Japan; show him what the San Gregorio willlook like within five years if he persists. Gosh, woman, you have someinfluence with him haven't you?"
"Very little in business affairs, I fear."
"Well, you work on him, anyhow, and maybe he'll get religion and renewMiguel's mortgage. Argue that point about giving a Medal of Honor mananother chance."
The girl shook her head. "It would be useless," she assured him. "Hehas a curious business code and will not abandon it. He will onlyquote some platitude about mixing sentiment and business."
"Then I suppose the battle will have to go the full twenty rounds.Well, Miss Parker, we're willing. We've already drawn first blood andwith your secret help we ought to about chew the tail off your old man."
"Cheerio." She held out her dainty little gloved hand to him. "See mewhen you need more money, Mr. Bill. And remember! If you tell on meI'll never, never forgive you."
He bent over her hand and kissed it. His caress was partly reverence,partly a habit of courtliness surviving from a day that is done inCalifornia, for under that shabby old tweed suit there beat the gallantheart of a true cavalier.
The girl--Kay Parker.]
When Miss Parker had ridden away with Pablo at her heels, Bill Conwayunburdened himself of a slightly ribald little chanson entitled: "WhatMakes the Wild Cat Wild?" In the constant repetition of this query itappeared that the old Californian sought the answer to a riddle noteven remotely connected with the mystifying savagery of non-domesticfelines.
Suddenly he slapped his thigh. "Got it," he informed the payroll hehad been trying to add for half an hour. "Got it! She does love him.Her explanation of her action is good but not good enough for me.Medal of Honor man! Rats. She could loan him the money to pay herfather, on condition that her father should never know the source ofthe aid, but if they reduced their association to a business basis hewould have to decide between the ranch and her. She knows how he lovesthis seat of his ancestors--she fears for the decision. And if hedecided for the ranch there would be no reasonable excuse for theParker family to stick around, would there? There would not. So he isnot to be lost sight of for a year. Yes, of course that's it.Methinks the lady did protest too much. God bless her. I wonder whathe thinks of her. One can never tell. It might be just her luck tofail to make a hit with him. Oh, Lord, if that happened I'd shoot him,I would for a fact. Guess I'll drop in at the ranch some day next weekand pump the young idiot. . . . No, I'll not. My business is buildingdams and bridges and concrete highways . . . well, I might take achance and sound him out . . . still, what thanks would I get . . . no,I'll be shot if I will . . . oh, to the devil with thanks. If he don'tlike it he can lump it. . . ."
"What makes the wild cat wild, boys, Oh, what makes the wild cat wild?"