CHAPTER XXXII
Four days before Thanksgiving Brother Anthony returned from El Torowith Father Dominic's little automobile purring as it had not purredfor many a day, for expert mechanics had given the little car athorough overhauling and equipped it with new tires and brake lining atthe expense of Miguel Farrel. Father Dominic looked the rejuvenatedruin over with prideful eyes and his saintly old face puckered in asmile.
"Brother Anthony," he declared to that mildly crack-brained person,"that little conveyance has been responsible for many a furiousexhibition of temper on your part. But God is good. He will forgiveyou, and has He not proved it by moving our dear Don Mike to save youfrom the plague of repairing it for many months to come?"
Brother Anthony, whose sense of humor, had he ever possessed one, hadlong since been ruined in his battles with Father Dominic's automobile,raised a dour face.
"Speaking of Don Miguel, I am informed that our young Don Miguel hasgone to Baja California, there to race Panchito publicly for a purse often thousand dollars gold. I would, Father Dominic, that I might seethat race."
Father Dominic laid his hand on poor Brother Anthony's shoulder."Because you have suffered for righteousness' sake, Brother Anthony,your wish shall be granted. Tomorrow you shall drive Pablo andCarolina and me to Tia Juana in Baja California to see Panchito race onthe afternoon of Thanksgiving Day. We will attend mass in San Diego inthe morning and pray for victory for him and his glorious young master."
Big tears stood in Brother Anthony's eyes. At last! At last! PoorBrother Anthony was a human being, albeit his reason tottered on itsthrone at certain times of the moon. He did love race-horses andhorse-races, and for a quarter of a century he had been trying toforget them in the peace and quiet of the garden of the Mission de laMadre Dolorosa.
"Our Don Mike has made this possible?" he quavered. Father Dominicnodded.
"God will pay him," murmured Brother Anthony, and hastened away to thechapel to remind the Almighty of the debt.
Against the journey to Baja California, Carolina had baked a tremendouspot of brown beans and fried a hundred tortillas. Pablo had added sometwenty pounds of jerked meat and chilli peppers, a tarpaulin Don Mikehad formerly used when camping, and a roll of bedding; and when BrotherAnthony called for them at daylight the following morning, both were upand arrayed in their Sunday clothes and gayest colors. In an emptytobacco sack, worn like an amulet around her fat neck and resting onher bosom, Carolina carried some twenty-eight dollars earned as alaundress to Kay and her mother; while in the pocket of Pablo's newcorduroy breeches reposed the two hundred-dollar bills; given him bythe altogether inexplicable Senor Parker. Knowing Brother Anthony tobe absolutely penniless (for he had taken the vow of poverty) Pablosuffered keenly in the realization that Panchito, the pride of ElPalomar, was to run in the greatest horse race known to man, with not acentavo of Brother Anthony's money bet on the result. Pablo knewbetter than to take Father Dominic into his confidence when the latterjoined them at the Mission, but by the time they had reached El Toro,he had solved the riddle. He changed one of his hundred dollar bills,made up a little roll of ten two-dollar bills and slipped it in thepocket of the brown habit where he knew Brother Anthony kept hiscigarette papers and tobacco.
At Ventura, when they stopped at a garage to take on oil and gasoline,Brother Anthony showed Pablo the roll of bills, amounting to twentydollars, and ascribed his possession of them to nothing more nor lessthan a divine miracle. Pablo agreed with him. He also noticed thatfor reasons best known to himself, Brother Anthony made no mention ofthis miracle to his superior, Father Dominic.
At about two o'clock on Thanksgiving Day the pilgrims from the SanGregorio sputtered up to the entrance of the Lower California JockeyClub at Tia Juana, parked, and approached the entrance. They werehesitant, awed by the scenes around them. Father Dominic's rusty brownhabit and his shovel hat constituted a novel sight in these worldlyprecincts, and the old Fedora hat worn by Brother Anthony was thesubject of many a sly nudge and smile. Pablo and Carolina, beingtypical of the country, passed unnoticed.
Father Dominic had approached the gateman and in his gentle old voicehad inquired the price of admittance. It was two dollars and fiftycents! Scandalous! He was about to beat the gatekeeper down; surelythe management had special rates for prelates--
A hand fell on his shoulder and Don Miguel Jose Maria Federico NoriagaFarrel was gazing down at him with beaming eyes.
"Perhaps, Father Dominic," he suggested in Spanish and employing theold-fashioned courtly tone of the _haciendado_, "you will permit me thegreat honor of entertaining you." And he dropped a ten-dollar bill inthe cash box and ushered the four _San Gregorianos_ through theturn-stile.
"My son, my son," murmured Father Dominic. "What means thisunaccustomed dress? One would think you dwelt in the City of Mexico.You are unshaven--you resemble a loafer in _cantinas_. That _sombrero_is, perhaps, fit for a bandit like Pancho Villa, but, my son, you arean American gentleman. Your beloved grandfather and your equallybeloved father never assumed the dress of our people--"
"Hush! I'm a wild and woolly Mexican sport for a day, padre. Saynothing and bid the others be silent and make no comment. Come with meto the grandstand, all of you, and look at the races. Panchito willnot appear until the fifth race."
Father Dominic bent upon Brother Anthony a glance which had the effectof propelling the brother out of earshot, whereupon the old friar tookhis young friend by the arm and lifted his seamed, sweet old facetoward him with all the _insouciance_ of a child.
"Miguel," he whispered, "I'm in the throes of temptation. I told youof the thousand dollars which the Senora Parker, in a moment of thatgreat-heartedness which distinguishes her (what a triumph, could I butbaptize her in our faith!) forced Senor Parker to present to me. Icontemplate using it toward the needed repairs to the roof of ourMission. These repairs will cost at least three thousand dollars, andthe devil has whispered to me--"
"Say no more about it, but bet the money," said Miguel. "Be a sport,Father Dominic, for the opportunity will never occur again. Before thesun shall set this day, your one thousand will have grown to ten. Evenif Panchito should lose, I will guarantee you the return of your money."
Father Dominic trembled. "Ah, my son, I feel like a little old devil,"he quavered, but--he protested no more. When Don Mike settled him in aseat in the grand-stand, Father Dominic whispered wistfully, "God willnot hold this worldliness against me, Miguel. I feel I am here on Hisbusiness, for is not Panchito running for a new roof for our belovedMission? I will pray for victory."
"Now you are demonstrating your sound common sense," Don Mike assuredhim. His right hand closed over the roll of bills Father Dominicsurreptitiously slipped him. Scarcely had he transferred theRestoration Fund to his trousers' pocket when Brother Anthony nudgedhim and slipped a tiny roll into Don Miguel's left hand, accompanyingthe secret transfer with a wink that was almost a sermon.
"What news, Don Miguel?" Pablo ventured presently.
"We will win, Pablo."
"_Valgame dios_! I will wager my fortune on Panchito. Here it is, DonMiguel--one hundred and eighty dollars. I know not the ways of theseGringo races, but if the stakeholder be an honest man and knownpersonally to you, I will be your debtor forever if you will graciouslyconsent to attend to this detail for me."
"With pleasure, Pablo."
Carolina drew her soiled little tobacco bag from her bosom, bit thestring in two and handed bag and contents to her master, who nodded andthrust it in his pocket.
Two tiers up and directly in back of Don Miguel and his guests, two menglanced meaningly at each other.
"Did you twig that?" one of them whispered. "That crazy Greaser is alocal favorite, wherever he comes from. Those two monks and that_cholo_ and his squaw are giving him every dollar they possess to beton this quarter horse entered in a long race, and I'll bet fivethousand dollars he'll drop it into that machine, little realizing thatevery dollar he
bets on his horse here will depress the oddsproportionately."
"It's a shame, Joe, to see all that good money dropping into the maw ofthose Paris Mutuel sharks. Joe, we ought to be kicked if we allow it."
"Can you speak Spanish?"
"Not a word."
"Well, let's get an interpreter. That Tia Juana policeman yonder willdo."
"All right. I'll split the pot with you, old timer."
Directly after the first race a Mexican policeman touched Farrel on thearm. "Your pardon, _senor_," he murmured politely, "but two Americangentlemen have asked me to convey to you a message of importance. Willthe _senor_ be good enough to step down to the betting ring with me?"
"With the utmost delight," Don Miguel replied in his mother tongue andfollowed the policeman, who explained as they proceeded toward thebetting ring the nature of the message.
"These two gentlemen," he exclaimed, "are book-makers. Whilebook-makers who lay their own odds are not permitted to operate openlyand with the approval of the track authorities, there are a number ofsuch operating quietly here. One may trust them implicitly. Theyalways pay their losses--what you call true blue sports. They havemuch money and it is their business in life to take bets. These twogentlemen are convinced that your horse, Panchito, cannot possibly winthis race and they are prepared to offer you odds of ten to one for asmuch money as the _senor_ cares to bet. They will not move from yourside until the race is run and the bet decided. The odds they offeryou are greater than you can secure playing your money in the Mutuel."
Don Mike halted in his tracks. "I have heard of such men. I observedthe two who talked with you and the _jefe politico_ assured meyesterday that they are reliable gentlemen. I am prepared to trustthem. Why not? Should they attempt to escape with my money whenPanchito wins--as win he will--I would quickly stop those finefellows." He tapped his left side under the arm-pit, and while thepoliceman was too lazy and indifferent to feel this spot himself, heassumed that a pistol nestled there.
"I will myself guard your bet," he promised.
They had reached the two book-makers and the policeman promptlycommunicated to them Don Mike's ultimatum. The pair exchanged glances.
"If we don't take this lunatic's money," one of them suggestedpresently, "some other brave man will. I'm game."
"It's a shame to take it, but--business is business," his companionlaughed. Then to the policeman: "How much is our high-toned Mexicanfriend betting and what odds does he expect?"
The policeman put the question. The high-toned Mexican gentleman bowedelaborately and shrugged deprecatingly. Such a little bet! Truly, hewas ashamed, but the market for steers down south had been none toogood lately, and as for hides, one could not give them away. TheAmerican gentlemen would think him a very poor gambler, indeed, buttwelve hundred and twenty-eight dollars was his limit, at odds of tento one. If they did not care to trifle with such a paltry bet, hecould not blame them, but--
"Holy Mackerel. Ten to one. Joe, this is like shooting fish on ahillside. I'll take half of it."
"I'll take what's left."
They used their cards to register the bet and handed the memorandum toDon Mike, who showed his magnificent white teeth in his most engagingsmile, bowed, and insisted upon shaking hands with them both, afterwhich the quartet sauntered back to the grand-stand and sat down amongthe old shepherd and his flock.
As the bugle called out the horses for the handicap, Father Dominicceased praying and craned forward. There were ten horses in the race,and the old priest's faded eyes popped with wonder and delight as thesleek, beautiful thoroughbreds pranced out of the paddock and passed insingle file in front of the grand-stand. The fifth horse in the paradewas Panchito--and somebody had cleaned him up, for his satiny skinglowed in the semi-tropical sun. All the other horses in the race hadribbons interlaced in their manes and tails, but Panchito was barren ofadornment.
"Well, Don Quixote has had him groomed and they've combed the cactusburrs out of his mane and tail, at any rate. He'd be a beautifulanimal if he was dolled up like the others," the book-maker, Joe,declared.
"Got racing plates on to-day, and that cholo kid sits him like heintended to ride him," his companion added. "Joe, I have a suspicionthat nag is a ringer. _He looks like a champion_."
"If he wins we'll _know_ he's a ringer," Joe replied complacently."We'll register a protest at once. Of course, the horse is royallybred, but he hasn't been trained, he's never been on a track before andeven if he has speed, both early and late, he'll probably be left atthe post. He's carrying one hundred and eighteen pounds and a green_cholo_ kid has the leg up. No chance, I tell you. Forget it."
Don Mike, returning from the paddock after saddling Panchito and givingAllesandro his final instructions, sat majestically in his seat, butFather Dominic, Brother Anthony, Pablo and Carolina paid vociferoustribute to their favorite and the little lad who rode him.Allesandro's swarthy hands and face were sharply outlined against aplain white jockey suit; somebody had loaned him a pair of riding bootsand a cap of red, white and blue silk. This much had Don Mikesacrificed for convention, but not the willow switch. Allesandro wavedit at his master and his grandparents as he filed past.
Pablo stood up and roared in English: "_Kai_! Allesandro! Eef youdon' win those race you grandfather hee's goin' cut you throat sure. Ilook to you all the time, _muchacho_. You keep the mind on thebus-i-ness. You hear, Allesandro _mio_?"
Allesandro nodded, the crowd laughed and the horses went to the post.They were at the post a minute, but got away to a perfect start.
"Sancho Panza leads on Panchito!" the book-maker, Joe, declared as thefield swept past the grand-stand. He was following the flying horsesthrough his racing glasses. "Quarter horse," he informed hiscompanion. "Beat the gate like a shot out of a gun. King Agrippa, thefavorite, second by two lengths. Sir Galahad third. At the quarter!Panchito leads by half a length, Sir Galahad second. King Agrippathird! At the half! Sir Galahad first, Panchito second, King Agrippathird! At the three-quarter pole! King Agrippa first, Panchitosecond, Polly P. third. Galahad's out of it. Polly P's making herspurt, but she can't last. Into the stretch with Panchito on the railand coming like he'd been sent for and delayed. Oh, Lord, Jim, that'sa horse--and we thought he was a goat! Look at him come! He's an openlength in front of Agrippa and the _cholo_ hasn't used his willowswitch. Jim, we're sent to the cleaner's--"
It was a Mexican race-track, but the audience was American and it isthe habit of Americans to cheer a winner, regardless of how they havebet their money. A great sigh went up from the big holiday crowd.Then, "Panchito! Come on, you Panchito! Come on, Agrippa! Ride him,boy, ride him!" A long, hoarse howl that carried with it the hint ofsobs.
At the paddock the gallant King Agrippa gave of the last and the bestthat was in him and closed the gap in a dozen furious jumps until, asthe field swept past the grand-stand, Panchito and King Agrippa werefor a few seconds on such even terms that a sudden hush fell on therace-mad crowd. Would this be a dead heat? Would this unknownPanchito, fresh from the cattle ranges, divide first money with thefavorite?
The silence was broken by a terrible cry from Pablo Artelan.
"Allesandro! I cut your throat!"
Whether Allesandro heard the warning or whether he had decided thataffairs had assumed a dangerous pass, matters not. He rose a trifle inhis saddle, leaned far out on Panchito's withers and delivered himselfof a tribal yell. It was a cry meant for Panchito, and evidentlyPanchito understood, for he responded with the only answer a gallantrace-horse has for such occasions. A hundred feet from the wire KingAgrippa's wide-flung nostrils were at Panchito's saddle girth; underthe stimulus of a rain of blows he closed the gap again, only to dropback and finish with daylight showing between his head and Panchito'sflowing tail.
Father Dominic stood gazing down the track. He was tremblingviolently. Brother Anthony turned lack-luster eyes toward Farrel.
"You win, Brother Anthony," D
on Mike said quietly.
"How good is God," murmured Brother Anthony. "He has granted me a joyaltogether beyond my deserts. And the joy is sufficient. The moneywill buy a few shingles for our roof." He slumped down in his seat andwiped away great tears.
Pablo waited not for congratulations or exultations, but scrambled downthrough the grand-stand to the railing, climbed over it and droppeddown into the track, along which he jogged until he met Allesandrogalloping slowly back with Panchito. "Little treasure of the world,"he cried to the boy, "I am happy that I do not have to cut yourthroat," and he lifted Allesandro out of the saddle and pressed him tohis heart. That was the faint strain of Catalonian blood in Pablo.
Up in the grand-stand Carolina, in her great excitement, forgot thatshe was Farrel's cook. When he was a baby she had nursed him and sheloved him for that. So she waddled down to him with beaming eyes--andhe patted her cheek.
"Father Dominic," Don Mike called to the old friar, "your MissionRestoration Fund has been increased ten thousand dollars."
"So?" the gentle old man echoed. "Behold, Miguel, the goodness of God.He willed that Panchito should save for you from the heathen one littleportion of our dear land; He was pleased to answer my prayers of fiftyyears that I be permitted to live until I had restored the Mission ofour Mother of Sorrows." He closed his eyes. "So many long years thepriest," he murmured, "so many long years! And I am base enough to behappy in worldly pleasures. I am still a little old devil."
Don Mike turned to the stunned book-makers. "For some reason bestknown to yourselves," he addressed them in English, bowing graciously,"you two gentlemen have seen fit to do business with me through thisexcellent representative of the civil authority of Tia Juana. We willdispense with his services, if you have no objection. Here, my goodfellow," he added, and handed the policeman a ten-dollar bill.
"You're not a Mexican. You're an American," the book-maker Joe criedaccusingly, "although you bragged like a Mexican."
"Quite right. I never claimed to be a Mexican, however. I heard aboutthis Thanksgiving Handicap, and it seemed such a splendid opportunityto pick up a few thousand dollars that I entered my horse. I havecomplied with all the rules. This race was open to four-year-olds andup, regardless of whether they had been entered in a race previously orhad won or lost a race. Panchito's registration will bearinvestigation; so will his history. My jockey rode under an apprenticelicense. May I trouble you for a settlement, gentlemen?"
"But your horse is registered under a Mexican's name, as owner."
"My name is Miguel Jose Maria Federico Noriaga Farrel."
"We'll see the judges first, Senor Farrel."
"By all means."
"You bet we will. The judges smell a rat, already. The winningnumbers haven't been posted yet."
As Don Mike and his retinue passed the Parker box, John Parker andDanny Leighton fell in behind them and followed to the judges' stand.Five minutes later the anxious crowd saw Panchito's number go up as thewinner. Don Mike's frank explanation that he had deceived nobody, buthad, by refraining from doing things in the usual manner, induced thepublic to deceive itself and refrain from betting on Panchito, couldnot be gainsaid--particularly when an inspection of the records at thebetting ring proved that not a dollar had been wagered on Panchito.
"You played the books throughout the country, Mr. Farrel?" one of thejudges asked.
Don Mike smiled knowingly. "I admit nothing," he replied.
The testimony of Parker and Danny Leighton was scarcely needed toconvince the judges that nothing illegal had been perpetrated. WhenDon Mike had collected his share of the purse and the book-makers,convinced that they had been out-generaled and not swindled, had issuedchecks for their losses and departed, smiling, John Parker drew Farrelaside.
"Son," he demanded, "did you spoil the Egyptians and put over a Romanholiday?"
Again Don Mike smiled his enigmatic smile. "Well," he admitted, "I'mready to do a little mortgage lifting."
"I congratulate you with all my heart. For heaven's sake, take up yourmortgage immediately. I do not wish to acquire your ranch--that way.I have never wished to, but if that droll scoundrel, Bill Conway,hadn't managed to dig up unlimited backing to build that dam despiteme, and if Panchito hadn't cinched your case for you to-day, I wouldhave had no mercy on you. But I'm glad you won. You have a head andyou use it; you possess the power of decision, of initiative, you're asporting, kindly young gentleman and I count it a privilege to haveknown you." He thrust out his hand and Don Mike shook it heartily.
"Of course, sir," he told Parker, "King Agrippa is a good horse, butnobody would ever think of entering him in a real classic. I toldAllesandro to be careful not to beat him too far. The time was nothingremarkable and I do not think I have spoiled your opportunity forwinning with him in the Derby."
"I noticed that. Thank you. And you'll loan him to me to beat thatold scoundrel I told you about?"
"You'll have to arrange that matter with your daughter, sir. I haveraced my first and my last race for anything save the sport of ahorse-race, and I am now about to present Panchito to Miss Kay."
"Present him? Why, you star-spangled idiot, I offered you fifteenthousand dollars for him and you knew then I would have gone to fiftythousand."
Don Mike laid a patronizing hand on John Parker's shoulder. "Oldsettler, you're buying Panchito and you're paying a heavier price thanyou realize, only, like the overcoat in the traveling salesman'sexpense account, the item isn't apparent. I'm going to sell you a dam,the entire Agua Caliente Basin and watershed riparian rights, a sitefor a power station and a right of way for power transmission linesover my ranch. In return, you're going to agree to furnish me withsufficient water from your dam, in perpetuity, to irrigate every acreof the San Gregorio Valley."
John Parker could only stare, amazed. "On one condition, Miguel," hereplied presently. "Not an acre of the farm lands of the San Gregorioshall ever be sold, without a _proviso_ in the deed that it shall neverbe sold or leased to any alien ineligible to citizenship."
"Oh, ho! So you've got religion, eh?"
"I have. Pablo dragged it into the yard last spring at the end of hisriata, and it lies buried in the San Gregorio. That makes the SanGregorio consecrated ground. I always had an idea I was a pretty fairAmerican, but I dare say there's room for improvement. What do youwant for that power property?"
"I haven't the least idea. We'll get together with experts some dayand arrive at an equitable price.
"Thank you son. I'll not argue with you. You've given me afirst-class thrashing and the man who can do that is quite a fellow.Nevertheless, I cannot see now where I erred in playing the game. Mindtelling me, boy?"
"Not at all. It occurred to me--assistance by Bill Conway--that thisproperty must be of vital interest to two power companies, the CentralCalifornia Power Company and the South Coast Power Corporation. Twohypotheses presented themselves for consideration. First, if you weredeveloping the property personally, you had no intention of operatingit yourself. You intended to sell it. Second, you were not developingit personally, but as the agent of one of the two power companies Imentioned. I decided that the latter was the best hypothesis uponwhich to proceed. You are a multi-millionaire trained in the fine artof juggling corporations. In all probability you approached my fatherwith an offer to buy the ranch and he declined. He was old and he wassentimental, and he loved me and would not sell me out of mybirthright. You had to have that ranch, and since you couldn't buy ityou decided to acquire it by foreclosure. To do that, however, you hadto acquire the mortgage, and in order to acquire the mortgage you hadto acquire a controlling interest in the capital stock of the FirstNational Bank of El Toro. You didn't seem to fit into the small townbanking business; a bank with a million dollars capital is small changeto you."
"Proceed. You're on the target, son, and something tells me you'regoing to score a bull's-eye in a minute."
"When you had acquired the m
ortgage following such patient steps, myfather checkmated you by making and recording a deed of gift of theranch to me, subject of course to the encumbrance. The war-timemoratorium, which protected men in the military or naval service fromcivil actions, forced you to sit tight and play a waiting game. Then Iwas reported killed in action. My poor father was in a quandary. Ashe viewed it, the ranch now belonged to my estate, and I had diedintestate. Probate proceedings dragging over a couple of years werenow necessary, and a large inheritance tax would have been assessedagainst the estate. My father broke under the blow and you tookpossession. Then I returned--and you know the rest.
"I knew you were powerful enough to block any kind of a banking loan Imight try to secure and I was desperate until Bill Conway managed toarrange for his financing. Then, of course, I realized my power. Withthe dam completed before the redemption period should expire, I hadsomething definite and tangible to offer the competitor of the powercompany in which you might be interested. I was morally certain Icould save my ranch, so I disabused my mind of worry."
"Your logical conclusions do credit to your intelligence, Miguel.Proceed."
"I purchased, through my attorney, a fat little block of stock in eachcompany. That gave me _entree_ to the company books and records. Icouldn't pick up your trail with the first company investigated--theCentral California--but before my attorney could proceed to Los Angelesand investigate the list of stockholders and directors of the SouthCoast Power Corporation, a stranger appeared at my attorney's officeand proceeded to make overtures for the purchase of the Agua Calienteproperty on behalf of an unknown client. That man was in conferencewith my attorney the day we all motored to El Toro via La QuestaValley, and the instant I poked my nose inside the door my attorneyadvised me--in Spanish,--which is really the mother tongue of ElToro--to trail his visitor. Out in the hall I met my dear friend, DonNicolas Sandoval, the sheriff of San Marcos County, and delegated thejob to him. Don Nicolas trailed this stranger to the First NationalBank of El Toro and observed him in conference with the vice-president;from the First National Bank of El Toro Don Nicolas shadowed his man tothe office of the president of the South Coast Power Corporation, inLos Angeles.
"We immediately opened negotiations with the Central California PowerCompany and were received with open arms. But, strange to relate, weheard no more from the South Coast Power Corporation. Very strange,indeed, in view of the fact that my attorney had assured theirrepresentative of my very great desire to discuss the deal if and whenan offer should be made me."
John Parker was smiling broadly. "Hot, red hot, son," he assuredFarrel. "Good nose for a long, cold trail."
"I decided to smoke you out, so arbitrarily I terminated negotiationswith the Central California Power Company. It required all of my owncourage and some of Bill Conway's to do it, but--we did it. Withinthree days our Los Angeles friend again arrived in El Toro andsubmitted an offer higher than the one made us by the CentralCalifornia Power Company. So then I decided to shadow you, thepresident of the South Coast Power Corporation, and the president ofthe Central California Power Company. On the fifteenth day of October,at eight o'clock, p.m., all three of you met in the office of yourattorney in El Toro, and when this was reported to me, I sat down anddid some thinking, with the following result:
"The backing so mysteriously given Bill Conway had you worried. Youabandoned all thought of securing the ranch by foreclosure, and mycareless, carefree, indifferent attitude confirmed you in this. Who,but one quite certain of his position, would waste his time watching arace-horse trained? I knew then that news of my overtures to theCentral California people were immediately reported to the South Coastpeople. Evidently you had a spy on the Central California payroll, orelse you and your associates controlled both companies. This lasthypothesis seemed reasonable, in view of the South Coast PowerCorporation's indifference when it seemed that I might do business withthe Central California people, and the sudden revival of the SouthCoast interest when it appeared that negotiations with the Centralpeople were terminated. But after that meeting on the fifteenth ofOctober, my attorney couldn't get a rise out of either corporation, soI concluded that one had swallowed the other, or you had agreed to forma separate corporation to develop and handle the Agua Caliente plant,if and when, no matter how, the ranch should come into your possession.I was so certain you and your fellow-conspirators had concluded tostand pat and await events that I haven't been sleeping very well eversince, although not once did I abandon my confident pose.
"My position was very trying. Even with the dam completed, your powerin financial circles might be such that you could block a new loan or asale of the property, although the completion, of the dam would add avalue of millions to the property and make it a very attractiveinvestment to a great many people. I felt that I could save myself ifI had time, but I might not have time before the redemption periodshould expire. I'd have to lift that mortgage before I could smoke youthree foxes out of your hole and force you to reopen negotiations.Well, the only chance I had for accomplishing that was a longone--Panchito, backed by every dollar I could spare, in theThanksgiving Handicap. I took that chance. I won. Tag! You're It."
"Yes, you've won, Miguel. Personally, it hurt me cruelly to do thethings I did, but I was irrevocably tied up with the others. Ihoped--I almost prayed--that the unknown who was financing Bill Conway,in order to render your property valuable and of quick sale, to saveyour equity, might also give you a loan and enable you to eliminate me.Then my companions in iniquity would be forced to abandon their waitinggame and deal with you. You are right, Miguel. That waiting gamemight have been fatal to you."
"It _would_ have been fatal to me, sir."
"Wouldn't Conway's friend come to your rescue?"
"I am not informed as to the financial resources of Bill Conway'sfriend and, officially, I am not supposed to be aware of that person'sidentity. Conway refused to inform me. I feel assured, however, thatif it were at all possible for this person to save me, I would havebeen saved. However, even to save my ranch, I could not afford tosuggest or request such action."
"Why?"
"Matter of pride. It would have meant the violation of my code in suchmatters."
"Ah, I apprehend. A woman, eh? That dashing Sepulvida girl?"
"Her mother would have saved me--for old sake's sake, but--I would havebeen expected to secure her investment with collateral in the shape ofa six-dollar wedding ring."
"So the old lady wanted you for a son-in-law, eh? Smart woman. Shehas a long, sagacious nose. So she proceeded, unknown to you, tofinance old Conway, eh?"
"No, she did not. Another lady did."
"What a devil you are with the women! Marvelous--for one who doesn'tpay the slightest attention to any of them. May I ask if you are goingto--ah--marry the other lady?
"Well, it would never have occurred to me to propose to her beforePanchito reached the wire first, but now that I am my own man again andable to match her, dollar for dollar, it may be that I shall consideran alliance, provided the lady is gracious enough to regard me withfavor."
"I wish you luck," John Parker replied, coldly. "Let us join theladies."
Three days later, in El Toro, Don Mike and his attorney met inconference with John Parker and his associates in the office of thelatter's attorney and completed the sale of the Agua Caliente propertyto a corporation formed by a merger of the Central California PowerCompany and the South Coast Power Corporation. A release of mortgagewas handed Miguel Farrel as part payment, the remainder being in bondsof the South Coast Power Corporation, to the extent of two milliondollars. In return, Farrel delivered a deed to the Agua Calienteproperty and right of way and a dismissal, by Bill Conway, of his suitfor damages against John Parker, in return for which John Parkerpresented Farrel an agreement to reimburse Bill Conway of all moneysexpended by him and permit him to complete the original contract forthe dam.
"Well, that straightens out our muchly involved affa
irs," John Parkerdeclared. "Farrel, you've gotten back your ranch, with the exceptionof the Agua Caliente Basin, which wasn't worth a hoot to you anyway,you have two million dollars in good sound bonds and all the money youwon on Panchito. By the way, if I may be pardoned for my curiosity,how much money did you actually win that day?"
Don Mike smiled, reread his release of mortgage, gathered up his bundleof bonds, backed to the door, opened it and stood there, paused fornight.
"Gentlemen," he declared, "I give you my word of honor--no, I'll giveyou a Spaniard's oath--I swear, by the virtue of my dead mother and thehonor of my dead father, I did not bet one single _centavo_ on Panchitofor myself, although I did negotiate bets for Brother Anthony, FatherDominic, and my servants, Pablo and Carolina. Racing horses andbetting on horse-racing has proved very disastrous to theNoriaga-Farrel tribe, and the habit ceased with the last survivor ofour dynasty. I'm not such a fool, Senor Parker, as to risk my prideand my position and my sole hope of a poor but respectable future bybetting the pitiful remnant of my fortune on a horse-race. No, sir,not if Panchito had been entered against a field of mules. _Adios,senores_!"
"In the poetical language of your wily Latin ancestors," John Parkeryelled after him, "_Adios_! Go with God!" He turned to his amazedassociates. "How would you old penny-pinchers and porch-climbers liketo have a broth of a boy like that fellow for a son-in-law?" hedemanded.
"Alas! My only daughter has already made me a grandfather," sighed thepresident of the Central California Power Company.
"Let's make him president of the merger," the president of the SouthCoast Power Corporation suggested. "He ought to make good. He held usup with a gun that wasn't loaded. Whew-w-w! Boys! Whatever happens,let us keep this a secret, Parker."
"Secret your grandmother! I'm going to tell the world. We deserve it.Moreover, that fine lad is going to marry my daughter; she's the geniuswho double-crossed her own father and got behind Bill Conway. Godbless her. God bless him. Nobody can throttle my pride in that boyand his achievements. You two tried to mangle him and you forced me toplay your game. While he was earning the medal of honor from Congress,I sat around planning to parcel out his ranch to a passel of Japs.I'll never be done with hating myself."
That night at the _hacienda_, Don Mike, taking advantage of Kay'smomentary absence, drew Mr. and Mrs. Parker aside.
"I have the honor to ask you both for permission to seek yourdaughter's hand in marriage," he announced with that charming,old-fashioned Castilian courtliness which never failed to impress Mrs.Parker. Without an instant's hesitation she lifted her handsome faceand kissed him.
"I move we make it unanimous," Parker suggested, and gripped Don Mike'shand.
"Fine," Don Mike cried happily. He was no longer the least bitCastilian; he was all Gaelic-American. "Please clear out and let mehave air," he pleaded, and fled from the room. In the garden he metKay, and without an instant's hesitation took her by the arm and ledher over to the sweet lime tree.
"Kay," he began, "on such a moonlit night as this, on this same spot,my father asked my mother to marry him. Kay, dear, I love you. Ialways shall, I have never been in love before and I shall never be inlove again. There's just enough Celt in me to make me a one-girl man,and since that day on the train when you cut my roast beef because myhand was crippled, you've been the one girl in the world for me. Untilto-day, however, I did not have the right to tell you this and to askyou, as I now do, if you love me enough to marry me; if you think youcould manage to live with me here most of the time--after I've restoredthe old place somewhat. Will you marry me, Kay--ah, you will, youwill!"
She was in his arms, her flower face upturned to his for his first kiss.
They were married in the quaint, old-world chapel of the now restoredMission de la Madre Dolorosa by Father Dominic, and in accordance withancient custom, revived for the last time, the master of Palomar gavehis long-delayed _fiesta_ and barbecue, and the rich and the poor,honest men and wastrels, the _gente_ and the _peons_ of San MarcosCounty came to dance at his wedding.
Their wedding night Don Mike and his bride spent, unattended save forPablo and Carolina, in the home of his ancestors. It was stilldaylight when they found themselves speeding the last departing weddingguest; hand in hand they seated themselves on the old bench under thecatalpa tree and gazed down into the valley. There fell between themthe old sweet silence that comes when hearts are too filled withhappiness to find expression in words. From the Mission de la MadreDolorosa there floated up to them the mellow music of the Angelus; thehills far to the west were still alight on their crests, although theshadows were long in the valley, and Don Mike, gazing down on hiskingdom regained, felt his heart filled to overflowing.
His wife interrupted his meditations. He was to learn later that thisis a habit of all wives.
"Miguel, dear, what are you thinking about?"
"I cannot take time to tell you now, Kay, because my thoughts, iftransmuted into print, would fill a book. Mostly, however, I have beenthinking how happy and fortunate I am, and how much I love you andthat--yonder. And when I look at it I am reminded that but for you itwould not be mine. Mine? I loathe the word. From this dayforward--ours! I have had the ranch homesteaded, little wife. Itbelongs to us both now. I owed you so much that I could never repay incash--and I couldn't speak about it until I had the right--and now thatBill Conway has taken up all of his promissory notes to you, and hissuit against your father has been dismissed and we've all smoked thepipe of peace, I've come to the conclusion that I cannot keep a secretany longer. Oh, my dear, my dear, you loved me so you wouldn't letthem hurt me, would you?"
She was holding his hand in both of hers and she bent now and kissedthe old red scar in the old tender, adoring way; but said nothing. Sohe was moved to query:
"And you, little wife--what are you thinking of now?"
"I was thinking, my husband, of the words of Ruth: entreat me not toleave thee, and to return from following after thee: for whither thougoest I will go; and where thou lodgest I will lodge; thy people shallbe my people and thy God my God. Where thou diest will I die, andthere will I be buried; the Lord do so to me, and more also, if aughtbut death part thee and me.'"
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