The Pride of Palomar

  V

  The tears which Don Mike Farrel had descried in the eyes of hisacquaintance on the train were, as he came to realize when he climbedthe steep cattle-trail from Sespe, the tribute of a gentle heart movedto quick and uncontrollable sympathy. Following their conversation inthe dining-car, the girl--her name was Kay Parker--had continued herluncheon, her mind busy with thoughts of this strange home-boundex-soldier who had so signally challenged her attention. "There'sbreeding back of that man," the girl mused. "He's only a rancher's sonfrom the San Gregorio; where did he acquire his drawing-room manners?"

  She decided, presently, that they were not drawing-room manners. Theywere too easy and graceful and natural to have been acquired. He musthave been born with them. There was something old-fashioned abouthim--as if part of him dwelt in the past century. He appeared to bequite certain of himself, yet there was not even a hint of ego in hiscosmos. His eyes were wonderful--and passionless, like a boy's. Yes;there was a great deal of the little boy about him, for all his years,his wounds, and his adventures. Kay thought him charming, yet he didnot appear to be aware of his charm, and this fact increased herattraction to him. It pleased her that he had preferred to discuss theJapanese menace rather than his own exploits, and had been human enoughto fly in a rage when told of her father's plans with the potato baron.Nevertheless, he had himself under control, for he had smothered hisrage as quickly as he had permitted it to flare up.

  "Curious man!" the girl concluded. "However--he's a man, and when wemeet again, I'm going to investigate thoroughly and see what else hehas in his head."

  Upon further reflection, she reminded herself that he hadn't disclosed,in anything he had said, the fact that his head contained thoughts orinformation of more than ordinary value. He had merely created thatimpression. Even his discussion of the Japanese problem had beencursory, and, as she mentally back-tracked on their conversation, theonly striking remark of his which she recalled was his whimsicalassurance that he knew why young turkeys are hard to raise in the fall.She smiled to herself.

  "Well, Kay, did you find him pleasant company?"

  She looked up and discovered her father slipping into the chair solately vacated by the object of her thoughts.

  "'Lo, pop! You mean the ex-soldier?" He nodded. "Queerest man I'veever met. But he is pleasant company."

  "I thought so. Tell me, daughter: What you were smiling about justnow."

  "He said he knew why young turkeys are hard to raise in the fall."

  "Why are they?"

  "I don't know, dear. He didn't tell me. Can you?"

  "The problem is quite beyond me, Kay." He unfolded his napkin."Splendid-looking young chap, that! Struck me he ought to have more inhis head than frivolous talk about the difficulty of rearing youngturkeys."

  "I think he has a great deal more in his head than that. In fact, I donot understand why he should have mentioned young turkeys at all,because he's a cattleman. And he comes from the San Gregorio valley."

  "Indeed! What's his name?"

  "He didn't tell me. But he knows all about the ranch you took overfrom the Gonzales estate."

  "But I didn't foreclose on that. It was the Farrel estate."

  "He called it something else--the Palomares rancho, I think."

  "Gonzales owns the Palomares rancho, but the Palomar rancho belonged toold Don Miguel Farrel."

  "Was he the father of the boy they call 'Don Mike'--he who was killedin Siberia?"'

  "The same."

  "Why did you have to foreclose on his ranch, father?"

  "Well, the interest had been unpaid for two years, and the old man wasgetting pretty feeble; so, after the boy was killed, I realized thatwas the end of the Farrel dynasty and that the mortgage would never bepaid. Consequently, in self-protection, I foreclosed. Of course,under the law, Don Miguel had a year's grace in which to redeem theproperty, and during that year I couldn't take possession without firstproving that he was committing waste upon it. However, the old mandied of a broken heart a few months after receiving news of his son'sdeath, and, in the protection of my interest, I was forced to petitionthe court to grant me permission to enter into possession. It was myduty to protect the equity of the heirs, if any."

  "Are there any heirs?"

  "None that we have been able to discover."

  The girl thoughtfully traced a pattern on the tablecloth with the tineof her fork.

  "How will it be possible for you to acquire that horse, Panchito, forme, dearest?" she queried presently.

  "I have a deficiency judgment against the Rancho Palomar," heexplained. "Consequently, upon the expiration of the redemption periodof one year, I shall levy an attachment against the Farrel estate. Allthe property will be sold at public auction by the sheriff to satisfymy deficiency judgment, and I shall, of course, bid in this horse."

  "I have decided I do not want him, father," she informed him halfsadly. "The ex-soldier is an old boyhood chum of the younger Farrelwho was killed, and he wants the horse."

  He glanced at her with an expression of shrewd suspicion.

  "As you desire, honey," he replied.

  "But I want you to see to it that nobody else outbids him for thehorse," she continued, earnestly. "If some one should run the price upbeyond the limits of his purse, of course I want you to outbid thatsome one, but what I do not desire you to do is to run the price up onhim yourself. He wants the horse out of sentiment, and it isn't niceto force a wounded ex-service-man to pay a high price for hissentiment."

  "Oh, I understand now," her father assured her. "Very well, littledaughter; I have my orders and will obey them."

  "Precious old darling!" she whispered, gratefully, and pursed heradorable lips to indicate to him that he might consider himself kissed.His stern eyes softened in a glance of father-love supreme.

  "Whose little girl are you?" he whispered, and, to that ancient queryof parenthood, she gave the reply of childhood:

  "Daddy's."

  "Just for that, I'll offer the soldier a tremendous profit on Panchito.We'll see what his sentiment is worth."

  "Bet you a new hat, angel-face, you haven't money enough to buy him,"Kay challenged.

  "Considering the cost of your hats, I'd be giving you rather long odds,Kay. You say this young man comes from the San Gregorio valley?"

  "So he informed me."

  "Well, there isn't a young man in the San Gregorio who doesn't need acouple of thousand dollars far worse than he needs a horse. I'll takeyour bet, Peaches. Of course you mentioned to him the fact that youwanted this horse?"

  "Yes. And he said I couldn't have him--that he was going to acquirehim."

  "Perhaps he was merely jesting with you."

  "No; he meant it."

  "I believe," he said, smiling, "that it is most unusual of young men toshow such selfish disregard of your expressed desires."

  "Flatterer! I like him all the more for it. He's a man with somebackbone."

  "So I noticed. He wears the ribbon of the Congressional Medal ofHonor. Evidently he is given to exceeding the speed-limit. Did hetell you how he won that pale-blue ribbon with the little white starssprinkled on it?"

  "He did not. Such men never discuss those things."

  "Well, they raise fighting men in the San Gregorio, at any rate," herfather continued. "Two Medal-of-Honor men came out of it. Old DonMiguel Farrel's boy was awarded one posthumously. I was in El Toro theday the commanding general of the Western Department came down from SanFrancisco and pinned the medal on old Don Miguel's breast. The oldfellow rode in on his son's horse, and when the little ceremony wasover, he mounted and rode back to the ranch alone. Not a tear, not aquiver. He looked as regal as the American eagle--and as proud.Looking at that old don, one could readily imagine the sort of son hehad bred. The only trouble with the Farrels," he added, critically,"was that they and work never got acquainted. If these oldCalifornians would consent to imbibe a few lessons in industry andeconomy from th
eir Japanese neighbors, their wonderful state would besupporting thirty million people a hundred years from now."

  "I wonder how many of that mythical thirty millions would be Japs?" shequeried, innocently.

  "That is a problem with which we will not have to concern ourselves,Kay, because we shall not be here."

  "Some day, popsy-wops, that soldier will drop in at our ranch and lockhorns with you on the Japanese question."

  "When he does," Parker replied, good-naturedly, "I shall make astar-spangled monkey out of him. I'm loaded for these Californians.I've investigated their arguments, and they will not hold water, I tellyou. I'll knock out the contentions of your unknown knight liketenpins in a bowling-alley. See if I don't."

  "He's nobody's fool, dad."

  "Quite so. He knows why young turkeys are hard to raise in the fall?"

  She bent upon him a radiant smile of the utmost good humor.

  "Score one for the unknown knight," she bantered. "That is more thanwe know. And turkey was sixty cents a pound last Thanksgiving!Curious information from our view-point, perhaps, but profitable."

  He chuckled over his salad.

  "You're hopelessly won to the opposition," he declared. "Leave yourcheck for me, and I'll pay it. And if your unknown knight returns tothe observation-car, ask him about those confounded turkeys."