CHAPTER XXIII
FAITH'S FARM
Angus was riding fast for Faith Winton's ranch. Rain had fallen steadilyfor two days, and was still falling. The hills were veiled to theirbases in low clouds. Mists hung everywhere, rising from little lakes,hanging low over the bottoms, clinging to the tree-tops of thebenchlands. The rain would do good, undoubtedly, but it could not repairthe damage of the drouth.
Angus had not seen Faith for a fortnight. As he rode, head down againstthe rain, half unconsciously he began to picture unimportant details. Ofcourse, on such a beastly day, she would be at home. There would be anopen fire, and perhaps music. Music and an open fire! The combinationsuited him. Perhaps--
A live bomb landed beneath Chief's feet with an explosion of barking.The big horse, taken by surprise, bounded and kicked. And as Anguscaught him hard with the rein and a word picked at random from avocabulary suited to the comprehension of western horses, he saw FaithWinton.
She was cased against the rain in a long slicker, and a tarpaulin hatprotected her fair head. Beneath the broad brim of it her face, rosy andclear-skinned, laughed up at him as he brought Chief up with asuddenness which made his hoofs cut slithering grooves in the slop.
"Jehu, the son of Nimshi, rideth furiously. Also he useth vain words tohis steed."
Angus reddened, for a man's remarks to his horse are in the nature ofconfidential communications.
"I didn't see you," he said, dismounting beside her.
"Melord of many acres honors the poor ranch maiden. Methought he hadforgotten her existence."
"You know better than that."
"Well, perhaps I do. I hope your flume is all right now. But of coursethis rain--"
He did not undeceive her.
"I never expected to see you out on a day like this."
"Like this? Why, I never could stay in, on a rainy day. I must get out.Good for the complexion."
"I can see the complexion part of it. I wonder if you know how becomingthat slicker hat is?"
She laughed up at him. "Of course I know. Do you think I'd wear it if Ididn't?"
"I never saw one on a girl before."
"No? They're supposed to be purely masculine, I know." She cocked thehat on one side and sang:
"If it be a girl she shall wear a golden ring, And if it be a boy he shall fight for his king, With his tarpaulin hat, and his coat of navy blue He shall pace the quarter-deck as his daddy used to do."
Her rich contralto rang down the misty aisles beneath the dripping firs.
"Fine!" Angus applauded. "That's a great old song." She nodded and swunginto the old, original refrain, her voice taking on the North Countryburr:
"O-ho! it's hame, lads, hame, an' it's hame we yet wull be-- Back thegither scatheless in the North Countree; Hame wi' wives an' bairns an' sweethearts in our ain countree-- Whaur the ash, an' the oak, an' the bonnie hazel tree, They be all a-growin' green in our ain countree."
"I like those old songs," Angus approved.
"So do I. Modern songs seem to me cheap things, written just to sell.But the old ones--the real, old songs that were the songs of generationsbefore us--weren't really written at all. Somehow, when I sing them Ifeel that I am almost touching the spirits of those who sang them manyyears ago." She stopped abruptly. "And now you'll think I'm silly!"
"Not a bit. Spirits! Old Murdoch McGillivray--"
"Who was he?"
"A friend of my father's. He had the gift."
"The gift?"
"I mean the second sight."
"You believe in that?"
"Well, he foretold his own death."
"Not really?"
"It comes to the same thing. The last night he was at our house he wasplaying the pipes, and suddenly he stopped and would play no more.Before he left he told my father he had seen himself lying dead besiderunning water. A week after that they found him dead beside the creek.What would you think?"
"I don't know," Faith admitted. "It's a thin veil, and some may seebeyond." She shivered. "I wish you had the second sight yourself. Thenyou might tell me what to do."
"About what?" he asked.
"Uncle Godfrey has made me an offer for my land, and I don't knowwhether to accept it or not."
"Will he give you a fair price?"
"He offers the price paid for the land and the cost of the improvementsI have made."
It seemed to Angus that Godfrey French had some conscience left. But itmight be less conscience than fear that the girl would find out how hehad cheated her father. Restitution was practically forced on him if hehad the money to make good, and apparently, in spite of what Judge Rileyhad said, he had.
"I would take his offer," Angus advised reluctantly, for it meant thathe would lose his neighbor.
"Why?"
"Why? Why, I've always told you you can't make a success of ranching."
"And I've never admitted it. I'm gaining experience. And land is goingup."
"Some land."
"Then why not this? What is the matter with my land?"
Angus evaded the direct challenge. "The place is too big for you.There's a lot of it, like that little, round mountain, that's no good atall."
"Which is directly against your contention that the place is too big forme. But if this land is worth what was paid for it, it should be worthmore to-day."
Suddenly Angus began to wonder what had spurred French's conscience.
"Why does he want to buy?"
"Partly, he says, to take a white elephant off my hands; and partly forBlake."
"For Blake?" Angus exclaimed in amazement.
"Blake wants a ranch of his own. You don't believe it?"
"Not a word of it."
"Perhaps Uncle Godfrey is merely inventing that reason. He may have noother than a desire to take the property off my hands, if he thinks Ican't work it profitably."
"It seems funny," Angus said, thoughtfully. "If he wants to buy forBlake he may offer more. I don't think, after all, I'd be in a hurry todecide."
"I'll take that advice, and wait. But here we are at the house. PutChief in the stable. You'll stay for supper, of course."
Angus stayed. But all evening he was preoccupied. Again and again hewent over the puzzle. Why did Godfrey French want to buy that dry ranch?Why had he given a reason which was not a reason? Why had he lied aboutBlake? He could find no satisfactory answers to these questions.
His reflections were interrupted by the unexpected appearance of Blakehimself, and Blake was obviously half-drunk. He acknowledged Angus'presence with a nod and a growl, and thereafter ignored him, devotinghimself to Faith. His attitude toward her was familiar, and when at hisrequest she went to the piano glad to escape his conversation, he leanedover her, placing a hand on her shoulder, an action which made Anguslong to break his neck. But she rose from the piano.
"No, I won't play any more. You must have some refreshments. Tea, coffeeor cocoa?"
"Not strong on any of 'em," said Blake. "But all right if _you_ make'em. Drink anything _you_ make, li'l girl!"
Without reply Faith left the room, and without invitation Angus followedher. In the hall she turned fury blazing in her eyes.
"He's disgusting!"
"Shall I send him home?"
"He wouldn't go. I wish he would."
"I can make him go," Angus said hopefully. "I'd like to."
"No, no, that wouldn't do. I'll just have to put up with him. Perhapshe'll be better. Why, there's somebody in the kitchen. I didn't knowMrs. Foley had a visitor. Why, it's your man, Gus!"
Gus was established in a chair which he had balanced on its hind legsagainst the wall. Around its front legs his huge feet were hooked. Apipe was clenched in his teeth, and on his face was placid content.
"Yaas," he announced, "Ay ban purty gude man on a rench. Ay roon datrench for Engus, yoost like Ay roon him for hes fader."
"Ye run th' ranch f'r th' ould man, did ye?" Mrs. Foley commented.
"S
ure," Gus affirmed. "Me and him we roon him. Engus, he don't know muchabout a rench. If it ent for me, Ay tank he mek dam' fule out of thewhole t'ing."
"Gawd, but ye hate yerself!" said his auditor. "If ye know so much, whyain't ye got a half section or bether of yer own, instid of dhrillin'along a hired man?"
"Vell, Ay don't see yoost vat Ay like," Gus explained. "Ay mek gudemoney."
"Who gets it?" asked Mrs. Foley. "Th' barkeep?"
Big Gus grinned. "Mebbe he gat some. But Ay got a stake saved up. Ven Aysee a gude rench mebbe Ay buy him. But a faller alone on a rench hafpurty hard time. He needs a woman to cook and vash by him."
"Is that so?" snorted Mrs. Foley. "But, be me sowl, I b'lieve ye'retellin' the stark, naked trut' as ye see ut. That's all the loikes ivyez sees in a woman."
"Soome time," said Gus reflectively, "mebbe Ay gat me a voman."
"Hiven help her!" said Mrs. Foley piously. Gus surveyed her calmly.
"If Ay gat a voman," he announced, "Ay skall gat one dat ent no fule."
"Any woman ye get will be," Mrs. Foley retorted with a meaning which gotpast Gus entirely.
"Vell, Ay don't know," he returned. "Some vomans is gat soome sense vendey gat old enough. Ay don't vant no good-lookin' young dancin' girl datdon't know how to cook. Ay gat me soome day a rench, and a gude strongvoman like you, and settle down."
Faith smothered her mirth with difficulty. "There's a pointer for you,Angus!" she whispered.
"Mrs. Foley will murder him now," he returned.
"Ye have ut down fine," Mrs. Foley snorted, "an' all I hope is that yeget a woman that'll lay ye out wid a rowlin' pin in life, an' wid acleaner shirt nor ye have on now, when yer time comes. An' ut's methat's lit candles, head an' feet, for foour men already. Though belikeut's no candles ye'll have to light yer way up or down. Phwat belief areye, ye big Swede?"
Gus scratched his head and pondered.
"Ay vote democrat in Meenneesota," he replied, "but Ay tank Ay bansocialist now."
"Agh-r-r!" snarled Mrs. Foley. "I mean phwat religion are ye, or ain'tye?"
Gus scratched his head again.
"Ay tank mebbe Ay ban Christian," he said doubtfully.
"Ay tank mebbe ye're a Scandahoovian haythen," Mrs. Foley mimicked.
But the entrance of Faith and Angus cut short her further theologicalresearch. Faith explained her wants.
"It's for Blake French, Mary," she said. "He's--well, we thought hemight feel better if--"
"Is he dhrunk, bad scran till him?"
"Half," Angus nodded.
"Then, instid of feedin' him why don't ye t'run him out?"
"I'd be glad to, but--"
"No, no," Faith broke in, "he may be better--"
"A bad actor an' a raw wan is that same lad," Mrs. Foley announced withconviction, "an' comin' around here too much. I am not yer mother, butif I was--"
"Please, Mary!" Faith cried, her cheeks scarlet.
"Well, well," Mrs. Foley observed, "coffee an' pickles is th' best thingf'r him, barrin' p'ison. Go yer ways, an' I'll bring ut in whin ready."
They returned to the living room and the society of Blake. He met themwith a scowl. He chose to interpret the fact that he had been left alonein the light of an insult. He was surly, glaring at Angus. The coffee,cold meat and pickles which presently appeared did not change his mood.The liquor dying in him left a full-sized grouch as a legacy.
Angus ignored his attitude. Faith tried to make conversation, but it wasa failure. Time passed and it grew late. Apparently Blake was waitingout Angus. The latter did not know what to do, but he had no intentionof leaving Blake behind him. Finally, however, he was forced to make amove. He bade Faith good night. She turned to Blake.
"Good night, Blake."
"Oh, I'm not going yet," he announced.
"It's late, Blake, and I'm tired."
"I want to talk to you."
"Not to-night, please. Come to-morrow."
"No, I'll talk to you to-night."
"Not to-night, Blake."
"Well, you will," Blake declared with an oath. "Trying to get rid of me,are you? And I suppose this Mackay--"
"That will do now," Angus interrupted. "Be careful what you say."
"Say!" Blake roared, his temper getting the better of his prudence,"I'll say what I like. What business have you hanging around here? It'stime--"
"It's time you went," Angus told him, "and you're going, do you savvy?Come along, or I'll take you."
"You--" Blake began, but got no further, for Angus slapped the wordsback against his teeth and caught him by wrist and collar.
The struggle was short and sharp. A couple of chairs went over. And thenAngus got his grip.
"Give him th' bummer's run!" shrieked Mrs. Foley from the door.
"Open the front door!" Angus commanded Gus.
When it was open he shot Blake through with a rush and outside releasedhim.
"Now, Blake French, I want to tell you something," he said. "You have adirty tongue in your head. See that you keep it between your teeth, andmind that never again do you come here drunk. For as sure as you do andI hear of it, I will break half the bones in your body. Is that plainenough for you?"
Blake swore deeply. "I'll get you for this," he threatened.
"Then get me right," said Angus, "for the next time I lay my hands onyou I will break you. Remember that."
Riding homeward beside Gus he thought over the events of the evening. Itseemed fated that he should lock horns with Blake. He regretted that hehad not thrown him out sooner. For the latter's threat he did not careat all. As he looked at it Blake had not enough sand to make his wordsgood.
"Ay tank," said Gus, "dat faller, Blake, he'd do purty dirty trick."
"Maybe."
Gus was silent for a mile.
"Dat's purty fine voman," he announced.
"Yes," Angus agreed absently, "Miss Winton is a fine girl."
"Ay ent mean her," said Gus; "Ay mean dae Irish voman."
Angus grinned in the darkness. "Sure," he said, "she's a fine, strongwoman."
Gus sighed.