Ancestors: A Novel

  VIII

  He did not see Isabel again for three weeks. Several days after hisarrival he received a note from her, briefly stating that she wasstarting for Los Angeles to exhibit her prize Favarolles and Leghorns ata "Chicken show," and after that would pay a long deferred visit to hersister. "But I shall not be long," she added, possibly with a flicker ofcontrition, "only they have been planning things for me for ages and Iam always putting them off. I will spend a week--not with them, exactly,but at their disposal, and it will be a relief to have it over."

  Gwynne felt himself ill-treated, but shrugged his shoulders with a newphilosophy not all doggedness, and easily stretched to embrace thevagaries of woman. And, in truth, he found an abundance of occupation.Ascertaining that Mr. Leslie was away, he spent his time on the ranch,examining its various yields, divisions, possibilities; to say nothingof its books and history. The dairy was now an insignificant affair,experiments having proved disastrous, and his superintendent advised himto let it remain so. The greatest yield was in hay, and cattle raisedfor the market. The last lessee had come to grief over blood horses, andGwynne's agents had accepted what remained of the racers and breeders indefault of apocryphal cash. Although advised that they could be sold toadvantage if haste were not imperative, Gwynne, who had a large balancein the bank, determined to continue the experiment. Many acres of theranch were profitably let, although by the month only, as pasture bothfor cows and horses. The orchards always made a handsome yield, and thevegetable garden and strawberry beds needed only proper care to becomeremunerative. Moreover, several acres had recently been planted withkale, a favorite food of the conquering Leghorn, and there were fineruns on the hills that might be fenced off for sheep--or chickens; butat this point the superintendent always detected something even defiantin his employer's cold indifference, and told his friends that theEnglishman was "haughty in spots."

  It was all very satisfactory, but in order to bring him a reallyconsiderable increase of income he must dismiss his superintendent--whonow drew a salary of a hundred and fifty dollars a month, and who didnot inspire him with unbounded trust--and become his own manager, anoffice which would not only make heavy demands upon his time, turninghim virtually into a farmer, with little leisure for the reading andpractice of law, but no doubt involve the sacrifice of money as well; hedid not flatter himself that he could learn to "run" a ranch of nineteenthousand varied acres in a season. His superintendent was a half-breedMexican, the son of his cook, quick, voluble, and experienced in theways of the ranch, upon which he had worked since boyhood. Gwynne hadcalled on Mr. Colton at the bank two days after his arrival, and the oldgentleman, who had an eye like a gimlet and a mouth like a steel trap,had consigned all "greasers" to subterranean fires, and emphasized thefact that he had hired Carlos Smith by the month only. A better manwould demand a year's contract. There were infinite possibilities for"the greaser" to pocket a goodly share of the profits, and "cover up histracks." And it might be a year or two before a superintendent could befound capable in every way of managing so complicated a ranch.

  While he was still revolving the problem he met Mr. Leslie and TomColton, who advised him to sell at least half the ranch to smallfarmers. Properties of four and five acres were in increasing demand inthis fertile county, and equally difficult to obtain. He had but the oneinterview with them, as they were starting the same day to attend tosome business in the north, but after revolving the matter in all itsbearings for another ten days he made up his mind to accept theiradvice, consoled his crestfallen superintendent with the promise ofconstant work, and set forth one afternoon to place his advertisements.

  He had visited the town but twice since his arrival, and then in themorning. To-day he saw it characteristically for the first time. Thehills that formed a cove of the great valley were bright with theirhouses and gardens, but very quiet. The long sloping block of MainStreet was crowded with wagons, buggies, and horses, that from adistance looked to be a solid mass; and even when he rode into theirmidst he found some difficulty in forcing his way. Where the dustyvehicles were not moving they were tied to every post, the horses withtheir front feet on the sidewalk observing the familiar throng withfriendly patient eyes. The shops were doing a rushing business, and so,Gwynne inferred, were the banks. As for the saloons, their doors swungwith mechanical precision. Most of the farmers wore linen dusters andbroad straw hats, but their women had put on all their finery. The girlsof the town could be readily distinguished by their crisp muslins andwhite hats and absence of dust. There were groups of Rosewater girlsholding rendezvous with their country cousins everywhere, although forthe most part in the drug stores, which, with their tiled floors andample space, looked like public reception-rooms. There were many knotsof men under the broad roof over the pavement, but in spite of theubiquitous saloon no drunkenness. Nor was there a policeman in sight.Nor a shop for fire-arms. Gone were the old days when a man drank tillhis brain was fire and his pistol went off by itself. The sting had beenextracted from California and she had settled down to practicalconsideration of her vast resources; and in the comfortable assurancethat there was enough for all. Gwynne had not seen a beggar nor a paupersince his arrival.

  He placed his advertisements with both the local newspapers, to avoidthe ill-will of either, posted others to the San Francisco press, andwas riding down Main Street in order to have a closer look at the longhitching-rail lined on either side with another solid mass of horses andvehicles, when he caught sight of Isabel driving a buggy and evidentlysearching for an empty post. He laid aside his grievance and made hisway to her side. She quite beamed with welcome, and they disentangledthemselves into a side street, where there were empty posts.

  "I only got home at half-past eleven last night," she informed him. "Theboat was three hours late in starting, and when I finally made up mymind to come by train the last had gone. So I overslept this morning orI should have gone out to see you. But I meant to telephone you fromhere and ask you to come out for the first duck-shooting--"

  "Duck-shooting!" Gwynne forgot the grievance.

  "The season opens to-day--the fifteenth of October. I had meant reallyto ask you for the first thing this morning. Never mind, we have plentyof time, and you will not have to go home for anything. Just wait hereuntil I do my errands."

  He tied his horse next to hers and sat down in the shade on a chairprovided by a friendly store-keeper. In less than half an hour shereturned, and they started for Old Inn. Isabel had never seemed socharming to him as they rode slowly out of the town and along the dustyroad. Smiling and sparkling, she asked him rapid eager questions abouthis ranch, his plans, his comforts, whom he had met, how he had passedhis days and evenings. The truth was she had practically forgotten him,and her conscience smote her. Her week in San Francisco had waxed to afortnight, for she had enjoyed herself far more than was usual in thecompany of her relatives. Lyster Stone was one of the most agreeable ofmen when debts were not more than usually pressing, and as he had justpainted a drop curtain and sold a picture for a considerable sum, he hadreplenished his own elaborate wardrobe, given his wife a new frock,silenced the loudest of his creditors, and thought it worth while to"blow the rest in" on a sister-in-law who seemed to have no taste formatrimony. Moreover, he really liked and admired her, and he liked stillmore to spend money. When his pockets were full of actual coin heabandoned himself to sheer happiness. Debt had bred philosophy;moreover, his wife relieved him of too depressing a contact with duns,and there were times when his respite was longer than he deserved. Ifhis Paula had a little way of cajoling the amount out of her sister'spocket, why not? He had never refused a friend in need, and, in truth,could see no use for money except to spend it. If all the world did notwag his way, so much the worse for cold-blooded mercenary superfluousbeings. So, the two weeks had been a round of dinners at the gayBohemian restaurants, chafing-dish suppers at his own and other studios,the theatre and opera, and long walks about the brilliant streets atnight. It was all the more interesting to Isa
bel from its odd wildlikeness to foreign life. She had heard much of this American"continental" flavor of San Francisco life, only to be tasted byartificial light, and she had given herself up to it with an abandon ofwhich she possessed a sufficient reserve. But one cloud had risen on theblue, and as it emptied itself in a torrent, it was a matter forcongratulation that it had tarried the fortnight.

  A woman of growing wealth, who affected artists' society, had continuedto live in her pretty odd little house, but had recently done it up likea stuffed and scented jeweller's box. The tiny salon was her pride. Itwas all cherry satin and white lace, the furniture lilliputian, to matchthe proportions of the room and the lady. She was large-eyed,dark-haired, pretty, and the room set her off admirably. It was herethat she invariably received her artist friends, and felt herself atlast set in a definite niche, in the city of individualities. One day,in a spasm of generosity, she bade Stone, calling in a mood of unusualdepression, to paint it, and sell for his own benefit what, at least,should be a glowing bit of still life. Stone began his work next day,meaning, when the seductive interior was finished, to induce his patronto sit on the doll-like sofa for a portrait, irresistible alike to hervanity and pocket. But she capriciously went off to New York forclothes, and he exhibited the picture in the shop of a dealer wherebuyers were not infrequent. Thence, indeed, in the course of a few dayswent a wealthy broker whose sign was three balls. He liked the picture,but bargained that himself should sit on the sofa. His offer wasgenerous. Stone, to do him justice, demurred, for all Bohemia, at least,knew the room. But Mrs. Paula wept at the thought of the lost hundreds,and he succumbed. The result, at the owner's insistence, was exhibited.The lady returned as unexpectedly as she had flown, and was asked atevery step if she had "seen her room." Scenting mystery, she wentto the gallery; and stood petrified before the faithful presentmentof her cherry-colored satin boudoir, the very edge of the sofaaccommodating a large gentleman with an eminent nose, a bulgingshirt-front--diamond-studded--and knees long severed. He looked like aHebraic Gulliver in Lilliput, and the unities were in tatters. Shestared, stuttered, wept. And then she descended upon Stone.

  Gwynne laughed heartily as Isabel related the episode, but they fellinto silence after they crossed the bridge and were able to acceleratetheir pace. He made no effort to break it, although Isabel had neverfound him more polite. She also thought him vastly improved with histhick coat of tan, and almost picturesque in his khaki riding-clothesand high boots. There were more subtle changes in him which it was toowarm and dusty to speculate upon at the moment.

  Gwynne had restrained his spontaneous delight in seeing Isabel again.Not only did he have a genuine grievance in her neglect of him, but hehad no intention that she should fancy he had need of anything she couldgive him, beyond superficial companionship and advice. More than onceduring the past weeks he had caught himself longing so miserably for hersympathy and the support of her strong independent character that it hadalarmed him. He realized for the first time what a prop and resource thedeep maturity and scornful strength of his mother had been. He mustbrace and reinforce his character at all points if he persisted in hisdetermination to achieve the colossal task he had set for himself.Woman's sympathy was all very well for some men, or for him in moretoward circumstances, but he had looked deeply into himself and beenterrified at unsuspected weaknesses. He had set his teeth and determinedto fight his fight alone. If he failed, at least he would have theconsolation of never having cried out to a woman: "Give me your help! Ineed you!"

  He did not betray the least of this, but his first remark as they restedthe horses on the slight hill leading to Isabel's ranch was lessirrelevant than it may have seemed to himself.

  "I suppose you met all sorts of interesting Johnnies in that beloved SanFrancisco of yours," he said, abruptly.

  "Of course. It will be quite cool in an hour and we can go out.Fortunately I never gave away Uncle Hiram's shooting-togs, and he wasquite your height and figure. We'll take tea and sandwiches with us sothat we need not hurry home for supper."

  She suddenly forgot the ducks and pointed with her whip at the low hillsbehind her house. The runs were covered with several thousandsnow-white, red-combed chickens, and all their little white houses shonein the sun. The effect was by no means inartistic, but Gwynne elevatedhis nose. He hated the sight of chickens.

  "Did you ever see anything more beautiful than that?" asked Isabel,proudly. "They all know me, and I love every one of them."

  "I don't doubt there is money in them," said Gwynne, dryly. "But as apet I should prefer even a cat."

  "Oh, I only pet them when they are ill. There is an old feather-bed inthe house, and I put them in that when they need nursing at night. Thatis a device of my own, and much better than going out at twelve o'clockon a cold dark night. By-the-way, I think your idea of selling half ormore of Lumalitas admirable. Great tracts of land in this part of theState are out of date, and more bother than they are worth, anywhere.You can invest the money to great advantage in San Francisco; but Ithink you should devote the rest of the ranch to chickens--"

  "No, madam!" Gwynne turned upon her the glittering eye of an animal atbay. Then he laughed. "I have heard that proposition from every man Ihave met and daily from my superintendent until I managed to suppresshim. I won't have a chicken on the ranch. The sight of them not onlyfills me with ennui, but I have no intention of presenting your comicpapers with material. I could write their jokes myself--'_Gwynne beforeand after_': Westminster in the background and a hayseed figure in frontaddressing a constituency of chickens. Stumping the country with eggs inmy pockets for the children. Dining the eminent members of myconstituency on horse-meat, under the delusion that what is good forchickens is good for votes. 'Leghorn Gwynne.' 'The Member fromChickenville.' No thanks. No weapons that I can withhold."