Starr, of the Desert, Page 2

  CHAPTER TWO

  IN WHICH PETER DISCOVERS A WAY OUT

  We are always exclaiming over the strange way in which events linkthemselves together in chains; and when the chains bind us to a certaincondition or environment, we are in the habit of blandly declaringourselves victims of the force of circumstances. By that rule, Peterfound himself being swept into a certain channel of thought about whichevents began at once to link themselves into a chain which drew himperforce into a certain path that he must follow. Or it may have been hispeculiar single-mindedness that forced him to follow the path; howeverthat may be, circumstances made it easy.

  If Helen May worried about her cough and her failing energy, she did notmention the fact again; but that was Helen May's way, and Peter was notcomforted by her apparent dismissal of the subject. So far as he couldsee she was a great deal more inclined to worry over Vic, who refused tostay in school when he could now and then earn a dollar or two acting in"mob scenes" for some photoplay company out in Hollywood. He did notspend the money wisely; Helen May declared that he was better off withempty pockets.

  Ordinarily Peter would have taken Vic's rebellion seriously enough to puta stop to it. He did half promise Helen May that he would notify all thedirectors he could get hold of not to employ Vic in any capacity; even to"chase him off the studio grounds", as Helen May put it. But he did not,because chance threw him a bit of solid material on which to rebuild hisair castle for Helen May.

  He was edging his way down the long food counter, collecting his lunch ofrice pudding, milk and whole-wheat bread in a cafeteria on Hill Street.He was late, and there was no unoccupied table to be had, so he finallyset his tray down where a haggard-featured woman clerk had just eatenhastily her salad and pie. A brown-skinned young fellow with countrymanners and a range-fostered disposition to talk with any one who tarriedwithin talking distance, was just unloading his tray load of provender onthe opposite side of the table. He looked across at Peter's tray, grinnedat the meager luncheon, and then looked up into Peter's face withfriendliness chasing the amusement from his eyes.

  "Golly gee! There's a heap of difference in our appetites, from the looksof our layouts," he began amiably. "I'm hungry as a she-wolf, myself.Hope they don't make me wash the dishes when I'm through; I'm alwayskinda scared of these grab-it-and-go joints. I always feel like making asneak when nobody's looking, for fear I'll be called back to clean up."

  Peter smiled and handed his tray to a waiter. "I wish I could eat a meallike that," he confessed politely.

  "Well, you could if you lived out more in the open. Town kinda gits aperson's appetite. Why, first time I come in here and went down the chutepast the feed troughs, why it took two trays to pack away the grub I seenand wanted. Lookout lady on the high stool, she give me twotickets--thought there was two of, me, I reckon. But I ain't eatin' theway I was then. Town's kinda gittin' me like it's got the rest of you.Last night I come pretty near makin' up my mind to go back. Little oldshack back there in the greasewood didn't look so bad, after all. Only Ido hate like sin to bach, and a fellow couldn't take a woman out there inthe desert to live, unless he had money to make her comfortable. So I'mgoing to give up my homestead--if I can find some easy mark to buy out myrelinquishment. Don't want to let it slide, yuh see, 'cause theimprovements is worth a little something, and the money'd come handyright now, helpin' me into something here. There's a chance to buy intoa nice little service station, fellow calls it--where automobiles stop togit pumped up with air and gasoline and stuff. If I can sell myimprovements, I'll buy in there. Looks foolish to go back, once I made upmy mind to quit."

  He ate while he talked, and he talked because he had the simple mind ofa child and must think out loud in order to be perfectly at ease. Hehad that hunger for speech which comes sometimes to men who have livedfar from their kind. Peter listened to him vaguely at first; thenavidly, with an inner excitement which his mild, expressionless facehid like a mask.

  "I was getting kinda discouraged when my horse up 'n died," the eaterwent on. "And then when some durn greaser went 'n stole my burro, I jestup 'n sold my saddle and a few head uh sheep I had, and pulled out. NewMexico ranching is all right for them that likes it, but excuse me! Iwant to live where I can see a movie once in a while, anyhow." He stoppedfor the simple, primitive reason that he had filled his mouth tooverflowing with food, so that speech was for the moment a physicalimpossibility.

  Peter sipped his glass of milk, and his thoughts raced back and forthbetween the door of opportunity that stood ajar, and the mountain ofdifficulty which he must somehow move by his mental strength alonebefore he and his might pass through that door.

  "Ah--how much do you value your improvements at?" he asked. His emotionwas so great that his voice refused to carry it, and so was flat and asexpressionless as his commonplace face.

  "Well," gurgled the young man, sluicing down his food with coffee, "it'spretty hard to figure exactly. I've got a good little shack, you see, andthere's a spring right close handy by. Springs is sure worth money inthat country, water being scurse as it is. There's a plenty for the houseand a few head of stock; well, in a good wet year a person could raise alittle garden, maybe; few radishes and beans, and things like that. Butuh course, that can't hardly be called an improvement, 'cause it wasthere when I took the place. A greaser, he had the land fenced and wasusin' the spring 'n' range like it was his own, and most folks, they wasscared to file on it. But she's sure filed on now, and I've got six weeksyet before it can be jumped.

  "Well, there's a shed for stock, and a pretty fair brush corral, and Ibuilt me a pretty fair road in to the place--about a mile off the mainroad, it is. I done that odd times the year I was on the place. Thesheep I sold; sheep's a good price now. I only had seventeen--coyotesand greasers, they kep' stealin' 'em on me, or I'd 'n' had more. I'd'a' lost 'em all, I guess, if it hadn't been for Loma--dog I got withme. Them--"

  Peter looked at his watch in that furtive way which polite persons employwhen time presses and a companion is garrulous. He had finished his ricepudding and his milk, and in five minutes he would be expected to hang uphis hat behind the mirrored partition of the New Era Drug Store and walkout smilingly to serve the New Era customers, patrons, the New Era calledthem. In five minutes he must be on duty, yet Peter felt that his verylife depended upon bringing this wordy young man to a point in hismonologue.

  "If you will come to the New Era Drug Store, at six o'clock," said Peter,"I shall be glad to talk with you further about this homestead of yours.I--ah--have a friend who has an idea of--ah--locating somewhere inArizona or New Mexico or Colorado--" Peter could name them now withoutthat sick feeling of despair "--and he might be interested. But," headded hastily, "he could not afford to pay very much for a place. Still,if your price is low enough--"

  "Oh, I reckon we can git together on the price," the young man saidcheerfully, as Peter rose and picked up his check. "I'll be there at six,sure as shootin' cats in a bag. I know where the New Era's at. I went inthere last night and got something to stop my tooth achin'. Ached likethe very devil for a while, but that stuff sure fixed her."

  Peter smiled and bowed and went his way hurriedly, his pale lips workingnervously with the excitement that filled him. The mountain of difficultywas there, implacably blocking the way. But beyond was the door ofopportunity, and the door was ajar. There must, thought Peter, be someway to pass the mountain and reach the door.

  Helen May telephoned that she meant to pick out that gray suit for himthat evening. Since it was Saturday, the stores would be open, and therewas a sale on at Hecheimer's. She had seen some stunning grays in thewindow, one-third off. And would he....

  Peter's voice was almost irritable when he told her that he had abusiness engagement and could not meet her. And he added the informationthat he would probably eat down town, as he did not know how long hewould be detained. Helen May was positively forbidden to do anything atall about the suit until he had a chance to talk with her. After whichunprecedented firmness Pet
er left the 'phone hurriedly, lest Helen Mayshould laugh at his authority and lay down a law of her own, which shewas perfectly capable of doing.

  At five minutes to six the young man presented himself at the New Era,and waited for Peter at the soda fountain, with a lemon soda and a prettygirl to smile at his naive remarks. Peter's heart had given a jump and aflutter when the young man walked in, fearing some one else might snap atthe chance to buy a relinquishment of a homestead in New Mexico. And yet,how did Peter expect to buy anything of the sort? If Peter knew, he keptthe knowledge in the back of his mind, telling himself that there wouldbe some way out.

  He went with the young man, whose name he learned was Johnny Calvert, andhad dinner with him at the cafeteria where they had met at noon. Johnnytalked a great deal, ate a great deal, and unconsciously convinced Peterthat he was an honest young man who was exactly what he representedhimself to be. He had papers which proved his claim upon three hundredand twenty acres of land in Dona Ana County, New Mexico. He also had amap upon which the location of his claim was marked with a pencil.Malpais, he said, was the nearest railroad point; not much of a point,but you could ride there and back in a day, if you got up early enough inthe morning.

  Peter asked about the climate and the altitude. Johnny was a bit hazyabout the latter, but it was close to mountains, he said, and it was ashigh as El Paso, anyway, maybe higher. The climate was like all therest of the country, coming in streaks of good and bad. Peter, gainingconfidence as Johnny talked, spoke of his daughter and her impendingdoom, and Johnny, instantly grasping the situation, waxed eloquent. Why,that would be just the place, he declared. Dry as a bone, the weatherwas most of the year; hot--the lungers liked it hot and dry, he knew.And when it was cold, it was sure bracing, too. Why, the country wasalive with health-seekers. At that, most of 'em got well--them thatdidn't come too late.

  That last sentence threw Peter into a panic. What if he dawdled along andkept Helen May waiting until it was too late? By that time I think Peterhad pretty clearly decided how he was to remove the mountain ofdifficulty. He must have, or he would not have had the courage to drivethe bargain to a conclusion in so short a time.

  Drive it he did, for at nine o'clock he let himself into the place hecalled home and startled Helen May with the announcement that he hadbought her a claim in New Mexico, where she was to live out of doors likean Indian and get over that cough, and grow strong as any peasant woman;and where Vic was going to keep out of mischief and learn to amount tosomething. He did not say what the effect would be upon himself; Peterwas not accustomed to considering himself except as a provider ofcomfort for others.

  Helen May did not notice the omission. "_Bought_ a claim?" she repeatedand added grimly: "What with?"

  "With two hundred dollars cash," Peter replied, smiling queerly. "It'sall settled, Babe, and the claim is to stand in your name. Everything isattended to but the legal signatures before a notary. I was glad my moneywas in the all-night bank, because I was not compelled to wait untilMonday to get it for young Calvert. You will have the relinquishment ofhis right to the claim, Babe, and a small adobe house with sheds andyards and a good spring of living water. In building up the place into aprofitable investment you will be building up your health, which is thefirst and greatest consideration. I--you must not go the way your motherwent. You will not, because you will live in the open and throw offthe--ah--incipient--"

  "Dad--_Stevenson_!" Helen May was sitting with her arms lying loose inher lap, palms upward. Her lips had been loose and parted a little withthe slackness of blank amazement. In those first awful minutes she reallybelieved that her father had suddenly lost his mind; that he was jokingnever occurred to her. Peter was not gifted with any sense of humorwhatsoever, and Helen May knew it as she knew the color of his hair.

  "You will no longer be a wage slave, doomed to spend eight hours of everyday before a typewriter in that insurance office. You will beindependent--a property owner who can see that property grow under yourthought and labor. You will see Vic growing up among clean, healthfulsurroundings. He will be able to bear much of the burden--the brunt ofthe work. The boy is in a fair way to be ruined if he stays here anylonger. There will be six weeks of grace before the claim can beseized--ah--jumped, the young man called it. In that time you must belocated upon the place. But you should make all possible haste in anycase, on account of your health. Monday morning we will go together withyoung Calvert and attend to the legal papers, and then I should adviseyou to devote your time to making preparations--"

  "Dad--_Stevenson_!" Helen May's voice ended in an exasperated, frightenedkind of wail. "I and Vic! Are you crazy?"

  "Not at all. It is sudden, of course. But you will find, when you stop tothink it over, that many of the wisest things we ever do are done withoutdawdling,--suddenly, one may say. No, Babe, I--"

  "But two hundred dollars just for the rights to the claim! Dad, look atit calmly! To build up a ranch takes money. I don't know a thing aboutranching, and neither do you; but we both know that much. One has to eat,even on a ranch. I wouldn't have my ten a week, remember, and youwouldn't have your salary, unless you mean to stay here and keep on atthe New Era. And that wouldn't work, dad. You know it wouldn't work. Yoursalary would barely keep you, let alone sending money to us. You can'texpect to keep yourself and furnish us money; and you've paid out all youhad in the bank. The thing's impossible on the face of it!"

  "Yes, planning from that basis, it would be impossible." Peter's eyeswere wistful. "I tried to plan that way at first; but I saw it wouldn'tdo. The expense of getting there, even, would be quite an item in itself.No, it couldn't be done that way, Babe."

  "Then will you tell me how else it is to be done?" Helen May's voice wastired and exasperated. "You say you have paid the two hundred. Thatleaves us just the furniture in this flat; and it wouldn't bring enoughto take us to the place, let alone having anything to live on when we gotthere. And my wages would stop, and so would yours. Dad, do you realizewhat you've done?" She tilted her head forward and stared at him intentlythrough her lashes, which was a trick she had.

  "Yes, Babe, I realize perfectly. I'm--not counting on just thefurniture. I--think it would pay to ship the stuff on to the claim."

  "For heaven's sake, dad! What are you counting on?" Helen May gave ahysterical laugh that set her coughing in a way to make the veins standout on forehead and throat. (Peter's hands blenched into fighting fistswhile he waited for the spasm to wear itself out. She should not go theway her mother had gone, he was thinking fiercely.) "What--are--youcounting on?" she repeated, when she could speak again.

  "Well, I'm counting on--a source that is sure," Peter replied vaguely."The way will be provided, when the time comes. I--I have thought it allout calmly, Babe. The money will be ready when you need it."

  "Dad, don't borrow money! It would be a load that would keep usstaggering for years. We are going along all right, better than hundredsof people all around us. I'm feeling better than I was; now the weatheris settled, I feel lots better. You can sell whatever you bought; maybeyou can make a profit on the sale. Try and do that, dad. Get enoughprofit to pay for that gray suit I saw in the window!" She was smiling athim now, the whimsical smile that was perhaps her greatest charm.

  "Never mind about the gray suit." Peter spoke sharply. "I won't needit." He got up irritably and began pacing back and forth across thelittle sitting room. "You're not better," he declared petulantly. "That'sthe way your mother used to talk--even up to the very last. A year inthat office would kill you. I know. The doctor said so. Your only chanceis to get into a high, dry place where you can live out of doors. He toldme so. This young man with the homestead claim was a godsend--a godsend,I tell you! It would be a crime--it would be murder to let the chanceslip by for lack of money. I'd steal the money, if I knew of any way toget by with it, and if there was no other way open. But there is a way.I'm taking it.

  "I don't want to hear any more argument," he exclaimed, facing her quitesuddenly. His eyes had a light
she had never seen in them before. "Mondayyou will go with me and attend to the necessary legal papers. After that,I'll attend to the means of getting there."

  He stood looking down at her where she sat with her hands clasped in herlap, staring up at him steadfastly from under her eyebrows. His facesoftened, quivered until she thought he was going to cry like a woman.But he only came and laid a shaking hand on her head and smoothed herhair as one caresses a child.

  "Don't oppose me in this, Babe," he said wearily. "I've thought it allout, and it's best for all of us. I can't see you dying here byinches--in the harness. And think of Vic, if that happened. He's just atthe age where he needs you. I couldn't do anything much with him alone.It's the best thing to do, the only thing to do. Don't say anything moreagainst it, don't argue. When the time comes, you'll do your partbravely, as I shall do mine. And if you feel that it isn't worth whilefor yourself, think of Vic."

  Peter turned abruptly and went into his room, and Helen May dropped herhead down upon her arms and cried awhile, though she did not clearlyunderstand why, except that life seemed very cruel, like some formlessmonster that caught and squeezed the very soul out of one. Soon she heardVic coming, and pulled herself together for the lecture he had earned bygoing out without permission and staying later than he should. On onepoint dad was right, she told herself wearily, while she was locking upfor the night. Town certainly was no place for Vic.

  The next day, urged by her father, Helen May met Johnny Calvert, andcooked him a nice dinner, and heard a great deal about her new claim. AndMonday, furthermore, the three attended to certain legal details. She hadmany moments of panic when she believed her father was out of his mind,and when she feared that he would do some desperate thing like stealingmoney to carry out this strange plan. But she did as he wished. There wasa certain inflexible quality in Peter's mild voice, a certaindetermination in his insignificant face that required obedience to hiswishes. Even Vic noticed it, and eyed Peter curiously, and asked HelenMay what ailed the old man.

  An old man Peter was when he went to his room that night, leaving HelenMay dazed and exhausted after another evening spent in absorbing queerbits of information from the garrulous Johnny Calvert. She would be ableto manage all right, now, Peter told her relievedly when Johnny left. Sheknew as much about the place as she could possibly know without havingbeen there.

  He said good night and left her wondering bewilderedly what strange thingher dad would do next. In the morning she knew.

  Peter did not answer when Helen May rapped on his door and said thatbreakfast would be ready in five minutes. Never before had he failed tocall out: "All right, Babe!" more or less cheerfully. She waited aminute, listening, and then rapped again and repeated her customaryannouncement. Another wait, and she turned the knob and looked in.

  She did not scream at what she found there. Vic, sleeping on the couchbehind a screen in the living room, yawned himself awake and proceededreluctantly to set his feet upon the floor and grope, sleepy-eyed, forhis clothes, absolutely unconscious that in the night sometime Peter hadpassed a certain mountain of difficulty and had reached out unafraid andpulled wide open the door of opportunity for his children.

  Beyond the door, Helen May was standing rigidly beside the bed wherePeter lay, and was reading for the second time the letter which Peter hadheld in his hand. At first her mind had refused to grasp its meaning.Now, reading slowly, she knew ...

  Dear Babe, (said the letter).

  Don't be horrified at what I have done. I have thought the whole matterover calmly, and I am satisfied that this is the best way. My life couldnot go on very long, anyway. The doctor made that plain enough to meSunday. I saw him. I was in a bad way with kidney trouble, he said. Iknew it before he told me. I knew I was only good for a few months moreat the most, and I would soon be a helpless burden. Besides, I have hearttrouble that will account for this sudden taking off, so you can escapeany unpleasant gossip.

  Take the life insurance and use it on that claim, for you and Vic. Liveout in the open and get well, and make a man of Vic. Three thousanddollars ought to be ample to put the ranch on a paying basis. And don'tblame your dad for collecting it now, when it will do the most good. Icould see no benefit in waiting and suffering, and letting you getfarther downhill all the while, making it that much harder to climb back.Go at once to your claim, and do your best--that is what will make yourdad happiest. You will get well, and you will make a home for you andVic, and be independent and happy. In doing this you will fulfill thelast, loving wish of your father.

  PETER STEVENSON.

  P.S. Better stock the place with goats. Johnny Calvert thinks they wouldbe better than sheep.