The Girl from Keller's Part 25

"I'm going to try. The bank deals with _me_," Sadie answered. "But come along; I hear the hired man bringing the rig."

When they got into the vehicle, Helen remarked that Sadie had brought a flexible riding whip. Since the quirt was useless for driving, Helen wondered what she meant to do with it. The trail they took ran through the gra.s.s, a sinuous riband of hard-beaten soil that flashed where it caught the light. It was seamed by ruts and fringed by wild barley but in places the gra.s.s had spread across it, leaving gaps, into which the horses' legs and the wheel sank. The smell of wild peppermint rose from among the crackling stalks as the team brushed through. Now and then a prairie-hen got up, and small animals, like English squirrels, squatted by the trail until the wheels were nearly upon them, and then dived into holes.

"The gophers are surely plentiful," Sadie remarked. "Don't know that I've seen so many around before, and that's going to be bad for the grain. They're generally worst when the crop is poor."

"Do you think the crop will be poor?"

Sadie glanced at the sky, which was a dazzling blue, flooded with light, except where the scattered clouds drove by.

"We didn't get the June rains, and the frost-damp has gone down pretty deep. Then we have had very few thunder-storms, and the sand is blowing bad. It makes trouble in parts of Manitoba, but the scrub trees in our sand-hills generally hold it up. What does Steve think?"

"He hasn't told me. Sometimes he looks anxious, but he doesn't talk about it much."

"That's Steve's way. I don't know if it's a good way. He sees when he's up against a hard thing and makes his own plans. Now I want to know my husband's troubles. You feel better when you can talk."

Helen agreed with Sadie; she often wished Stephen would talk to her about his anxieties. He wanted to save her and had confidence in himself, but she felt that he left her out too much.

"How does the sand damage the wheat?" she asked.

"Cuts the stalk. Takes time, of course, but the sharp grit puts down the grain like a binder knife, if it blows through the field long enough.

However, I'm not worrying much about that; there are worse things than the sand and drought. We're fools and make our real troubles; that's what's the matter with us."

Helen smiled. Sadie was amusing when philosophized, but Helen thought her views were sound. She had chosen a stern country, but its stinging cold and boisterous winds were invigorating, and with pluck one could overcome its material obstacles. It was human weaknesses that made for unhappiness.

"Well," she said, "we must hope the rain will come; but hadn't we better go by the long bluff? The new man has put a fence across the other trail."

Sadie left the trail, and as they crossed a hollow the tall gra.s.s rustled about the horses' legs. It had lost its verdure; the red lilies and banks of yellow flowers had withered on their parched stalks. When they reached the level the gra.s.s was only a few inches high and the wide plain rolled back in the strong light, shining pale-yellow and gray. It was only when the shadows pa.s.sed that one could see streaks and patches of faded green. In the distance a cl.u.s.ter of roofs broke the bare expanse, and Helen knew they marked the Wilkinson ranch. A horse and buggy approached it, looking very small, and she glanced at Sadie, who said nothing, although her face was stern. By and by the latter stopped her team in front of the homestead and fastened the reins to a post.

"Now," she said, "you sit on the veranda and wait for me. It was Wilkinson's rig we saw, and I'll find him in."

Wilkinson looked up from the table at which he was writing when Sadie entered the room. He was, on the whole, a handsome man, but was rather fat, and his black eyes were unusually close together. This perhaps accounted for the obliquity of his glance, which, some believed, conveyed a useful hint about his character. He was neatly dressed in light, summer clothes, although the farmers generally wore brown overalls. As he got up his look indicated that he was trying to hide his annoyance.

"This is something of a surprise, Mrs. Charnock," he said politely.

"However, if there's anything I can do--"

"You can sit down again in the meantime," Sadie replied, and occupied a chair opposite, with the quirt on her knee. "To begin with, if you're writing to your Winnipeg friend, you had better wait a bit."

"I'm not writing to Winnipeg; but don't see what this has to do with your visit."

"Then you haven't sent off Bob's cheque yet! I mean to get it back."

Wilkinson saw that he had made a rash admission. Mrs. Charnock was cleverer than he thought.

"If Bob wants it back, why didn't he come himself?"

"He doesn't know I have come," Sadie answered calmly.

Wilkinson studied her and did not like her look. Her face was hard, her color higher than usual, and her eyes sparkled ominously.

"Well," he said, "you told me you would pay no more of your husband's debts, but this is not a debt. Besides, the money must be Bob's, since he gave me the cheque."

"Why did he give it you?"

The question was awkward, because Wilkinson did not want to state that he had persuaded Bob to join him in a speculation. This was the best construction that could be put upon the matter, and he did not think it would satisfy Mrs. Charnock.

"Why does a man give another a cheque?" he rejoined, with a look of good-humor that he did not feel.

"The best reason I know of is--for value received. But this doesn't apply. You allowed it wasn't a debt, so Bob has got no value."

"One sometimes pays for value one expects to get."

Sadie laughed scornfully. "If that's what Bob has done, he'll get badly stung. There's nothing coming to him from a deal with you. I guess you don't claim he made you a present of the money?"

"I don't," said Wilkinson, with a frown, for he thought he saw where she was leading him.

"Very well. One pays for something one has got or is going to get, and as we can rule out both reasons, the cheque is bad. In fact, it's not worth keeping. Better give it me back."

"Your argument looks all right, Mrs. Charnock, but you don't start from sure ground. How do you know there's nothing coming to your husband?"

"I know you," Sadie rejoined. "Anyhow, the cheque is certainly bad.

They'll turn it down if you take it to the bank."

Wilkinson made an abrupt movement. "You can't stop your husband's cheque. You don't mean he hasn't the dollars to meet it?"

"I don't," said Sadie, with an angry flush. "Bob is honest. The money's there, but if you think the bank will pay when I tell them not, go and see. The manager knows me and he knows you."

Wilkinson saw that he was beaten, but tried to hide his anger. "Well, it looks as if Bob was lucky. He has a wife who will take care of him, and I reckon he needs something of the kind. However, here's the cheque; I want a receipt."

Sadie wrote the receipt and he noted that her hand shook. As she got up he glanced at the quirt.

"Did you ride over? I thought I heard a rig."

"I drove," said Sadie. "Looks as I needn't have brought the quirt.

Well, I'm glad you agreed about the cheque being bad. I meant to get it anyhow."

Wilkinson gave her a curious look, but said nothing and she went out.

"I've saved Bob's money," she told Helen as she started the team.

"Wilkinson saw my arguments and didn't kick as much as I expected, but he certainly doesn't like me any better. I think he'll make trouble if he can."

"That seems unlikely," Helen remarked. "I imagine that as you have beaten him he'll be glad to let the matter drop. No doubt he wanted the money and was vexed because he had to give it up, but I hardly think he'll try to revenge himself on you. Men don't do these things."

"My husband and yours don't, but Wilkinson is different," Sadie answered.

Charnock had not returned when she reached the farm, and after Helen left she sat on the veranda, feeling disturbed. Bob had told her he was going to the railroad to bring out some goods, but he could have got back two or three hours earlier. Then Wilkinson no doubt knew where he had gone. A small settlement, with two new hotels, had sprung up round the station, and as the place was easily reached by the construction gangs there was now and then some drunkenness and gambling. For all that, Sadie did not mean to antic.i.p.ate trouble, and set about some household work that her drive had delayed. It got dark before she finished, but Bob did not come, and she went outside again.

The night was clear and refreshingly cold after the scorching day. The wind had dropped, everything was very quiet, and she could see for some distance across the plain. The hollows were picked out by belts of darker shadow, and the scattered bluffs made dim gray blurs, but nothing moved on the waste, and she did not hear the beat of hoofs she listened for.

For a time she sat still, lost in gloomy thought. Bob's relapse had been a bitter disappointment, because she had begun to hope that the danger of his resuming his former habits was past. He had stuck to his work, which seemed to absorb his interest, and had looked content. There was ground for believing that with a little judicious encouragement he might make a good farmer, and Sadie did not grudge the patient effort necessary to keep him in the proper path. Now he had left it again and might wander far before she could lead him back.