The Land of Strong Men Part 55

It was more than an hour later when Dr. Wilkes arrived. He came alone, Larry having gone in search of his brothers. Mr. Braden listened to the sound of low voices, of footsteps coming and going on the floor above.

Finally Wilkes came down.

"And how is the patient?" Mr. Braden asked.

"Gone out."

"Gone out? You don't mean--"

Dr. Wilkes nodded. Between him and Mr. Braden there was little cordiality.

"What was the--er--cause of death?"

"Valvular cardiac disease of long standing."

"Poor fellow, poor fellow!" Mr. Braden sorrowed, his hand involuntarily caressing the papers in his inside pocket. "You never can--or--that is in the midst of life we are in death. Why, only an hour or so ago he was planning for a trip abroad."

"He's on a longer trip," Wilkes said grimly.

But the pounding of hoofs outside indicated that Larry had found his brothers. In a moment he entered with Gavin and Gerald. Dr. Wilkes did not soften his reply to Gerald's quick question. They stared at him, stupefied. It seemed to Mr. Braden that he should express his sympathy.

"My dear boys," he said, "I a.s.sure you that I feel for you in this dark hour. Providence in its inscrutable wisdom has seen fit--"

But Gavin interrupted him.

"Cut it out!" he growled. "We don't want any stuff like that from _you_!"

Shortly afterward Mr. Braden found himself driving homeward. The rain had turned the road into mud, and was still coming down. It drove though the lap-robe, wetted his knees and trickled down the back of his neck.

He was thoroughly uncomfortable. Nevertheless he reflected that Providence in its inscrutable wisdom sometimes arranged things well.

Once more his hands pressed the papers in his pocket. Arriving at his apartments he placed them in an old-fashioned iron safe which was operated by a key instead of a combination. There were two keys. One Mr.

Braden carried with others on a ring. The other hung upon a single nail driven into the wall immediately behind and concealed by the safe itself. As it was dark there and as the safe was very close to the wall, it seemed a very secure hiding place. On this occasion Mr. Braden used the latter key, because he had changed his wet garments and left his key-ring with them.

But Mr. Braden's trust in Providence might have lessened--or increased--had he known that outside, chinning himself against the window-sill which he had just managed to reach from the rickety steps, hung Turkey Mackay; and that, further, the said Turkey had been a witness to the manner in which the papers had come into the possession of Mr. Braden.

CHAPTER x.x.x

STRANGERS ASK QUESTIONS

When Faith and Angus got back to the ranch G.o.dfrey French's funeral was over. Faith did not pretend to be specially grieved.

"But of course I must go and see Kathleen," she said.

She went alone, for Angus would not go. He held no particular ill-feeling toward G.o.dfrey French, but as French had held it toward him he thought it best to stay away. When Faith had gone he pottered about the house, stables and sheds, taking an inventory, estimating the value of the things he could sell, deciding where they could be sold to the best advantage. There were the tools, implements, rigs, cut crops, horses and stock on the range. He jotted down a rough estimate and frowned at the result. Still it was the best he could do.

Chetwood appeared. "Busy?" he queried.

"I've just been figuring up what I can sell and what I can get for it."

"You haven't sold anything yet?"

"No, I'll hold off till the place itself is sold."

"Somebody might bid it up to a good figure."

"n.o.body is apt to bid. n.o.body here with enough loose money. No, Braden'll get the place, I guess."

"Old blighter!" Chetwood grunted. "But you never can tell. 'The best-laid schemes of mice and men' and all that sort of thing. Let's talk of something else--something I want to talk about."

"Fire away," said Angus.

"Jean and I are thinking of getting married," Chetwood told him bluntly.

"The devil you are!" Angus exclaimed. He was not exactly surprised at the news, but at the time of its announcement.

"I like you," Angus admitted, "but I don't know a great deal about you.

You're working for wages which aren't very large. They won't keep two."

"No more they will," Chetwood replied. "Jean suggests that I take up a homestead." Angus shook his head. "You don't like the idea? No more do I. I shan't do it."

"Have you any idea what you will do? I gathered that you lost what money you had in some fool investment. You never told me what it was."

"I don't look on it as totally lost," Chetwood responded. "It may be all right some day. One thing I'll promise you, old man, I won't marry Jean till I have something definite to go on."

"Good boy!" Angus approved. "That's sense. I'm going to look up a bunch of land in one of the new districts. When I find what I want Jean will come and live with us, of course. Then we might make some arrangement--if you want to buck the ranching game."

When Chetwood had gone, presumably to find Jean, Angus was restless. He liked Chetwood, but the Lord alone knew when the latter would be in shape to support a wife unless somebody helped him. He would have to do that. The fancy took him to walk around the ranch for a last look as owner. As he walked a hundred recollections crowded upon him. Here there had been a good crop in one year; there a failure in another. Here was the place where he had first held the handles of a plow. This was where a team had run away with a mower. He arrived at the gate and looked back over the fields. To-day they were his; to-morrow in all likelihood they would belong to Braden.

Looking up the road he saw a light rig with two men. One of them was standing up in it, apparently surveying his surroundings through a pair of field gla.s.ses. Presently he sat down and the team came on. By the gate the driver pulled up and nodded.

"Afternoon!" he said. He was a thickset, deeply tanned man of middle age, with a shrewd, blue eye. He wore a suit which, though old, was of excellently cut tweed, and his trousers were shoved into nailed cruisers. His companion was younger, stout, round-faced and more carefully dressed, but he, too, possessed a shrewd eye. Neither looked like a rancher, and both were strangers to Angus. Between them rested an instrument of some sort, hooded, which looked like a level.

"Nice ranch, this," said the driver, "Yours?"

"Yes."

"For sale?"

"Yes," Angus told him grimly.

"How much have you got here?" the second stranger asked. Angus told him.

"En bloc?"

"Yes."

"What do you hold it at?"