The Land of Strong Men Part 58

"You know as much about it as I do," Angus confessed, and beckoned to Chetwood. "What are you up to, anyway?" he demanded of the latter. "I thought you were broke. You told me so."

"I told you my income had stopped--temporarily," Chetwood replied. "So it had. If you had ever said a word about money troubles I would have fixed them like a shot, but you never even mentioned 'em. So now I'm going to buy the ranch in."

"How high will you go?" Mr. McGinity asked. "Hold on, now--wait a minute. I represent the Northern Airline, which is going to build through here, and this property is valuable to us. I'm prepared to go fairly high myself to get it. That means that we are prepared to pay the owner a good price. Now, instead of crazy bidding, can't we come to an arrangement?"

"Have you any connection with Braden?" Chetwood asked.

"h.e.l.l, no!" Mr. McGinity replied. "Didn't you just see me raise him out?

And I can raise _you_ out, young man, if you won't act sensibly, unless you have a mighty big roll back of you."

"Oh, no, you can't," Chetwood replied cheerfully. He drew McGinity to one side. "Because, you see," he explained, "I'm really bidding the property in for Mackay, though he doesn't know it. So, you see, I never have to put up real money at all, except enough to satisfy old Braden's claim, and technically satisfy the conditions of sale. I buy the property, hand stage money to Mackay, he hands it back to me--and there you are! The only real money is what Braden gets."

"And suppose Mackay doesn't come through," Mr. McGinity speculated wisely. "Suppose I forced you up--away up--and Mackay found that as a result his ranch had brought a top-notch price which he was ent.i.tled to most of; and suppose he stood pat and insisted on receiving it. Where would you get off at then?"

Chetwood laughed. "Braden might do that. Mackay isn't that kind. We're friends, and I'm going to marry his sister. Raise away, if you feel like it."

Mr. McGinity's eyes twinkled. "Not on your life," he said. "The combination is too many for me." The sheriff impatiently claimed recognition. "I'm through, Mr. Sheriff. The last bid is good as far as I'm concerned."

The sheriff looked at Mr. Braden, who shook his head. And thus the Mackay ranch came into the nominal possession of Chetwood.

Angus, throttling his pride, held out his hand.

"You've got a good ranch," he said. "I'm glad it's you. If you marry Jean it will be staying in the family, anyway. I'll be moving out as soon--"

"You'll be doing nothing of the kind," Chetwood told him. "Do you think I'm such a dashed cad as that? I'm buying the ranch for you, of course.

You can pay me what I'll pay Braden, when you like, and if you never feel like it n.o.body will worry."

Angus stared at him dazedly. For the first time in years his eyes were misty; but his innate pride still held.

"It's good of you," he said. "Oh, it's _d.a.m.ned_ good of you, but--I can't stand for it."

"Afraid you'll jolly well have to, my boy," Chetwood grinned cheerfully.

"You can't help yourself, you know."

"But I can't allow--"

"Don't I tell you, you'll have to. Don't be such a bally a.s.s, or strike me pink if I don't punch your beastly head here and now! Can't you take a little help from a friend who would take it from you? Mrs. Angus, for heaven's sake make this lunatic listen to reason!"

Faith laughed happily. "He wouldn't let _me_ help him," she said. "Give him time, Mr. Chetwood."

As Chetwood waited to comply with the necessary formalities Mr. McGinity touched him on the arm.

"I want to make a proposition to whoever owns that land--you or Mackay,"

he said. "I'd rather make it to you, because I can see you know more about business than he does. The Airline isn't any philanthropic inst.i.tution, of course, but we'll play fair with you and Mackay."

"Thanks very much," said Chetwood, a twinkle in his eye.

"Oh, I mean it," Mr. McGinity a.s.sured him. "You seem a pretty bright young fellow. If you haven't got too much money to take a good job, I can place you in my department."

"But you see," Chetwood returned, "I've already got a job with your company."

"What?" cried Mr. McGinity. "What kind of a con game is this? What department are you in?"

"I'm a director. Did you ever hear of Sir Eustace Chetwood?"

Mr. McGinity gasped. "Are you trying to kid me? Sir Eustace Chetwood was one of our English directors, but he's dead. And he was about eighty years old."

"Quite right," Chetwood nodded. "He died a few months ago, and by virtue of the shares in your corporation which he left to me, I was elected to fill his place. I'm his nephew, you see. As to the t.i.tle, it's hereditary, and I can't help it."

"Sir Eustace Chetwood!" gasped Mr. McGinity. "Good Lord!"

"Well, I'm not using either t.i.tle at present," Chetwood grinned. "Just keep it dark, like a good fellow. I don't want to be plagued by a lot of blighters who can't see me at all as a thirty-dollar ranch hand. My real friends are just beginning to call me 'Bill'--and I like it. I say, Mr.

McGinity, if you should ever call me 'Bill,' I'd call you 'Mac'."

"Is that so, Bill?" said Mr. McGinity, who was a gentlemen of easy adjustments.

"It are so, Mac!" Chetwood laughed. "See you later about that proposition. Remember, you are to play fair."

CHAPTER x.x.xII

CHETWOOD UNMASKED

As Angus drove homeward he was at first unable to adjust himself to actuality. He had given up all hope of retaining the ranch. The wrench of loss had been over. But now the ranch was his again, subject to the debt already existing, to keep if he chose.

But he realized that it would be folly to retain it as a ranch, to refuse a proposition which McGinity had just made amounting to a fifty-fifty partnership with the Airline in the project of a townsite.

Again, no matter what his individual preference, he must think of others. In reality, his own individual interest in the ranch amounted to but one-third. Sooner or later there must be a division--an adjustment of shares between Jean, Turkey and himself. In justice to them he could not refuse an offer which promised more than he could ever hope to make or receive for the ranch as a ranch.

And so the ranch, as a ranch, was done. Its broad fields and pastures and broad stretches of timbered levels would be broken up, surveyed into building lots, pegged out with stakes, gridironed with embryonic streets. For a while it would lie raw, unsightly, ruined as a ranch, unmade as a town. And then people would come in. Shacks would spring up, stores with false fronts, all sorts of makeshifts which accompany construction days. Later would come permanence, better buildings, churches, schools, gardens, sidewalks. Where the Ranch had been would stand the Town. It was Progress, the history of the West since the first steel road adventured among the ancient buffalo trails. The old order was changing, but he, though young, was more of the old order than the new, because he had been bred in the former.

Faith touched his arm lightly.

"Tell me I'm awake. It seems like a dream."

He put his arm around her and she snuggled in the crook of it, leaning comfortably against his shoulder. He pulled the team to a walk.

"Now say it yourself."

"Say what? How _did_ you know I wanted to say something? But it's nothing particular. It's just--everything!"

"It's sure a surprise to me. Why, only yesterday I hinted to Chetwood that it was doubtful if he could support a wife--and to-day he bids in my whole ranch." He laughed, but with little mirth, for the sense of obligation lay heavy on him.

"I wonder if Jean knew?"

"I don't think so. Why, she wanted him to homestead--said he'd have to make good before she'd marry him."