When Magnus came out of the grocery store and once more seated himself in the buggy, he said to Harran, Boy, drive over here to Annixters before we start home. I want to ask him to dine with us to-night. Osterman and Broderson are to drop in, I believe, and I should like to have Annixter as well.
Magnus was lavishly hospitable. Los Muertoss doors invariably stood open to all the Derricks neighbours, and once in so often Magnus had a few of his intimates to dinner.
As Harran and his father drove along the road toward Annixters ranch house, Magnus asked about what had happened during his absence.
He inquired after his wife and the ranch, commenting upon the work on the irrigating ditch. Harran gave him the news of the past week, Dykes discharge, his resolve to raise a crop of hops; Vanamees return, the killing of the sheep, and Hoovens petition to remain upon the ranch as Magnuss tenant. It needed only Harrans recommendation that the German should remain to have Magnus consent upon the instant. You know more about it than I, boy, he said, and whatever you think is wise shall be done.
Harran touched the bays with the whip, urging them to their briskest pace. They were not yet at Annixters and he was anxious to get back to the ranch house to supervise the blue-stoning of his seed.
By the way, Governor, he demanded suddenly, how is Lyman getting on?
Lyman, Magnuss eldest son, had never taken kindly toward ranch life. He resembled his mother more than he did Magnus, and had inherited from her a distaste for agriculture and a tendency toward a profession. At a time when Harran was learning the rudiments of farming, Lyman was entering the State University, and, graduating thence, had spent three years in the study of law. But later on, traits that were particularly his fathers developed. Politics interested him. He told himself he was a born politician, was diplomatic, approachable, had a talent for intrigue, a gift of making friends easily and, most indispensable of all, a veritable genius for putting influential men under obligations to himself. Already he had succeeded in gaining for himself two important offices in the municipal administration of San Franciscowhere he had his homesheriffs attorney, and, later on, assistant district attorney. But with these small achievements he was by no means satisfied. The largeness of his fathers character, modified in Lyman by a counter-influence of selfishness, had produced in him an inordinate ambition. Where his father during his political career had considered himself only as an exponent of principles he strove to apply, Lyman saw but the office, his own personal aggrandisement. He belonged to the new school, wherein objects were attained not by orations before senates and assemblies, but by sessions of committees, caucuses, compromises and expedients. His goal was to be in fact what Magnus was only in namegovernor. Lyman, with shut teeth, had resolved that some day he would sit in the gubernatorial chair in Sacramento.
Lyman is doing well, answered Magnus. I could wish he was more pronounced in his convictions, less willing to compromise, but I believe him to be earnest and to have a talent for government and civics. His ambition does him credit, and if he occupied himself a little more with means and a little less with ends, he would, I am sure, be the ideal servant of the people. But I am not afraid. The time will come when the State will be proud of him.
As Harran turned the team into the driveway that led up to Annixters house, Magnus remarked:
Harran, isnt that young Annixter himself on the porch?
Harran nodded and remarked:
By the way, Governor, I wouldnt seem too cordial in your invitation to Annixter. He will be glad to come, I know, but if you seem to want him too much, it is just like his confounded obstinacy to make objections.
There is something in that, observed Magnus, as Harran drew up at the porch of the house. He is a queer, cross-grained fellow, but in many ways sterling.
Annixter was lying in the hammock on the porch, precisely as Presley had found him the day before, reading David Copperfield and stuffing himself with dried prunes. When he recognised Magnus, however, he got up, though careful to give evidence of the most poignant discomfort. He explained his difficulty at great length, protesting that his stomach was no better than a spongebag. Would Magnus and Harran get down and have a drink? There was whiskey somewhere about.
Magnus, however, declined. He stated his errand, asking Annixter to come over to Los Muertos that evening for seven oclock dinner. Osterman and Broderson would be there.
At once Annixter, even to Harrans surprise, put his chin in the air, making excuses, fearing to compromise himself if he accepted too readily. No, he did not think he could get aroundwas sure of it, in fact. There were certain businesses he had on hand that evening. He had practically made an appointment with a man at Bonneville; then, too, he was thinking of going up to San Francisco to-morrow and needed his sleep; would go to bed early; and besides all that, he was a very sick man; his stomach was out of whack; if he moved about it brought the gripes back. No, they must get along without him.
Magnus, knowing with whom he had to deal, did not urge the point, being convinced that Annixter would argue over the affair the rest of the morning. He re-settled himself in the buggy and Harran gathered up the reins.
Well, he observed, you know your business best. Come if you can. We dine at seven.
I hear you are going to farm the whole of Los Muertos this season, remarked Annixter, with a certain note of challenge in his voice.
We are thinking of it, replied Magnus.
Annixter grunted scornfully.
Did you get the message I sent you by Presley? he began.
Tactless, blunt, and direct, Annixter was quite capable of calling even Magnus a fool to his face. But before he could proceed, S. Behrman in his single buggy turned into the gate, and driving leisurely up to the porch halted on the other side of Magnuss team.
Good-morning, gentlemen, he remarked, nodding to the two Derricks as though he had not seen them earlier in the day. Mr. Annixter, how do you do?
What in hell do YOU want? demanded Annixter with a stare.
S. Behrman hiccoughed slightly and passed a fat hand over his waistcoat.
Why, not very much, Mr. Annixter, he replied, ignoring the belligerency in the young ranchmans voice, but I will have to lodge a protest against you, Mr. Annixter, in the matter of keeping your line fence in repair. The sheep were all over the track last night, this side the Long Trestle, and I am afraid they have seriously disturbed our ballast along there. Wethe railroadcant fence along our right of way. The farmers have the prescriptive right of that, so we have to look to you to keep your fence in repair. I am sorry, but I shall have to protest Annixter returned to the hammock and stretched himself out in it to his full length, remarking tranquilly:
Go to the devil!
It is as much to your interest as to ours that the safety of the public
You heard what I said. Go to the devil!
That all may show obstinacy, Mr. Annixter, but
Suddenly Annixter jumped up again and came to the edge of the porch; his face flamed scarlet to the roots of his stiff yellow hair. He thrust out his jaw aggressively, clenching his teeth.
You, he vociferated, Ill tell you what you are. Youre aaa PIP!
To his mind it was the last insult, the most outrageous calumny. He had no worse epithet at his command.
may show obstinacy, pursued S. Behrman, bent upon finishing the phrase, but it dont show common sense.
Ill mend my fence, and then, again, maybe I wont mend my fence, shouted Annixter. I know what you meanthat wild engine last night. Well, youve no right to run at that speed in the town limits.
How the town limits? The sheep were this side the Long Trestle.
Well, thats in the town limits of Guadalajara. Why, Mr. Annixter, the Long Trestle is a good two miles out of Guadalajara.
Annixter squared himself, leaping to the chance of an argument.
Two miles! Its not a mile and a quarter. No, its not a mile. Ill leave it to Magnus here.
Oh, I know nothing about it, declared Magnus, refusing to be involved.
Yes, you do. Yes, you do, too. Any fool knows how far it is from Guadalajara to the Long Trestle. Its about five-eighths of a mile.
From the depot of the town, remarked S. Behrman placidly, to the head of the Long Trestle is about two miles.
Thats a lie and you know its a lie, shouted the other, furious at S. Behrmans calmness, and I can prove its a lie. Ive walked that distance on the Upper Road, and I know just how fast I walk, and if I can walk four miles in one hour.
Magnus and Harran drove on, leaving Annixter trying to draw S. Behrman into a wrangle.
When at length S. Behrman as well took himself away, Annixter returned to his hammock, finished the rest of his prunes and read another chapter of Copperfield. Then he put the book, open, over his face and went to sleep.
An hour later, toward noon, his own terrific snoring woke him up suddenly, and he sat up, rubbing his face and blinking at the sunlight. There was a bad taste in his mouth from sleeping with it wide open, and going into the dining-room of the house, he mixed himself a drink of whiskey and soda and swallowed it in three great gulps. He told himself that he felt not only better but hungry, and pressed an electric button in the wall near the sideboard three times to let the kitchensituated in a separate building near the ranch houseknow that he was ready for his dinner. As he did so, an idea occurred to him. He wondered if Hilma Tree would bring up his dinner and wait on the table while he ate it.
In connection with his ranch, Annixter ran a dairy farm on a very small scale, making just enough butter and cheese for the consumption of the ranchs PERSONNEL. Old man Tree, his wife, and his daughter Hilma looked after the dairy. But there was not always work enough to keep the three of them occupied and Hilma at times made herself useful in other ways. As often as not she lent a hand in the kitchen, and two or three times a week she took her mothers place in looking after Annixters house, making the beds, putting his room to rights, bringing his meals up from the kitchen. For the last summer she had been away visiting with relatives in one of the towns on the coast. But the week previous to this she had returned and Annixter had come upon her suddenly one day in the dairy, making cheese, the sleeves of her crisp blue shirt waist rolled back to her very shoulders. Annixter had carried away with him a clear-cut recollection of these smooth white arms of hers, bare to the shoulder, very round and cool and fresh. He would not have believed that a girl so young should have had arms so big and perfect. To his surprise he found himself thinking of her after he had gone to bed that night, and in the morning when he woke he was bothered to know whether he had dreamed about Hilmas fine white arms over night. Then abruptly he had lost patience with himself for being so occupied with the subject, raging and furious with all the breed of feemalesa fine way for a man to waste his time. He had had his experience with the timid little creature in the glove-cleaning establishment in Sacramento. That was enough. Feemales! Rot! None of them in HIS, thank you. HE had seen Hilma Tree give him a look in the dairy. Aha, he saw through her! She was trying to get a hold on him, was she? He would show her. Wait till he saw her again. He would send her about her business in a hurry. He resolved upon a terrible demeanour in the presence of the dairy girla great show of indifference, a fierce masculine nonchalance; and when, the next morning, she brought him his breakfast, he had been smitten dumb as soon as she entered the room, glueing his eyes upon his plate, his elbows close to his side, awkward, clumsy, overwhelmed with constraint.
While true to his convictions as a woman-hater and genuinely despising Hilma both as a girl and as an inferior, the idea of her worried him. Most of all, he was angry with himself because of his inane sheepishness when she was about. He at first had told himself that he was a fool not to be able to ignore her existence as hitherto, and then that he was a greater fool not to take advantage of his position. Certainly he had not the remotest idea of any affection, but Hilma was a fine looking girl. He imagined an affair with her.
As he reflected upon the matter now, scowling abstractedly at the button of the electric bell, turning the whole business over in his mind, he remembered that to-day was butter-making day and that Mrs. Tree would be occupied in the dairy. That meant that Hilma would take her place. He turned to the mirror of the sideboard, scrutinising his reflection with grim disfavour. After a moment, rubbing the roughened surface of his chin the wrong way, he muttered to his image in the glass:
That a mug! Good Lord! what a looking mug! Then, after a moments silence, Wonder if that fool feemale will be up here to-day.
He crossed over into his bedroom and peeped around the edge of the lowered curtain. The window looked out upon the skeleton-like tower of the artesian well and the cook-house and dairy-house close beside it. As he watched, he saw Hilma come out from the cook-house and hurry across toward the kitchen. Evidently, she was going to see about his dinner. But as she passed by the artesian well, she met young Delaney, one of Annixters hands, coming up the trail by the irrigating ditch, leading his horse toward the stables, a great coil of barbed wire in his gloved hands and a pair of nippers thrust into his belt. No doubt, he had been mending the break in the line fence by the Long Trestle. Annixter saw him take off his wide-brimmed hat as he met Hilma, and the two stood there for some moments talking together. Annixter even heard Hilma laughing very gayly at something Delaney was saying. She patted his horses neck affectionately, and Delaney, drawing the nippers from his belt, made as if to pinch her arm with them. She caught at his wrist and pushed him away, laughing again. To Annixters mind the pair seemed astonishingly intimate. Brusquely his anger flamed up.
Ah, that was it, was it? Delaney and Hilma had an understanding between themselves. They carried on their affair right out there in the open, under his very eyes. It was absolutely disgusting. Had they no sense of decency, those two? Well, this ended it. He would stop that sort of thing short off; none of that on HIS ranch if he knew it. No, sir. He would pack that girl off before he was a day older. He wouldnt have that kind about the place. Not much! Shed have to get out. He would talk to old man Tree about it this afternoon. Whatever happened, HE insisted upon morality.
And my dinner! he suddenly exclaimed. Ive got to wait and go hungryand maybe get sick againwhile they carry on their disgusting love-making.
He turned about on the instant, and striding over to the electric bell, rang it again with all his might.
When that feemale gets up here, he declared, Ill just find out why Ive got to wait like this. Ill take her down, to the Queens taste. Im lenient enough, Lord knows, but I dont propose to be imposed upon ALL the time.