Near the middle of the afternoon, the drivers hauling the blocks drove near the kiln and shouted that the hunters had returned. Scaling off the burnt rock in the interior and removing the debris made it late before our job was finished; then one of the vaqueros working on the outside told us that the ambulance had crossed the river over an hour before, and was then in the ranch. This was good news, and mounting our horses we galloped into headquarters and found the corral outfit already there. Miss Jean soon had our segundo an unwilling prisoner in a corner, and from his impatient manner and her low tones it was plain to be seen that her two days’ visit with Mrs. Annear had resulted in some word for Deweese. Not wishing to intrude, I avoided them in search of my employer, finding him and Gallup at an outhouse holding a hound while Scales was taking a few stitches in an ugly cut which the dog had received from a javeline. Paying no attention to the two boys, I gave him the news, and bluntly informed him that Esther and I expected to marry in May.
“Bully for you, Tom,” said he. “Here, hold this fore foot, and look out he don’t bite you. So she’ll get her divorce at the May term, and then all outdoors can’t stand in your way the next time. Now, that means that you’ll have to get out fully two hundred more of those building rock, for your cottage will need three rooms. Take another stitch, knot your thread well, and be quick about it. I tell you the javeline were pretty fierce; this is the fifth dog we’ve doctored since we returned.”
On freeing the poor hound, we both looked the pack over carefully, and as no others needed attention, Aaron and Glenn were excused. No sooner were they out of hearing than I suggested that the order be made for five hundred stone, as no doubt John Cotton would also need a cottage shortly after Lent. The old matchmaker beamed with smiles. “Is that right, Tom?” he inquired. “Of course, you boys tell each other what you would hardly tell me. And so they have made the riffle at last? Why, of course they shall have a cottage, and have it so near that I can hear the baby when it cries. Bully for tow-headed John. Oh, I reckon Las Palomas is coming to the front this year. Three new cottages and three new brides is not to be sneezed at! Does your mistress know all this good news?”
I informed him that I had not seen Miss Jean to speak to since the funeral, and that Cotton wished his intentions kept a secret. “Of course,” he said; “that’s just like a sap-headed youth, as if getting married was anything to be ashamed of. Why, when I was the age of you boys I’d have felt proud over the fact. Wants it kept a secret, does he? Well, I’ll tell everybody I meet, and I’ll send word to the ferry and to every ranch within a hundred miles, that our John Cotton and Frank Vaux are going to get married in the spring. There’s nothing disgraceful in matrimony, and I’ll publish this so wide that neither of them will dare back out. I’ve had my eye on that girl for years, and now when there’s a prospect of her becoming the wife of one of my boys, he wants it kept a secret? Well, I don’t think it’ll keep.”
After that I felt more comfortable over my own confession. Before we were called to supper every one in the house, including the Mexicans about headquarters, knew that Cotton and I were soon to be married. And all during the evening the same subject was revived at every lull in the conversation, though Deweese kept constantly intruding the corral building and making inquiries after the hunt. “What difference does it make if we hunted or not?” replied Uncle Lance to his foreman with some little feeling. “Suppose we did only hunt every third or fourth day? Those Wilson folks have a way of entertaining friends which makes riding after hounds seem commonplace. Why, the girls had Glenn and Aaron on the go until old man Nate and myself could hardly get them out on a hunt at all. And when they did, provided the girls were along, they managed to get separated, and along about dusk they’d come slouching in by pairs, looking as innocent as turtle-doves. Not that those Wilson girls can’t ride, for I never saw a better horsewoman than Susie—the one who took such a shine to Scales.”
I noticed Miss Jean cast a reproving glance at her brother on his connecting the name of Susie Wilson with that of his vagabond employee. The mistress was a puritan in morals. That Scales fell far below her ideal there was no doubt, and the brother knew too well not to differ with her on this subject. When all the boys had retired except Cotton and me, the brother and sister became frank with each other.
“Well, now, you must not blame me if Miss Susie was attentive to Aaron,” said the old matchmaker, in conciliation, pacing the room. “He was from Las Palomas and their guest, and I see no harm in the girls being courteous and polite. Susie was just as nice as pie to me, and I hope you don’t think I don’t entertain the highest regard for Nate Wilson’s family. Suppose one of the girls did smile a little too much on Aaron, was that my fault? Now, mind you, I never said a word one way or the other, but I’ll bet every cow on Las Palomas that Aaron Scales, vagabond that he is, can get Susie Wilson for the asking. I know your standard of morals, but you must make allowance for others who look upon things differently from you and me. You remember Katharine Vedder who married Carey Troup at the close of the war. There’s a similar case for you. Katharine married Troup just because he was so wicked, at least that was the reason she gave, and she and you were old run-togethers. And you remember too that getting married was the turning-point in Carey Troup’s life. Who knows but Aaron might sober down if he was to marry? Just because a man has sown a few wild oats in his youth, does that condemn him for all time? You want to be more liberal. Give me the man who has stood the fire tests of life in preference to one who has never been tempted.”
“Now, Lance, you know you had a motive in taking Aaron down to Wilson’s,” said the sister, reprovingly. “Don’t get the idea that I can’t read you like an open book. Your argument is as good as an admission of your object in going to Ramirena. Ever since Scales got up that flirtation with Suzanne Vaux last summer, it was easy to see that Aaron was a favorite with you. Why don’t you take Happersett around and introduce him to some nice girls? Honest, Lance, I wouldn’t give poor old Dan for the big beef corral full of rascals like Scales. Look how he trifled with that silly girl in Florida.”
Instead of continuing the argument, the wily ranchero changed the subject.
“The trouble with Dan is he’s too old. When a fellow begins to get a little gray around the edges, he gets so foxy that you couldn’t bait him into a matrimonial trap with sweet grapes. But, Sis, what’s the matter with your keeping an eye open for a girl for Dan, if he’s such a favorite with you? If I had half the interest in him that you profess, I certainly wouldn’t ask any one to help. It wouldn’t surprise me if the boys take to marrying freely after John and Tom bring their brides to Las Palomas. Now that Mrs. Annear is a widow, there’s the same old chance for June. If Glenn don’t make the riffle with Miss Jule, he ought to be shot on general principles. And I don’t know, little sister, if you and I were both to oppose it, that we could prevent that rascal of an Aaron from marrying into the Wilson family. You have no idea what a case Susie and Scales scared up during our ten days’ hunt. That only leaves Dan and Theodore. But what’s the use of counting the chickens so soon? You go to bed, for I’m going to send to the Mission to-morrow after the masons. There’s no use in my turning in, for I won’t sleep a wink to-night, thinking all this over.”