“What do you mean?” demanded Patton.
“Just this: I happen to know about that Galindo business at Paicines. There’s one place you didn’t act on the square. Wal, the Galindo girl’s a greaser, and her men folks oughta took better care of her. We won’t say nothin’ more about it, Patton. But don’t forgit this: A feller owes his wife somethin’ more’n just the weddin’ ceremony.”
“Oh, I see,” sneered Patton. “You’re trying to kick up a rumpus. You wanted Polly yourself.”
Blandy gave a short laugh. “Me?” he said. “Me? Why, you’re crazy! All I’ve got to keep a wife on is my prospectin’ outfit and a’ old mangy mule. Me! Huh! No girl’d look at me—no fine, pretty girl that’s had lots of chances. I ain’t nothin’ but a slob.”
To that, Patton made no comment.
“No, you’re the kind of a man that a girl likes,” Blandy went on. “And you git a couple of hunderd from the East every month. You can take her away from this hole and make her nice and comfortable in Los Angeles, and give her a hired girl to wait on her, and decent clothes. Wal, that’s fine. But a’ easy time and good clothes don’t amount to a hill of beans with a woman if she ain’t happy. So—play fair with her, Patton. In the long run, it pays to do what’s right. You know that. Nine times outen ten, when a man picks up a club to take a’ underhanded shy at another person, Mister Stick comes whizzin’ right back and gives him a crack in the head like one of them——”
“That’ll do, Blandy,” interrupted Patton. His voice was hoarse with anger. “I haven’t any more time for your damned gossip.” He turned abruptly and strode away.
Blandy stayed where he was, his heavy shoulders stooped, his arms hanging loosely at his sides, his weight shifted to one foot. He saw a door of the near-by house open wide to admit Patton; heard a chorus of gay voices greet the other man, and following a short wait, heard the tones of an organ, playing a march. He waited until the organ ceased; then, head lowered, and hat pulled down to his brows, he walked away slowly, going to the depot.
He halted in the shadow of the station and stayed there until the head-light of the west-bound train shone in the distance like a fallen star. The star grew. And through the night air came the thin shriek of the nearing engine. It was then that a laughing, chattering group left the brightly-lighted house and came hurrying toward the depot. Blandy turned from the approaching light.
The centre of the group was the bride, a slender girl in a white dress. As she stepped upon the platform, under the station lamps, Blandy leaned forward a little to catch a glimpse of her face. Her childish eyes, long-lashed and the blue of lapis lazuli, were bright with happiness, her cheeks an excited pink.