“Don’t give a dum if yeh never marry,” said Bill. “Hain’t seen the man yit that was good enough fer yeh, from my standpoint.”
Bill’s reputation was pretty well known to me by this time. He had been for years a successful breeder and shipper of live-stock, in which vocation he had become well-to-do. On his farm he was forceful and efficient, treading his fields like an admiral his quarter-deck. About town he was given to talking horses and cattle with the groups which frequented the stables and blacksmith-shops, and sometimes grew a little noisy and boisterous with them. Whenever her father went with a shipment of cattle to Chicago or other market, Josie went too, taking a regular passenger train in time to be waiting when Bill’s stock train arrived; and after the beeves were disposed of, Bill became her escort to opera and art-gallery; on such a visit I had seen her at the Stock Yards. She was fond of her father; but this alone did not explain her constant attendance upon him. I soon came to understand that his prompt return from the city, in good condition, was apt to be dependent upon her influence. It was one of those cases of weakness, associated with strength, the real mystery of which does not often occur to us because they are so common.
He came into our office one day with a tremor in his hand and a hunted look in his eye. He took a chair at my invitation, but rose at once, went to the door, and looked up and down the street, as if for pursuers. I saw Captain Tolliver across the street, and Bill’s air of excitement was explained. I was relieved, for at first I had thought him intoxicated.
“What’s the matter, Bill?” said I, after he had looked at me earnestly, almost pantingly, for a few moments. “You look nervous.”
“They’re after me,” he answered in repressed tones, “to sell; and I’ll be blasted if I know what to do! Wha’ d’ye’ ’spose they’re offerin’ me for my land?”
“The fact is, Bill,” said I, “that I know all about it. I’m interested in the deal, somewhat.”
“Then you know they’ve bid right around a thousand dollars an acre?”
“Yes,” said I, “or at least that they intended to offer that.”
“An’ you’re one o’ the company,” he queried, “that’s doin’ it?”
“Yes,” I admitted.