“Only two,” Virginia replied, patting Pilot’s head involuntarily.
“Only two! That’s sixteen more’n’ll ever make it go here,” Darley Champers declared. “Excuse me for saying it, Mrs. Aydelot, but I’ve been pretty much over Kansas, and this is the poorest show for settlement the Lord ever left out of doors. I’ve always heard this valley was full of claims you simply couldn’t give away, but my friend, who has no end of money and influence fur developin’ the country, wanted me to look over the ground along the Grass River, It’s dead desolation, that’s all; no show on earth in fifty year out here, and in fifty year we won’t none of us care for more’n six feet of ground anywhere. I’m sorry for you, Madam. You must be awfully lonely here, but you’ll be gettin’ away soon, I hope. I must be off. Thank you, Madam, for the information. Good day,” and he left the cabin abruptly.
The sunshine grew pallid and the prairies lay dull and 74 endless. The loneliness of solitude hung with a dead heaviness and hope beat at the lowest ebb for Virginia Aydelot, trying bravely to deny his charge against the future of the land she had struggled so to dream into fruitfulness. She was only a woman, strong to love and brave to endure, but neither by nature nor heritage shrewd to read the tricks of selfish trade. And she believed that while Asher and Jim Shirley were hopeful dreamers like herself, here was an ill-mannered but unprejudiced man who saw the situation as they could not see it.
“That woman and her fool dog were half afraid of me at first. They don’t know that women aren’t in my line. I’d never harm a one of ’em.”
“They’re in my line always. Was she good looking? I never pass a pretty woman,” Thomas Smith said smoothly.
“Don’t be a danged fool, Smith. I might cut a man’s throat to some extent, if it would help my business any, but I’d cut it more’n some if he forgets his manners round a woman. We’re a coarse, grasping lot out here fur as property goes, and we ain’t got drawing-room manners, but it takes your smug little easterners to be the real dirty devils. Come on.”
And Thomas Smith knew that the big, coarse-grained man was sincere.
“Yonder’s Aydelot now. Want to see him?” Darley Champers declared, sighting Asher down the short trail beyond the deep bend.
“I’ve no business with him, and he’s the man I don’t want to see,” Thomas Smith said hastily. “I’ll ride on out of sight round this bend and wait for you. It’s a good place when you don’t want to be seen.” 75
“Depends on how much of a plainsman Aydelot is. He ought to have sighted both of us half a mile back,” Champers declared.