When he followed Knowles around to the door of 396 the tent, Isobel, who was hastily braiding her loose hair, drew back into the far corner and averted her face from him. But Genevieve met him with a radiant smile and motioned him to kneel down beside her husband.
Blake, with one thick arm crooked about his sleeping son, lay with his eyes closed. His big square face was drawn and pallid, but there was a smile lurking in the corners of his mouth. As Ashton knelt beside him he looked up and lifted his free hand.
“You wouldn’t take it––down there,” he said.
Ashton flushed. “You know why.”
“You’ll take it now,” said Blake, with quiet confidence.
“I will. I am going away,” replied Ashton as he held out his bandaged hand.
The big palm closed over it in a clasp as gentle as it was strong.
“No, Lafe. I’ve got hold of you now. I can’t let you go. I need you in my business. We’re organizing the Belle Mesa Irrigation and Development Company.––How do you like my new name for Dry Mesa? Mr. Knowles puts in the reservoir site in exchange for water on his other land, a tenth share in the company, and a royalty of half the gold we placer out of the reservoir bed. As Jenny is to put up all the capital, she and I will take the lion’s share. That will leave a tenth for you and a tenth for Belle.” 397
Ashton sought to draw his hand away. “It is very good of you, Mr. Blake. But I cannot accept––”
“Yes, you can. You can’t help yourself. Besides, I’ve an idea a man always does better by his work when he has a stake in the undertaking. You’re to be our Resident Engineer, you know.”