“If there’s money in it we can learn to know it.”
“How do we know there’s money in it here? This ain’t Colorado, come to that. Maybe it takes a particular kind of soil and temperature. Maybe this guy Galloway just happens to be in a lucky spot.”
“Not from what I read. Anyhow, we can put out a few acres and see how it does.”
“Why, yes, we could,” admitted Jennings. “If we knew how to fix the land for it an’ how to look after it. But we don’t. Why, we don’t even know what kind of seed to buy or what kind of ground to put it in. Honest, ma’am, it looks plumb ridiculous to me.”
“Not to me,” she dissented. “What’s the use of saying that this is a cattle country and not good for anything else when we haven’t tried other things? People have to be progressive to make money. As for your objection about us not knowing the kind of seed to get or the sort of land to use or how to prepare the land, why you’re wrong in all three of your guesses. You buy seed called New York or else the Wonderful, and you plant it in nice rich soil prepared the way you do a garden. I thought we’d use that twenty back of the pasture.”
“H’mp!” he grunted. “You got yore mind made up, I see.”
“Yes,” she admitted, and added diplomatically, “if you approve.”
“Whether I approve or not,” he grinned. “A lot you care about me approvin’. You’re some bull-haided when you get started, if you ask me.”
“If you can show me that I am wrong, of course——”
He threw up his hands. “I can’t. I wouldn’t ever try to show a lady she was wrong. All I can do is get ready to say, ‘I done told you so’ when you waken from yore dream about makin’ two haids of lettuce grow where there ain’t any growin’ now.”