VI
But the unknown knight had not returned to the observation-car untilthe long train was sliding into Sespe, and Kay had no time to satisfyher thirst for information anent young turkeys. With unexpectedgarrulity, he had introduced himself; with the receipt of thisinformation, she had been rendered speechless, first with surprise, andthen with distress as her alert mind swiftly encompassed the pitifulawakening that was coming to this joyous home-comer. Before she couldmaster her emotions, he was disappearing over the brass rail at the endof the observation-car; even as he waved her a debonair farewell, shecaught the look of surprise and puzzlement in his black eyes.Wherefore, she knew the quick tears had betrayed her.
"Oh, you poor fellow!" she whispered to herself, as she dabbed at hereyes with a wisp of a lace handkerchief. "What a tragedy!"
What a tragedy, indeed!
She had never been in the San Gregorio, and to-day was to mark herfirst visit to the Rancho Palomar, although her father and mother andthe servants had been occupying the Farrel hacienda for the past twomonths. Of the beauty of that valley, of the charm of that ancientseat, she had heard much from her parents; if they could be soenthusiastic about it in two short months, how tremendously attached toit must be this cheerful Don Mike, who had been born and raised there,who was familiar with every foot of it, and doubtless cherished everytradition connected with it. He had imagination, and in imaginativepeople wounds drive deep and are hard to heal; he loved this land ofhis, not with the passive loyalty of the average American citizen, butwith the strange, passionate intensity of the native Californian forhis state. She had met many Californians, and, in this one particular,they had all been alike. No matter how far they had wandered from theGolden West, no matter how long or how pleasant had been their exile,they yearned, with a great yearning, for that intangible something thatall Californians feel but can never explain--which is found nowheresave in this land of romance and plenty, of hearty good will, of lifelived without too great effort, and wherein the desire to play givesbirth to that large and kindly tolerance that is the unfailingsweetener of all human association.
And Don Mike was hurrying home to a grave in the valley, to a home nolonger his, to the shock of finding strangers ensconced in the seat ofhis prideful ancestors, to the prospect of seeing the rich acres thatshould have been his giving sustenance to an alien race, while he mustturn to a brutal world for his daily bread earned by the sweat of hisbrow.
Curiously enough, in that moment, without having given very muchthought to the subject, she decided that she must help him bear it. Ina vague way, she felt that she must see him and talk with him before heshould come in contact with her father and mother. She wanted toexplain matters, hoping that he would understand that she, at least,was one of the interlopers who were not hostile to him.
For she did, indeed, feel like an interloper now. But, at the sametime, she realized, despite her small knowledge of the law, that, untilthe expiration of the redemption period, the equity of Don Mike in theproperty was unassailable. With that unpleasant sense of havingintruded came the realization that to-night the Parker family wouldoccupy the position of uninvited and unwelcome guests. It was not acomfortable thought.
Fortunately, the potato baron and her father were up in the smoker;hence, by the time the train paused at El Toro, Kay had composedherself sufficiently to face her father again without betraying to himany hint of the mental disturbance of the past forty minutes. Shedirected the porter in the disposition of Don Mike's scant impedimenta,and watched to see that the Parker chauffeur carried it from thestation platform over to the waiting automobile. As he was lashingtheir hand-baggage on the running-board, she said,
"William, how long will it take you to get out to the ranch?"
"Twenty miles, miss, over a narrow dirt road, and some of it windsamong hills. I ought to do it handily in an hour without taking anychances."
"Take a few chances," she ordered, in a voice meant for his ear alone."I'm in a hurry."
"Forty-five minutes, miss," he answered, in the same confidential tone.
Kay sat in the front seat with William, while her father and Okadaoccupied the tonneau. Within a few minutes, they were clear of thetown and rolling swiftly across a three-mile-wide mesa. Then theyentered a long, narrow canon, which they traversed for several miles,climbed a six-per-cent. grade to the crest of a ridge, rolled down intoanother canon, climbed another ridge, and from the summit gazed down onthe San Gregorio in all the glory of her new April gown. Kay gaspedwith the shock of such loveliness, and laid a detaining hand on thechauffeur's arm. Instantly he stopped the car.
"I always get a kick out of the view from here, miss," he informed her."Can you beat it? You can't!"
The girl sat with parted lips.
"This--this is the California he loves," she thought.
She closed her eyes to keep back the tears, and the car rolled gentlydown the grade into the valley. From the tonneau she could catchsnatches of the conversation between her father and the potato baron;they were discussing the agricultural possibilities of the valley, andshe realized, with a little twinge of outrage, that its wonderfulpastoral beauty had been quite lost on them.
As they swept past the mission, Kay deliberately refrained fromordering William to toss Don Mike's baggage off in front of the oldpile, for she knew now whither the latter was bound. She would savehim that added burden. Three miles from the mission, the road swung upa gentle grade between two long rows of ancient and neglected palms.The dead, withered fronds of a decade still clung to the corrugatedtrunks. In the adjoining oaks vast flocks of crows perched and cawedraucously. This avenue of palms presently debouched onto a littlemesa, oak-studded and covered with lush grass, which gave it a pretty,parklike effect. In the center of this mesa stood the hacienda of theRancho Palomar.
Like all adobe dwellings of its class, it was not now, nor had it everbeen, architecturally beautiful. It was low, with a plain hip-roofcovered with ancient red tiles, many of which were missing. When thehouse had first been built, it had been treated to a coat of excellentplaster over the adobe, and this plaster had never been renewed. Withthe attrition of time and the elements, it had worn away in spots,through which the brown adobe bricks showed, like the bones in adecaying corpse. The main building faced down the valley; from eachend out, an ell extended to form a patio in the rear, while aseven-foot adobe wall, topped with short tile, connected with the elland formed a parallelogram.
"The old ruin doesn't look very impressive from the front, Kay," herfather explained, as he helped her out of the car, "but that wall hidesan old-fashioned garden that will delight you. A porch runs all roundthe inside of the house, and every door opens on the patio. That longadobe barracks over yonder used to house the help. In the old days, asmall army of peons was maintained here. The small adobe house backthere in the trees houses the majordomo--that old rascal, Pablo."
"He is still here, dad?"
"Yes--and as belligerent as old billy-owl. He pretends to look afterthe stock. I ordered him off the ranch last week; but do you thinkhe'd go? Not much. He went inside his shack, sorted out a rifle, cameoutside, sat down, and fondled the weapon all day long. Ever sincethen he has carried it, mounted or afoot. So I haven't bothered him.He's a bad old Indian, and when I secure final title to the ranch, I'llhave the sheriff of the county come out and remove him."
"But how does he live, dear?"
"How does any Indian live? He killed a steer last week, jerked half ofit, and sold the other half for some beans and flour. It wasn't hissteer and it wasn't mine. It belonged to the Farrel estate, and, sincethere is nobody to lodge a complaint against him, I suppose he'll killanother steer when his rations run low. This way, daughter. Rightthrough the hole in the wall."
They passed through a big inset gate in the adobe wall, into the patio.At once the scent of lemon and orange blossoms, mingled with the moredelicate aroma of flowers, assailed them. Kay stood, entranced, gazingupo
n the hodgepodge of color; she had the feeling of having stepped outof one world into another.
Her father stood watching her.
"Wonderful old place, isn't it, Kay?" he suggested. "The garden hasbeen neglected, but I'm going to clean it out."
"Do not touch it," she commanded, almost sharply. "I want it the wayit is."
"You little tyrant!" he replied good-naturedly. "You run me ragged andmake me like it."
From a rocker on the porch at the eastern end of the patio Kay's motherrose and called to them, and the girl darted away to greet her. Mrs.Parker folded the girl to a somewhat ample bosom and kissed herlovingly on her ripe red lips; to her husband she presented a cheekthat showed to advantage the artistry of a member of that tribe ofgenii who strive so valiantly to hold in check the ravages of age. Atfifty, Kay's mother was still a handsome woman; her carriage, herdress, and a certain repressed vivacity indicated that she had masteredthe art of growing old gracefully.
"Well, kitten," she said, a trifle louder and shriller than one seemedto expect of her, "are you going to remain with us a little while, orwill next week see you scampering away again?"
"I'll stay all summer, fuss-budget. I'm going to paint the SanGregorio while it's on exhibition, and then this old house and thegarden. Oh, mother dear, I'm in love with it! It's wonderful!"
The potato baron had followed Parker and his daughter into the patio,and stood now, showing all of his teeth in an amiable smile. Parkersuddenly remembered his guest.
"My dear," he addressed his wife, "I have brought a guest with me.This is Mr. Okada, of whom I wrote you."
Okada bowed low--as low as the rules of Japanese etiquette prescribe,which is to say that he bent himself almost double. At the same time,he lifted his hat. Then he bowed again twice, and, with a pleasingsmile proffered his hand. Mrs. Parker took it and shook it with heartygood will.
"You are very welcome, Mr. Okada," she shrilled. "Murray," she added,turning to the butler, who was approaching with Okada's suitcase, "showthe gentleman to the room with the big bed in it. Dinner will be readyat six, Mr. Okada. Please do not bother to dress for dinner. We'requite informal here."
"Sank you very much," he replied, with an unpleasant whistling intakeof breath; with another profound bow to the ladies, he turned andfollowed Murray to his room.
"Well, John," Mrs. Parker demanded, as the Japanese disappeared, "yourlittle playmate's quite like a mechanical toy. For heaven's sake,where did you pal up with him?"
"That's the potato baron of the San Joaquin valley, Kate," he informedher. "I'm trying to interest him in a colonization scheme for hiscountrymen. A thousand Japs in the San Gregorio can raise enoughgarden-truck to feed the city of Los Angeles--and they will pay awhooping price for good land with water on it. So I brought him alongfor a preliminary survey of the deal."
"He's very polite, but I imagine he's not very brilliant company," hiswife averred frankly. "When you wired me you were bringing a guest, Idid hope you'd bring some jolly young jackanapes to arouse Kay and me."
She sighed and settled back in her comfortable rocking-chair, whileKay, guided by a maid, proceeded to her room. A recent job ofcalcimining had transformed the room from a dirty grayish, white to asoft shade of pink; the old-fashioned furniture had been "done over,"and glowed dully in the fading light. Kay threw open the smallsquare-hinged window, gazed through the iron bars sunk in the thickwalls, and she found herself looking down the valley, more beautifulthan ever now in the rapidly fading light.
"I'll have to wait outside for him," she thought. "It will be darkwhen he gets here."
She washed and changed into a dainty little dinner dress, after whichshe went on a tour of exploration of the hacienda. Her first port ofcall was the kitchen.
"Nishi," she informed the cook, "a gentleman will arrive shortly afterthe family has finished dinner. Keep his dinner in the oven. Murraywill serve it to him in his room, I think."
She passed out through the kitchen, and found herself in the rear ofthe hacienda. A hundred yards distant, she saw Pablo Artelan squattingon his heels beside the portal of his humble residence, his backagainst the wall. She crossed over to him, smiling as she came.
"How do you do, Pablo?" she said. "Have you forgotten me? I'm thegirl to whom you were kind enough to give a ride on Panchito one day inEl Toro."
The glowering glance of suspicion and resentment faded slowly from oldPablo's swarthy countenance. He scrambled to his feet and swept theground with his old straw sombrero,
"I am at the service of the _senorita_," he replied, gravely.
"Thank you, Pablo. I just wanted to tell you that you need not carrythat rifle any more. I shall see to it that you are not removed fromthe ranch."
He stared at her with stolid interest.
"_Muchas gracias, senorita_," he mumbled. Then, remembering she didnot understand Spanish, he resumed in English: "I am an old man, mees.Since my two boss he's die, pretty soon Pablo die, too. For what useeet is for live now I don' tell you. Those ol' man who speak me leavetheese rancho--he is your father, no?"
"Yes, Pablo. And he isn't such a terrible man, once you get acquaintedwith him."
"I don' like," Pablo muttered frankly. "He have eye likelookin'-glass. Mebbeso for you, mees, eet is different, but for PabloArtelan--" he shrugged. "Eef Don Mike is here, nobody can talk tome like dose ol' man, your father, he speak to me." And he wagged hishead sorrowfully.
Kay came close to him.
"Listen, Pablo: I have a secret for you. You, must not tell anybody.Don Mike is not dead."
He raised his old head with languid interest and nodded comprehension.
"My wife, Carolina, she tell me same thing all time. She say: '_Pablomio_, somebody make beeg mistake. Don Mike come home pretty queeck,you see. Nobody can keel Don Mike. Nobody have that mean thedeesposition for keel the boy.' But I don' theenk Don Mike come backto El Palomar."
"Carolina is right, Pablo. Somebody did make a big mistake. He waswounded in the hand, but not killed. I saw him to-day, Pablo, on thetrain."
"You see Don Mike? You see heem with the eye?"
"Yes. And he spoke to me with the tongue. He will arrive here in anhour."
Pablo was on his knees before her, groping for her hand. Finding it,he carried it to his lips. Then, leaping to his feet with an alacritythat belied his years, he yelled:
"Carolina! Come queeck, _Pronto_! _Aqui_, Carolina."
"_Si, Pablo mio_."
Carolina appeared in the doorway and was literally deluged with astream of Spanish. She stood there, hands clasped on her tremendousbosom, staring unbelievingly at the bearer of these tidings of greatjoy, the while tears cascaded down her flat, homely face. With a snapof his fingers, Pablo dismissed her; then he darted into the house andemerged with his rifle. A cockerel, with the carelessness of youth,had selected for his roost the limb of an adjacent oak and was stillgazing about him instead of secreting his head under his wing, ascockerels should at sunset. Pablo neatly shot his head off, seized thefluttering carcass, and started plucking out the feathers with neatnessand despatch.
"Don Mike, he's like _gallina con arroz espagnol_," he explained."What you, call chick-een with rice Spanish," he interpreted. "Eetmus' not be that Don Mike come home and Carolina have not cook for heemthe grub he like. _Carramba_!"
"But he cannot possibly eat a chicken before--I mean, it's too soon.Don Mike will not eat that chicken before the animal-heat is out of it."
"You don' know Don Mike, mees. Wen dat boy he's hongry, he don' speakso many questions."
"But I've told our cook to save dinner for him."'
"Your cook! _Senorita_, I don' like make fun for you, but I guess youdon' know my wife Carolina, she have been cook for Don Miguel and DonMike since long time before he's beeg like little kitten. Don Mike, hedon' understand those gringo grub."
"Listen, Pablo: There is no time to cook Don Mike a Spanish dinner. Hemust eat gringo grub
to-night. Tell me, Pablo: Which room did Don Mikesleep in when he was home?"
"The room in front the house--the beeg room with the beeg black bed.Carolina!" He threw the half-plucked chicken at the old cook, wipedhis hands on his overalls, and started for the hacienda. "I go formake the bed for Don Mike," he explained, and started running.
Kay followed breathlessly, but he reached the patio before her,scuttled along the porch with surprising speed, and darted into theroom. Immediately the girl heard his voice raised angrily.
"Hullo! What you been do in my boss's room? _Madre de Dios_! Youtheenk I let one Chinaman--no, one Jap--sleep in the bed of DonVictoriano Noriaga. No! _Vamos_!"
There was a slight scuffle, and the potato baron came hurtling throughthe door, propelled on the boot of the aged but exceedingly vigorousPablo. Evidently the Jap had been taken by surprise. He rolled offthe porch into a flower-bed, recovered himself, and flew at Pablo withthe ferocity of a bulldog. To the credit of his race, be it said thatit does not subscribe to the philosophy of turning the other cheek.
But Pablo was a peon. From somewhere on his person, he produced a dirkand slashed vigorously. Okada evaded the blow, and gave ground.
"_Quidado_!" Pablo roared, and charged; whereupon the potato baron,evidently impressed with the wisdom of the ancient adage thatdiscretion is the better part of valor, fled before him. Pablofollowed, opened the patio gate, and, with his long dirk, motioned theJap to disappear through it. "The hired man, he don' sleep in the bedof the _gente_," he declared. "The barn is too good for one Jap._Santa Maria_! For why I don' keel you, I don' know."
"Pablo!"
The majordomo turned.
"Yes, mees lady."
"Mr. Okada is our guest. I command you to leave him alone. Mr. Okada,I apologize to you for Pablo's impetuosity. He is not a servant ofours, but a retainer of the former owner. Pablo, will you pleaseattend to your own business?" Kay was angry now, and Pablo realized it.
"Don Mike's beesiness, she is my beesiness, too, senorita," he growled.
"Yes; I zink so," Okada declared. "I zink I go 'nother room."
"Murray will prepare one for you, Mr. Okada. I'm so sorry this hashappened. Indeed I am!"
Pablo hooted.
"You sorry, mees? Wait until my Don Mike he's come home and find theesfellow in hees house."
He closed the gate, returned to the room, and made a criticalinspection of the apartment. Kay could see him wagging his grizzledhead approvingly as she came to the door and looked in.
"Where those fellow _El Mono_, he put my boss's clothes?" Pablodemanded.
"'_El Mono_?' Whom do you mean, Pablo?"
"_El Mono_--the monkey. He wear long tail to the coat; all the time helook like mebbeso somebody in the house she's goin' die pretty queeck."
"Oh, you mean Murray, the butler."
Pablo was too ludicrous, and Kay sat down on the edge of the porch andlaughed until she wept. Then, as Pablo still stood truculently in thedoorway, waiting an answer to his query, she called to Murray, who hadrushed to the aid of the potato baron, and asked him if he had foundany clothing in the room, and, if so, what he had done with it.
"I spotted and pressed them all, Miss Kay, and hung them in theclothes-press of the room next door."
"I go get," growled Pablo, and did so; whereupon the artful Murray tookadvantage of his absence to dart over to the royal chamber and removethe potato baron's effects.
"I don't like that blackamoor, Miss Kay," _El Mono_ confided to thegirl. "I feel assured he is a desperate vagabond to whom murder andpillage are mere pastimes. Please order him out of the garden. Hepays no attention to me whatsoever."
"Leave him severely alone," Kay advised. "I will find a way to handlehim."
Pablo returned presently, with two suits of clothing, a softwhite-linen shirt, a black necktie, a pair of low-cut brown shoes, anda pair of brown socks. These articles he laid out on the bed. Then hemade another trip to the other room, and returned bearing an armful offramed portraits of the entire Noriaga and Farrel dynasty, which heproceeded to hang in a row on the wall at the foot of the bed. Lastly,he removed a rather fancy spread from the bed and substituted thereforan ancient silk crazy-quilt that had been made by Don Mike'sgrandmother. Things were now as they used to be, and Pablo wassatisfied.
When he came out, Kay had gone in to dinner; so he returned to his own_casa_ and squatted against the wall, with his glance fixed upon thepoint in the palm avenue where it dipped over the edge of the mesa.