Ranching For Sylvia Volume-554 - Harold Bindloss (best black authors TXT) 📗

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Water-Tank Stood At The End, And Three Grain Elevators Towered High

Above A Neighboring Side-Track.  Facing The Track, Stood A Row Of

Wooden Buildings Varying In Size And Style: They Included A

Double-Storied Hotel With A Veranda In Front Of It, And Several Untidy

Shacks.  Running Back From Them, Two Short Streets, Thinly Lined With

Small Houses, Led To A Sea Of Grass.

 

"Sage Butte Doesn't Strike One As A Very Exhilarating Place," George

Remarked.  "We'll Stroll Round It, And Then See About Rooms, Since We

Have To Stay The Night."

 

They Left The Station, But The Main Street Had Few Attractions To

Offer.  Three Stores, With Strangely-Assorted, Dusty Goods In Their

Windows Fronted The Rickety Plankwalk; Beyond These Stood A Livery

Stable, A Chinese Laundry, And A Few Dwelling-Houses.  Several

Dilapidated Wagons And Buggies Were Scattered About The Uneven Road.

In The Side Street, Disorderly Rows Of Agricultural Implements

Surrounded A Store, And Here And There Little Board Dwellings With Wire

Mosquito-Doors And Net-Guarded Windows, Stood Among Low Trees.  Farther

Back Were Four Very Small Wooden Churches.  It Was Unpleasantly Hot,

Though A Fresh Breeze Blew Clouds Of Dust Through The Place.

 

"I've Seen Enough," Said Edgar.  "The Butte Isn't Pretty; We'll Assume

It's Prosperous, Though I Haven't Noticed Much Sign Of Activity Yet.

Let's Go To The Hotel."

 

When They Reached It, Several Untidy Loungers Sat Half Asleep In The

Shade Of The Veranda, And Though They Obstructed The Approach To The

Entrance None Of Them Moved.  Passing Behind Them, George Opened A Door

Filled In With Wire-Mesh, And They Entered A Hot Room With A Bare

Floor, Furnished With A Row Of Plain Wooden Chairs.  After They Had

Rung A Bell For Several Minutes, A Man Appeared And Looked At Them With

Languid Interest From Behind A Short Counter.

 

"Can You Put Us Up?" George Inquired.

 

"Sure," Was The Answer.

 

The Man Flung Down A Labeled Key, Twisted Round His Register, Which Was

Fitted In A Swivel Frame, And Handed George A Pen.

 

"We Want Two Rooms," Edgar Objected.

 

"Can't Help That.  We've Only Got One."

 

"I Suppose We'd Better Take It.  Where Can One Get A Drink?"

 

"Bar," Replied The Other, Indicating A Gap In A Neighboring Partition.

 

"They're Laconic In This Country," Edgar Remarked.

 

"Ever Since I Arrived In It, I've Felt As If I Were A Mere Piece Of

Baggage, To Be Hustled Along Anyway Without My Wishes Counting."

 

Volume 554 Chapter 5 (The Prairie) Pg 31

"You'll Get Used To It After A While," George Consoled Him.

 

Entering The Dark Bar, Edgar Refreshed Himself With Several Ice-Cooled

Drinks, Served In What He Thought Were Unusually Small Glasses.  He

Felt Somewhat Astonished When He Paid For Them.

 

"Thirst's Expensive On The Prairie," He Commented.

 

"Pump Outside," Drawled The Attendant.  "It's Rather Mean Water."

 

They Went Upstairs To A Very Scantily Furnished, Doubled-Bedded Room.

George, Warned By Previous Experience, Glanced Around.

 

"There's Soap And A Towel, Anyway; But I Don't See Any Water," He

Remarked.  "I'll Take The Jar; They'll Have A Rain-Tank Somewhere

About."

 

Edgar Did Not Answer Him.  He Was Looking Out Of The Open Window, And

Now That There Was Little To Obstruct His View, The Prospect Interested

Him.  It Had Been A Wet Spring, And Round The Vast Half-Circle He

Commanded The Prairie Ran Back To The Horizon, Brightly Green, Until

Its Strong Coloring Gave Place In The Distance To Soft Neutral Tones.

It Was Blotched With Crimson Flowers; In The Marshy Spots There Were

Streaks Of Purple; Broad Squares Of Darker Wheat Checkered The Sweep Of

Grass, And Dwarf Woods Straggled Across It In Broken Lines.  In One

Place Was The Gleam Of A Little Lake.  Over It All There Hung A Sky Of

Dazzling Blue, Across Which Great Rounded Cloud-Masses Rolled.

 

Edgar Looked Around As George Came In With The Water.

 

"That's Great!" He Exclaimed, Indicating The Prairie; And Then, Turning

Toward The Wooden Town, He Added: "What A Frightful Mess Man Can Make

Of Pretty Things!  Still, I've No Doubt The People Who Built The Butte

Are Proud Of It."

 

"If You Talk To Them In That Style, You'll Soon Discover Their

Opinion," George Laughed; "But I Don't Think It Would Be Wise."

 

Soon Afterward A Bell Rang For Supper, And Going Down To A Big Room,

They Found Seats At A Table Which Had Several Other Occupants.  Two Of

Them, Who Appeared To Be Railroad-Hands, Were Simply Dressed In

Trousers And Slate-Colored Shirts, And When They Rested Their Elbows On

The Tablecloth, They Left Grimy Smears.  George Thought The Third Man

Of The Party, Who Was Neatly Attired, Must Be The Station-Agent; The

Fourth Was Unmistakably A Newly-Arrived Englishman.  As Soon As They

Were Seated, A Very Smart Young Woman Came Up And Rattled Off The Names

Of Various Unfamiliar Dishes.

 

"I Think I'll Have A Steak; I Know What That Is," Edgar Told Her.

 

She Withdrew, And Presently Surrounded Him With An Array Of Little

Plates, At Which He Glanced Dubiously Before He Attacked The Thin, Hard

Steak With A Nickeled Knife Which Failed To Make A Mark On It.  When He

Made A More Determined Effort, It Slid Away From Him, Sweeping Some

Volume 554 Chapter 5 (The Prairie) Pg 32

Greasy Fried Potatoes Off His Plate, And He Grew Hot Under The Stern

Gaze Of The Girl, Who Reappeared With Some Coffee He Had Not Ordered.

 

"Perhaps You Had Better Take It Away Before I Do More Damage, And Let

Me Have Some Fish," He Said Humbly.

 

"Another Time You'll Say What You Want At First.  You Can't Prospect

Right Through The Menu," She Rebuked Him.

 

In The Meanwhile George Had Been Describing His Companions On The Train

To One Of The Men Opposite.

 

"He Told Me He Was Located In The District, But I Didn't Learn His

Name, And He Didn't Get Off Here," He Explained.  "Do You Know Him?"

 

"Sure," Said The Other.  "It's Alan Grant, Of Poplar, 'Bout Eighteen

Miles Back.  Guess He Went On To The Next Station--A Little Farther,

But It's Easier Driving, Now They're Dumping Straw On The Trail."

 

"Putting Straw On The Road?" Edgar Broke In.  "Why Are They Doing That?"

 

"You'll See, If You Drive Out North," The Man Answered Shortly.  Then

He Turned To His Better-Dressed Companion.  "What Are You Going To Do

With That Carload Of Lumber We Got For Grant?"

 

"Send The Car On To Benton."

 

"She's Billed Here."

 

"Can't Help That--The Road's Mistake.  Grant Ordered All His Stuff To

Benton.  What He Says Goes."

 

This Struck George As Significant--It Was Only A Man Of Importance

Whose Instructions Would Be Treated With So Much Deference.  Then The

Agent Turned To Edgar.

 

"What Do You Think Of This Country?"

 

"The Country's Very Nice.  So Far As I've Seen Them, I Can't Say As

Much For The Towns; They Might Be Prettier."

 

"Might Be Prettier?" Exclaimed The Agent.  "If They're Not Good Enough

For You, Why Did You Come Here?"

 

"I'm Not Sure It Was A Very Judicious Move.  But, You See, I Didn't

Know What The Place Was Like; And, After All, An Experience Of This

Kind Is Supposed To Be Bracing."

 

The Agent Ignored Edgar After This.  He Talked To George, And Elicited

The Information That The Latter Meant To Farm.  Then He Got Up,

Followed By Two Of The Others, And The Remaining Man With The English

Appearance Turned To George Diffidently.

 

"Do You Happen To Want A Teamster?" He Asked.

Volume 554 Chapter 5 (The Prairie) Pg 33

"I Believe I'll Want Two," Was The Answer.  "But I'm Afraid I'll Have

To Hire Canadians."

 

The Man's Face Fell.  He Looked Anxious, And George Remembered Having

Seen A Careworn Woman Tearfully Embracing Him Before Their Steamer

Sailed.  Her Shabby Clothes And Despairing Face Had Roused George's

Sympathy.

 

"Well," Said The Man Dejectedly, "That's For You To Decide; But I've

Driven Horses Most Of My Life, And Until I Get Used To Things I'd Be

Reasonable About The Pay.  I Was Told These Little Places Were The Best

To Strike A Job In; But, So Far As I Can Find Out, There's Not Much

Chance Here."

 

George Felt Sorry For Him.  He Suddenly Made Up His Mind.

 

"What Are Farm Teamsters Getting Now?" He Asked A Man Who Was Leaving

An Adjacent Table.

 

"Thirty Dollars A Month," Was The Answer.

 

"Thanks," Said George, Turning Again To The Englishman.  "Be Ready To

Start With Us To-Morrow.  I'll Take You At Thirty Dollars; But If I

Don't Get My Value Out Of You, We'll Have To Part."

 

"No Fear Of That, Sir," Replied The Other, In A Tone Of Keen

Satisfaction.

 

When They Got Outside, Edgar Looked At George With A Smile.

 

"I'm Glad You Engaged The Fellow," He Said; "But Considering That

You'll Have To Teach Him, Were You Not A Little Rash?"

 

"I'll Find Out By And By."  George Paused, And Continued Gravely: "It's

A Big Adventure These People Make.  Think Of It--The Raising Of The

Passage Money By Some Desperate Economy, The Woman Left Behind With

Hardly Enough To Keep Her A Month Or Two, The Man's Fierce Anxiety To

Find Some Work!  When I Saw How He Was Watching Me, I Felt I Had To

Hire Him."

 

"Just So," Responded Edgar.  "I Suppose I Ought To Warn You That Doing

Things Of The Kind May Get You Into Trouble Some Day; But Cold-Blooded

Prudence Never Did Appeal To Me."  He Took One Of The Chairs In Front

Of The Building And Filled His Pipe Before He Continued: "We'll Sit

Here A While, And Then We Might As Well Stroll Across The Plain.  The

General-Room Doesn't Strike Me As An Attractive Place To Spend The

Evening In."

 

An Hour Later They Left The Tall Elevators And Straggling Town Behind,

And After Brushing Through A Belt Of Crimson Flowers, They Followed The

Torn-Up Black Trail That Led Into The Waste.  After A Mile Or Two It

Broke Into Several Divergent Rows Of Ruts, And They Went On Toward A

Winding Line Of Bluff Across The Short Grass.  Reaching That, They