Part 87 (1/2)

He's lived in the valley since Fifty-three, and he says there's never been a failure of crops on account of drought. We always get our rain.”

”Come on, let's go for a ride,” he said abruptly. ”You've got the time.”

”All right, if you'll tell me what's bothering you.”

He looked at her quickly.

”Nothin',” he grunted. ”Yes, there is, too. What's the difference? You'd know it sooner or later. You ought to see old Chavon. His face is that long he can't walk without b.u.mpin' his knee on his chin. His gold-mine's peterin' out.”

”Gold mine!”

”His clay pit. It's the same thing. He's gettin' twenty cents a yard for it from the brickyard.”

”And that means the end of your teaming contract.” Saxon saw the disaster in all its hugeness. ”What about the brickyard people?”

”Worried to death, though they've kept secret about it. They've had men out punchin' holes all over the hills for a week, an' that j.a.p chemist settin' up nights a.n.a.lyzin' the rubbish they've brought in. It's peculiar stuff, that clay, for what they want it for, an' you don't find it everywhere. Them experts that reported on Chavon's pit made one h.e.l.l of a mistake. Maybe they was lazy with their borin's. Anyway, they slipped up on the amount of clay they was in it. Now don't get to botherin'. It'd come out somehow. You can't do nothin'.”

”But I can,” Saxon insisted. ”We won't buy Ramona.”

”You ain't got a thing to do with that,” he answered. ”I 'm buyin' her, an' her price don't cut any figure alongside the big game I 'm playin'.

Of course, I can always sell my horses. But that puts a stop to their makin' money, an' that brickyard contract was fat.”

”But if you get some of them in on the road work for the county?” she suggested.

”Oh, I got that in mind. An' I 'm keepin' my eyes open. They's a chance the quarry will start again, an' the fellow that did that teamin' has gone to Puget Sound. An' what if I have to sell out most of the horses?

Here's you and the vegetable business. That's solid. We just don't go ahead so fast for a time, that's all. I ain't scared of the country any more. I sized things up as we went along. They ain't a jerk burg we hit all the time on the road that I couldn't jump into an' make a go. An'

now where d'you want to ride?”

CHAPTER XXII

They cantered out the gate, thundered across the bridge, and pa.s.sed Trillium Covert before they pulled in on the grade of Wild Water Canyon.

Saxon had chosen her field on the big spur of Sonoma Mountains as the objective of their ride.

”Say, I b.u.mped into something big this mornin' when I was goin' to fetch Ramona,” Billy said, the clay pit trouble banished for the time. ”You know the hundred an' forty. I pa.s.sed young Chavon along the road, an'--I don't know why--just for ducks, I guess--I up an' asked 'm if he thought the old man would lease the hundred an' forty to me. An' what d 'you think! He said the old man didn't own it. Was just leasin' it himself.

That's how we was always seein' his cattle on it. It's a gouge into his land, for he owns everything on three sides of it.

”Next I met Ping. He said Hilyard owned it an' was willin' to sell, only Chavon didn't have the price. Then, comin' back, I looked in on Payne.

He's quit blacksmithin'--his back's hurtin' 'm from a kick--an' just startin' in for real estate. Sure, he said, Hilyard would sell, an' had already listed the land with 'm. Chavon's over-pastured it, an' Hilyard won't give 'm another lease.”

When they had climbed out of Wild Water Canyon they turned their horses about and halted on the rim where they could look across at the three densely wooded knolls in the midst of the desired hundred and forty.

”We'll get it yet,” Saxon said.

”Sure we will,” Billy agreed with careless cert.i.tude. ”I've ben lookin'

over the big adobe barn again. Just the thing for a raft of horses, an'

a new roof'll be cheaper 'n I thought. Though neither Chavon or me'll be in the market to buy it right away, with the clay pinchin' out.”