American fiction -- 19th century; California -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Western stories
“Yesterday. He was to come to-day, and if we don't find him at the hotel
it will be because he has already started to come here by the upper and
longer road. But you leave it to ME, and don't you say anything to him
of this now. If he's at the hotel, I'll say I drove you down there to
show off the mare. Sabe? If he isn't, I'll leave you there and come back
here to find him. I've got something to tell him that will set YOU all
right.” He smiled grimly, lifted the reins, the mare started forward
again, and the vehicle and its occupants disappeared in a vanishing dust
cloud.
CHAPTER VI
It was nearly noon when Mr. Dawson finished rubbing down his sweating
mare in the little stable shed among the wheat. He had left Rose at the
hotel, for they found Mr. Mallory had previously started by a circuitous
route for the wheat ranch. He had resumed not only his working clothes
but his working expression. He was now superintending the unloading of
a wain of stores and implements when the light carryall of the Randolphs
rolled into the field. It contained only Mrs. Randolph and the driver.
A slight look of intelligence passed between the latter and the nearest
one of Dawson's companions, succeeded, however, by a dull look of stupid
vacancy on the faces of all the others, including Dawson. Mrs. Randolph
noticed it, and was forewarned. She reflected that no human beings ever
looked NATURALLY as stupid as that and were able to work. She smiled
sarcastically, and then began with dry distinctness and narrowing lips.
“Miss Mallory, a young lady visiting us, went out for an early walk this
morning and has not returned. It is possible she may have lost her way
among your wheat. Have you seen anything of her?”
Dawson raised his eyes from his work and glanced slowly around at his
companions, as if taking the heavy sense of the assembly. One or two
shook their heads mechanically, and returned to their suspended labor.
He said, coolly:--
“Nobody here seems to.”
She felt that they were lying. She was only a woman against five men.
She was only a petty domestic tyrant; she might have been a larger one.
But she had all the courage of that possibility.
“Major Randolph and my son are away,” she went on, drawing herself
erect. “But I know that the major will pay liberally if these men will
search the field, besides making it all right with your--EMPLOYERS--for
the loss of time.”
Dawson uttered a single word in a low voice to the man nearest him,
who apparently communicated it to the others, for the four men stopped
unloading, and moved away one after the other--even the driver joining
in the exodus. Mrs. Randolph smiled sarcastically; it was plain that
these people, with all their boasted independence, were quite amenable
to pecuniary considerations. Nevertheless, as Dawson remained looking
quietly at her, she said:--
“Then I suppose they've concluded to go and see?”
“No; I've sent them away so that they couldn't HEAR.”
“Hear what?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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