The Land of Strong Men Part 48

So far as his own affairs were concerned, the outlook was not promising.

His loan applications were turned down cold by various loan companies, as Judge Riley had feared. And one day he received a formal demand for payment of mortgage and note, coupled with an intimation that, failing immediate payment, legal proceedings would follow.

"Yes, I thought this was about due," Judge Riley said when Angus showed him the letter of Mr. Braden's lawyers. "There are no grounds for defending the actions, that I know of."

"The money is owing, no doubt about it. And I can't pay it."

"Then it will have to be realized upon the security. I'm sorry, my boy.

I don't know where you can raise a loan. If I had the money I'd lend it to you myself, but I haven't. Braden will get his judgments and sell."

Angus himself saw nothing else for it. This, then, was the end of his years of work, of struggle, of self-denial. The land he had promised his father to hold would be sold and bid in by Braden for a fraction of its value. For himself, so far as the financial loss went, he did not care especially. But with it Jean's share would be swallowed up. Without any fault of his own, so far as he could see, he had failed in his duty to her. And the thought was bitter.

As he walked down the street his thoughts went back over the years. He could not attribute his failure to lack of hard work, to lack of planning, to lack of care. All these he had given, without stint. The seasons had been against him, but they had been against others. He had lost cattle mysteriously, but that was merely an incident. There was the fire which had destroyed his hay, but his own brother was responsible for that. Finally there was the ruin of his present crop by the destruction of the ditch. That was the only definite act of hostility on which he could lay his finger. But apart from that he could not have paid Braden.

If he was to lose the ranch it did not matter who had wrecked his ditch.

Turkey would be hoist by his own petard. Angus smiled grimly at the thought that his brother had contributed to his own loss. And just then he saw Turkey going through the door of Braden's office. To Angus it was as if a searchlight had been turned upon a dark corner, as if a switch had been closed establis.h.i.+ng a connection.

Up to that moment he had seen no object, other than spite, in the wrecking of the ditch. But now, as things were turning out anything which injured him financially would further Braden's carefully laid plans to obtain the ranch. Might he not be responsible? There, at last, was motive, the thing he had sought vainly.

The idea was new and amazing. But once formed it grew in probability.

Would Turkey deliberately lend himself to a plan to deprive not only Angus but Jean and himself of the ranch? Likely he had not thought of that. The boy had been a catspaw without knowing Braden's ultimate purpose. There were others besides Braden in the game. Braden himself did not do the work of destruction; but no doubt he had instigated and paid for it. As to these others, Angus made up his mind to settle the score with them if he ever found out their ident.i.ty. Never again would he lay a hand on Turkey. As for Braden--his mouth twisted scornfully at the thought of the latter's fat body in his grip.

But Turkey's visit to Mr. Braden's office was with quite a different object than Angus' interpretation of it. Between Turkey and Mr. Braden there was little more cordiality than on the day when the latter had patted the boy on the head. When he had left the ranch Mr. Braden had extended sympathy, condemned Angus for harshness; but Turkey had been unresponsive. He looked on family quarrels as the exclusive property of the family.

Turkey knew of the mortgage which Mr. Braden held but nothing of its condition. The burden of financing the ranch had been upon Angus, and he had not shared it. Nor did Turkey know anything of the further sum Angus had borrowed. And so Turkey, if he thought of the mortgage at all, a.s.sumed that it was all right. It was Angus' business.

He heard of the action which Mr. Braden was taking quite by accident. On the occasion when Angus had seen him entering the office he had gone there merely with reference to a transaction in cattle in which Garland was interested. But on hearing that Braden had launched a mortgage action, he went there to get first-hand information.

"Do you mean," he queried with a scowl when Mr. Braden had stated the case succinctly, "that the ranch will be sold?"

"I am afraid there is nothing else for it," Mr. Braden replied in regretful tones. "I offered to buy it at a fair price, but your brother wouldn't sell."

"He wouldn't, hey!"

Mr. Braden shook his head sadly. "I am sorry to say that the present condition of affairs is due to his recklessness and mismanagement."

"Huh!" said Turkey.

"It would have been much better," said Mr. Braden, "if I had insisted upon my original view after your father cash--er--was called hence. I felt that your brother was incompetent, and results have proved it. I was weak; yes, I admit that I was weak."

"Then the size of it is, that we lose the ranch?"

"If my claim is satisfied otherwise I shall be very glad. But of course I have to protect myself."

"Who gets it? You?"

"It will be sold publicly to the highest bidder."

"Is that you?"

"I may have to bid it in to protect myself," Mr. Braden explained. "It is forced on me, and I fear others--you and your sister--must suffer for your brother's incompetence."

Turkey, scowling said nothing for a moment.

"I remember the day you came to the ranch after father died," he said at last irrelevantly.

"Um," Mr. Braden returned. "I felt very deeply for you in your bereavement. You were quite a small boy then. I--er--patted you on the head."

"I didn't know you then," said Turkey, "but do you know what I thought?"

"No," smiled Mr. Braden. "I suppose you stood somewhat in awe of me, my boy."

"I thought you were a fat, old crook," Turkey announced.

"Hey!" Mr. Braden e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.

"Of course, I know you better now," Turkey added.

"Yes, yes, just so," said Mr. Braden with comprehension. "Childish impressions. Most amusing. Ha-ha! Huh!"

Turkey looked him in the eye.

"And now you're fatter and older," he said deliberately, "and I believe you're a d.a.m.ned sight crookeder than I thought you were then. You pork-faced old mortgage shark, I'll like to burn your ears off with a gun!"

Mr. Braden gasped. Turkey's voice was as venomous as his words. His hard, young mouth twisted bitterly as he spoke. "You're d.a.m.ned anxious to sell the ranch, aren't you?" he went on. "Angus had the right steer about you. He thought you were trying to put something over. I was a kid, and he wasn't much more, but we both had you sized for a crook.

Well, we're not kids now. Since I left the ranch I've been hearing about you. I'll tell you what I've heard."

Mr. Braden expressed no undue anxiety to hear. "I don't know what you have heard and I don't care. If you can't talk decently, get out of here."

"In a minute," said Turkey, "when I've told you what I think of you."

His spoken opinion caused Mr. Braden to change color from time to time, but the prevailing hue was red.

"Get out of my office!" he roared, rearing his impressive bulk against Turkey's slimness. "Get out or I'll throw you out!"

"Shucks!" said Turkey with contempt, and dug a hard, young thumb into Mr. Braden's forward over-hang. "That's the only thing you can throw out, you old tub of lard. You'll drop dead some day with a rotten heart.

And now I'm telling you something: I guess I can't stop you from selling the ranch, but if you do, I'll get you somehow, if you live long enough."

Turkey, as he went down the street from this interview, was in a poisonous temper. His was the impotent rage of youth, which failing expression in physical violence, finds itself at a complete loss. Though he had said a number of highly insulting things, he was not satisfied.

He told himself that he did not care a hoot about Angus, nor about his own prospective share in the ranch, which would be wiped out by a forced sale. But he thought it hard luck for Jean. In spite of their quarrel, he recognized that his brother had done most of the work for years. The thought that a pork-faced old mortgage shark should get the ranch that had been his father's was bitter.

However, he did not know what could be done about it. No doubt Angus had consulted old Riley. The law was against him. The darn law, Turkey reflected, was always against the ordinary man, which was not to be wondered at since it was made by darn crooks. Coming such, Turkey unconsciously sighed for the good, old days of stock which had no special respect for the law, as days when dispossession was attended by difficulties other than legal.

Under the circ.u.mstances, it seemed to Turkey that he should have a drink. To get it he went around the block to a hostelry immediately behind Mr. Braden's office. There he had a drink with the proprietor, one Tom Hall. Then Tom had one with him. Five minutes later both had two more with two strangers. Hall took his drinks from a private bottle which contained cold tea. But four drinks of the kind he dispensed to customers furnished a very fair foundation. Turkey had nothing particular to do. Thus the end of a decidedly imperfect day found him gently slumbering in an upstairs room of Tom's place.

When he awoke it was dark. He did not know where he was, and did not care. Being young and in perfect health he had not the traditional "splitting head." He was very dry, but that was all. He lay still, and remembered that Tom had helped him to that room, taken off his boots and told him to sleep it off. Apparently he had.

The window was open and the night air blew softly upon his face, bringing with it the sound of voices from the next room. He heard the sc.r.a.ping of chairs, the pop of a safety match, the clink of gla.s.s. Then the voices became more audible, as if the occupants of the room had drawn closer to the window. Listening idly, Turkey caught his own surname. In a moment it was repeated.

In spite of the adage concerning what listeners are apt to hear of themselves, and all honorable theories against eavesdropping, the average person hearing his own name will p.r.i.c.k up his ears. Turkey rolled softly out of the bed, and in his stockinged feet went to the window.