Ranching For Sylvia Volume-554, Harold Bindloss [ink book reader .txt] 📗

Volume 554 Chapter 8 (Constable Flett's Suspicions) Pg 56

Profession."

 

"And You Have Abandoned The Idea?"

 

She Looked At Him Quietly, Wondering Whether She Should Answer.

 

"I Had No Alternative," She Said.  "I Began To Realize It After My

Mother's Death.  Then My Father Was Badly Hurt In An Accident With A

Team, And I Came Back.  He Has Nobody Else To Look After Him, And He Is

Getting On In Life."

 

Her Words Conveyed No Hint Of The Stern Struggle Between Duty And

Inclination, But George Guessed It.  This Girl, He Thought, Was One Not

To Give Up Lightly The Career She Had Chosen.

 

Then She Changed The Subject With A Smile.

 

"I Suspect That My Father Approves Of You, Perhaps Because Of What You

Are Doing With The Land.  I Think I May Say That If You Have Any Little

Difficulty, Or Are Short Of Any Implements That Would Be Useful, You

Need Only Come Across To Us."

 

"Thank You," George Responded Quietly.

 

"Mr. West Mentioned That You Were On A Farm In This Country Once

Before.  Why Did You Give It Up?"

 

"Somebody Left Me A Little Money."

 

"Then What Brought You Back?"

 

She Was Rather Direct, But That Is Not Unusual In The West, And George

Was Mildly Flattered By The Interest She Displayed.

 

"It's A Little Difficult To Answer.  For One Thing, I Was Beginning To

Feel That I Was Taking Life Too Easily In England, It's A Habit That

Grows On One."

 

He Had No Desire To Conceal The Fact That He Had Come Out On Sylvia's

Behalf--It Never Occurred To Him To Mention It.  He Was Trying To

Analyze The Feelings Which Had Rendered The Sacrifice He Made In

Leaving Home A Little Easier.

 

"I Don't Think The Dread Of Acquiring That Habit Is Common Among Your

People," Flora Said Mischievously.  "It Doesn't Sound Like A Very

Convincing Reason."

 

"No," Replied George, With A Smile.  "Still, It Had Some Weight.  You

See, It Isn't Difficult To Get Lazy And Slack, And I'd Done Nothing

Except A Little Fishing And Shooting For Several Years.  I Didn't Want

To Sink Into A Mere Lounger About Country Houses And Clubs.  It's

Pleasant, But Too Much Of It Is Apt To Unfit One For Anything Else."

 

"You Believe It's Safer, For Example, To Haul Stovewood Home Through

Volume 554 Chapter 8 (Constable Flett's Suspicions) Pg 57

The Canadian Frost Or Drive A Plow Under The Scorching Sun?"

 

"Yes; I Think I Feel Something Of The Kind."

 

Flora Somewhat Astonished Him By Her Scornful Laugh.

 

"You're Wise," She Said.  "We Have Had Sportsmen Here From Your

Country, And I've A Vivid Memory Of One Or Two.  One Could See By Their

Coarse Faces That They Ate And Drank Too Much; And They Seemed

Determined To Avoid Discomfort At Any Cost.  I Suppose They Could

Shoot, But They Could Neither Strip A Gun Nor Carry It On A Long Day's

March.  The Last Party Thought It Needful To Take A Teamload Of

Supplies When They Went North After Moose.  It Would Have Been A

Catastrophe If They Had Missed Their Dinner."

 

"Going Without One's Dinner Has Its Inconveniences," Said George.

 

"And Thinking Too Much About It Has Its Perils," She Retorted.

 

George Nodded.  He Thought He Knew What She Meant, And He Agreed With

It.  He Could Recall Companions Who, Living For Pleasure, Had By

Degrees Lost All Zest For The More Or Less Wholesome Amusements To

Which They Had Confined Their Efforts.  Some Had Become Mere Club

Loungers And Tattlers; One Or Two Had Sunk Into Gross Indulgence.  This

Had Had Its Effect On Him: He Did Not Wish To Grow Red-Faced, Slothful,

And Fleshy, As They Had Done, Nor To Busy Himself With Trivialities

Until Such Capacities For Useful Work As He Possessed Had Atrophied.

 

"Well," He Said, "Nobody Could Call This A Good Country For The

Pampered Loafer."

 

Flora Smiled, And Pointed Out Across The Prairie.  In The Foreground It

Was Flecked With Crimson Flowers; Farther Back Willow And Poplar Bluffs

Stretched In Bluish Smears Across The Sweep Of Grass That Ran On Beyond

Them Toward The Vivid Glow Of Color On The Skyline.  It Was Almost

Beautiful In The Soft Evening Light, But It Conveyed Most Clearly A

Sense Of Vastness And Solitude.  The Effect Was Somehow Daunting.  One

Thought Of The Arctic Winter And The Savage Storms That Swept The Wilds.

 

"I've Heard It Called Hard," She Said.  "It Undoubtedly Needs Hard Men;

There Is Nothing Here That Can Be Easily Won.  That's A Fact That The

People You're Sending Over Ought To Recognize."

 

"They Soon Discover It When They Get Out.  When They've Had A Crop

Hailed Or Frozen, The Thing Becomes Obvious."

 

"Did You Lose One?"

 

"I Did," George Rejoined Rather Gloomily.  "I've A Suspicion That If We

Get Much Dry Weather And The Usual Strong Winds, I May Lose Another.

The Wheat's Getting Badly Cut By Driving Sand; That's A Trouble We

Don't Have To Put Up With In The Old Country."

 

"I'm Sorry," Said Flora; And He Knew She Meant It.  "But You Won't Be

Volume 554 Chapter 8 (Constable Flett's Suspicions) Pg 58

Beaten By One Bad Season?"

 

"No," George Answered With Quiet Determination.  "I Must Make A Success

Of This Venture, Whatever It Costs."

 

She Was A Little Puzzled By His Manner, For She Did Not Think He Was

Addicted To Being Needlessly Emphatic; But She Asked No Questions, And

Soon Afterward The Others Joined Them And They Went Back To The House.

Early On The Following Morning, George Started Homeward With His

Cattle, And As They Rode Slowly Through The Barley-Grass That Fringed

The Trail, Edgar Looked At Him With A Smile.

 

"You Spent Some Time In Miss Grant's Company," He Remarked.  "How Did

She Strike You?"

 

"I Like Her.  She's Interesting--I Think That's The Right Word For It.

Seems To Understand Things; Talks To You Like A Man."

 

"Just So," Edgar Rejoined, With A Laugh.  "She's A Lady I've A High

Opinion Of; In Fact, I'm A Little Afraid Of Her.  Though I'm Nearly As

Old As She Is, She Makes Me Feel Callow.  It's A Sensation That's New

To Me."

 

"And You're A Man Of Experience, Aren't You?"

 

"I Suppose I Was Rather A Favorite At Home," Edgar Owned With Humorous

Modesty.  "For All That, I Don't Feel Myself Quite Up To Miss Grant's

Standard."

 

"I Didn't Notice Any Assumption Of Superiority On Her Part."

 

"Oh, No," Said Edgar.  "She Doesn't Require To Assume It; The

Superiority's Obvious; That's The Trouble.  One Hesitates About

Offering Her The Small Change Of Compliments That Generally Went Well

At Home.  If You Try To Say Something Smart, She Looks At You As If She

Were Amused, Not At What You Said, But At You.  There's An Embarrassing

Difference Between The Things."

 

"The Remedy's Simple.  Don't Try To Be Smart."

 

"You Would Find That Easy," Edgar Retorted.  "Now, In My Opinion, Miss

Grant Is Intellectual, Which Is More Than Anybody Ever Accused You Of

Being, But I Suspect You Would Make More Progress With Her Than I Could

Do.  Extremes Have A Way Of Meeting, And Perhaps It Isn't Really

Curious That Your Direct And Simple Views Should Now And Then Recommend

You To A More Complex Person."

 

"I Notice A Couple Of Beasts Straying Yonder," George Said Dryly.

 

Edgar Rode Off To Drive The Animals Up To The Herd.  George, He

Thought, Was Painfully Practical; Only Such A Man Could Break Off The

Discussion Of A Girl Like Miss Grant To Interest Himself In The

Movements Of A Wandering Steer.  For All That, The Beasts Must Be

Turned, And They Gave Edgar A Hard Gallop Through Willow Scrub And Tall

Volume 554 Chapter 8 (Constable Flett's Suspicions) Pg 59

Grass Before He Could Head Them Off And Afterward Overtake The Drove.

 

Volume 554 Chapter 9 (George Turns Reformer) Pg 60

George Was Working In The Summer Fallow A Few Days After His Return

From Grant's Homestead, When A Man Rode Across The Plowing And Pulled

Up His Horse Beside Him.  He Was On The Whole A Handsome Fellow, Well

Mounted And Smartly Dressed, But There Was A Hint Of Hardness In His

Expression.  George Recognized Him As The Landlord Of A Hotel At The

Settlement.

 

"Your Crop's Not Looking Too Good," The Stranger Greeted Him.

 

"No," Returned George.  "It Was Badly Put In, And We've Had Unusually

Dry Weather."

 

"I Forgot," The Other Rejoined.  "You're The Fellow Jake Gillet Had The

Trouble With.  Beat Him Down On The Price, Didn't You?  He's A Bad Man

To Bluff."

 

"The Point That Concerned Me Was That He Asked A Good Deal More Than

His Work Was Worth."

 

The Man Looked At George Curiously.

 

"That's Quite Possible, But You Might Have Let Him Down More Gently

Than You Did.  As A Newcomer, You Don't Want To Kick Too Much Or Run Up

Against Things Other Folks Put Up With."

 

George Wondered Where The Hint He Had Been Given Led.

 

"I Rode Over To Bring This Paper For You To Sign," The Man Went On.

 

Glancing Through It, George Saw That It Was A Petition Against Any

Curtailment Of The Licenses At Sage Butte, And A Testimonial To The

Excellent Manner In Which