Desert Conquest, A. M. Chisholm [best reads .TXT] 📗

a horrible mass of wreckage.

Farwell had disliked Dunne at first sight; now he hated him. He would have liked to come to actual grips with him, to break that lean, wiry body with his own tremendous strength, to bruise and batter that quietly mocking face with his great fists.

But the worst of it all was that he had nothing to go on. There was not a shred of evidence to connect Dunne with the destruction of the dam and flume. The detective sent down by the company had looked wise but had found out nothing. The only thing in the nature of a clew was a moccasin track, and that led to young McCrae, whom, for Sheila's sake, he did not wish to involve. He felt that through no fault of his own he had made a mess of everything. The ranchers had won every round. As Africa had been the grave of countless military reputations, so Farwell saw his own repute interred along the Coldstream.

Something had to be done. He was tired of taking unavailing precautions, of sitting passively waiting for attacks. In the nature of things it was impossible to guard adequately works extending over miles of uninhabited country. Guerilla warfare could not be met by regular tactics.

As he scowled down at the muddy torrent an idea began to germinate in his mind. The main thing was to crush these ranchers, to bring them to their knees. After that all would be easy, there would be an end of difficulties. The engineering problems were the least. He had a free hand; he was backed by an enormous corporation which would go the limit. He resolved to fight fire with fire—to give the ranchers a dose of their own medicine.

CHAPTER XV

When Clyde Burnaby entered Wade's office, that busy lawyer was much surprised. "I thought you had gone away," he said as they shook hands. "It beats me how any young woman with the price of an elsewhere can stay in this town in summer."

Clyde laughed as she sat down. She looked deliciously cool, though the mercury was in the nineties, and the dusty cañonlike streets were like ovens. "I was on the point of going," she admitted, "but I don't know where to go. I came for some information on another point, Mr. Wade."

"Yes?" said Wade interrogatively. "We carry a very complete stock of information here." He waved a hand at the formidable rows of half-calf and circuit bindings in his bookcase. "What particular shade, model, or style may I show you? Something seasonable and yet durable? Here is a very attractive and well-bound ten-pound creation covering most of the common or garden varieties of contract, including breach of promise to marry. Nice summer reading. Or, perhaps——"

"Now do you think any sensible man would break such a promise to me?" she laughed.

"You know the answer already," Wade replied. "You are a very good-looking young woman—almost as good-looking as Kitty."

"Model husband," Clyde commented approvingly. "Kitty is a darling. But to come to the point, Mr. Wade, I want some information about Mr. Dunne."

"Casey Dunne?" inquired Wade, with a slight lift of his brows. "What has he been doing? What do you want to know about him?"

"I want to know about his business affairs—or perhaps I should say his business troubles."

"Why?" Wade asked bluntly, eying her with curiosity.

Clyde's colour heightened a little but she met his gaze directly. "I had a letter from him," she replied, "in which, among other things, he referred to his troubles with the railway company that owns land in his district—troubles about water. It seems to be a serious matter."

"How did he happen to write you about it?" asked Wade. "Do you correspond? I beg your pardon. It's none of my business, but Casey isn't given to telling his troubles."

"I think," said Clyde, "I had better tell you how I first met Mr. Dunne." She did so, considerably to Wade's surprise.

"That's just like Casey all through," he commented. "Close as a clam. Never told me about meeting you before. And so he lent you ten dollars! You!" He chuckled at the idea. "Well, later he may have a use for that same ten."

"You really mean that? If money would help him now——"

"It isn't necessary just yet. I'll tell you how matters stand." He did so with brevity and lucidity. "The situation now is that the government leaves the right to water to be determined by the courts. The court won't sit till some time in September. So there you are. Meanwhile the company is trying to take the water and the ranchers are trying to prevent them. So far nobody has been hurt, but I'm afraid, with the bitterness which is sure to develop, there may be serious trouble at any time."

"Mr. Dunne and his friends have not funds for a long legal fight?"

"No. Casey himself is land poor—that is, he has put every dollar he could rake together into land. He will either go broke or make a killing. The others have good ranches, but no money. And they can't raise any on their land, for nobody would lend under these conditions. Their very existence is involved."

"I have plenty of money," said Clyde. "More than I know what to do with; more than I can ever spend, living as I do. I will give you a check now for whatever sum you require to take this case to the very highest court."

"That's a very generous offer," said Wade, "but I can't accept it. It's not merely a case of lack of the sinews of war. It's a case of a huge corporation against a few individuals with as little influence as they have money. You might put up law costs to an enormous extent uselessly. You see, you would be bucking Western Airline. Your respected uncle might do that, but you can't."

Clyde's smooth forehead wrinkled thoughtfully. But she merely said: "If I can do anything—with money or in any other way—for Mr. Dunne and his friends, I'm ready to do it."

"I don't know what you can do just now," said Wade. "I'm going on a vacation for a few weeks. Most of it I intend to spend out in that part of the country. When I return I'll know more about it."

"Is Kitty going, too?" Clyde asked.

"She wants to, but I don't like the idea. It's a little rough there. I'd prefer her to go where she'd be more comfortable."

"She wouldn't enjoy it alone."

"Suppose you keep her company," Wade suggested. "She'd be delighted."

"Suppose," said Clyde, "we both keep you company?"

"Eh!" said Wade.

"Well, why not? We're both sick of dressed-up summer resorts. I want to see this country of Mr. Dunne's. We can rough it if we have to. We'll have a camp or take a house—we'll get along somehow."

"Oh, nonsense!" Wade objected. "You wouldn't like it. It's as hot as perdition in the daytime. You'd be sick of it."

"If we don't like it we can leave. If Kitty will go and doesn't object to me, will you take us both?"

"You'll both go if you want to, whether I say 'no' or not," said Wade. "Is this a put-up job? Have you fixed it with Kitty?"

"Not yet," said Clyde, her eyes twinkling, "but I'm going to."

From Wade's office Clyde went straight to the headquarters of the Hess System, finding its chief in the act of leaving.

Jim Hess was big, carelessly dressed, kindly faced, and the gray of his close-clipped moustache was yellowed by smoke. He sat down and motioned his niece to a seat, his hand mechanically searching for a cigar.

"Well, young lady, what's the trouble?" he asked.

"I want about fifteen minutes of your time, Uncle Jim."

"Easy," Hess commented. As a rule he was sparing of words. "I was afraid you wanted to borrow money." Nevertheless he eyed her shrewdly. She was a great favourite of his, and he devoted much more time to her affairs than she suspected.

Beginning at the beginning, she told him of Casey Dunne, her meeting with him, the water trouble, and the attitude of the Western Airline. Her memory was good and her understanding excellent. Therefore she was able to state the case clearly.

"This Dunne and his friends," Hess commented, "seem to me to be up against it."

"I thought that you might be able to do something to help them."

"What?"

"I didn't know. But you are a railway man. You may have some influence with Mr. York or his directors. Perhaps you might bring influence to bear."

Hess smiled grimly. "Old Nick has more influence with York than I have. He crosses the street when he sees me. I like him about as much as he likes me. He's boss of his own show—his directors cut no ice. Anyway, it's none of my business. I've no excuse for butting in." Her face showed her disappointment. "I'm sorry," said Hess. "I'd do anything I could for you, little girl, or for any one who ever did you a good turn. But you see how it is. I can't ask favours of York and his crowd. If I did they'd only refuse."

"Of course not—if it's that way," Clyde acknowledged. "I didn't know. I thought you might be able to do something or suggest something."

Hess was silent, smoking meditatively, drawing aimless lines on a blotter. "Got much money loose?" he asked suddenly.

"Plenty," Clyde replied. "Why?"

"Well," said Hess slowly, "just at present Western Air looks to me like good buying."

"Does it? I'll buy a little, if you say so."

"Don't say I said so; don't mention my name. Tell your brokers to buy quietly at the market just as much as you can stand. Tell 'em to buy till you countermand their instructions. I'll let you know when to do that. Tell 'em to buy at the present market. If the price breaks keep on buying. And if you go away anywhere let me know where a wire will get you."

"Thanks, Uncle Jim," said Clyde. "You think Western Air is a good investment, then?"

"I didn't say that—I said it was good buying," said Hess. "It's not high now. Some day"—he hesitated—"some day it ought to be worth as much as Hess System—as much as one of our own stocks."

With this prophecy, which he appeared to regret, Jim Hess patted his niece on the shoulder, told her not to worry about other people's troubles, and departed to keep his engagement.

Clyde immediately rang up Mrs. Wade, and, finding her at home, proceeded there at once, to "fix" matters; a thing by no means hard to accomplish, for Kitty Wade found the prospect of a lonesome vacation very unattractive, and was a willing conspirator.

"We'll just make Harrison take us," she declared. "We'll have all sorts of a good time, too, riding and driving and fishing and whatever else they do. Won't it be a relief not to have to dress up? And I'll be an ideal chaperon, dear, upon my word."

"Oh, my liking for Mr. Dunne hasn't reached that stage," laughed Clyde, flushing a little, but too wise to pretend density. She had ever found that the best defence against such badinage lay in frankness. "But don't leave me alone with him, Kitty. It might end with his endowing me with his name and worldly goods. 'Mrs. Casey Dunne!' Euphonious, don't you think? I wonder if I should like to hear myself announced in that way?"

Kitty Wade glanced at her narrowly. Clyde's face expressed nothing but laughing amusement.

"Harrison has a high opinion of him," she said. "I believe his father was supposed to be wealthy until after his death, when Mr. Dunne was a boy. And he is very presentable. I think he deserves a great deal of credit."

"So do I," Clyde agreed heartily. "I told Mr. Wade that I was prepared to furnish whatever money was needed for this lawsuit of Mr. Dunne's."

"You did!" exclaimed Mrs. Wade. "Why, Clyde whatever for? How does it concern you?"

And Clyde told her for the first time of her first meeting with Casey