Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 6, 1923 — page 110: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

892 a sheepman, and a Basque in particular, he and Angel pooled their interests in Martin Creek. For although Thad’s hatred for the Basque was long lived, it in no way matched his love of the dollar, and it seemed certain that the arrangement he had made with Angel would line his pockets. That the thing they proposed doing was unfair, and less than honorable, mattered not at all to either. The men who had been leasing Thad’s water were dependent on it. Whatever value was placed on their ranches was con- tingent on their being able to renew their leases. A ranch without water is about as worthless a thing as Nevada can boast. Thad and Angel were well aware of this, and it was their intention to buy in these properties at their own figure, to put what they could of them to wheat and to divide the profits. It was this very business which had taken Angel to the Circle-Z this day and as Joseph, with the wounded lamb in his arms, started back to Thad Taylor’s ranch house, Angel and Thad lingered over their supper. Little Billy, in his day a round-up cook of some renown and now Thad’s chef and man-at-arms in general, was bent on clear- ing the table. He slipped in whenever it seemed propitious and retrieved a dish or platter. Thad soon discouraged him, how- ever, for he was an autocratic, overbearing old man steeped in having his own way. With more tact, it is true, the old rancher had dismissed his granddaughter, for of all the creatures who trod the earth, Thad Taylor loved and feared none as he did Necia. Moreover, he knew that the business he was discussing with Angel would not pass muster in her eyes. When they had finished their scheming, Thad called her in. She was beautiful in a spiritual sense, her young body—she was only twenty—without hint of voluptuous- ness. As she stood in the doorway, her head lightly poised, it seemed incredible that the day would ever come when the purely physical loveliness of her would dim the divine beauty of her questioning, sky- blue eyes. She held her lips slightly parted and Angel glanced at her expecting some bird-like note to issue from them. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, Necia waited, however, for her grand- father to speak and, as he gathered up his papers, she glanced from him to Angel, appraising each in her own way, wondering what they had in common, The two men were of about the same age and shrewd- ness was written upon the face of each, but in no other way were they even remotely alike, for her grandfather was short, heavy —hbald; his ruddy cheeks and rounded nose almost giving the lie to his severe, tight- lipped mouth. Angel was tall, cadaverous, angular, a great shock of iron-gray hair cascading over his high forehead. Necia had heard him reviled many times, but in the four or five visits he had made to the Circle-Z she had found him courteous and patient. She had been raised, however, in a household where the Basque had been held no better than a Mexican—her mother, old Thad’s daughter, had shared this view —and Necia found it difficult to overcome the prejudice. Thad glanced at her apprehensively as he straightened up, for he had felt her scrutiny. : “Well, well, Necia,” he exclaimed brusquely, as was his habit when trying to cover up, “I can tell you a secret now: We're goin’ to have a real flour mill.” Necia smiled. ‘“‘ Meaning that some one has lost his water rights, eh?” she queried provokingly. ‘“‘ Never you mind about that,” Thad grinned. ‘“ Business is business. I’m no organized charity. Go on and play those new records for us, will you?” Necia shook her head as she glanced at the wax rolls—in that day quite the last word in talking machine records. “They are terrible, grandfather,” she said teasingly. ‘“‘—‘ The Bull Frog and the Coon ’"—‘ Flanigan’s Wake’—” }Necia made a wry face as she read the labels aloud. “ Terrible?’”? Thad snorted. ‘‘ Flani- gan’s Wake?’ Why, when I was a young buck they wa’n’t no better tune a goin’ than that! But that’s young folks for you!” he went on vehemently, pretending an anger he was far from feeling. ‘‘ Old- time things ain’t good enough for them no more.” COMmiclboo (©