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A Buckeye Hollow Inheritance
by
“What do you mean?” demanded the astonished Wells.
“Well–callin’ her a ‘red-haired gal.'”
“Well–she is a red-haired girl!” said Wells impatiently.
“A man,” continued Rice pityingly, “that is so prejudiced as to apply such language to a beautiful orphan–torn with grief at the loss of a beloved but d—-d misconstruing parent–merely because she begs a few vegetables out of his potato patch, ain’t to be reasoned with. But when you come to look at this thing by and large, and as a fa’r-minded man, sonny, you’ll agree with us that the sooner you make terms with her the better. Considerin’ your interest, Jacksey,–let alone the claims of humanity,–we’ve concluded to withdraw from here until this thing is settled. She’s sort o’ mixed us up with your feelings agin her, and naturally supposed we object to the color of her hair! and bein’ a penniless orphan, rejected by her relations”–
“What stuff are you talking?” burst in Jackson. “Why, YOU saw she treated you better than she did me.”
“Steady! There you go with that temper of yours that frightened the girl! Of course she could see that WE were fa’r-minded men, accustomed to the ways of society, and not upset by the visit of a lady, or the givin’ up of a few green sticks! But let that slide! We’re goin’ back home to-night, sonny, and when you’ve thought this thing over and are straightened up and get your right bearin’s, we’ll stand by you as before. We’ll put a man on to do your work on the Ledge, so ye needn’t worry about that.”
They were quite firm in this decision,–however absurd or obscure their conclusions,–and Jackson, after his first flash of indignation, felt a certain relief in their departure. But strangely enough, while he had hesitated about keeping the property when they were violently in favor of it, he now felt he was right in retaining it against their advice to compromise. The sentimental idea had vanished with his recognition of his hateful cousin in the role of the injured orphan. And for the same odd reason her prettiness only increased his resentment. He was not deceived,–it was the same capricious, willful, red-haired girl.
The next day he set himself to work with that dogged steadiness that belonged to his simple nature, and which had endeared him to his partners. He set half a dozen Chinamen to work, and followed, although apparently directing, their methods. The great difficulty was to restrain and control the excessive vegetation, and he matched the small economies of the Chinese against the opulence of the Californian soil. The “garden patch” prospered; the neighbors spoke well of it and of him. But Jackson knew that this fierce harvest of early spring was to be followed by the sterility of the dry season, and that irrigation could alone make his work profitable in the end. He brought a pump to force the water from the little stream at the foot of the slope to the top, and allowed it to flow back through parallel trenches. Again Buckeye applauded! Only the gloomy barkeeper shook his head. “The moment you get that thing to pay, Mr. Wells, you’ll find the hand of Brown, somewhere, getting ready to squeeze it dry!”
But Jackson Wells did not trouble himself about Brown, whom he scarcely knew. Once indeed, while trenching the slope, he was conscious that he was watched by two men from the opposite bank; but they were apparently satisfied by their scrutiny, and turned away. Still less did he concern himself with the movements of his cousin, who once or twice passed him superciliously in her buggy on the road. Again, she met him as one of a cavalcade of riders, mounted on a handsome but ill-tempered mustang, which she was managing with an ill-temper and grace equal to the brute’s, to the alternate delight and terror of her cavalier. He could see that she had been petted and spoiled by her new guardian and his friends far beyond his conception. But why she should grudge him the little garden and the pastoral life for which she was so unsuited, puzzled him greatly.