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Show DESERT IM L (ft KAY p Kl I CLEAVER. ::1jV?fwfCT r.YRI6HTby POUBLEDAV QOR AN CQ INC. WN U.SERVICE ! ill 1 pt-SsI CHAPTER I Continued. hin I knew what he was miss : ?.n(j0I was not surprised when, liiT he told me be had decided :i.'to Son Francisco and get a :', of children and adopt them. t ffrote to a big hospital In San . ,m and got in touch with a :1 nurse who would b willing to np and live on the ranch and 'tjn oi the two children. He ; ter go to an orphan's home and (he children and bring them Is i,er when she came. '-,t nurse came earby tn Septem-... Septem-... "Witb two brown-eyed children Vera and Alvin. Sam at once ."Bed them. John, be said, was '--"only name for a boy, and Mary !fJ:Iy name for a girl. But since J.' Eame was Mary, be would let the ''efirl have Martha, which meant. ...jlng to Sam, "Boss of the ' -A" u nurse's name was Mrs. Ollie : -er. I dont know how old she -;tai. I don't kno-w how old she She never talked. I do not i a that she never chatted, or gos-. gos-. j. 1 mean that she never said word if she could possibly avoid " it the end of sixteen years of v association with Mrs. Ricker, .::is, up to the time of the second :er on the Desert Moon, 1 knew ;iy as much about her past life j it know at this minute. sId, at that time, was nine years He was as bright, and as up- lir.g, and as handsome, as nny e fellow to he found anywhere. I s as well say, now, that this de-iiion de-iiion of John, at nine years old, ;s;ood a description as :I can give Mm at twenty-five, If you will i Ms height up to sis feet, and d weight accordingly. t papers fron the orphanage ' Martha's age as five years ; but -i 1, who knew less about children ; It was decent for any woman to -1. oon saw that something was j;. She walked well enough, but could scarcely talk at all. Her j and her habits were those of a -rear-old infant, yet she was far j large for that age. Before she ten with ns a week I knew that ia was not quite right In her 1 s. Ricker knew It, too. Her ex-i ex-i ns, that she had chosen Martha ase she was so pretty ; that she tad no opportunity to judge her characteristics. She Insisted ' she thought, with proper care, 'la would develop normally. new better. Sam knew it, too. rten I begged and besought him to adopt her, he brought out an , it good and conclusive for him. ; 11 ' don't adopt her, and take care ff." said Sam, "who the heck j?" " adopt her he did. And -ie spent til fortune on doctors, specialists, ! None of them could do any- ' It was, they said, e hopeless "'retarded development. So, at ne years of age, Martha, ;ti the care and doctoring had j tier a fine healthy body, had the "fa child of five or six years 100 bright a child, either. That '"best At worst Well, . no mat-Entirely mat-Entirely harmless, the .doctors t I always had my doubts. CHAPTER II Rivals at the Ranch "as three years after Mrs. Ricker ;l()the ranch, bringing John , and 1 ,"a' fiat Hubert Hand put .In his ..raBce- He had got Mr. ilndian 1 ,ln as everybody called him, I "shi,1 up from Rattail In his t , "tre?. jC 'ulian Chat Chin stopped -his i 'L0t,the enrance to the .drlve-j .drlve-j . -Hubert Hand climbed care-I care-I 'rJV an(1 came up the road, ; a walking cane like be was ; -"'Parade. ' find i : ' ' as was our custom, went to meet him! , off his hat to me, and said I ".neh 'Sh t0 See the owner of i ' ttjirr mistb me tor a , i yre' Bam said. "But go ! wUr first wish Is granted. other two?" 5 j1111 got out his card then. I e, name It had "Clover-blos- i ;mt-'r.V," and the San Fran- J Panted on It. ! f -and ePluined that he had 3 V "j F r C0I!lln8 creamery business ! tm'SC' but that his physi- S 'Ui 7 him Um' he hIld 'o live t V, n,y climate with plenty of i !is 2 n f0g- Ue 'la' nfter rioJ investitrations, decided i tlniISSCrl Mnon ranch, altitude il 'jnd tee(. sunshine three sxty five days In the '-1 IMh;!i ot tho marvelous view of the Garnet mountains, the hunting, the fishing, and the pure snow water, would fill all bis requirements. Ills proposition was that be start a creamery, on the Desert Moon ranch, and supply the valley with Ice cream, butter, and other dairy products. Sam had the ranch, the cows, the big 1ce plant. Mr. Hubert Hand had the knowledge and the equipment They could divide the profits. Next to sheep men, I guess there Is nothing that cow men hold in lower contempt than they hold dairy farms. Sam was too much disgusted to swear very long. "Listen, stranger," he said. "1 wouldn't turn the Desert Moon Into a place to slop milk around In if the entire valley had to depend on Hongkong, Hong-kong, China, for Its ice cream cones. Forget it, and come in now and have gome supper." To my knowledge, Hubert Hand, from that day to this, has never again mentioned, on the Desert Moon, anything any-thing that had to do with creameries Neither, from that clay to this, has lie been off the ranch for more than a couple of weeks at a time. "By the way," he began, trying co make it sound unimportant, when we had finished supper, "I heard, in Tel-ko, Tel-ko, that you were something of a chess player." "I am, when 1 can get a game," Sam said "But chess olayers, in these parts, are as scarce as ben's teeth." "I piay a little," Hubert Hand produced, pro-duced, right modestly. Sam jumped up and got out his chess table. Hubert Hand beat him the first game In about half an hour. They set up their men again. It took Hubert Hand over .in hour that time to beat Sam. but he did it. "Heck 1" Sam said, at the end of that game. "You're hired." "Hired for what?" "For whatever you want to call it, except the slopping of milk around. Send for your trunk and name your pay. Why didn't you say, in the 'first place, that you were a blanket? blank crack chess player?" Hubert Hand accepted Sam's offer, then and there. The next day he titled himself assistant ranch manager, man-ager, and named his salary at two hundred and fifty dollars a month. Sara paid it without blinking; and kept right on managing the ranch, and everything on it, except, perhaps, myself, without any assistance, 'the same as he had always done.. Chadwick Caufield, the other member mem-ber of our household, who was present on the Desert Moon ranch at the time of the first murder, came only -two years ago last October. He was wearing white corduroy trousers, a long yellow rubber raincoat, rain-coat, and a straw hat tethered to Its buttonhole with a string. He was carrying a ukulele under his arm and a camera in his hand. He took off his hat, displaying ' a bead full of pretty yellow curls. He smiled, displaying dis-playing a sweet, gentle dlsposition. (If there is any better Index to character char-acter than the way a person smiles, I have never found Vt.) "How do you do?" he said. "I have come to visit you." By the time Sam got his pipe plcke3 up, John had got down the forty-feet length of living room and had Chad by both hands, and was Introducing him as the friend he had told us about, the friend he had made at Mather's field, during the war. The way of that was, John had saved his life for him down there, and had never since been able to get out from under the responsibility of It John had found a job for him, after the armistice, and when Chad lost it, John had loaned him money to start out in a vaudeville act. He did fine with that for three years, and was making good money, when he got Into an automobile accident In Kansas City and was laid up for mouths In the hospital there. John had wired money to him, and had asked him to come for a visit to the Desert Moon. But, since be had had a standing invitation invi-tation for years, and since he bad sent oo word that be was coming, John was as much surprised as any of us that evening. Chad was a little, pindling fellow. Around Snm and John and Hubert Hand he looked about as Jainty and trifling as the garnish around the platter plat-ter of the Thanksgiving turkey. He seemed kind of like that, too; like the extra bit of garnishing that mak s life's platter prettier and nicer abso lutely .useless, maybe, but no.cr cluttery. Until nfter he came, 1 had not realized real-ized how little real Immbinj; nny of i'us iiii'l '!'ne- !: ; Sang Funny Songs Until We Held Our Sides With Laughing. enough, and content; but we had never been much cmused. He amused us. He made us laugh. He took the mechanical player off the old grand piano, and played It as we had never before heard It played. He spoke pieces and sang funny songs until we held our sides with laughing. He was a ventriloquist, arid a mimic besides. He could Imitate all of our voices to a T. Martha adored him. He played with her by the hour. He made two dolls, M'ke and Pat, for her, and he would let them sit on her knees while he made them talk for her. At the end of November, when he began to talk about leaving, Sam offered him a hundred and fifty a month to stay on. Ue said, like Hubert Hu-bert Hand had said, "What for?" "For living," Sam said. Chad laughed and shook his head. "Double it, then," Sam urged. "1 wouldn't have you leave the plai.., and Martha, for three hundred a month ; so why shouldn't I pay it to have you stay?" Chad never would take any regular money 'from Sam. But he stayed on. He called himself the "Perpetual Guest P. G." for short, but some of the others said it stood for "Pollyanna Gush" and called him "Polly" to twit him. Pollyanna may not be literature, litera-ture, 1 don't know ; but a person of that nature is most uncommonly pleas ant to have around the house. The girls got here on Friday, the eighth of May. Sam and I rode down to Unttail In the sedan to meet them, and John took the small truck down to bring up their baggage. I don't know what there is about riding In a train that turns folks haughty and supercilious; but there is something that does. A person who would be right hearty and human on his own two feet, sits In a car window win-dow and looks out at the platform people as if they were something he -wanted to be careful not to step on. By the time I had passed fifty or more windows, and had reached where 'the girls were standing, I was so heated up I couldn't find a word to say but, "Pleased to meet you," which was not the truth. One of them smiled real sweet, and said, "Mary I Upon my soul you haven't changed at all In sixteen years," and made as if to kiss me; which 1 did at once. The other one gave me a Jerky nod, and stood there, watching the train pull out, until Sam, who had been poking along behind me, managed to catch up. "Uncle Sam," she exclaimed, laughing laugh-ing and standing on tiptoe, and putting put-ting her hands on his shoulders, and tipping 'her pointed chin up to him, "you dear, to have ns I I had always remembered that you were the biggest big-gest man in the world, a'nd now I see that I was right about It." Sam didn't kiss her, as she had expected ex-pected him to. He patted her hands, took them down off his shoulders and held them a minute before he dropped them and reached to shake hands -with the twin who had kissed me. "Well, now," he said, "this Is sure great. Little girls all grown up to ladles, and coming to see their old uncle." (He had bitten on that uncle bait, though he was no more their uncle than I -was.) "Which of you is which, now? Let's get you sorted out, so I can call you by name. I used to get you all mixed up, when you were little tykes couldn't tell one from the- other." "Toil won't -have that trouble any more," said the one who had nodded at me. "I am iGabrlelle, and that prim little puss is Danielle. People never get confused about ns any longer." The population of Rattail had come running to the depot, of course, when the train stopped; and, at last, swaggering swag-gering his way among males, females, Indians, cowpunchers, and dogs, here came John. "La-la!" exclaimed Gabrielle, when she caught sight of him. "Who Is this picturesque man thing coming toward us?" John did look pretty tine, wearing his new corduroy suit, and his shininc new leather puttees, and bis new si-teen-dollar sombrero. fie had even gone so far as to huitoii up the c.II:;r of his brown flannel shirt. "He." Snm s:r:w.v.il. he;ii.i;n wlrh , priii", "is my lj"'. .I"!,n." i I "How thrTHfhgI" chirped Gabrielle. ' "It is like living in a cinema, Isn't it, Danny?" And on she went, sort of skipping along the tracks, to meet him. When they met, John gave her about the Same attention that a passenger pas-senger gives the ticket chopper at the gate, In a city depot, when he sees the train he is trying to catch moving slowly out through the yards. He pulled off his hat with a bow, but he passed her, walking very fast. I thought that he was so flustered that he did not know what he was doing. He knew. He was headed straight for Danny. He had been In the freight house since long before the train came in, sizing up from a safe distance the girls' arrivaL Then he had sneaked out the back way, up past the station house, and around it and back again, to give the appearance of having Just that minute got into Rat-tall. Rat-tall. "John," I said, when he reached Danny and me, and stopped short, like he had Just been lassoed from the rear, "this is Danielle Cannezlano." John dropped his hat In the alkali dust, his new hat, and reached out and took both of Danny's hands in his. Falling on his knees In front of her would not have been much showier. "I " he produced, "I I heard you laugh." To me, It barely made sense; but she seemed to find if Interesting and important. "Really?" she said, and sort of trilled It full of meaning. Rattails population was beginning to close !n around us. 1 pulled at John's sleeve; but I declare, If a freight hadn't come along, forcing those two to get off the tracks, they might have been standing there yet, gazing Into each other's eyes. I was halfway home, riding beside Par.ny in the sedan, when Gabrielle's langliing cut again, at some remark of t-'am's. made me remember that she had Leon tiie only one who had done any lau-'hing when we had met. Danny Dan-ny Lad only smiled. So, if that laugh u-as what had put John clear off his head, he had picked the wrong twin (To Be Continued) |