A God in Ruins - Leon Uris [11]
“Consuelo told me that Pedro served six years in the Navy. He is from an old Colorado family, and he was wounded at Pearl Harbor, or maybe you didn’t notice that he’s blind in one eye.”
“I seem to have everything upside down,” he said softly.
“That is because your world has been set upside down. We’ll have to set it right, then.”
“Can I touch you, Siobhan? The blow goes away.”
She knew now how to fit into his big, strong arms. “Quinn knew that you would come here,” she said.
“You really think that?”
“Yeah,” she said.
“What does it mean, then?”
“Hard to say what might have gone ’round in his head. But I know he wanted you to come here.”
Chapter 3
LATE 1945—ONWARD
The banker’s chair from the turn of the century was worn through in several spots, just as the decrepit First National Bank of Troublesome Mesa had survived the land rushes, the silver crash, and everpresent drought.
Mr. Dancy, a Mormon, knew every tree in the valley and beyond. He was strikingly direct. “I was able to close on the Malkovich boys just in time. Frankly, I couldn’t have sold the M/M if I threw in the Brooklyn Bridge. Anyhow, Pedro there comes home from the war, one eye and all, and marries the most beautiful girl on the western slopes. I knew his yahoo days were over, right, Pedro?”
“I don’t even miss it,” Pedro answered.
“Pedro talked me into letting him run the place until after the war, when I could find a buyer. We’re going to stake Pedro to a couple hundred acres somewhere.”
“I’ll let you two gentlemen have at it,” Pedro added. “I’ll be down at the diner, Sergeant Dan.”
There was talk between Dan and Dancy about the size of the ranch—well over two thousand acres with bits and pieces all over the mountain, and the water rights were clean. The house, worth at least eleven thousand dollars, would be part of the deal. They shillied and shallied, Dan’s service and decorations making their own impact. Dancy had hoped to save the ranch for some Mormon boy returning from the war, but this had a hopping good flavor to it.
“What’re the numbers?” Dan gulped.
Dancy studied the ledger. “It’s a good ranch and expandable, except for where those crazy Slavs started fencing each other off and cheating with the water.”
“How much?”
“Can’t tell precisely. There’s almost thirty thousand still on the books. I’d have to research the county records, particularly the government land abutting the south. Forty-some thousand would swing it, I’d say.”
Dan’s heart became a cannonball.
“You were a cop in New York?”
“In the three days I’ve ridden with Pedro, I find I can ride a horse without too much discomfort.”
“Wounded?”
“Yes, sir. Saipan.”
“How much can you put in?”
“I have over nine thousand cash and probably can raise another four or five from my family.”
“But you don’t know doodly egg roll about cattle.”
Dan lowered his eyes and shrugged.
“I have an idea,” Dancy said. “Do you like Pedro Martinez?”
“I’d have him in my platoon anyday.”
“He used to be a hell-raising kid, too generous with money he didn’t have, and Mexicans have no inherited family money. Fact is, Sergeant, we have already turned him down for a large loan. They are not too dependable, if you know what I mean.”
“He’s honest, isn’t he?”
“Honest as Jesus. He was in the hospital for almost a year, mostly blindfolded with sandbags holding his head still. If you don’t find God that way, He isn’t there for you. Right now I pay him ten percent of the net and housing. If you were to, say, give him twenty percent, you’d have one of the best cattlemen in Colorado.”
“Let me talk it over with the wife.”
“Confidentially, Sergeant, you and I can make a deal, but only if you have someone to train you.” Dancy leaned over close. “I’m a man of God,” he said, “and God tells me the two of you together are well worth the risk.”
It took time for Daniel Timothy O’Connell to transform from Brooklyn cop to rugged Coloradan. All of about a week. His attitude was a force, a force that wakened him every morning,