Jean of the Lazy A [32]
was so deep that he did not feel her presence.
"Uncle Carl, just how much did the Lazy A cost you?" she asked so abruptly that she herself was surprised at the question. "Or putting it another way, just how many dollars and cents did you spend in defending dad?"
Carl started, which was perfectly natural, and glared at her, which was natural also, when one considers that Jean had without warning opened a subject tacitly forbidden upon that ranch. His eyes hardened a little while he looked at her, for between these two there was scant affection.
"What do you want to know for?" he countered, when she persisted in looking at him as though she was waiting for an answer.
"Because I've a right to know. Some time,-- within four years,--I mean to buy back the Lazy A. I want to know how much it will take." Until that moment Jean had merely dreamed of some day buying it back. Until she spoke she would have named the idea a beautiful, impossible desire.
"Where you going to get the money?" Carl looked at her curiously, as if he almost doubted her sanity.
"Rob a bank, perhaps. How much will it take to square things with you? Of course, being a relative, I expect to be cheated a little. So I am going to adopt sly, sleuth-like methods and find out just how much dad owed you before--it happened, and just how much the lawyers charged, and what was the real market value of the outfit, and all that. Dad told me-- dad told me that there was something left over for me. He didn't explain--there wasn't time, and I-- couldn't listen to dollar-talk then. I've gone along all this time, just drifting and getting used to facts, and taking it for granted that everything is all right--"
"Well, what's wrong? Everything is all right, far as I know. I can see what you're driving at--"
"And I'm a pretty fair driver, too," Jean cut in calmly. "I'll reach my destination, I think,--give me time enough."
"Whatever fool notion you've got in your head, you'd better drop it," Carl told her harshly. "There ain't anything you can do to better matters. I came out with the worst of it, when you come right down to facts, and all the nagging-"
Jean went toward him as if she would strike him with her uplifted hand. "Don't dare say that! How can you say that,--and think of dad? He got the worst of it. He's the one that suffers most--and-- he's as innocent as you or I. You know it."
Carl rose from the porch and faced her like an enemy. "What do you mean by that? I know it? If I knew anything like that, do you think I'd leave a stone unturned to prove it? Do you think--"
"I think we both know dad. And some things were not proved,--to my satisfaction, at least. And you know how long the jury was out, and what a time they had agreeing. Some points were weak. It was simply that they couldn't point to any one else. You know that was it. If I could find Art Osgood--"
"What's he got to do with it?" Her uncle leaned a little and peered into her face, which the dusk was veiling.
"That is what I want to find out." Jean's voice was quiet, but it had a quality which he had never before noticed.
"You'd better," he advised her tritely, "let sleeping dogs lie."
"That's the trouble with sleeping dogs; they do lie, more often than not. These particular dogs have lied for nearly three years. I'm going to stir them up and see if I can't get a yelp of the truth out of them."
"Oh, you are!" Carl laughed ironically. "You'll stir up a lot of unpleasantness for yourself and the rest of us, is what you'll do. The thing's over and done with. Folks are beginning to forget it. You've got a home--"
Jean laughed, and her laugh was extremely unpleasant.
"You get as good as the rest of us get," her uncle reminded her sharply. "I came near going broke myself over the affair, if you want to know; and you stand there and accuse me of cheating you out of something! I don't know what in heaven's name you expect. The Lazy A didn't make me rich, I can tell you that. It just barely helped to tide things over.
"Uncle Carl, just how much did the Lazy A cost you?" she asked so abruptly that she herself was surprised at the question. "Or putting it another way, just how many dollars and cents did you spend in defending dad?"
Carl started, which was perfectly natural, and glared at her, which was natural also, when one considers that Jean had without warning opened a subject tacitly forbidden upon that ranch. His eyes hardened a little while he looked at her, for between these two there was scant affection.
"What do you want to know for?" he countered, when she persisted in looking at him as though she was waiting for an answer.
"Because I've a right to know. Some time,-- within four years,--I mean to buy back the Lazy A. I want to know how much it will take." Until that moment Jean had merely dreamed of some day buying it back. Until she spoke she would have named the idea a beautiful, impossible desire.
"Where you going to get the money?" Carl looked at her curiously, as if he almost doubted her sanity.
"Rob a bank, perhaps. How much will it take to square things with you? Of course, being a relative, I expect to be cheated a little. So I am going to adopt sly, sleuth-like methods and find out just how much dad owed you before--it happened, and just how much the lawyers charged, and what was the real market value of the outfit, and all that. Dad told me-- dad told me that there was something left over for me. He didn't explain--there wasn't time, and I-- couldn't listen to dollar-talk then. I've gone along all this time, just drifting and getting used to facts, and taking it for granted that everything is all right--"
"Well, what's wrong? Everything is all right, far as I know. I can see what you're driving at--"
"And I'm a pretty fair driver, too," Jean cut in calmly. "I'll reach my destination, I think,--give me time enough."
"Whatever fool notion you've got in your head, you'd better drop it," Carl told her harshly. "There ain't anything you can do to better matters. I came out with the worst of it, when you come right down to facts, and all the nagging-"
Jean went toward him as if she would strike him with her uplifted hand. "Don't dare say that! How can you say that,--and think of dad? He got the worst of it. He's the one that suffers most--and-- he's as innocent as you or I. You know it."
Carl rose from the porch and faced her like an enemy. "What do you mean by that? I know it? If I knew anything like that, do you think I'd leave a stone unturned to prove it? Do you think--"
"I think we both know dad. And some things were not proved,--to my satisfaction, at least. And you know how long the jury was out, and what a time they had agreeing. Some points were weak. It was simply that they couldn't point to any one else. You know that was it. If I could find Art Osgood--"
"What's he got to do with it?" Her uncle leaned a little and peered into her face, which the dusk was veiling.
"That is what I want to find out." Jean's voice was quiet, but it had a quality which he had never before noticed.
"You'd better," he advised her tritely, "let sleeping dogs lie."
"That's the trouble with sleeping dogs; they do lie, more often than not. These particular dogs have lied for nearly three years. I'm going to stir them up and see if I can't get a yelp of the truth out of them."
"Oh, you are!" Carl laughed ironically. "You'll stir up a lot of unpleasantness for yourself and the rest of us, is what you'll do. The thing's over and done with. Folks are beginning to forget it. You've got a home--"
Jean laughed, and her laugh was extremely unpleasant.
"You get as good as the rest of us get," her uncle reminded her sharply. "I came near going broke myself over the affair, if you want to know; and you stand there and accuse me of cheating you out of something! I don't know what in heaven's name you expect. The Lazy A didn't make me rich, I can tell you that. It just barely helped to tide things over.