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CASA GRANDE
CHARLES D. STUART
RSITATIS
SIGILLUM
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LVX
ENSIS
FIAT
TIL
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EX LIBRIS
LARKE CO. RS &STATIONERS REMONT ST.& BACYAN
CASA GRANDE
A CALIFORNIA PASTORAL
BY
CHARLES DUFF STUART
Ού πολλά àNhà nokú
Ar
NEW YORK HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 1906
Copyright, 1906
BY
HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY
Published September, 1906
TO VIMU .... ....
1
PS 3537 T87 C3 19:06 -
MAIN
" LET US GO FORTH INTO THE FIELD."
M203952
٦٠
.
TO MY GOOD FRIEND W. C. MORROW
"LET ME HEAR THY VOICE."
-Solomon's Song.
CONTENTS
Chapter headings from Solomon's Song.
CHAPTER. PAGE.
I. WHERE THOU FEEDEST THY FLOCK. I
II. BEHOLD HE COMETH
19
III. MY SOUL HAD FAILED ME.
40
IV. Go THY WAY FORTH
57
V. AMONG THORNS.
73
VI. A CUNNING WORKMAN
86
VII. THE RAIN IS OVER. 96
VIII. BUT HE GAVE ME NO ANSWER
II2
IX. I RAISED THEE UP.
130
X. BY THE FOOTSTEPS OF THE FLOCK 143
XI. UNTIL THE SHADOWS FLEE AWAY
154
XII. A VERY FLAME OF THE LORD.
167
XIII. WHAT SHALL WE DO FOR OUR SISTER?
180
XIV. I WAS ASLEEP, BUT MY HEART WAKED.
192
XV. OR EVER I WAS AWARE.
203
XVI. AS ONE THAT FOUND PEACE
217
XVII. STAY YE ME. 229
XVIII. TURN AWAY THINE EYES.
239
XIX. THAT THOU MIGHTEST INSTRUCT ME.
250
XX. A WELL OF LIVING WATERS 275
XXI. WHAT IS THY BELOVED? 286
XXII. AND NONE WOULD DESPISE ME. 298
XXIII. IF A MAN WOULD GIVE ALL FOR LOVE 316
XXIV. TELL ME.
333
XXV. THAT THOU WERT AS MY BROTHER 345
XXVI. WHEN I SHOULD FIND THEE
355
. .
,
1909
CASA GRANDE
CHAPTER I
WHERE THOU FEEDEST THY FLOCK
A FITFUL blaze from glowing logs moved shad- ows in the spacious living-room of the old house. Through the drowsy night-gloom lime- washed adobe walls showed clean and distant, their massiveness draped by vaqueros' trappings, with here and there quaint relics of former soldier occu- pants.
Casa Grande, sturdy and red-tiled, had been a fort when Rancho Aguas Frias, in Sonoma County, was the northernmost Mexican outpost of Califor- nia. Now, some ten years later, it was the dwelling of John Miller, who had converted the abandoned outpost into a prosperous cattle range.
The master and the sheriff sat at a rough table
I
-
CASA GRANDE
covered by a blanket, the map spread before them lighted by the halo-like gleam of a tallow candle.
After a short pause, Miller said, positively, "Two thousand acres are too much to give up."
"You're not exactly giving them up," contended Sam Bailey. "The squatters '11 pay you." His tone was conciliatory.
"I don't want their money; I want the land." Miller pointed to the map, and added : "See here- Aguas Frias, seventy-five hundred acres. Two thou- sand off leaves fifty-five hundred. That's no ranch in this county !" He moved the candle, and, still examining the map, continued: "Here's Rancho Petaluma-what does. it read ?- twenty thousand acres. El Coyote, eighteen thousand." He sat back and said, deliberately : "The Sotoyome, near Healds- burg, must have forty thousand. The Riata-it takes in the upper end of Napa Valley-thirty thou- sand. So it goes all round the bay. My land is lit- tle more than a garden-patch compared with those big grants. How can I compete as a cattle breeder ?"
Both men were approaching middle age, and both were clad roughly, but with a certain frontier mo-
3
THOU FEEDEST THY FLOCK
dishness. They wore neither coat nor waistcoat, and strength and resolution were expressed by well- knitted figures, as well as in face and in bearing. The manhood of one was fine and developed ; of the other, rough and primitive. They sat a long time in perplexed study of the problem confronting them.
"I'd rather have the land," said Miller, pushing aside the map. "I'd rather have the land than twice what they'll pay for it. What will they give?"
Bailey moved uneasily. "I don't know. The Government price is a dollar and a quarter an acre."
"Oh, yes. A dollar and a quarter. Think I'm the Government? The land cost me twice that !"
Bailey looked up questioningly. He said he had heard that the grant of seven thousand five hundred acres cost ten thousand dollars.
Miller smiled indulgently. "That's what I paid for it; just half the cost. Add lawyers' fees, court fees, surveying-wait till you perfect title to a Mexi- can grant. You'll see where the money goes !"
"That's all right," Bailey declared, waving aside further objections. "You'll get your price, whatever it is."
5
4
CASA GRANDE
"No," said Miller, rising and pacing the floor ; "I'll take no chances. I'll not sell."
The sheriff leaned against the table and sighed. "You're very positive," he said, at last, "but I know the squatters, their tempers, their opinions; you don't. I'd like to help them and keep you out of trouble."
"Aren't you borrowing trouble on my account, Sam?"
"Every one lends trouble to the sheriff ; he's like a policeman, you know." Bailey smiled rather dis- mally. "But when a fellow has had to preserve the peace and dignity of the county through three or four of these squatter wars-well, he has seen the seamy side of that kind of fighting."
Miller said that the sheriff was still harping on the row he got into last year-the time the squatters came near running old Caldwell off the Sotoyome grant.
Bailey went over to the fireplace, where the dogs, lean and enduring, stretched indolently about the comfortable hearth-three or four foxhounds and as many mongrels, in which the blood of foxhound
5
THOU FEEDEST THY FLOCK
and shepherd predominated. They half-sleepily, half-sulkily made room for him, as if they had earned the right to undisturbed possession of the fire by the countless miles travelled daily in following the vaqueros, or chasing the wild things that defied their vigilance-coyotes, foxes, wildcats, 'coons, skunks and squirrels. The intruder regarded the sprawling pack with amusement, and then said to Miller :
"Suppose I am harping on the Sotoyome. You can't fight the way. Caldwell does! That old terrier has killed three of his squatters, been twice shot by them, burned out, I don't know how many times, and who knows how many of his cattle have been killed or stolen ?"
The dogs moved uneasily; the guest was talking very loud.
"I'd feel proud of you, John," banteringly con- tinued the speaker, "if you start to raise hell, the way old Caldwell has been doing." He laughed quietly at his silent host.
"The squatters '11 raise hell if I don't," retorted Miller. "I've been two years their neighbor," he
6
CASA GRANDE
continued, ignoring Bailey's mute protest. "I know something of their ways."
Bailey asked why the enemy couldn't be fenced off, now that the boundaries had been fixed.
"I might wall them off," admitted the master of Casa Grande, derisively. "They've thrown down my fences to suit themselves."
Bailey watched the rancher, still pacing the floor in the same perplexity, sure that his host's good impulses would prevail. "They'll make you mad many times-I know that. But better have patience than fight. You wouldn't leave-sell out?"
"No," decidedly answered Miller. "This place suits me better than anything I have seen. Here I stay. I say that I'll have to fight, anyway, whether I sell them the land they claim, or whether I put them off."
"How did you get in such a mess?" asked Bailey, going back to the table.
Miller joined his guest, and leaned over the map as if seeking the reason in the diagram. "It was a case of poor lawyer, to begin with. Then there was too much wealth against me. The Calabezas
7
THOU FEEDEST THY FLOCK
people here"-he pointed to the tract of land on the map; lying to the west of Aguas Frias-"wanted the water in the Calabezas Creek, so their lines were fixed by the Commissioners of the Land Office far enough east to take in what the owners wanted. That forced my east line across Dry Creek. We both are Mexican grants, but they got their claim confirmed before we got ours." He dejectedly stared through the uncurtained western windows, where stars twinkled indifferently.
"You own a good ranch, even as it is," said Bailey, approvingly. "And, what's better, you're going to give the squatters a show to buy title to their claims." He laid a hand on Miller's shoulder, in passing, and went over to where Manuel, the old Mexican cook, trim and soldierly, was mixing bread.
Miller regarded his guest with a shade of resent- ment, and called to him to know why he was inter- ested in this land controversy, anyway.
Bailey answered the question confidently. These were his people. He had grown up among them. And he liked Miller, too, whom he wanted to keep out of trouble.
8
CASA GRANDE
"Thank you, Bailey," responded the host. "I ap- preciate your intentions, but from now on you and the court must take care of the squatters."
"I can only do my duty," said the sheriff, with a note of disappointment. "They'll know that you are making the fight, however; won't they, Manuel ?"
The cook looked up quizzically. Lines that scarred the grizzled countenance were softened and the sen- sitive play of thin lips partly obscured by the light of a candle beside him. "Meestah Jone dam' good fighter," he answered.
"But not this kind of a fight," protested Bailey.
"You theenk es-squatter fellah like Indian? es- shoot in back ?"
"Of course! You and I know that; but Miller- he's a newcomer, eh ?"
The old man stood meditating, while he wiped the flour from his hands and bare arms. "Me theenk es-sell land, Meestah Jone. Es-squatter fight like coyote. All time es-stand behind rock, behind tree. Burn grass, burn es-stable; keel cattle.".
"Yes, yes," Miller impatiently exclaimed. . "I've
9
THOU FEEDEST THY FLOCK
heard this before. What's the good of courts, of sheriffs, if we must take the law into our own hands?"
"You fight reech man with lawyer," was the sage reply. "You fight es-squatter with rifle. Es-sheriff no can find heem. Es-squatter like Indian. Long time ago me fight Indian, pero me Indian then. Me walk like Indian, eat like Indian, sleep like Indian, keel like heem. You no es-squatter, Meestah Jone."
"No," said Miller, stubbornly, "I'll not sell. If they are your people," he continued, addressing Bailey, "do a little missionary work. Teach them that times have changed. There are courts and prisons now."
Bailey laughed noisily. "Missionary work! The Bible always has followed the trail of the rifle, Miller. If you stick to your purpose, my missionary work '11 be grave-digging."
"Cheer up, old man," said Miller, lightly. "You've pleaded gallantly for your people. You'd make a good lawyer." The speaker keenly studied his guest. "Which one of these families are you most inter- ested in?" he abruptly asked, still convinced that
IO
CASA GRANDE
Bailey had some ulterior motive in championing the cause of the squatters.
"All of them," was the indifferent reply.
The host had struck the trail of a fresh sugges- tion, and proposed to follow it. His eyes twinkled as he continued : "Perhaps it's that family with six lanky sons. Looking for votes?"
"Yes," cheerily answered the sheriff. "I have my eyes on them. Seven votes in one family, you know." His tone was still indifferent.
Miller rose from the table and backed up to the fireplace. He had found his clue at last, and he wondered that it had not sooner occurred to him.
"Is it the widow, or the girl?" He asked the question politely, to avoid any suspicion of imperti- nence.
"I don't know what you're driving at," replied Bailey, awkwardly.
Miller and Manuel laughed, making a pleased, indulgent sound urging Bailey to further protesta- tions. "If you refer to the Clarks," he said, "I know them and like them. All the squatters are my friends."
İİ
THOU FEEDEST THY FLOCK
Miller was considering how much farther he could interrogate his guest. He felt a curiosity to know more of this squatter family, who appeared superior to their neighbours. He was sure Bailey would reply lightly if he felt lightly, so the guest was reminded that he had not yet answered whether it were the mother or the daughter.
Bailey had been watching Manuel shaping dough into loaves ready for the baking-pan. He straight- ened up with a gesture of irritation, and exclaimed : "You don't credit me with much taste!"
"Excuse me," said Miller. "I've never seen the widow."
"She's a good woman," Bailey explained. "A little sad, perhaps. You've seen the girl?"
Miller responded with a drawl that he had seen her, emphasising "seen."
Bailey regarded his host critically, and asked, with some warmth, if there were anything against Belle.
"On the contrary," affably replied Miller, "it's against me. She never has spoken to me-not even to answer my good-mornings."
"She's a girl in a hundred," declared Bailey, en-
.
12
CASA GRANDE
thusiastically. "She can ride, she can shoot, she can cook. Have you noticed how she dresses? Does it herself. And the house, chickens, flowers-all hers." He waved his arm with a sweeping gesture.
"Yeh," chimed in Manuel. "La señorita ees- ees-muy bonita."
"You still preserve a youthful eye," placidly ob- served Miller, addressing the cook, who was laying covers, ready for early breakfast, on a long red- wood table, polished and darkened by much scrubbing, benches of the same material on either side of it.
"Yeh," admitted the cook, in pleased simplicity. "He es-say, 'Manuel, give me Castilian rose; me plant 'em.'"
Miller at once wanted to know where she had made the request.
"Ober een garden," Manuel replied, indicating the direction with a jerk of his head.
"You old sinner!" exclaimed Miller. "She in- vades my domain through the kitchen, does she, as if I never existed? I like that!" He slapped his knees in enjoyment and laughed.
I3
THOU FEEDEST THY FLOCK
Bailey spoke up resentfully and denied that she was a sneak.
"Beg pardon, old man," said Miller, quickly. "I didn't intend to convey that idea."
"She's as true as steel," explained her champion, anxious to justify the girl. "She's got pluck and sand. Afraid of nothing. A friend through thick and thin !"
"I understand," said Miller, genially, nodding his head. "A girl who can love truly."
"She might be," sighed Bailey. "I haven't got so far. It isn't my fault." He was still a child, clamour- ing for sympathy.
"Come," said Miller, walking to the table, "tell me about them. Who and what are they ?"
Bailey followed his host, and moved awkwardly, but not reluctantly. "They came in here," he ex- plained, tilting back his chair, "about eight years ago. Their father was alive then-old Pat Clark." "Irish ?" asked Miller.
"Not necessarily," replied Bailey. "His name was Patrick Henry-born in the South, somewhere. Pat was a rustler-red-headed, lean, quick as a wildcat.
14
CASA GRANDE
He didn't know what fear meant. He was trim- built; used to dress like a trapper-always well- dressed. Belle takes after him." The sheriff paused. His fancy was calling to life the girl in her half-Indian costume.
"I believe it was Diana who used to hunt," re- marked Miller, absently, thinking of the same char- acteristic in her dress.
Bailey stared with an uncomprehending glance, and went on: "The old man built the house and got things well started-fences, tools, stock, orchard. We found him, one morning, beside a grizzly, both dead-his favourite saddle-mare and foal near by, the mare badly torn. The bear must have been trying to get away with the foal, and Pat, with no weapon but a knife, had attacked the robber. Christ!" he concluded, "what a savage fight !"
Miller asked how long ago it happened.
"My second year as deputy sheriff," answered Bailey, meditatively. "That was 1855-three years ago. Belle was sixteen. She's fathered the family ever since."
"He es-speak Spanish-little," remarked Manuel,
15
THOU FEEDEST THY FLOCK
ignoring the gender of his personal pronouns. The old fellow was laying a fire in the highly polished new stove, ready for morning.
"You hold converse with her, do you?" blandly asked Miller.
"Yeh," vaguely answered Manuel. "Hold horse es-sometime."
Miller solemnly looked at Bailey. The sheriff de- tected mischief deep in those eyes. Not a muscle of the host's face twitched under the crisp, reddish beard as he remarked that he trusted his guest would have no feeling about Manuel's attentions.
Bailey was not quite sure whether or not the mas- ter of Casa Grande were making fun of him. He looked steadily into the other man's face and an- swered evenly: "If I were as sure of you as I am of Manuel-"
"Me!" It was too much for Miller's gravity, and he laughed. "You should see her look at me, Sam, when we meet. Insolent-that's the only word I know for it."
"That's it," reluctantly admitted Bailey. "She does care, and takes that way of hiding it. You
I6
CASA GRANDE
must think a great deal of a person before you can hate him."
It was sound philosophy, and Miller wondered if his guest had judged the girl without prejudice. Was it because the master of Casa Grande was young and prosperous that she acted as she did?
"I'll tell you, Sam," said Miller, rising at last and laying a friendly hand on his guest's shoulder, "for two dollars an acre I'll sell the squatters any land claimed by them within my boundaries. I'll ride to Dry Creek the first day I can make time and pro- pose it."
"If they kick and snort," said Bailey, anxiously, "don't get mad. Let me see them first."
"I'll not get mad, Bailey," said Miller, going to the fireplace and taking down a box of smoking to- bacco. "It's a matter of indifference whether or not they buy. They're going to fight, either way. Have a smoke."
Bailey rolled a cigarette and lighted it. Manuel joined them, turning down his sleeves over spare, yellow arms in token that his day's work was fin- ished. Neat and methodical himself, the house was
17
THOU FEEDEST THY FLOCK
an expression of his character. The orderliness of the place was hardly feminine, although there was a deep vein of femininity in the Mexican's make-up; it was, rather, military, systematic, the habit of early training.
"Don't fight, Miller," protested Bailey, throwing away his light. "You hold human life-the mean- est of it-too sacred. You couldn't kill a white man and a neighbour !"
The three men, smoking gravely, soon had a little blue cloud hanging over the table. Manuel took his cigarette from his lips and thoughtfully blew the smoke through his nostrils. "Me theenk," he said, "we fight."
"Go on!" replied Bailey, banteringly. "You're getting old and bilious."
"Why do you think so, Manuel?" kindly asked Miller.
"Es-squatter fellahs like Indians. Neber leave hunting-grounds." The old soldier's mind kept harking back to the days of his youthful experiences, no race quite equalling the Indian for comparison with squatters, both being primitive.
18
CASA GRANDE
Miller threw away his cigarette, rolled up the map and asked Manuel to fetch Mr. Bailey's candle.
"No, no," protested the guest, jumping from his seat. "I must go home."
"In the morning," hospitably replied the host. "Your horse has been stabled these two hours."
CHAPTER II
BEHOLD, HE COMETH
M ILLER kept his promise to the sheriff, and within a week of their meeting at Casa Grande the owner rode over to the squatter settle- ment, about three miles to the northeast.
The ranchero was mounted on a lithe bay mare, which swiftly climbed the lazy rises of intervening hills dotted thick with oak, buckeye and madroño, and at the top he wound down a rough grade, little better than a trail, leading to Dry Creek. This name had been given to a wooded vale of about a thou- sand acres swung, hammock-like, high in the hills that separated Napa Valley on the east from Sonoma Valley on the west. The waterway suggesting the name, dry most of the year, ran through the length of the little garden-spot, and now was flowing nois- ily, filled by late showers.
19
20
CASA GRANDE
Around the point of a knoll the little valley came fully in sight. Scattered along the creek, in the shade of great trees, were half a dozen cabins, homes of the settlers whose claims unfortunately had proved to be within the eastern boundary of the grant. Grapevine and fruit trees, patches of young grain and bands of grazing cattle gave an air of prosperity, and from wide-throated chimneys smoke- columns suggested the fireside.
The rider stopped abruptly as the view opened before him. The mare, feeling the pressure of the bit, tossed her head and laid back her ears irritably. Her temper, as well as her conformation, told of thoroughbred descent, and the man's costume and firm, easy seat bespoke him a horseman born and bred.
While he paused to contemplate, a girl stepped from the nearest cabin and stood on the porch. Her glance swept the hills as if she loved them, and when her gaze rested on the horseman she shaded her eyes with her palm, then descended to the door-yard. If she divined who the man was, nothing in her de- meanour betrayed her knowledge. She walked with a
21
BEHOLD, HE COMETH
graceful swing telling of strength and resolution,. and passed through a gate into another yard, where clamorous fowls, pigs, calves and dogs, crowding fearlessly about her, told of something sweet and feminine.
Miller concluded to bargain with the Clarks first. They held a leading place among the neighbours, who would be influenced, if not decided, by the acts of the widow and her daughter, and he guided Peggy in the direction of the girl. At the foot of the grade the road crossed the little stream. Peggy hesitated daintily on the margin of the water, but the pressure of her rider's knees urged her in, and she waded across, splashing diamond drops high in the air. Turning to the right, they skirted a zigzag fence of redwood rails, the entrance, at the side of the Clark house, closed by a single bar. Miller was about to dismount, but Peggy, waiving the formality of letting down the rail, lightly cleared it, and stopped before the porch.
The girl, while the horseman was approaching, lingered among her farm-yard dependents until he rode near enough to greet her politely. She turned
22
CASA GRANDE
resentful eyes to his, but the sunshine, the humour, to say nothing of the admiration she beheld, drove the chill from her manner; her head dropped in confusion, and she disappeared behind the cabin.
Something homelike and tidy about the dwelling made it noticeable among its fellows in the glen. Rough and primitive it had to be, but there also were proportion and solidity, suggesting artistic sense in the builder. A crimson rose-bush aflame with bloom climbed over the north end and almost hid the massive chimney laid up outside the wall, and a grapevine, unfolding its new leaves to the sunshine, like long-chilled hands when warmed, was trained across the porch. Between porch and road a garden blossomed, kept fresh the year round by water piped from a spring. The woodwork was bare of paint, but over all the sun had spread a mel- low colouring suggestive of fine old wine.
The girl's mother emerged and waited on the porch. She was lean and muscular, with an expres- sion not unkindly, yet uncertain of her position in life, the responsibilities of the family having long
23
BEHOLD, HE COMETH
ago been assumed by Belle. Her apron and her bare arms were powdered with flour, but otherwise her dress was neat. The odour of frying pork warned the man of the nearness to noon.
"Good morning," was the widow's abrupt greet- ing.
Miller asked if she were Mrs. Clark.
The woman assented by silence, and her caller knew sufficient of his neighbours to state his business at once.
"I came over," he began, hesitating, "to see if I can trade for your improvements."
"My old man was always ready to trade anything except the children and me, and I'm like him."
"There must be Scotch or Irish about you," ob- served Miller, feeling that the ice had been broken.
"Yes," she answered, curtly; "both."
"But you are American born," he suggested, with rising inflection. "I take you to be a native of Mis- souri or Kentucky?"
"No-Tennessee."
"Somewhere from the South," he hopefully con- tinued. "I belong there, too; I was born in Virginia,
24
CASA GRANDE
although my father was a Scotchman. I think we can trade."
Mrs. Clark approached the porch rail and, em- bracing one of the posts, stood oppressively silent. Her heredity had taught her to keep advantage in a bargain by having the other person make the offers. While they stood thus, Belle, having left her chick- ens, joined her mother, as silent as the older woman. The man lost no phase of the picture, and the humour of it glowed in his eyes. Even Peggy began to feel the hostility of the surroundings and moved un- easily.
"What will you take?" he ventured, making the final plunge.
"Five thousand dollars," was the quick reply. It was evident that the matter of sale and values had been considered by at least this family.
"I didn't mean the land," he soothingly explained. "Just the improvements-stock, tools and furniture, if you choose."
"Five thousand dollars, I said," came the emphatic rejoinder, notwithstanding the tone of his last speech.
25
BEHOLD, HE COMETH
"Now we begin to understand each other," he af- fably continued. "Of course, you want all you can get, but that will largely depend on what I can pay."
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