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Jed。 〃And this！〃 went on the Senor； picking up what purported to be
plum duff： 〃Bog down a few currants in dough and call her pudding！〃
He ate in silence； then pushed back his chair and went to the window；
gazing through its grimy panes at the mountains； ethereal in their evening
saffron。 〃Blamed Chink；〃 he growled； 〃why don't he wash these
windows？〃 Jed laid down his busy knife and idle fork to gaze on
his chief with amazement。 Buck Johnson； the austere； the aloof； the
grimly taciturn； the dangerous； to be thus complaining like a querulous
woman！
〃Senor；〃 said he； 〃you're off your feed。〃 Senor Johnson strode
savagely to the table and sat down with a bang。 〃I'm sick of it；〃 he
growled； 〃this thing will kill me off。 I might as well go be a buck nun
and be done with it。〃 With one round…arm sweep he cleared aside the
dishes。 〃Give me that pen and paper behind you；〃 he requested。
For an hour he wrote and destroyed。 The floor became littered with torn
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papers。 Then he enveloped a meagre result。 Parker had watched him in
silence。 The Senor looked up to catch his speculative eye。 His own
eye twinkled a little； but the twinkle was determined and sinister； with
only an alloy of humour。 〃Senor；〃 ventured Parker slowly； 〃this event
sure knocks me hell…west and crooked。 If the loco you have culled hasn't
paralysed your speaking parts； would you mind telling me what in the
name of heaven； hell； and high…water is up？〃 〃I am going to get
married；〃 announced the Senor calmly。 〃What！〃 shouted Parker； 〃who
to？〃 〃To a lady；〃 replied the Senor； 〃an intelligent and refined lady… …
of pleasing appearance。〃
CHAPTER FOUR DREAMS
Although the paper was a year old； Senor Johnson in due time received
an answer from Kansas。 A correspondence ensued。 Senor Johnson
enshrined above the big fireplace the photograph of a woman。 Before
this he used to stand for hours at a time slowly constructing in his mind
what he had hitherto lackedan ideal of woman and of home。 This ideal
he used sometimes to express to himself and to the ironical Jed。 〃It
must sure be nice to have a little woman waitin' for you when you come in
off'n the desert。〃 Or： 〃Now； a woman would have them windows just
blooming with flowers and white curtains and such truck。〃
Or： 〃I bet that Sang would get a wiggle on him with his little old
cleaning duds if he had a woman ahold of his jerk line。〃 Slowly he
reconstructed his life； the life of the ranch； in terms of this hypothesised
feminine influence。 Then matters came to an understanding； Senor
Johnson had sent his own portrait。 Estrella Sands wrote back that she
adored big black beards； but she was afraid of him； he had such a
fascinating bad eye： no woman could resist him。 Senor Johnson at
once took things for granted； sent on to Kansas a preposterous sum of
〃expense〃 money and a railroad ticket； and raided Goodrich's store at
Willets； a hundred miles away； for all manner of gaudy carpets； silverware；
fancy lamps； works of art； pianos； linen； and gimcracks for the adornment
of the ranch house。 Furthermore； he offered wages more than equal to a
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hundred miles of desert to a young Irish girl； named Susie O'Toole； to
come out as housekeeper； decorator； boss of Sang and another Chinaman；
and companion to Mrs。 Johnson when she should arrive。
Furthermore； he laid off from the range work Brent Palmer； the most
skilful man with horses； and set him to 〃gentling〃 a beautiful little sorrel。
A sidesaddle had arrived from El Paso。 It was 〃centre fire；〃 which is to
say it had but the single horsehair cinch； broad； tasselled； very genteel in
its suggestion of pleasure use only。 Brent could be seen at all times of
day； cantering here and there on the sorrel； a blanket tied around his waist
to simulate the long riding skirt。 He carried also a sulky and evil gleam
in his eye； warning against undue levity。 Jed Parker watched these
various proceedings sardonically。 Once； the baby light of innocence
blue in his eye； he inquired if he would be required to dress for dinner。
〃If so；〃 he went on； 〃I'll have my man brush up my low…necked clothes。〃
But Senor Johnson refused to be baited。 〃Go on； Jed；〃 said he； 〃you
know you ain't got clothes enough to dust a fiddle。〃 The Senor was
happy these days。 He showed it by an unwonted joviality of spirit； by a
slight but evident unbending of his Spanish dignity。 No longer did the
splendour of the desert fill him with a vague yearning and uneasiness。
He looked upon it confidently； noting its various phases with care；
rejoicing in each new development of colour and light； of form and
illusion； storing them away in his memory so that their recurrence should
find him prepared to recognise and explain them。 For soon he would
have someone by his side with whom to appreciate them。 In that sharing
be could see the reason for them； the reason for their strange bitter…sweet
effects on the human soul。 One evening he leaned on the corral
fence； looking toward the Dragoons。 The sun had set behind them。
Gigantic they loomed against the western light。 From their summits； like
an aureola； radiated the splendour of the dust…moted air； this evening a
deep umber。 A faint reflection of it fell across the desert； glorifying the
reaches of its nothingness。 〃I'll take her out on an evening like
this；〃 quoth Senor Johnson to himself；〃and I'll make her keep her eyes on
the ground