The Iron Furrow | Page 9

remain."
"You know, John, that you can't; Mr. Menocal has already refused,"
Mrs. Stevenson said, in a low voice.
"I ought to have cash in addition to your farm," her husband insisted.
"You get none," Lee replied. "Well, this trade is what I came to see you
about. From the way you talked when I was here last I supposed you
might consider my offer favourably, but I guess we can't do business.
I'll ride on to Bartolo."
At this statement Mrs. Stevenson wiped her eyes, rose and went into
the inner room, closing the door after her. The engineer moved as if to
depart.
"Now, wait a minute," Stevenson exclaimed.
"Well?"
"I'll take--let me figure a minute."
Bryant tossed his hat on the table in disgust and relighted his cigarette.
"Stevenson, listen," he began. "You're an older man than I am, but just
the same I'm going to say a few things that you need to hear. I couldn't
say them and wouldn't say them before your wife, but now I'm going to
turn loose. You can do as you damn please about trading, take my offer
or leave it; if you refuse, though, you'll lose both ranch and farm. The
trouble with you is that you can't see the difference between a good
proposition and a bad one. That's why you bought this ranch on say-so.
That's why now you're turning down my offer. You either jump without
first looking, or you wait until it's too late. You don't pay attention
strictly to what's immediately under your hand, but waste your energy
wondering if you can't get rich from something out of your reach.
That's what has been the trouble with you in the sheep business, I
imagine. Here when I offer you a farm for a ranch that's slipping

through your fingers, you at once get greedy. Most of the time you
don't know your own mind; you hesitate and speculate and vacillate
and worry. Why, you deserve to lose your ranch and your sheep and
everything else. And your wife suffers for your faults! You're a failure,
and you've dragged her down with you. If you're not a failure, and a
fool, too, go bring her back into this room and tell her you're going to
make this trade, so you two will have a farm and the home she wants
and so her mind will be easy once more. You've been thinking of only
yourself long enough; now begin to think of her comfort and
happiness."
Stevenson came angrily to his feet.
"No man ever talked to me like that before, I'll have you know!" he
cried.
The engineer kept his place, with no change of countenance.
"Well, one has talked to you like that now and I'm the man," he said.
"And I don't retract a word. It's the truth straight from the shoulder.
What are you going to do about it? Why, nothing, just nothing. Because
I've talked cold, hard facts, and you know it."
The momentary fire died from Stevenson's eyes. He shuffled his feet
for a little, looked about the room with the worried aspect he usually
showed, brushed his lips with the back of his hand.
"You're pretty rough----" he began.
"Don't stand there talking; go get your wife," Bryant said, sharply.
Stevenson turned and walked slowly to the closed door. He cleared his
throat, stared at the panels for a moment, and at last pushed it open.
"Come out, Sarah, we're going to trade," he announced.
The woman came forth. About her eyes was a slight redness, but on her
lips there was a tremulous smile.

"I'm glad," she said, "I'm glad, John."
"Yes, I decided it was a good trade to make," her husband assured her.
"No need to think it over longer."
They came to where Bryant stood, unconcealed pleasure showing on
Mrs. Stevenson's face.
"You may like to see these kodak pictures of the farm and its house,"
the young man said, producing an envelope from a pocket. "Take a
chair here by the window, Mrs. Stevenson, where you'll have the light.
See, this one shows the house, with the trees and lilac bushes in front,
and gives you a glimpse of the flower garden. Pretty, don't you think?"
She readjusted her spectacles. After a time she gazed from the pictures
through the window at the stretch of sagebrush.
"And I'll have neighbours, too," she said, in an unsteady voice. "The
loneliness here was killing me."
Stevenson considered the backs of his hands in awkward silence.
"Neighbours, lots of them," Bryant affirmed.
"I kind of pity you having to stay," she said, looking up at him with a
smile.
The engineer laughed.
"Why, this country suits me right down to the ground," he replied. "I've
been in the