He Drew Her Gently Towards His FatherHe Drew Her Gently Towards His Father
He Drew Her Gently Towards His FatherHe Drew Her Gently Towards His Father
"So you're to be my little daughter," cried the millionaire kindly. "Well, my dear, I'm glad. I like grit, and you've got it plenty. I like a pretty face, and—but I guess Gordon's told you all about that. Seeing you're to be my daughter—and Gordon's left me no choice in the matter, the same as he left me no choice in other things—I feel I've the right to tell you you're a pair of—as impertinent young rascals as I've ever had the happiness to claim relationship with. Let me see, just come here, and—Gordon owes me for many nights of anxiety, and I guess I've a right to make him pay. I'll be satisfied with the payment of a kiss from you."
He held out his arms, and Hazel, with a joyous laugh and blushing cheeks, ran to them.
"Thank you, my dear," laughed the millionaire, as the girl frankly kissed him. "And that's the change." He closed his arms about her and returned her kiss.
Then, when he had released her, he turned to Mallinsbee and held out his hand.
"I can always make friends with the fellow who licks me, Mr. Mallinsbee. I'm glad to meet you—with that patch removed from your eye. The game's played and you've won, and I promise you all that's been done in my name by my son goes. You see, henceforth he's my partner now, so he's the right to act in my name. I'm trusting him with my dollars, but you are trusting him with something far more precious. I hope he'll prove as good a son to you as, I'm glad to say, I consider he's been to me."
Mallinsbee smiled a little sadly, and his eyes gazed tenderly in Hazel's direction.
"Directly that boy of yours come around, Mr. Carbhoy, I felt the chill of winter beating up. I'm glad he come, though—I like him. But," he added, with a sigh, "I'll sure need to bank those furnaces some."
Hazel left the millionaire's side and crossed to her father, and passed her arm about his vast waist.
"Don't start yet, Daddy," she said, smiling up at the rugged face. "I haven't left you yet, and when I do it's only going to be for a small piece at a time."
Silas Mallinsbee shook his head.
"Don't you worry, little gal," he said gently. "I guess this winter's goin' to be a mild one. You see, I'm goin' to have a son as well as a daughter, and—who knows?—maybe grandsons——"
But Hazel had quickly pressed one hand over his lips and stifled the possibilities he was about to enumerate.
Gordon laughed, and his father smiled over at the other father.
"See, Mr. Mallinsbee, we don't need to worry with the summer," Gordon cried. "Summer generally fixes things right for itself. Meanwhile we'll just make the winter as easy as we can. You've given your little girl to me, and she's all you care for in the world. Well, that's a trust that demands all the best I can give. I won't fail you. I won't fail her. And you, Dad, I won't fail you."
"Good boy," said the millionaire, with a glow of pride. "I just know it, and—I know it for Mr. Mallinsbee and Hazel, too, if they don't know it for themselves. Say——"
For a moment his eyes grew serious. Then into them crept a gleam of twinkling humor which found reflection on the faces of both Gordon and Hazel, who waited for him to complete what he had to say.
"You've told your mother, Gordon?" he inquired. "Seems to me you've told her 'most everything in those—chatty—letters of yours."
Gordon grinned and shook his head, while Hazel waited—not without some apprehension. His father's smile gave way to a quaint expression of awe at such negligence.
"I'd say she'd be pleased, of course," the millionaire said, without conviction. "It's a mercy not always bestowed on a boy to get a wife like—Hazel. Your mother's a mighty good woman, Gordon, and I'll allow she's got her ways about things. But she's good, and I guess she'll just take to Hazel right away."
There was no confidence in his manner, in spite of the bravery of his words. But Gordon quickly cleared the atmosphere with his cheery confidence.
"You leave the dear old mater to me, Dad," he cried. "You see, you only married her—she raised me. I'll write her to-night, and—say, that reminds me," he added, glancing at his watch. "Daylight'll be around directly. Hazel needs her rest. Hadn't we——"
Hazel laughed. She had no real desire for bed, but she was tired, weary with the strain of all the swiftly moving events. She caught at his suggestion and demanded compliance.
"Yes," she cried. "There's another day to-morrow. Oh, that wonderful to-morrow! A long, bright, happy day in which we have nothing to conceal, no wicked schemes to be worked out. A day of real happiness, when we can just be our real selves. Let's all go to bed and dream our dreams with the full certainty that, however happy our to-day is, to-morrow has always the possibility of being happier."
But Gordon did not write the promised letter that night. He held long communion with himself, and decided to send a telegram. He realized that diplomacy must be brought to bear, for his mother, with all her exquisite qualities, possessed a slightly arbitrary side to her character where her home and belongings were concerned. Therefore he decided on a bold stroke.
He sacrificed his own rest that night, and in doing so sacrificed that of certain others. Sunset was roused from his equine slumbers, as also was Steve Mason disturbed out of a portion of his night's rest.
Gordon rode hard into Snake's Fall. He wished to make the return journey before breakfast. On arrival at the township he ignored every protest from the operator. He overruled him on every point, and was prepared to back his overruling with physical force.
Steve Mason was literally scrambled into his clothes and set to work at those hated keys, and the New York call was sent singing over the wires.
Meanwhile Gordon was left at work upon a sheet of paper upon which, after considerable thought, his diplomatic effort resolved itself into a piece of superlative effrontery.
And this was the message which startled his mother over her morning coffee and rolls, and incidentally sent a current of furious feminine excitement through the entire Carbhoy establishment at Central Park, like a sharp electric storm.
"Mrs. James Carbhoy,"New York.
"Gordon's work here beyond praise. Boy has done wonders. When you hear all you will be proud of him. I am with him here now. Great events developing. Am most anxious to form alliance with certain people for financial reasons. Your influence required on social side. You will understand when I say rich, desirable heiress. Gordon needs persuasion. Come at once. Special to Snake's Fall. Will meet you at latter depot.
"JAMES CARBHOY."
When this message was handed to the impatient operator and he had carefully read it over, the man looked up with what Gordon regarded as an impertinent grin.
His resentment promptly leaped.
"Say," he cried in a threatening tone, "there's some faces made for grinning, and others that couldn't win prizes that way amongst a crowd of fool-faced mules. Guess yours was spoiled for any sort of chance whatever, so cut out trying to make it worse than your parents made it for you. Get me? Just play about on those fool keys and set the tune of that message right, or Mr. James Carbhoy's going to hear things quick."
The threat of the President of the railroad was sufficient to enforce compliance, but Steve Mason was no respector of persons outside that authority, and his retort came glibly.
"You wrote this, Mister, and—you ain't Mr. James Carbhoy," he said, with a sneer and a half-threat.
But Gordon was in no mood for trifling about anything. He was anxious to be off back to the ranch.
"Mr. James Carbhoy is my father," he cried sharply, "and if that don't penetrate your perfectly ridiculous brain-box I'll add that I'm the son of my father—Mr. James Carbhoy. Are you needing anything, or—will you get busy?"
Steve Mason decided to "get busy," and so the message winged its way over the wires.
THE END
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
The Son of His FatherThe Men Who WroughtThe Golden WomanThe Law-BreakersThe Way of the StrongThe Twins of Suffering CreekThe Night-RidersThe One-Way TrailThe Trail of the AxeThe Sheriff of Dyke HoleThe Watchers of the Plains