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Updated: June 18, 2025
"Gi' me the chicken," said Idy, slamming her biscuits into the oven, and taking the hunchbacked and apparently shivering fowl from her mother. "I ain't a-goin' to have anybody talkin' about pappy, an' you know it. If I was a man, I'd get even with that lyin' Barden, or I'd know the reason why." "That's just what I was sayin'," returned Mrs. Starkweather, with malicious meekness.
At this point there is a road across the moors to Pateley Bridge, in Nidderdale, and if we wish to explore that valley, which is now partially filled with a lake formed by the damming of the Nidd for Bradford's water-supply, we must leave the Wharfe at Barden.
"I s'pose you think I'm awful touchy," she broke out at last, "an' mebbe I am; but before I promise to marry anybody, there's two things he's got to promise me he's got to sign the pledge, an' he's got to get even with that felluh Barden." Parker's face, which had brightened perceptibly at the first requirement, clouded dismally at the second.
What had Ricardo done to make the señorita so very angry? She was angry, was she not? Oh, yes, she was very angry, but Ricardo had done nothing. Señor Barden had sold her father ten acres of wine-grapes, and the old man did not like wine; he liked raisins. Santa Maria! Did he mean to eat ten acres of raisins? He need not drink his wine; he could sell it.
"'There don't no dude tell me how to pare a hoof, says I; 'I'll do it my way, or I don't do it; an' I done it, an' him kickin' like a steer all the time" "Who?" asked one of the other men. "Barden." "What was he doin' down here?" "He came down for Doc Patterson.
He helped set 'em out, an' he says they got the cuttin's from your folks; but I thought he wuz sayin' it just to plague me, so my fawther here thought he'd come an' ask. If they are wine-grapes, that felluh Barden lied didn't he, pappy?" The Mexican gazed at her pensively through the smoke of his cigarette. "Yass, 'm," he said slowly and softly "yass, 'm; Ah gass he tell good deal lies.
"If your fawther was the man he'd ought to be, he wouldn't be rode over that way by nobody." The girl's face flamed until it seemed that her blonde thatch of hair would take fire. "Pappy ain't to blame," she said angrily; "he can't help thinkin' the way he does. There ain't no call to be mad with pappy; it's all that miser'ble, lyin' Barden. It'll be a cold day fer him when I ketch 'im."
He stopped at the minister's gate, and hurried the apples off and rolled them inside the gate, and tried to get away before the minister had time to thank him. Just as he was about to drive away the door opened and the man of God came out, and says he: "Look here! You put them apples in the cellar!" Barden told him he was in something of a hurry, and really he could not spare the time.
But the señorita was very angry; she would probably kill Señor Barden. She had said she would kill him with a very long pole ten feet. Ricardo would not care much if she did. Señor Barden had called him a greaser. But as for a man who did not like wine caramba!
Since he had been actually in arms against King Edward it was not thought safe to assert his claims to his father's domains, but the lady gave up to him a portion of her own inheritance from the Vescis, where he and Anne were able to live in Barden Tower in Yorkshire, not far from Bolton Abbey. So Hal's shepherd days were over, though he still loved country habits and ways.
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