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Updated: June 24, 2025
I mean to beat the Smiths at plums, Jim Galway at alfalfa, even rival Bob Worther at pumpkins and peonies. And you will help me lay out the flower garden, won't you? You see, I shall have to call in the experts in every line to start with, before I begin to improve on them and make them all jealous. I may find a kind of plum that will grow on alfalfa stalks," he hazarded.
"Every complete community has a fat man, seh!" he announced, with a certain ample bashfulness in keeping with his general amplitude and a musical Southern accent. "If it wants to feel perfectly comfortable it has!" said Jack, by way of welcome. "Well, I'm the fat man of Little Rivers, name being Bob Worther!" said he, grinning as he came across the room with an amazingly quick, easy step.
It's a case of all we've got in the world and standing together, and we are ready to get behind you and take orders, Jack." "Yes, ready to fight at the drop of the hat, seh, or to sit still on our doorsteps with our tongues in our cheeks and doing the wives' mending, as you say!" declared Bob Worther. "It's right up to you!" "You are all of the same opinion?" asked Jack.
Jack recalled the references to the new rancher by Bob Worther on the day of his departure for the East and, later, in Jim Galway's letter. But he did not speak. Something more compelling than his promise was keeping him silent: her own apprehension, with its story of phantoms of her own.
The favor that Prather found in the eyes of Jasper Ewold partly accounted for what favor he found in Little Rivers' eyes. "Prather has certainly made a hit with the Doge!" quoth Bob Worther. "As the Doge gets older I reckon he will like compliments better than persiflage. But Jack could pay a compliment, too only he never used the ladle."
As they turned into the side street where the front of Jack's bungalow was visible, Jim Galway observed that they had seen nothing of Leddy or any of his followers. "Maybe he's gone to join Prather," said Bob Worther. But Jack paid no attention to the remark. He was preoccupied with the first sight of his ranch in over two months.
Then Worther and his detail rode as fast as they might to overtake the slow-marching group in trail of the litters with the question that all Little Rivers had been asking ever since, "How is he?"
There was a rustle and an exchange of satisfied glances and a chorus of approval like an indrawing of breath. "First, I will see the Doge," Jack added; "and then I shall go to the house." Galway, Dr. Patterson, Worther, and three or four others went on with him toward the Ewold bungalow.
He had been an improvement in town life that became indispensable once it was absent. Little Rivers was fairly homesick for him. "How did we ever get along without him before he came, anyway?" Bob Worther demanded. Then another new-comer, as distinctive from the average settler as Jack was, diverted talk into another channel, without, however, reconciling the people to their loss.
Pedro was a half-breed, whose God among men was Pete Leddy no less than Jack was Firio's and the Doge was Ignacio's. In his shanty back of Bill Lang's the Mexicans and Indians lost their remaining wages in gambling after he had filled them with mescal. It happened that Gonzalez, head man of the laborers under Bob Worther, who had saved quite a sum, came away penniless after taking but one drink.
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