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Updated: June 15, 2025
"Thaine's a farmer all right, Jo." "He isn't going to be one always," Jo broke in quickly. "He's going to the Kansas University and there's no telling after that." "No, he's just going to Wykerton, that's all. Nay, he have went. Him and him fraulein. And say, there's another pretty fraulein went up the trail just ahead of the Aydelot horse party.
"Maybe some of you fellows haven't felt right toward me sometimes," he said. "I hate to tell it now, but justice is justice. The truth is, it was a friend of yours who advised me not to let any supplies come your way, time of the grasshopper raid. I listened to him then and didn't know no better'n to be run by him till I see his scheme to kill Wykerton an' build a town for hisself.
Hans, for reasons of his own, hurried out of Wykerton and took the first train to Kansas City. All this happened on the day that Darley Champers had made his trip to the Cloverdale Ranch. The fine spring weather of the morning leaped to summer heat in the afternoon, as often happens in the plains country.
But he's been at his line a quarter of a century and he'll end where he began in a real estate office over in Wykerton, trying to get something for nothing and calling it business." "Horace Carey?" Jim Shirley called next. "Here," Carey replied. "With a big H," Todd Stewart declared. "Same doctor of the old school. Why don't you get married or take a trip to India, Doctor?
Carey has gone West for a vacation and John Jacobs is raising cain over at Wykerton because a hired hand, just a waif of an orphan boy, got drunk in Hans Wyker's joint and fell into Big Wolf and was drowned. Funny thing about it was that Darley Champers came out against Wyker for the first time. It may go hard with the old Dutchman yet.
Hans Wyker had managed skillfully when he pulled the prospective county seat of Wolf county up Big Wolf Creek to Wykerton, a town he hoped to build after his own ideals. And his ideals had only one symbol, namely, the dollar sign. Hans had congratulated himself not a little over his success. "I done it all mineself," he was wont to boast.
And it was Rosie Gimpke, whom John Jacobs called the Wykerton W. C. T. U., who swiftly put the word to him that her grandfather was again defying the law and menacing the public welfare.
"And you know how I lost by you in this town and the land around it. It was my money took up all this ground to help build up Wykerton and you, as my agent, sold every acre of it to Jacobs." This as fiercely as Darley Champers. Both men nodded and Darley broke in: "I was honest. I thought Jacobs was gettin' it to boom Wykerton with, or I'd never sold.
He didn't dare to go against Leigh as long as Jane Aydelot was livin'." He stuck a blazing match to the letter and watched it crumple to ashes on the rusty stove-hearth. Then he carefully swept the ashes on a newspaper, and, opening his doors again, he scattered them in the dusty main street of Wykerton. That afternoon Champers went again to the Cloverdale Ranch.
The picture the mirage had revealed to Virginia Aydelot on the afternoon when she rode the long lonely miles from Wykerton with John Jacob's message of hope in her keeping that wonderful mirage picture had grown toward a reality with the slowly winning years.
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