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Page 18
Engle, who had come, dragging his chair after him, to join them,
laughed amusedly.
"Answering your question, Mrs. Engle," he chuckled, "I'd certainly know
her for Virginia Page! When we come to know her better maybe she will
allow us to call her Cousin Virginia? In the meantime, to play safe, I
suppose that to us she'd better be just Dr. Page?"
"John is as full of nonsense after banking hours," explained Mrs.
Engle, still affectionately patting Virginia's hand, "as he is crammed
with business from nine until four. Which makes life with him
possible; it's like having two husbands, makes for variety and so saves
me from flirting with other men. Now, tell us all about yourself."
Virginia, who had been a little stiff-muscled until now, leaned back
among the cushions unconscious of a half sigh of content and of her
relaxation. During the long day San Juan had sought to frighten, to
repel her. Now it was making ample amends: first the companionable
society of Rod Norton, then this simple, hearty welcome. She returned
the pressure of Mrs. Engle's soft, warm hands in sheer gratitude.
After that they chatted lightly, Engle gradually withdrawing from the
conversation and secretly watching the girl keenly, studying her play
of expression, seeking, according to his habit, to make his guarded
estimate of a new factor in his household. From Virginia's face his
eyes went swiftly now and then to his daughter's, animated in her
t�te-�-t�te with the sheriff. Once, when Virginia turned unexpectedly,
she caught the hint of a troubled frown in his eyes.
Broad double doors in the west wall of the living-room gave entrance to
the patio. The doors were open now to the slowly freshening night air,
and from where she sat Virginia Page had a glimpse of a charming court,
an orange-tree heavy with fruit and blossom, red and yellow roses, a
sleeping fountain whose still water reflected star-shine and the lamp
in its niche under a grape-vine arbor. When Norton and Florence Engle
strolled out into the inviting patio Engle, breaking his silence,
leaned forward and dominated the conversation.
Virginia had been doing the major part of the talking, answering
questions about Mrs. Engle's girlhood home, telling something of
herself. Now John Engle, reminding his wife that their guest must be
consumed with curiosity about her new environment, sought to interest
her in this and that, in and about San Juan.
"There was a killing this afternoon," he admitted quietly. "No doubt
you know of it and have been shocked by it, and perhaps on account of
it have a little misjudged San Juan. We are not all cutthroats here,
by any manner of means; I think I might almost say that the rough
element is in the minority. We are in a state of transition, like all
other frontier settlements. The railroad, though it doesn't come
closer than the little tank station where you took the stage this
morning, has touched our lives out here. A railroad brings civilizing
influences; but the first thing it does is to induct a surging tide of
forces contending against law and order. Pioneers," and he smiled his
slow, grave, tolerant smile, "are as often as not tumultuous-blooded
and self-sufficient, and prone to kick over the established traces.
We've got that class to deal with . . . and that boy, Rod Norton, with
his job cut out for him, is getting results. He's the biggest man
right now, not only in the country, but in this end of the state."
Continuing he told her something of the sheriff. Young Norton, having
returned from college some three years before to live the only life
possible to one of his blood, had become manager of his father's ranch
in and beyond the San Juan mountains. At the time Billy Norton was the
county sheriff and had his hands full. Rumor said that he had promised
himself to "get" a certain man; Engle admitted that that man was Jim
Galloway of the Casa Blanca. But either Galloway or a tool of
Galloway's or some other man had "gotten" Billy Norton, shooting him
down in his own cabin and from the back, putting a shotgun charge of
buckshot into his brain.
It had occurred shortly after Roderick Norton's return, shortly before
the expiration of Billy Norton's term of office. Rod Norton, putting
another man in his place on the ranch, had buried his father and then
had asked of the county his election to the place made empty by his
father's death. Though he was young, men believed in him. The
election returns gave him his place by a crushing majority.
"And he has done good work," concluded Engle thoughtfully. "Because of
what he has done, because he does not make an arrest until he has his
evidence and then drives hard to a certain conviction, he has come to
be called Dead-sure Norton and to be respected everywhere, and feared
more than a little. Until now it has become virtually a two-man fight.
Rod Norton against Jim Galloway. . . ."
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