Flowing Gold Read online

  CHAPTER III

  Old Tom Parker was a "type." He was one of a small class of men at onetime common to the West, but now rapidly disappearing. A turbulentlifetime spent in administering the law in a lawless region had stampedhim with the characteristics of a frontier officer--_viz_., vigilance,caution, self-restraint, sang-froid. For more than thirty years he hadworn a badge of some sort and, in the serving of warrants and otherprocesses of law, he had covered, first in the saddle or on buckboard,later in Pullman car or automobile, most of that vast region lyingbetween the Arkansas and the Pecos, the Cimarron, and theSabine--virtually all of what is now Texas and Oklahoma. He still spokeof the latter state, by the way, as "the Territory," and there were fewcorners of it that he had not explored long before it ceased to be ahaven of hunted men.

  That is what Tom Parker had been--a hunter of men--and time was whenhis name had been famous. But he had played his part. The times hadcaught up with and passed him, and no longer in the administration ofjustice was there need of abilities like his, hence the shield of hiscalling had been taken away.

  Now Tom did not reckon himself obsolete. He was badger-gray, to besure, and stiff in one knee--a rheumatic legacy of office inherited byreason of wet nights in the open and a too-diligent devotion toduty--but in no other respect did he believe his age to be apparent.His smoke-blue eyes were as bright as ever, his hand was quick;realization that he had been shunted upon a side track filled him withsurprise and bewilderment. It was characteristic of the man that hestill considered himself a bulwark of law and order, a _de facto_guardian of the peace, and that from force of habit he still sat facingthe door and never passed between a lighted lamp and a window.

  Among the late comers to Wichita Falls, where he lived, Tom was knownas a quiet-spoken, emotionless old fellow with an honorable past, butwith a gift for tiresome reminiscence quite out of place in the new andimpatient order of things, and none but old-timers and his particularcronies were aware of the fact that he had another side to hischaracter. It was not generally known, for instance, that he was a kindand indulgent father and had a daughter whom he worshiped with blindadulation. This ignorance was not strange, for Miss Barbara Parker hadbeen away at college for four years now, and during that time she hadnot once returned home.

  There was a perfectly good reason for this protracted separation offather and daughter; since Old Tom was no longer on pay, it took all hecould rake and scrape to meet her bills, and railroad fares are high.That Hudson River institution was indeed a finishing school; not onlyhad it polished off Barbara, but also it had about administered the_coup de grace_ to her father. There had been a ranch over near Electrawith some "shallow production," from which Tom had derived a smallroyalty--this was when Barbara Parker went East and before theBurk-burnett wells hit deep sand--but income from that source had beenused up faster than it had come in, and "Bob," as Tom insisted uponcalling her, would have had to come home had it not been for aninteresting discovery on her father's part--_viz._, the discovery of aquaint device of the law entitled a "mortgage." Mortgages had to dowith a department of the law unfamiliar to Tom, his wit, hisintelligence, and his dexterity of hand having been exercised solely inupholding the dignity of the criminal branch, but once he had realizedthat a mortgage, so called, was no more than a meaningless banking termused to cloak the impulsive generosity of moneyed men, he availedhimself of this discovery and was duly grateful.

  Tom carried on a nominal fire-insurance business, but as a matter offact the tiny two-roomed frame structure that bore his painted sign wasnothing more or less than a loafing place for him and his rheumaticfriends, and a place in which the owner could spend the heat of the dayin a position of comfort to his stiff leg--that is to say, asleep in ahigh-backed office chair, his feet propped upon his desk. It was herethat Tom could usually be found, and when one of those hatefulstatements arrived from the East he merely roused himself, put on hiswide gray hat, limped around to the bank, and pledged more of his oilroyalties or signed another mortgage. What insurance policies he wrotewere brought to him by his old pals; the money derived there from hesent on to "Bob" with love and an admonition to be a good girl andstudy hard and hurry home, because he was dying to see her. Thisoffice, by the way, no longer suited Tom; it was becoming too noisy andhe would have sold it and sought another farther out had it not beenmortgaged for more than it was worth. So, too, was the house where helived amid the dirt and disorder of all bachelor establishments.

  Now Old Tom would have resented an accusation of indolence; the bareimplication of such a charge would have aroused his instantindignation, and Tom Parker indignant was a man to shun. As a matter offact, he believed himself sadly overworked, and was forever complainingabout it.

  The time came, however, when he was forced to shed his habit ofslothfulness as completely as a snake sheds its skin, and that wasduring the week before "Bob's" arrival. Then, indeed, he swept and hedusted, he mopped and he polished, he rubbed and he scrubbed, tryinghis best to put the house in order. Never in all his life had helabored as he did then, for four years of "batching" will make a bear'snest out of the most orderly house, but he was jealous of his task andhe refused to share it with other hands. Pots and pans, rusty fromdisuse or bearing the accumulated evidence of many hastily preparedmeals, he took out in the back yard and scrubbed with sand, leaving hisbony knuckles skinned and bleeding from the process; he put down a newcarpet in "Bob's" room, no easy task for a man with an ossified kneejoint--incidentally, the "damn thing" kept him awake for two nightsthereafter; he nailed up fresh curtains, or they looked fresh to him,at her windows, and smashed a perfectly good thumb-nail in doing so.This and many other abominable duties he performed. But love meanssuffering, and every pang gave Old Tom a thrill of fierce delightfor--"Bob" was coming. The lonely, hungry, aching wait was over.

  Constant familiarity with the house had mercifully dulled theoccupant's appreciation of its natural deterioration and the effects ofhis neglect, so when he finally straightened his aching back andregarded the results of his heroic efforts, it seemed to him thateverything shone like new and that the place was as neat and as cleanas on the day "Bob" went away. Probably Hercules thought the Augeanstables were spotless and fragrant when he had finished with them. Andperhaps they were, but Tom Parker was no demigod. He was just a clumsyold man, unaccustomed to indoor "doings," and his eyes at times duringthe last few days had been unaccountably dim--as, for instance, whilehe was at work in Barbara's chamber.

  He did not sleep much on the night before the girl's arrival. He satuntil late with the framed photograph of Barbara's mother on his knee,and tried to tell the dead and gone original that he had done his bestfor the girl so far, and if he had failed, it was because he knewnothing about raising girls and--nature hadn't cut him out to be afather, anyhow. He had been considerably older than Barbara's motherwhen he married her, and he had never ceased to wonder what there hadbeen in him to win the love of a woman like her, or to regret that fatehad not taken him instead of her. Heaven knows his calling had beenrisky enough. But--that was how things went sometimes--the wheat wastaken and the chaff remained.

  And in the morning! Tom was up before daylight and had his disheswashed and his things in order long ere the town was awake. Then hewent down to the office and waited--with the jumps. Repeatedly heconsulted his heavy gold watch, engraved: "With the admiration andgratitude of the citizens of Burlingame. November fifth, 1892." It wasstill two hours of train time when he locked up and limped off towardthe station, but--it was well to be there early.

  Of course he met Judge Halloran on the street--he always did--and ofcourse the judge asked when "Bob" was coming home. The judge always didthat, too. Old Tom had lied diligently to the judge every day for amonth now, for he had no intention of sharing this day of days with atiresome old pest, and now he again made an evasive answer.

  "Mendacity is at once the lowest and the commonest form of deceit," thejudge indignantly announced. "You know perfectly well when she'scoming, damn
you!"

  "Honest, I don't--not exactly."

  But the judge was unconvinced. "You've been as mysterious as abootlegger for the last week, but I could always read you like a book,Tom Parker. You know, all right. Mrs. Halloran wants to come over andfix things up for her. She said so this--"

  "Oh, I got everything fixed," Tom hastily declared. "Ha! What did Itell you?" The judge glared; Tom could have bitten his tongue for thatslip. "Your pitiful attempts to mislead Barbara's admirers expose youto ridicule, and offend those of us who tolerate you out of regard forher." (The judge had a nice Texas drawl, and he pronounced it"reegy'ad.") "You're on your way to the train at this moment and--Ipropose to accompany you."

  "What would I be going to the train for, now?" Tom inquired, in adeceitfully mild tone. Inwardly he was raging, and he cursed the judgefor a meddlesome old fool.

  "Hm-m! Thought you'd sneak down there, unobserved, probably." There wasa pause; then the speaker went on in an altered tone: "D'you supposeshe has forgotten all her native accomplishments, Tom? I wonder if shecan still ride and rope and shoot, or if those thin-blooded Easternschoolma'ams have taught her that such things are unladylike andcoarse."

  "Pshaw! You never forget how to do those things."

  "She could handle a horse or a rope or a gun as well as you at yourbest."

  "_Better!_" Tom declared, with swelling pride.

  Halloran wagged his white head in agreement, an unusual procedure,inasmuch as he never agreed with Tom on any subject which offeredpossible ground for disagreement. "A wonderful girl! And I'll wagerthey haven't spoiled her. Even _you_ couldn't spoil 'Bob.'" He raisedhis red, belligerent eyes and fixed them upon his old friend, but therewas now a kindly light in them. "You made a real son of her, didn'tyou, Tom?"

  "Almost. I was mighty disappointed because she was a girl, but--I don'tknow as a boy could of turned out much better. Well, Judge, I got to bemoving."

  "You are neither grammatical nor precise," snapped Judge Halloran. "Youmean _we_ must be moving." He linked arms with Tom and fell into stepwith him; he clung to that rigid arm, moreover, despite Tom's surlydispleasure. Not until a friend stopped them for a word or two was thedistracted parent enabled to escape from that spidery embrace; then,indeed, he slipped it as a filibustering schooner slips its moorings,and made off as rapidly and as unobtrusively as possible.

  Judge Halloran stared after the retreating figure, then he showed hisdecayed teeth in a smile. "'Bob' is coming home to-day and the oldMountain Lion is on edge," he explained. "I must warn the boys to stayaway from the station and give him his hour. Poor Tom! He has held hisbreath for four years."

  Tom Parker had heard of children spoiled by schooling, of daughterseducated away from their commonplace parents and rendered disdainful ofthem, but never for one instant did he fear that his girl was thatsort. He just knew better. He could no more have doubted "Bob's" lovefor him than his for her, or-God's love for both of them. Such love isperfect, absolute. He took no thought, therefore, of the changes timeand poverty had wrought in his appearance: "Bob" wouldn't notice. Hebet she wouldn't care if he was plumb ragged. They were one andindivisible; she was _his_, just like his right arm; she was his boyand his girl; his son-daughter. The old gunman choked and his tonsilsached abominably. He hoped he wasn't in for another attack of quinsysore throat. But--why lie to himself? The truth was, he wanted to cryand he wanted to laugh at the same time, and the impulses were crossedin his windpipe. He shook his watch like a child's rattle, to be sureit was still running.

  Barbara did not disappoint her father. On the contrary, she was perhapsmore deeply moved than he at their meeting. At sight of him she uttereda strangled little cry, then she ran into his arms and clung there,tightly, her cheek pressed against his breast. It was only uponoccasions like this that "Bob" kissed her father, for she had beenreared as a boy and taught to shun emotional display. Boys kiss theirmothers. She snuggled close, and Tom could feel her whole body shaking;but she kept her head averted to conceal a distressingly unmasculineweakness. It was a useless precaution, however, for Tom was blind, hiseyes were as wet as hers, and tears were trickling down the seams inhis wrinkled face.

  "Oh, daddy, it has been a long time!" Those were the first words eitherof them had spoken.

  Tom opened his lips, then he closed them. He patted Barbara clumsily,and finally cleared his aching throat with a loud "_Harrumph!_" Hedashed the tears from his eyes with the heel of one harsh palm, thenleveled a defiant glare over her head, directed at anyone who might belooking on at his weakness. It was a blurry glare, however, and notnearly so ferocious as he intended it to be. After several efforts hemanaged to regain control of his vocal powers.

  "Well, son!" he cried, huskily; then, "_Harrumph_!"

  Barbara's clutch tightened appreciatively. "Such a long, long time!"Still with her cheek pressed close against him, she ran a small glovedhand into the pocket of his coat and brought forth a bandanahandkerchief which she thrust into his palm, saying: "It's a good thingI'm home, for you've caught another cold, haven't you? Now blow yournose."

  Barbara was anything but boyish to look at; quite the opposite, infact. She was delightfully feminine from the crown of her smart littletraveling hat to her dainty French heels, and although her suit was notexpensive, it was worn with an air and was perhaps as fetching as anythat had ever come to Wichita Falls. It gave the impression ofperfectly setting off a figure and a personality that required nosetting off. She had the Parker eyes of quenchless blue.

  "Well, son, there's a boom on and the town has grown some; but I guessthings here are about the same as when you left 'em." Tom spoke withpride and satisfaction as he paid the driver, took Barbara's suitcase,and opened the gate for her.

  The girl turned from her first long, appraising gaze at the modesthome. No change, indeed! The paint on the house was peeling, guttershad rusted out, some of the porch flooring had rotted through, the yardwas an unkempt tangle of matted grass and weeds and neglectedshrubbery. The sight of it was like a stab to her, for she rememberedthe place as it had been, and the shock was akin to that of seeing aloved one in the garb of a tramp. But she smiled up at the gray faceabove her--Tom, too, was as seedy as the premises--and she nodded.

  "It hasn't changed a mite," she said, bravely.

  A moment later she paused upon the threshold, tense, thrilled,apparently speechless. Tom was reminded of a trim little wren poisedupon the edge of its nest. This time it was more difficult tocounterfeit an exclamation of joy, but the catch in "Bob's" voice, themoisture in her eyes, was attributed by her father to gladness at thesight of old familiar things. This was pay for the thought and the loveand the labor expended, truly.

  "Why, everything is right where it belongs! How _wonderfully_ you'vekept house! You must have a perfect jewel of a girl, dad!"

  "I let Aunt Lizzie go 'bout three years back," Tom explained. "Shegot--shiftless and I been sort of batching it since. Clean, though,ain't it?"

  Barbara turned; blindly she walked to the center table and buried herface in a bouquet of wild flowers garnered from the yard. She held itthere for a moment before she spoke. "You--didn't even forget that Ilove bluebonnets, did you, dad?"

  "Pshaw! I 'ain't had much to do but remember what you like, son."

  "What's the matter? Business bad?" "Bob's" face was still hidden.

  "Oh no! I'm busy as usual. But, now you're home, I'll probably feellike doing more. I got a lot of work left in me yet, now I got somebodyto work for."

  "So you fixed everything with your own hands."

  "Sure! I knew how you like the place to look, and--well, a man getsused to doing without help. The kitchen's clean, too."

  Side by side the two moved from room to room, and, once the girl hadregained control of herself, she maintained an admirableself-restraint. She petted and she cooed over objects dear to her; sheloved every inch of everything; she laughed and she exclaimed, and withher laughter sunshine suddenly broke into the musty, threadbareinterior for the first time in
four years.

  "Bob's" room was saved for the last, and Old Tom stood back, glowing ather delight. He could not refrain from showing her his blackenedthumb-nail--the price of his carpentry--for he hoped she'd kiss it. Andshe did. Not until she had "shooed" him out and sent him downstairs,smiling and chuckling at her radiant happiness, did she give way tothose emotions she had been fighting this long time; then her face grewwhite and tragic. "Oh, daddy, daddy!" she whispered. "What _have_ Idone to you?"

  Tom Parker had raised his girl like a son, and like a son she took holdof things, but with a daughter's tact. Her intuition told her much, butshe did not arrive at a full appreciation of the family affairs untilshe had the house running and went down to put his office in order.Then, indeed, she learned at what cost had come those four expensiveyears in the East, and the truth left her limp. She went through Tom'sdusty, disordered papers, ostensibly rearranging and filing them, andthey told her much; what they did not tell her she learned from JudgeHalloran and other old cronies who came in to pay their garrulouscompliments.

  Tom was mortgaged to the hilt, his royalties were pledged; a crow couldnot pick a living out of his insurance business.

  Such a condition was enough to dismay any girl who had never seriouslyconsidered money matters and who had returned home to take up a life ofcomparative ease and superlative enjoyment where she had left it off,but "Bob" said nothing to her father. She knew every one of hisshortcomings, and they endeared him to her, quite as a son's faults andfailures deepen a mother's love, but she knew, too, that he wascantankerous and required careful handling. Tom's toes were tender, andhe forever exposed them where they were easily trodden upon, thereforethe girl stepped cautiously and never even referred to his sacrifices,which would have cruelly embarrassed both of them.

  But something had to be done, and quickly; a new hand needed to mendthe family fortunes. Barbara determined to lend that hand.

  A great change had come over the town and the whole country roundabout, a change which the girl believed afforded her an opportunity toprove that she was not a mere daughter, not an ornament and a drag, buta real son-daughter such as Tom considered her. Wichita Falls wasovercrowded with oil men, drawn thither by the town-site strike atBurkburnett, a few miles northwest, and excitement was mounting as newwells continued to come in. Central north Texas was nearing anepoch-making petroleum boom, for Ranger, away to the south, had set theoil world by the ears, and now this new sand at "Burk" lent color tothe wild assertion that these north counties were completely underlaidwith the precious fluid. At any rate, the price of thirsty ranch landswas somersaulting and prosperity was apparent in the homes of allBarbara's girl friends. Her admirers of the opposite sex could talk oflittle except leases and bonuses and "production"; they were almost toobusy making money to call upon her.

  Barbara knew something about oil, for she had watched the drilling ofevery one of those shallow wells that had kept her in college, and whatis more, she knew most of the property owners in this part of thestate. In that advantage she believed lay her chance of accomplishment.

  After a fortnight of careful consideration she decided to enter the oilbusiness and deal in leases.

  "Good idea," Tom declared, when she had made known her plan. "Thetown's so full of scamps it looks like Rodeo Day, and most of 'em aredoing well. If they can make good, it seems like an honest firm coulddo better."

  "We'll be partners, dad. You run the insurance and I'll be the leasehound."

  "Say--" Tom's eyes brightened. "I'll put a desk right alongside ofmine--a little feller, just your size--and a nice lounge in the backroom, where you can lay down when you're tired. You been away so longit seems like I can't have you close enough." Another thought presenteditself, and he manifested sudden excitement. "I tell you! I'll get anew sign painted, too! 'Tom and Bob Parker. Real Estate and Insurance.Oil Prop'ties and Leases.' _Gosh!_ It's a _great_ idea, son!" His smilelingered, but a moment later there came into his eyes a half-regretfullight.

  Barbara read his thought almost before he was aware of it, and, rising,she laid her hand upon his shoulder. Wistfully she said, "I'm awfullysorry, too, dad--"

  "Eh?"

  "--that I disappointed you so by not being a boy. But--it wasn't myfault, and maybe I'll show you that a daughter can help as much as ason."