Harmon County Tribune (Hollis, Okla.), Vol. 9, No. 38, Ed. 1 Thursday, May 8, 1919 Page: 2 of 8
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1 I
THE HARMON COUNTY TRIBUNE
N:
Thei RIVER
By
EDNAH
AIKEN
When the Colorado Burst Its Banks and Flooded the Imperial Valley of California
Copyright, Bobbe-Merrill Company
. — M
HOW WILL HARDIN AND HIS WIFE RECEIVE HIM?—RICKARD
IS NOT LEFT LONG IN DOUBT.
Synopsis.—K. C. Rickard, on engineer of the Overland Pacific mil-
road, is called to the office of President Marshall Id Tuscon, Ariz. While
waiting Rickard reads a report on the ravages of the Colorado river,
despite the efforts of Thomas Hardin, head of the Desert Reclamation
company. Hardin had been a student under Rickard In an eastern col-
lege and had married Gerty Holmes, with whom Rickard had fancied he
was In love. Marshall tells Rickard the Overland Pacific must step in to
save the Imperial valley and wishes to send Rickard to take charge.
Rickard declines because he foresees embarrassment In supplanting
Hardin, but Is won over. Rickard goes to Calexlco and, on the way.
learns much about Hurdln and his work.
CHAPTER IV—Continued.
"Bath right across the hall. Only
room left In the house." The proprietor
•warded him the valley stare. "Going
to be here long7" He passed the last
key on the rack to the darky stagger-
ing under a motley of bags and suit-
cases. Rickard recognized his, and fol-
lowed.
"I may get you another room tomor-
row," called the proprietor after him
as he climbed the dusty stairs.
The signals of a new town were
waving in the dining room. The ma-
jority of the citizens displayed their
shirt sleeves and unblushing suspend-
ers. One large table was surrounded
by men in khaki; the desert soldiers,
engineers. The full blown waitresses,
elaborately pompadoured, were push-
ing through the swing-doors, carrying
heavy trays. Coquetry appeared to be
their occupation, rather than meal-
aervlng, the diners accepting both varie-
ties of attention with appreciation. The
supremacy of those superior maidens
was menaced only by two other wom-
en who sat at a table near the door.
Rickard did not see them at first. The
room was as masculine as a restaurant
In a new mining town.
Rickard left his Indoor view to look
through the French windows opening
on a side street. He noticed a slender
but regular procession. All the men
passing fell in the same direction.
"Cocktail route," explained one of
his neighbors, his mouth full of boiled
beef.
"Oyster cocktail?" smiled the new-
comer.
"The real thing! Calexico's dry, like
the whole valley, that is, the county.
See that ditch? That is Mexico, on
the other side. Those sheds you can
see are In Mexican, Calexico's twin
sister. That painted adobe is the cus-
tom house. Mexican's not dry, even In
«ummerl You can bet your life on
that. Tou can get all the bad whisky
and stale beer you've the money to
buy. We work In Calexlco, and drink
in Mexlcall. The temperance pledge Is
kept better In this town than any other
town in the valley. But you can see
this procession every night."
The Amazon with a handkerchief
apron brought Rickard his soup. He
was raising his first spoonful to his
mouth when he saw the face, carefully
He Saw the Face, Carefully Averted.
averted, of the girl he had met at the
Marshalls' table, Innes Hardin. His
eyes Jumped to her companions, the
man a stranger, and then. Gerty
Holmes. At least, Mrs. Hardin! Some-
how, it surprised him to find her pretty.
She had achieved a variety of dis-
tinction, preserving, moreover, the
clear-cut babyish chin which had made
its early appeal to him. There was the
same fluffy hair, Its ringlets a bit arti-
ficial to his more sophisticated eyes,
the same well-turned nose. He had
been wondering about this meeting; he
found that he had been expecting some
sort of shock—who said that the love
of today Is the Jest of tomorrow? The
discovery that Gerty was not a Jest
brought the surprised gratification
which we award a letter or composition
-'ten in our youth. Were we as
« «-\ r :ts ;v"t. *f complete at eighteen
or twenty-one? Conhl we. now, with
ti'• «t r experience, do an> better, or In-
;n voil? That particular sen-
< e \\ :h v- in^s I Cculd we uiaLr jt
fly toduy as It soared yesterday? Rick-
ard was finding that Gerty's more ma-
ture charms did not accelerate his
heart-beats, but they were certainly
fluttering to his early Judgment. And
he hud expected her to be a shock!
He was staring into his plate of
chilled soup. Calf-love! For he had
loved her, or at least he had loved her
chin, her pretty childish way of lifting
it. She was prettier than he had pic-
tured her. Queer that a man like Har-
din could draw such women for sister
and wife—the blood tie was the most
amazing. For when women corae to
marry, they make often a queer choice.
It occurred to him that that might
have been Hardin—he had not wanted
to stare at them.
That was not Hardin's face. It held
strength and power. The outline was
sharp and distinct, showing the strong
lines, the determined mouth of the pio-
neer. There was something else, some-
thing which stood for distinction—no,
It couldn't be Hurdln.
And then, because an outthrust Up
changed the entire look of the man,
Rickard asked his table companions,
who was the man with the two ladles,
near the door.
"That, suh," his neighbor from Ala-
bama became Immediately orntorlcal,
"that is a big man, suh. If the Im-
perial valley ever becomes a reality, a
flxtuah. It will be because of that one
man, suh. Reclamation is like a seed
thrown on a rock. Will It stick? Will
It take root? Will It grow? That is
what we all want to know."
Rickard thought that he had wanted
to know something quite different, and
reminded the gentleman from Alabama
that he had not told him the name.
"The father of this valley, of the
reclamation of this desert, Thomas
Hardin, suh."
Rickard tried to reset, without at-
tracting their attention, the group of
his impressions of the man whose per-
sonality had been so obnoxious to him
In the old Lawrence days. The Hardin
he had known had also large features,
but of the flaccid Irritating order. He
summoned a picture of Hardin as he
had shuflled into his own classroom, or
up to the long table where Gerty had
always queened It among her mother's
boarders. He couyi see the rough un-
polished boots that had always offend-
ed him as a betrayal of the man's in-
ner coarseness; the badly fitting coat,
the long awkward arms, and the satis-
fled, loud-speaking mouth. These fea-
tures were more definite. Could time
bring these changes? Had he changed,
like that? Had they seen him? Would
Gerty, would Hardin remember him?
Wasn't It his place to make himself
known; wave the flag of old friendship
over an awkward situation?
He found himself standing In front
of their table, encountering first, the
eyes of Hardin's sister. There was no
surprise, no welcome there for him. He
felt at once the hostility of the camp.
His face was uncomfortably warm.
Then the childish profile turned on him.
A look of bewilderment, flushing into
greeting—the years had been kind to
Gerty Holmes!
"Do you remember me, Rickard?"
If Hardin recognized a difficult situa-
tion, he did not betray it. It was a
man Rickard did not know who shook
him warmly by the hand, and said that
indeed he had not forgotten him.
"I've been expecting you. My wife,
Mr. Rickard, and my sister."
"Why, what are you thinking of.
Tom? To introduce Mr. Rickard! I
Introduced you to each other, years
ago!" Gerty's cheeks were red. Her
bright eyes were darting from one to
the other. "You knew he was coming,
and did not tell me?"
"You were at the Improvement club
when the telegram came," put In Innes
Hardin, without looking at Rickard. No
trace of the Tucson cordiality In that
proud little face! No acknowledgment
that they had met at the Marshall's!
-Oh, you telegraphed to us?" The
blond arch smile had not aged. "That
was friendly and nice."
Rickard had not been self-conscious
for many a year. He did not know
what to say. He turned from her up-
turned face to the others. Innes Har-
din was staring out of the window,
over the heads of several crowded
tables; Hardin was gazing at his plate.
Rickard decided that he would get out
of this before Gerty discovered that it
was neither "friendly nor nice."
"If I had known that you were here,
I would have Insisted on your dining
with us, in our tent For it's terrible,]
here, isn't it?" She flushed at him the
look he remembered so vividly, the
childish coquettish appeal., "We dine
at home, till It becomes tiresome, and
then we come foraging for variety. But
you must come to us, say Thursday. Is
that right for you? We should love it.1
Still those two averted faces. Rick-
ard said Thursday, as he was bidden,
and got back to his table, wondering
why in thunder he had let Marshall per-
suade him to take this Job.
Hardin waited a scant minute to pro-
test : "What possessed you to ask him
to dinner?"
"Why shouldn't I? He Is an old
friend." Gerty caught a glance of ap-
peal, from sister to brother. "Jealous?'
she pouted charmingly at her lord.
"Jealous, no!" bluffed Hardin.
He thought then that she knew, that
Inres had told her. The Lawrence epi-
sode held no sting to him. Once, it
hnd enchanted him that he had carried
off the boarding-house belle, whom even
that bookman bad found desirable—
bookman! A superior dude! He had
always had those grand airs. As if It
were not more to a man's credit to
struggle for his education, even if he
were older than his class, or his teach-
er, than to accept It off silver plates,
handed by lackeys? Rickard had al-
ways acted as If it had been something
to be ashamed of. It made him sick.
"They've done it this time. It's a
fool choice."
Again, that look of pleading from In
nes. Gerty had % shiver of Intuition.
"Fool choice?" Her voice was omi-
nously calm.
Hardin shook off Innes' eyes. Better
be done with ltl "He's the new gen4
eral manager."
"He's the general manager!"
"I'm to take orders from him."
Gerty's silence was of the stunned
variety. The Hardins watched her
crumbling bread on the tablecloth,
thinking, fearfully, that she was going
to cry.
"Didn't I tell you?" Her voice, re-
pressed, carried the threat of tears.
"Didn't I tell you how it would be?
Didn't I say that you'd be sorry if you
called the railroad in?"
"Must we go over this again?" asked
her husband.
"Why didn't you tell me? Why did
you let me make a goose of myself?"
She was remembering that there had
been np protest, no surprise from In-
nes. She knew! A family secret!
She shrugged. "I'm glad, on the whole,
that you planned it as a surprise. For
I carried It off as if we'd not been in-
sulted, disgraced."
"Gerty!" expostulated Hardin.
"Gerty!" Implored Innes.
"And we are in for a nice friendly
dinner!"
"Are you quite finished?" Hardin
got up.
As the three passed out of the dining
room, Rickard caught their several ex-
pressions: Hardin's stiff, indifferent;
Gerty's brilliant but hard, as she
flashed a finished, brave little smile in
his direction. The sister's bow was
distinctly haughty.
In the hall, Gerty's laugh rippled
out. It was the laugh Rickard remem-
bered, the light frivolous cadence
which recalled the flamboyant pattern
of the Holmes' parlor carpet, the long,
crowded dining table where Gerty had
reigned. It told him that she was in-
different to his coming, as she meant
It should. And It turned him back to
a dark corner in the honeysuckle-
draped porch where he had spent so
many evenings with her, where once
he had held her hand, where he told
her that he loved her. For he had
loved her, or at least he thought he
had! And had run away from her ex-
pectant eyes. A cad, was he, Decause
he had brought that waiting look into
her eyes, and had run from it?
Should a man ask a woman to give
her life Into his keeping until he Is
quite sure that he wants it? He was
revamping his worn defense. Should
he live up to a minute of surrender, of
tenderness, If the next instant brings
sanity, and disillusionment? He could
bury now forever self-reproach. He
could laugh at his own vanity. Gerty
Hurdln, It was easy to see, had forgot-
ten what he had whispered to Gerty
Holmes. They met as sober old
friends. That ghost was laid.
CHAPTER V.
A Game f Checkers.
The uneasy mood of the desert, the
wind-blown sand, drove people Indoors
the next morning. Rickard was served
a substantial, indifferently cooked
breakfast Id the dining room of the
Desert hotel, whose limitations were
as conspicuous to ths newcomer as
they were nonexistent to the other
men. They were finding It a soft con-
trast to sand-blown tents, to life in the
open.
Later he wandered through the
group of staring idlers In the office,
past the popular soda stand and the
few chair-tllters on the sidewalk, go-
ing on, as If without purpose, to the
railroad sheds, and then on. down to
the offices of the Desert Reclamatioo
company. He discovered it to be the
one engaging spot in the hastily
thrown-together town. There were
oleanders, rose and white, blooming in
the patch of purple blooming alfalfa
that stood for a lawn. Morning-glories
clambered over the supports of the
veranda, and on over the roof. Rick-
ard's deductions led him to the Har-
dins.
What school of experience had so
changed the awkward country fellow?
He had resented his rivalry, not that
he was a rival, but that he was a boor.
Ills kisses still warm on her lips, and
she had turned to welcome, to coquet
with Tom Hardin! The woman who
was to be his wife must be steadier
than that! It had cooled his fever.
Not for Itfm the aspen who could
shake aod bend her pretty boughs to
each rough breeze that blew!
Men tossed Into a desert, fighting to
keep a foothold, do not garland their
"I'll Take You Around."
offices with morniog-glories! Was It
the gracious quiet influence of a wife,
a Gerty Hardin? The festive build-
ing he was approaching was as unex-
pected—as Captain Brandon! Rickard
walked on, smiliog.
He was fairly blown into the outer
room, the door banging behind him.
Every one looked up at the noisy ioter-
ruptioo. There were several meo In
the long room. Among them two alert,
clean-faced youths, college graduates,
or students out on furlough, the kind
of stuff in his class at Lawrence. Three
of the seasoned, road-coached type
were leaning their chairs against the
cool thick walls. One was puffing at
a cigar. The other, a big, shy giant,
was drawing clouds of comfort from a
pipe. There was a telegraph operator
at work in one end of the room, her
instrument rapidly clicking. In an op-
posite corner was a telephone ex-
change. A girl with a metal band
around her forehead was punching
connections between the valley towns.
Rickard lost the feeling of having
gone Into a remote and isolated re-
gion. The twin towns were on the
map.
One of the older men returned his
nod. The young men returned their
hastily withdrawn attention to their
game of checkers. The other smoker
was watching with cross-eyed absorp-
tion the rings his cigar was sending
into the air. Rickard might not have
been there.
One of the checker players looked
up.
"Anything I can do for you? Do you
want to see anyone In particular?"
"No," It was admitted. "No one In
particular. I was Just looking round."
"It's the show place of Calexico. I'll
take you around. It Is the only place
In town that Is comfortable when It's
hot, or when the wind blows, and
that's the program all summer. Take
my place, Pete."
Pete, the young giant, with the face
of his infancy enlarged rather than
matured, slipped Into the vacant chair.
He had been the first to discover the
stranger, but he had evaded the re-
sponsibility. The game Immediately
absorbed him.
"It's nice here," repeated the young
fellow, leading the way. They were
followed by a few Idle glaoces.
Rickard looked with approval at the
tan slim figure which was assuming
the courtesy of the towns. The fine
handsome face was almost too girlish,
the muscles of the mouth to<r sensitive
yet for manly beauty, but he liked the
type. Lithe as a young desert-reared
Indian, his manner and carriage told
of a careful home and rigid school dis-
cipline.
He was ushered Into a large cool
room. The furnishings he inventoried:
a few stiff chairs, a long table and a
typewriter desk, closed for the Sab-
bath.
"The stenographer's room," an-
nounced the lad superfluously.
"Whose stenographer"
"General property now. Everyone
has a right to use her time. She used
to be Hardin's, the general manager's.
She is his still. In a way. But Ogilvie
keeps her busy most of the time."
Rickard had not heard of Ogilvie.
He made a mental register.
"Wheo did Hardin go out?" He
knew the date himself. He expected
the answer would trail wisps of other
information. He had a very active cu-
riosity about Hardlu. The man's fail-
ures bad been spectacular.
The young fellow was thinking
aloud. "The dam went November
29th. Hardin was giveD a deceot 1d-
terval to reslgD. Of course be was
fired. It was au outrage—" He re-
membered that he was speaking to a
straDger and broke off suddenly. Rick-
ard did not question him. He made
another note. Why was It an outrage
cr why did It appear so? In perspec-
tive, from the Mexican barranca,
where he had been at the time, the
failure of that dam had been another
bar sinister against Hardin.
"I see that you are from the Univer-
sity of California T Rickard said, and
nodded at the pin of gold and blue
enamel.
"Out for a year," glowed the lad.
"Dad wanted me to get some real stuff
in my head. He said the Colorado
would give me more lessons—more real
knowledge in a year than I'd get in
six at college. I kicked up an awful
row—"
The older man smiled. "Of course.
You don't want to go back now"
The boy made a wry face. "He ex-
pects me to go back in August. Says
I must."
"You did not tell me your name,"
was suggested.
"MacLean, George MacLean," said
the young man rather consciously. It
was a good deal to live up to. He al-
ways felt the appraisement which fol-
lowed that admission. George Mac
Lean, elder, was known among the
railroad circles to be a man of Iron,
one of the strongest of the heads of
the Overland Pacific system. He was
not the sort of man a sod could 6peak
lightly of disobeyiog.
"Of course everyone calls me Jun-
ior."
"I guess you'll go back If he wants
you to," smiled Rickard.
"Oh, but what a rotten trick It
would be 1" exclaimed the son of the
man of Iron. "To throw me out of
college—I was daffy to finish with my
class, and to get me here, to get me in-
terested—and then after I've lost my
place to pull me back. Why, there are
things happening every day that are a
liberal education. They are only just
beginning to understand what they are
bucking up against. The Colorado's
an unknown quantity; even old engi-
neers are right up against It There
are new problems coming up every
day. The Indians call her a yellow
dragon, but she's a tricky woman,
she's an eel; she's giving us sums to
break our teeth on."
"Who has the oext room?"
"Used to be the general manager's.
Ogilvie uses It now."
"And who did you say was Ogil-
vie?" They turned back Into the
room.
"You can go In. He's not here. He
is the new auditor, an expert account-
ant from Los Angeles. Put In by the
0. P. when Jt assumed control last
year. He used to come down once
a month. After Hardin went out he
came down to stay."
"Whose say-so?"
"I don't know. The accounts were
rotten, that's no office secret The
world knows that. Hardin is blamed
for It. It isn't fair. Look at Sather's
stone palace in Los Angeles. Look at
Hardin's tent, his shabby clothes."
"I'd like to meet Ogilvie," observed
the general manager.
"Oh, he's not much to meet A pale,
white-livered vegetarian, a theoso-
phlst. You've seeo 'em. Los Angeles
is full of 'em. He was here when Har-
dlo was fired. You could see him see
his opportunity. His chest swelled
up. He looked as If he had tasted
meat for the first time. He thought
that he could woozle into the empty
place! He went back to Los Angeles,
convinced them that the auditor
should be here, protect the company's
Interests. It sounded mysterious,
sleuthlike, as if he had discovered
something, so they let him bring the
books down here. He Is supposed to
be ferretlug. But he's 'woozling.' He
used to be in the outer office. Said
tHe noise made his head ache, so he
moved in here. All the committee
meetings are held here, and occasion-
ally the directors' meetings. Water
companies', too. Ogilvle's taking notes
—wants to be the next general mana-
ger; it sticks out all over him."
"What's the derivation of woozle?"
this with deep gravity.
"Walt tlU you see Ogilvie!" laughed
his entertainer. Then as an after-
thought "This is aU public gossip.
He's fair game."
The door opeued behiod them, aod
Rickard saw the maa whose descrip-
tion had been so deftly knocked oft.
He recognized the type seen so fre-
quently in southern California towns,
the pale, damaged exile whose chance
of reprieve la conditioned by stern
rules of diet and sobriety. It was the
temperament which must perforce
translate a personal necessity Into a
religious dogma.
"This gentleman's Just—Is Just
looking around," stammered MacLean,
bluudering, confused.
The vegetarian uodded, taking off
his felt sombrero aod putting It on a
chair with care.
By this time it was apparent that
no one save Hardin knew of his com-
ing. He was ahead of Marshall'* let-
ters. He did not like the flavor of his
entrance.
"What provision is being made for
the new general manager V
The question, aimed carelessly, hit
the auditor.
"They are not talking of filling the
position Just yet" he responded.
"There is no need at present The
work is going along nicely, better, I
might say, adjusted as It now is, than
it did before."
"I heard that they had sent a roan
from the Tucson office to repress
Mr. Marshall."
-Did you hear his name?" stam-
mered Ogilvie.
"Rickard."
The auditor recovered himself. "I
would have heard of it were It true.
I am in close touch with the Los An-
geles office."
"It is true."
"How do you know?" Ogilvle's dis-
may was too sudden; the flabby facial
muscles betrayed him.
•Tm Rickard." The Dew general
manager took the swivel chair behind
the flat-top desk. "Sit dowo. I'd like
to have a talk with you."
"If you will excuse me,"—Ogilvle's
bluff was as anemic as his crushed ap-
pearance. '1—I am busy this morn-
ing. Might I—trouble you—for a
few minutes? My papers are in this
desk."
Rickard now koew his mao to the
shallow depths of his white-corpus-
cled soul. "If I wou't be In your way
I'll hang arouud here. I've the day to
kill."
His sarcasm was lost Id transit.
Ogilvie said that Mr. Rickard would
not be In his way. He would move
his papers Into the next room tomor-
row.
The engineer moved to the French
windows that opened on the alfalfa
lawD. A vigorous growth of willows
marked the course of New river,
which had cut so perilously near the
towns. A letter "b," picked out In
quick river vegetation, told the story
of the flood. The old channel—there
It was, the curved arm of the "b," one
could tell that by the tall willows—bad
been too tortuous, too slow for those
sweeping waters. The flow had di-
vided, cutting the stem of the letter,
carrying the flood waters swifter
down grade. The flow had divided—
hm! divided perhaps the danger too!
An idea Id that! He would see that
better from the water tower he'd spied
at entering. Another flood, and a
gamble whether Mexlcall or Calexlco
would get the worst of it. Unless one
was ready. A levee—west of the
American towo!
"Excuse me, sir—do you need me?""
He turned back Into the room. He
could see that MacLean was aching to
get out of the room. Ogilvie had vis-
ibly withered. A blight seemed to fait
on him as his white, blue-veined fin-
gers made a bluff among his papers.
"Thank you." Rickard nodded at
MacLean, who burst Into the outer of-
fice.
"It's the new general manager frota
Tucson—Rickard's his name." His
whisper ran around the wfclls of the
room, where other arrivals were tilt-
ing their chairs. "The new general
manager! Ogilvie woozled for noth-
ing. You should have seen his face I""
"Did anyone know that he was com-
log?" Silent, the tanned giant, spoke,
"That's Marshall all over," salcfc
Wooster, bright-eyed and wiry, re-
moving his pipe. "He likes to move In
a mysterious way his wonders to per-
form. (Used to slug that when I was
a kid!) No announcement Simply*
'Enter Rickard.'"
"More like this," said Silent. "Exit
Hardin. Enter Ogilvie. Enter Rick*
ard."
"And exit Ogilvie," cried MacLean.
"It's a—d^—d shame," burst out
Wooster. No one asked him what he
Ogilvle's Dismay Was Too Sudden.
meant Every man In the room was
thinking of Hardin, whose shadow this
reclamation work was.
"What's Rickard doing?" asked the
infantile Hercules at the checkerboard.
The force called him Pete, which was
a short cut to Frederick Augustus
Bodefeldt
"Taking Ogilvle's measure"—this
from MacLean.
"Then he's dolog something else by
thla time. That wouldn't take him five
minutes unless he's a gull," snapped
Wooster. who hated Ogilvie as a rat
does a snake.
Rickard moves to save the
valley In what seems to him the
only possible way. His views do
not coincide wtth those of Har-
din. The next installment tends
to Justify the forebodings with
which Rickard undertook ills
Brest task. Do not fail to read it
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Spoiled It
"Jack said you were a bird." "Real-
ly," she exclaimed, delighted. "Yes, a
parrot."—Boston Transcript
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Reference the current page of this Newspaper.
Bell, J. Fred. Harmon County Tribune (Hollis, Okla.), Vol. 9, No. 38, Ed. 1 Thursday, May 8, 1919, newspaper, May 8, 1919; Hollis, Oklahoma. (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc234116/m1/2/?q=j+w+gardner: accessed May 30, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.