Under the Desert Sky (5 page)

“I second the proposal,” Fowler said.

“Wait a minute,” Prinsen said. “It's well and good to make the offer, but first don't you think we should ask Christian if he's agreeable to such an arrangement?”

“I appreciate the offer. But I have a responsibility to July.”

“July? Why, that's months away,” Captain Hancock said.

Prinsen chuckled. “Christian, suppose I hire July to work for me? Would you be disposed to accept our offer then?”

“I'll have to discuss it with him. I believe he's anxious to get home, but as for myself, I wouldn't be opposed to staying.”

“You won't be sorry, Mr. De Wet. If you bring this through for us, I can promise you, there will be a mighty big paycheck waiting for you,” Captain Hancock said.

M
r. Prinsen and Christian stood at the door as everyone was leaving. Most were enthusiastic about the prospect of actually getting something started, and they continued to thank Christian for his suggestion.

“It looks like you made quite an impression, my boy,” Prinsen said as he slapped Christian on the back. “Besides, if you went back home, you'd have to take sides. Would you fight with the Boers and please Marie, or with the Brits to please Cecil?”

“I really don't know. Maybe this is a godsend. It'll give me a legitimate reason to stay here.”

“Yes, and if you can put this together, you'll not only make a fair bit of change, you'll also be doing the valley a real service.”

“I get the impression you really like it here. But what about the ostriches? This is a long way from the Little Karoo.”

Prinsen smiled. “That's where your efforts come in. If you can figure this out and we can have a dependable water supply, I can grow more lucerne, and the ostriches won't know if they're in Arizona or South Africa.”

“I suppose that's true. What difference does it make if you call their food alfalfa or lucerne? It's all the same to the birds.”

“I actually think the Salt River Valley is more conducive to ostrich domestication than either the Cape Colony or Natal. I've not shared my ultimate goal, but I intend to monopolize the feather business in all of America.”

“That's a lofty enterprise, but what'll the other ostrich farmers think when they find out what you have in mind?”

“They know I want to get bigger, Christian, and I believe they support me. Right now there are only three other producers in Arizona, and they know if they decide to give up, I'll buy their birds.”

“I guess that's a fallback position for them, but I can't believe anyone would really want to raise ostriches.”

“It boils down to money. You should ask Mrs. Sloan what she expects to reap this year from, originally, only six pairs of birds.”

“Mrs. Sloan—that was the redheaded woman at the meeting? I didn't have a chance to speak to her. Did she leave with the others?”

“She may have slipped out the back. I feel sorry for her. She's by herself and she's got that little tyke, but her biggest problem is her husband's family. Every time she thinks she's about ready to make a profit, her father-in-law puts a fly in the ointment. He owns one of the local banks, so I personally invited him to this meeting tonight, but I knew he wouldn't show up.”

Just then they heard a commotion in the kitchen. “I'll bet Phoebe's with the women. Let's see what's going on back there.”

•  •  •

Adeline Bucknell was taking the last pan of cookies out of the oven when she tripped over Will Sloan's foot and fell. She lost control of the pan and hot cookies went flying everywhere.

Will caught one, but fell himself and crushed several of the crisp cookies. “Oh, no. We have to make some more, Mama. We can't go home.”

“You've made lots of cookies.” Phoebe knelt to help gather the crumbs. “It's late, and you know we have things to do before we can go to sleep.”

“You go by yourself. I can stay and play with Hannah and Adeline. Isn't that right, Miss Gwen?”

“They can't play anymore,” Gwen Bucknell said. “The girls have to go to sleep, too. Anyway, if you stayed here, who'd help your mama find her way home?”

“Here you are,” Yhomas said as he and Christian came through the swinging door leading into the kitchen. “Phoebe, has it come to this? You have to eat crumbs off the floor?”

“We're not there, yet”—Phoebe rose from the floor—“but if we don't get any water, we may all have to resort to that.”

“You heard Christian.” Yhomas indicated the man standing beside him. “He'll have the money put together by Christmas.”

“Were you at the same meeting I just attended?” Katie turned toward Christian. “I'm sure you're quite talented, but I don't think you're a magician.” She said to her husband, “Nor did he make any claim to be, even if he is your countryman.”

“Mr. De Wet, I must say I was quite impressed with your presentation. Were all those figures really off the top of your head?” Phoebe asked.

Christian flashed a dazzling smile, exposing perfect white teeth that contrasted against sun-bronzed skin. “I'm afraid you've caught me, Mrs. Sloan. Yhomas provided some of the pertinent information before the meeting started, so I'd given some thought to a solution.”

“I catched a cookie,” Will said. “Did my mama catch you, mister?”

“No, no, Will. First of all it's ‘I caught a cookie,' but Mr. De Wet said—”

“He said you caught him. I heard him.”

Phoebe rolled her eyes. “I'm sorry. I believe it's time to gather my son and head home.”

“Phoebe, it's late. You can't go home now,” Katie said. “Let Trinidad or Cornello take care of your birds. That's why you pay them.”

“They're not there,” Gwen said.

“Oh, dear, have you fired them?” Katie asked.

“It'd be good riddance if you did,” Yhomas said. “If you had somebody who really knew how to handle your flock, you could make a lot more money.”

“You're probably right,” Phoebe said.“But, no, I didn't fire them. Sunday is Independence Day, and I've given them the week off.”

“Independence Day? I thought the American Independence Day is in July,” Christian said.

“It is, but this is Mexican Independence Day. And I'm afraid the fiestas last a little longer than the Fourth of July picnics and parades,” Phoebe said.

“Well, if they're not at your place, I'm not going to let you go home by yourself,” Yhomas said. “I'll saddle my horse.”

“Is it far?” Christian asked.

“No, it's about seven or eight miles from here,” Yhomas said.

“Then why don't I ride back with her?” Christian asked. “If it's that close, I won't get lost on the way back, and you can write up the minutes of what went on tonight.”

“Would you mind, Phoebe?” Yhomas asked.

“No, she doesn't mind,” Gwen said. “I think it's a wonderful idea. Will, help me make up a package of cookies for you to take. Then, when you get home, you can invite Mr. De Wet in and have cookies and milk before you go to bed.”

“Nope. Can't do that,” Will said.

“Why not?”

“We don't have any milk.”

“Well, then, girls, you'd better take Will to the summer kitchen and get some milk.”

•  •  •

After Christian and the others left the kitchen, Gwen turned to Phoebe.

“What do you think?”

“I think you and your daughters are spoiling my son. It's already past his bedtime, and now he's going to insist on cookies and milk before bed.”

Gwen let out an exaggerated sigh. “That's not what I meant and you know it. What do you think about Mr. De Wet?”

“He had some very good ideas. If he can put this together, it'll help all of us.”

Gwen stomped her foot. “Sometimes you are the densest person I know. What do you think about Christian? Isn't he the most handsome man you've ever seen? And his English accent—don't you think that makes him even more mysterious?”

“I will grant you, he is an attractive gentleman, but that's all I'll say.”

“I won't let you stop there. Don't you think he'd make a good husband?”

“Gwen, don't even think that, let alone say it. If people thought it was above my station when I married a banker, what do you think the talk would be if I went after an international financier?”

“You don't know that's what he is. He's been here for two weeks, and he's been one of the most accommodating guests Mr. Prinsen's ever had. Buck says he and the man he brought with him are willing to help do anything. Just the other day they helped build new plucking boxes. Now, you tell me, would a financier do that?”

“You heard Mr. Prinsen say he worked for Cecil Rhodes for ten years, and everybody knows Mr. Rhodes is one of the wealthiest men in the world,” Phoebe said. “So, by extrapolation, I would say Mr. De Wet is both well educated and well-off.”

Gwen shook her head. “Phoebe, don't sell yourself short. Just because Frank Sloan browbeats you all the time, don't listen to him. You have a lot to offer a man.”

“Thanks, Gwen, you're a dear friend, but I know who I am. There are days when I'm so weary I want to walk right up to Mr. Prinsen and sell every bird I have and leave. But then I go talk to Edwin and I know I can't. Raising ostriches was my dream, and I believe I can make a living for Will and me. If I walk away, every piece of Will's life with Edwin will be gone.”

Gwen took Phoebe's hands in hers. “Someday, you've got to stop blaming yourself for Edwin's death. It wasn't your fault.”

Just then Hannah came into the kitchen. “Miss Phoebe, Mr. De Wet is out front with your buggy. He's ready when you are.”

“Thanks, Hannah, where's Will?”

“He's with Adeline. He's afraid you won't let him take all the cookies.”

“All the cookies? Well, he's right.”

“Let him do it. Not counting the ones that fell on the floor, there weren't many that made it into the oven,” Gwen said. “And if you have a guest . . .”

“You never give up.” Phoebe shook her head and followed Hannah out the door.

•  •  •

When Phoebe approached her buggy, the running lamps had already been lit, and the mirrored reflectors were casting twin beams in front of them. She could see Will hugging his bundle of cookies, while Adeline had the pail of milk.

“I believe this young man is ready to get going,” Mr. Prinsen said. “I wish I was going home with you, because I know these cookies are going to be good. Maybe Mr. De Wet can bring me one when he comes back.”

“Wet? Is that his name?” Will asked.

“Come, Will, get in the buggy. You've had a long day,” Phoebe said. “Thank you, Mr. Prinsen, for inviting me. I have a good feeling about this meeting.”

“I'm glad you could come. I only wish W.F. would've accepted my invitation.”

Phoebe raised her eyebrows at the reference to her father-in-law, but didn't comment.

Adeline put the milk in the buggy and then started to lift Will.

“No. I want to ride with Wet. My daddy always let me ride with him.”

“You need to be in the buggy. Who'll keep the milk from spilling?” Phoebe asked.

“It won't spill. It's in a cream bucket with a top. And I want to ride with Wet on the horse.”

“Ma'am, if you don't mind, I'm perfectly fine having him ride with me.”

“Goodie, goodie, I get to ride a horse!” Will dropped the cookies and ran to Christian.

Phoebe chuckled as she retrieved the package. “Well, I can't fight both of you.”

Christian picked Will up, sat him in the saddle, then swung up behind the boy. Phoebe said her good-byes, hugging the two girls and Gwen, then climbed into the buggy and started out, the light beams showing the way.

“My daddy used to let me hold the reins,” Will said.

“He used to? He doesn't anymore?”

“He can't. Mama says he's in heaven.”

Christian glanced toward Phoebe and knew she hadn't heard the comment. “I'll bet you miss him a lot.”

“Not as much as mama. Sometimes she talks to Daddy in his grave.” Will hesitated. “But I don't think he can hear her,” he added in a whisper.

“Sure he can, if he's in heaven.”

When Will put his hands on the reins, Christian didn't stop him.

•  •  •

The ride from Prinsen House to Phoebe's farm took about half an hour. When the buggy turned into the drive, the light beams fell on a small white building.

Suddenly, Phoebe stilled. “The lights are out!”

Phoebe set the brake on the buggy and jumped down. Removing one of the lamps, she started running toward the building.

Christian dismounted, then, carrying Will, ran after her.

“What is it? What's wrong?”