have business with a homesteader?"
She looked up to see his expression. Lin was staring down the hall.
"Can't tell," he replied. "Lestrade's got an iron in 'most every fire."
Her fingers went up to a button of his coat. "You're thinking something else," she said. "Whenever you assume that poker face, I know there's solemn thoughts behind it. But what if he has got an iron in every fire? There's no fire here."
"Yes, there is. Gracie, you're the fire."
"Lin, how you talk! Mr. Lestrade wouldn't spend any time on me."
"No?" Lin said. "He'd be crazy if he didn't."
"Hush." She led him into the kitchen and ordered him around so fast he had little time to talk. But when the pie came out of the pantry and was placed on the table, he grinned from ear to ear.
"Gal, you know how to flatter a man's stomach. I've got a notion—"
The notion, whatever its nature, was interrupted. The office door opened and the judge, followed by Lestrade, came into the dining room. The judge had a glum, owlish look for Lin which the young man answered with a cheerful grin. Lestrade spoke jovially to him, though he passed one swift appraising glance to the girl first.
"Howdy, Lin, howdy. Ain't seen you for a small coon's age. What keeps you away from the town these days?"
"Prospecting," the judge said ironically. "Sit down, Mr. Lestrade, and eat. Pass the meat and gravy, Gracie. Hem. Guess you never believed me when I said we'd get water some day, did you, young man? Well, I'm old enough, I hope, to know better. We're going to have water in this valley and we're going to have it soon. How's that sound to your intelligence?"
The man was inflated with importance. He pursed his lips in all manner of shapes, his shoulders thrown back and his pudgy body as straight as a ramrod. Lestrade beamed at him, which caused Lin to make a thoughtful reservation.
"Of course there was an iron in the fire," he said to himself. "Maybe two of 'em." Aloud he asked, "Where's this water coming from, up or down?"
"It's coming," the judge announced, "from Lake Esprit, and it'll be brought by a main ditch right into the valley. Mr. Lestrade and I have come to several important conclusions which the settlers will agree with as soon as I call a meeting. If you should like to know more —though from the foolishness in your head I'm not sure you would—I might say it will be a cooperative concern, headed by myself and Mr. Lestrade."
"Oh," Lin said, and for a moment he forgot the company and the food. His mind raced back and forth, all the while filling with suspicion. "Who's to supply the money?"
"The stockholders. In other words, the settlers."
Lin pushed his plate back and spoke with a sudden vehemence that surprised them all. "You mean to tell me you're rushing into a private irrigation system when none of you knows beans about it? How much money do you think this valley holds, anyhow? It will cost a pile and don't you forget it. Mr. Lestrade, if this is your suggestion, I sure don't think much of it."
Lestrade was annoyed and showed it. But a lifelong training in suavity came to his rescue. "You understand, of course, that as soon as news of the project gets abroad, the whole valley will fill with prospective landowners and they'll take up their part of the burden."
"Maybe they will, and maybe they won't," Lin said. "Seems like there's a lot of guesswork in that. And when you build water ditches you don't want to do any guessing."
"As for that," Lestrade said, "I've already had an engineer estimate the cost. I'm afraid, Lin, that you're a little shortsighted on this water situation. I think the settlers have more faith than you've got."
"That's the point," Lin said. "They've got water on the brain and they'll rush into all sorts of foolish things."
"Let them judge whether it's foolish or not," Judge Henry shouted. His pride had been sadly punctured by Ballou's questioning of his judgment and he viewed the young man with increased dislike.
"They can judge all they please," Lin said, '"but not before I've done a little campaigning myself. I don't like the notion and I'll tell them why."
"Why should you concern yourself?" Lestrade said sharply.
Lin looked the big man directly in the face. "Mr. Lestrade, I was born and raised hereabouts and I've seen a heap of suffering from this dry-land farming. Maybe I'm a fool, but I can't stand by and see all these folks rush into crazy ideas. They're my kind of people, that's why."
Gracie, who had been listening with troubled eyes, broke in. "No more, you folks. I'll not have my supper spoiled this way. Stop your arguing."
And so the meal ended in a truce. The men retired to the porch while Gracie prepared for the dance. Judge Henry became so interested in his talk with Lestrade that he forgot about hitching up and had to be sent to the job by his daughter after she was ready.
The Saturday night dance at the cross-roads school was almost the only recreation the valley had and consequently it was the gathering point for all those within forty miles. The younger ones, like Lin and Gracie, came to enjoy themselves, while the older men and women sat around the wall and talked. Neighbor met neighbor to thresh out dickers. Families who had grown up and separated to different parts of the country were brought in touch once more. And while the fiddles scraped and the guitar strings twanged and the partners swung around the floor, the news and the gossip of all four corners of the region shuttled back and forth.
When Lin and Gracie arrived, the dance had already been started and the first few numbers run off. The judge wandered over to meet some old friend and promptly began to talk water. Lestrade, bowing and shaking hands, was occupied for a moment. But he shook himself free from the crowd to overtake Gracie and lay a hand on her shoulder.
"Gracie, I'm going to demand the privilege of this first dance. Lin, he's a patient fellow and can wait."
"Mr. Lestrade, I'm sorry. I gave him the first two. We always dance the first two. If you'd care to have the third—"
For once in his life Lestrade made a poor show. He bobbed his head up and down and said, "Certainly," in a half-angry tone and wheeled away. Lin, suppressing a smile, led Gracie into the moving couples.
"He's got no right using my first name like that!" said she, flaring up. "I don't like it."
Lin didn't answer, being too busy taking care of himself and his partner. There were a great many other things in the world he did better than dancing. Unlike most men of the valley, he had been left alone at an early age and in the years that followed he had fended for himself at almost every outdoor job. In fact, only since Gracie Henry's smile had securely captured him had he been inside a dance hall. Therefore, he often missed the beat of the music and he would shuffle one foot, then the other, while the sweat worked up above his collar and he swore savagely to himself. But Gracie never seemed to mind. She hummed the tune with the fiddles and she cast her shining eyes on this couple and that, always thoroughly enjoying herself.
Yet, this evening, as their first dance ended and the second one began, she seemed to lose a measure of her happiness. Her eyes clouded and presently she raised her hand to Lin's aim, speaking in a puzzled manner.
"Lin, why are folks looking at us so queerly? I've caught several doing it. Seems like they won't meet my eyes, either. Is there something
