brought a hot feeling to Mack’s face; young girls didn’t talk like that. At least not the daughters of the Welsh and Irish miners back east.
“Swampy isn’t a very good father but I’ll say this for him—he’s a devil of a fine businessman. Henry Miller, another German—his real name’s Kreiser—owns a million four hundred thousand acres. But Swampy owns a million two hundred thousand.”
Mack whistled. “How did your pa get his nickname?”
“By means of what certain people call the ‘swamp scheme.’ Too tedious to go into. Both my father and Miller got rich from the scheme, but Papa hates for people to remind him by using his nickname. I goad him with it.”
“I noticed. Once or twice he almost made me laugh. But when he aimed his gun, he wasn’t funny.”
“No. Papa has no sense of humor and no kindness when it comes to money and property. He’s cheated and ruined more business rivals than I can tell you about. And he treated you abominably. One of the reasons I came after you was to apologize for him. Make amends. So you’ll think less harshly of the Hellmans—”
“Well, I won’t soon forget your father.” The son of a bitch. He cleared his throat. “Is Walter your—uh—beau?”
“He’d like to be.” She drew her trouser-clad knees up and clasped her hands around them. “I don’t have a real beau at the moment. I was married to a Polish count—well, you heard. I’m still getting over that.” She leaned toward him. “I’d rather talk about you.”
Kneeling next to her, he was unprepared when she brought her pink mouth to his and caressed him with it, and then with the tip of her tongue. Her breath smelled of sweet clove and of something not quite hidden by it—gin.
“Is that agreeable, Mr. Chance?”
“Yes. Yes it is, Miss Hellman.”
She laughed heartily at his half-strangled answer. Then, softening, she touched his right cheek, careful to keep her fingers away from the dark blood crusted on the edges of the cut.
“Does it hurt terribly?”
“Some. It’ll heal.”
“Papa was brutal to do that.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll never forget it,” he answered with a vague hint of threat.
That amused her all over again. “Good for you.” She patted his cheek twice more, a little gesture of condescending approval. It spoiled the headiness of the moment.
The tule fog appeared to be thinning, brightening. The previous night the moon had been full, and perhaps it was up there above the fog, lighting it with a pearly radiance. Carla seized his hand while she got to her feet and then walked off to the black horse. She returned with a large bundle wrapped in a checkered cloth, and a sloshing canteen.
“I brought food and water for the rest of your trip.”
“That’s very kind.”
“Oh, I’ll get my reward.” Her lightly mocking tone put him off again. Carla Hellman fascinated him, but she began to alarm him a little too. He felt vaguely like a frog spitted on a stick.
She sat down again. “This pike leads you into Wheatville, which is just past the boundary of the ranch. From Wheatville you can catch the railroad to San Francisco, if you can afford it.”
“I can’t.”
“But you’re going there.”
“Absolutely. I came from Pennsylvania to make my fortune in California.”
“Just like that.”
“I know it’ll take time, but I’ll do it.”
“I expect you will, Mr. Macklin Chance.” Her smile shone. “In fact I suspected you’d go right on to the City in spite of Walter’s warning. Walter is no fool, but he can be frightfully stupid about certain things. He believes a lot of tripe about the superiority of Anglo-Saxons and native Californians. I’d advise you to stay out of his way. Not that you’ll move in the same circles. But he has powerful friends, and many connections. His father and his uncle started the Fairbanks Trust. A very large bank.”
“I’ll stay out of his way if he stays out of mine.”
“My, you are a truculent fellow.
“Swampy isn’t a very good father but I’ll say this for him—he’s a devil of a fine businessman. Henry Miller, another German—his real name’s Kreiser—owns a million four hundred thousand acres. But Swampy owns a million two hundred thousand.”
Mack whistled. “How did your pa get his nickname?”
“By means of what certain people call the ‘swamp scheme.’ Too tedious to go into. Both my father and Miller got rich from the scheme, but Papa hates for people to remind him by using his nickname. I goad him with it.”
“I noticed. Once or twice he almost made me laugh. But when he aimed his gun, he wasn’t funny.”
“No. Papa has no sense of humor and no kindness when it comes to money and property. He’s cheated and ruined more business rivals than I can tell you about. And he treated you abominably. One of the reasons I came after you was to apologize for him. Make amends. So you’ll think less harshly of the Hellmans—”
“Well, I won’t soon forget your father.” The son of a bitch. He cleared his throat. “Is Walter your—uh—beau?”
“He’d like to be.” She drew her trouser-clad knees up and clasped her hands around them. “I don’t have a real beau at the moment. I was married to a Polish count—well, you heard. I’m still getting over that.” She leaned toward him. “I’d rather talk about you.”
Kneeling next to her, he was unprepared when she brought her pink mouth to his and caressed him with it, and then with the tip of her tongue. Her breath smelled of sweet clove and of something not quite hidden by it—gin.
“Is that agreeable, Mr. Chance?”
“Yes. Yes it is, Miss Hellman.”
She laughed heartily at his half-strangled answer. Then, softening, she touched his right cheek, careful to keep her fingers away from the dark blood crusted on the edges of the cut.
“Does it hurt terribly?”
“Some. It’ll heal.”
“Papa was brutal to do that.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll never forget it,” he answered with a vague hint of threat.
That amused her all over again. “Good for you.” She patted his cheek twice more, a little gesture of condescending approval. It spoiled the headiness of the moment.
The tule fog appeared to be thinning, brightening. The previous night the moon had been full, and perhaps it was up there above the fog, lighting it with a pearly radiance. Carla seized his hand while she got to her feet and then walked off to the black horse. She returned with a large bundle wrapped in a checkered cloth, and a sloshing canteen.
“I brought food and water for the rest of your trip.”
“That’s very kind.”
“Oh, I’ll get my reward.” Her lightly mocking tone put him off again. Carla Hellman fascinated him, but she began to alarm him a little too. He felt vaguely like a frog spitted on a stick.
She sat down again. “This pike leads you into Wheatville, which is just past the boundary of the ranch. From Wheatville you can catch the railroad to San Francisco, if you can afford it.”
“I can’t.”
“But you’re going there.”
“Absolutely. I came from Pennsylvania to make my fortune in California.”
“Just like that.”
“I know it’ll take time, but I’ll do it.”
“I expect you will, Mr. Macklin Chance.” Her smile shone. “In fact I suspected you’d go right on to the City in spite of Walter’s warning. Walter is no fool, but he can be frightfully stupid about certain things. He believes a lot of tripe about the superiority of Anglo-Saxons and native Californians. I’d advise you to stay out of his way. Not that you’ll move in the same circles. But he has powerful friends, and many connections. His father and his uncle started the Fairbanks Trust. A very large bank.”
“I’ll stay out of his way if he stays out of mine.”
“My, you are a truculent fellow.
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