THE COMING OF THE RAILROAD

IT IS NOT likely that the people in the neighborhood of Dallas would have ever known any more than they did regarding A.M. Barr, had it not been for two accounts. When proof had been offered by him on his homestead and a loan sought, to keep from invalidating the title to his land, he was compelled to admit that he was married; but, fortunately for him, it was not necessary to state when or how long he had been married, and this he obligingly did not state. But the surprise came when upon admittance, he then confessed to the promoters that he had married Christine.... Of course everybody was positive then that he had been married to Christine when he came to the country, and that he was married to her at the time she was holding the claim. Perjury was a penitentiary offense. He had sold her claim on pretense that she must go to England. Christine, as Baptiste had come to know by the papers he found, had not, of course, gone to England; but merely to Lincoln, Nebraska, where she was safe to keep silent about what she knew in regard to the subtle transactions of Augustus M. Barr.

The incident went the usual route of gossip, the people wondering how such a beautiful girl as Christine could be happy as the wife of an old, broken down infidel like Barr. But they never came into the truth, the whole truth; they never connected Barr with the dark Assyrian Jew, Isaac Syfe; nor were they aware that he had ever known the forlorn Peter Kaden. Only Jean Baptiste knew this, and that, although Barr called a sale and immediately left the country, there was something still to be completed. But Jean Baptiste didn't know then that it would all come back to him in such an unusual manner. However, the public learned a little more concerning the previous activities of this august contemporary before long. It came in the form of a sensational newspaper feature story. And was in brief to wit:

While pastor of the Baker Street church, London, Isaac M. Barr, and not Augustus, mind you, although there was no question about the two being one and the same became very much in the confidence of his flock. Of London's great middle class they were and possessed ambition, which Barr apparently appealed to. The result was that a great colony set sail for a land of promise, the land being Western Canada. The full details were not given; but it seems that Barr was the trustee and handled the money. On arrival, Barr suddenly disappeared and the good people from England never saw him again, which perhaps accounts in some measure for his becoming an infidel.... Who would not under such circumstances?

There is a feature regarding a new country—that is, a country that lays toward the western portion of the great central valley, that is always questioned, and is ever a source for knockers. But we should explain one thing that might be of benefit to those who would go west to settle and develop with hopes of success. And this is rainfall. In this country of our story, which lay near the line where central time is changed to mountain time, near the fifth principal meridian the altitude is about 2000 feet above the level of the sea, and the rainfall may be estimated accordingly. Rainfall is governed by altitude and is a feature beyond discussion. This is a very serious matter, and could multitudes of people going west to take homesteads, or settle, be impressed with the facts and know then what to expect, much grief could be avoided.

But unfortunately this is not so. Masses can be convinced—were convinced in the country of our story, and all the west beyond, in other parts, that rainfall was governed by cultivation. An erroneous idea! As has been stated, rainfall is governed by elevation: air pressures are such that when in contact with the heavy air due to the lower elevation, thunder showers and general rains fall more frequently on the whole and this can be certified by the record of any weather bureau, comparing the elevation to the amount of precipitation over a given period, say five or ten years. It is a fact, however, that in the most arid districts cloudbursts do occur, but they are always a detriment to the parts over which they may fall. And it is also true that in a given year or season, more rain may fall over a certain arid district than some well cultivated portion in a country where the fall of rain is beyond question.

Because of these contending features, many portions of the country have received a boom one season and failed to produce the next. When one year had proven exceedingly wet, the theory was that the whole climatic origin of the country had changed; drought had passed forever, and people and capital flowed in to sometimes go out, broken and shattered in spirits, hopes and finances later. Such instances hurt and hinder a country instead of helping it. If, in coming to the country of our story the masses of people could have understood that at an elevation of from two thousand to twenty-two hundred feet, the rainfall over a period of ten years would approximate an average of twenty-five inches annually, it is reasonable to suppose that they would expect dry years and wet years; some cold winters and some fair, open winters; some cloudbursts and some protracted droughts. But when the first years of settlement were accompanied by heavy rains, the boom that followed is almost beyond our pen to detail.

From over all the country people came hither; people with means, for it was the land of opportunity. The man who was in many cases wealthy in older portions of the country, had come there with next to and very often with nothing and had grown rich—not by any particular ability or concentrated effort on the part of himself; not by the making and saving, investing and profiting, but because in the early days the land was of such little value and brought so little when offered for sale that it had been a case of staying thereon; result, riches came in the advance later in the price according to demand.

Such was not the circumstances altogether in the land where Jean Baptiste had cast his lot in the hope for ultimate success. While opportunity was ripe, a few thousands had been expedient. For what could be had for a small amount here would have cost a far greater amount back east. But while land was selling and selling readily the country would and could not maintain its possible quota of development without railroad facilities. This question, therefore, was of the most urgent anxiety. When would the railroad be extended out of Bonesteel westward? At Bonesteel they said never. Others, somewhat more liberal said it might be extended in twenty years. They argued that since it had taken that many years after Bonesteel had been started before the company placed their tracks there, the same would in all probability hold with regards to the country and the towns west. So be it.

The promoters of the town of Dallas argued that it would not be extended from Bonesteel at all; that when it was extended, it would come up the valley from the town some miles below Bonesteel, where the tracks lifted to the highlands. Meaning, of course that Dallas would be the only town in the newly opened portion of the country to get the railroad.

Jean Baptiste and Bill had seeded all the land that was under cultivation on Baptiste's property, and were well under way of breaking what was left unbroken, when Baptiste was offered a proposition that looked good to him. It was 200 acres joining his place near Stewart's, the property of an Indian, the allotee having recently expired. Under a ruling of the Department of the Interior, an Indian cannot dispose of an allotment under twenty-five years from the time he is alloted. This ruling is dissatisfactory to the Indian; for, notwithstanding all the rÔles in which he is characterized in the movies and dramas as the great primitive hero, brave and courageous, the people of the West who are surrounded with red men, and know them, know that they wish to sell anything they might happen to possess as soon as selling is possible. Therefore, when one happens to expire, leaving his land to his heirs who can thereupon sell, dispose, give away or do what they may wish with the land, as long as it accords with the dictates of the Indian agent, the tract of land in question can be expected to pass into other hands forthwith.

The two hundred acres offered Jean Baptiste was convenient to his land, and was offered at twenty dollars per acre. Other lands about had sold as high as thirty dollars the acre. A thousand dollars down and a thousand dollars a year until paid was the bargain, and he accepted it, paying over the thousand, which was the last of the money he had brought from the East with him.

This was before something happened that turned the whole country into an orgy of excitement.

A few days after this one of the long rainy periods set in, and the little town was overrun with homesteaders, agreeing that the land that was broken was acting to their advantage: bringing all the good rains, and drought would never be again.

Then one day a man brought the news. The surveyors were in Bonesteel. It was verified by others, and really turned out to be true. The surveyors being in Bonesteel was an evident fact that the railroad would follow the highlands and would not come up the valley, and that settled Dallas as a town. It was doomed before a stake was set, and here passes out of our story, in so far as a railway in its present location was concerned. But whatever route a railroad took, it meant that the value to a homestead by the extension of the railroad would approximate to exceed ten dollars per acre. And Jean Baptiste now owned five hundred and twenty acres.

Since the work now in breaking the extra two hundred acres was before him, and was more than three miles from his homestead, he sought more convenience, by determining to approach the Stewarts with a request to board him.

It was a rainy day, when he called, only to find Jack Stewart out, while George and Bill were tinkering about the barn. They had not been informed of his purchase.

"Oh, it is you—Mr. Baptiste," cried Agnes upon opening the door in response to his knock. "Come right in."

"Where's the governor?" he inquired when seated.

"Search me," she laughed. "Papa's always out, rain or shine."

"Busy man."

"Yes. Busy but never gets anything by it, apparently."

She was full of humor, her eyes twinkled. He was also. It was a day to be grateful. Rainfall, though it bring delay in the work, such days always are appreciated in a new country. It made those there feel more confident.

"Lots of rain."

"Yes. I suppose you are glad," she said interestedly.

"Well, I should be."

"We are, too. It looks as if, should this keep up, we will really raise a crop."

"Oh, it'll keep up," he said cheerfully, confidently. "It always rains in this country."

"How optimistic you are," she said, regarding him admiringly.

"Thanks."

She smiled then and bit her lip.

"How's your neighbors across the road? I've never become acquainted with them."

"Their name is Prescott. I don't know much about them; but papa has met them."

"How many of them?"

"Three. The man and wife and a son."

"A son?"

"M-m."

"How old is he—a young man?"

"M-m."

He smiled mischievously.

"Oh, it will be great," and she laughed amusedly.

"He farms with his parents?"

"I don't think so. He has rented a few acres on the place north of us. Don't seem to be much force."

"You should wake him up."

"Humph!"

"My congratulations," irrelevantly.

"Please don't. He's too ugly, too lazy; loves nothing but a stallion he owns, and is very uninteresting."

"Indeed!" Suddenly he jumped up. "I have forgotten that I came to see your dad."

"I can't say when papa will be home," she answered, going toward the door and looking out.

"I wanted to see him regarding a little business about boarding. I wonder if he could board me?"

"He'll be home about noon, anyhow."

"That won't be so long, now," said he, regarding the clock.

"So you are tired of baching," she said with a little twinkle of the eyes.

"Oh, baching? Before I started. But that is not what has expedited my wishing to board. I bought some more land. Couple hundred acres of that dead Indian land over south."

"You did!"

"Why, yes." He did not understand her exclamation.

"Oh, but you are such a wonderful man, and to be such a young man!" She was not aware of the intimacy in her reference, and spoke thoughtfully, as if to herself more than to him.

He was flattered, and didn't know how to reply.

"You are certainly deserving of the high esteem in which you are held throughout the community," and still she was as if speaking to herself, and thoughtful.

He could not shut out at once the vanity she had aroused in him. He wished to appear and to feel modest about it, however. After all, he had most of the other land to pay for, which, nevertheless, gave him no worry. His confidence was supreme. He continued silent while she went on:

"It must be wonderful to be a young man and to be so courageous; to be so forceful and to be admired."

"Oh, you flatter me."

"No; I do not mean to. I am speaking frankly and what I feel. I admire the qualities you are possessed with. I read a great deal, and when I see a young man like you going ahead so in the world, I think he should be encouraged."

How very frankly, and considerately she had said it all. His vanity was gone. He saw her as the real Agnes. He saw in her, moreover, that which he had always longed for in his race. How much he would have given to have heard those words uttered by a girl of his blood on his trips back East. But, of course the West was foreign to them. They could not have understood as she did. But the kindness she had shown had its effect. He could at least admire her openly for what she was. He spoke now.

"I think you are very kind, Miss Stewart. I can't say when any one has spoken so sensibly to me as you have, and you will believe me when I say that such shall never be forgotten." He paused briefly before going on. "And it will always be my earnest wish that I shall prove worthy of such kind words." He stopped then, for in truth, he was too overcome with emotion, and could not trust himself to go on.

She stood with her back to him, and could he have seen her eyes he would also have observed tears of emotion. They were honest tears. She had spoken the truth. She admired the man in Jean Baptiste, and she had not thought of his color in speaking her conviction. But withal she felt strangely that her life was linked in some manner with this man's.

Her father's appearance at this moment served to break the silent embarrassment between them, the embarrassment that had come out of what she had said.

They settled with regards to his boarding with them, and a few minutes later he took his leave. As he was passing out, their eyes met. Never had they appeared so deep; never before so soft. But in the same he saw again that which he had seen before and as yet could not understand.