CHAPTER XXV
Early next morning Bob went to the executive offices, and waited twohours for the arrival of the governor. Rogeen knew of course thatMadrigal, the Mexican Jew, was engineering the Mexican end of theconspiracy; but he wanted to discover who the Mexican official was fromwhom they were securing protection.
Bob stated his business briefly, forcibly. He was one of the rancherswho got water from the Dillenbeck canal. The company was endeavouringto rob them. The ranchers wanted protection, and wanted water at once.The official was very courteous, solicitous, sympathetic. He wouldlook into it immediately. Would Senor Rogeen call again tomorrow?
Senor Rogeen would most certainly call again tomorrow. When he leftthe office he went direct to Ah Sing's ranch.
"Ah Sing," said Bob, "I want you to turn over to me your $80,000 claimagainst Reedy Jenkins for picking his eight thousand bales of cotton,and give me power of attorney to collect it."
"Allee light, I give him."
The next morning when the Mexican official came down to the office atten o'clock he assured Bob most regretfully that although impetuous andviolent efforts had been made to right his wrongs, unfortunately so farthey had found no law governing the case. The Dillenbeck Company was aprivate water company, owned by American citizens; the Mexicanofficials had no power to fix the rate.
Bob went direct to the Mexican cotton gin.
"Jenkins"--Bob sat down on the edge of the offered chair, his feet onthe floor, his knees bent as though ready to spring up--"I need tobegin watering the Red Butte to-day, but your man tells me he hasorders to keep the gates shut."
Reedy nodded, his plump lips shut tight, an amused leer in the tail ofhis eye. "You got my notice, didn't you? No cash, no water. Eitherten dollars an acre spot cash or no spot cotton."
"Jenkins"--Bob's fingers were clutching his own knees as though holdingthemselves off the rascal's throat--"that is the dirtiest steal I everknew."
"That is not near what the water is really worth to you," said Reedy,nonchalantly. "It is only about 20 per cent. of what your crop willmake--if it does not burn up."
The knots in Bob's arms flattened out, and his tone took on casualnessagain.
"Jenkins, I've got a couple of little bills against you that I'mauthorized to collect. One on the American side is a trifle of$215,000 which you owe Mr. Crill; the other on this side is for $80,000that you owe Ah Sing. Do you wish to take care of them now? Or shallI attach your cotton?"
Reedy's pink face and wide mouth took on a grin that fairly oozedamusement. "Attach my cotton, by all means."
Bob got up, hesitated a second, sat down again, and took out his checkbook. As his pen scratched for a moment, the grin on Reedy's facechanged to one of victorious greed. Rogeen tore out the check andhanded it to Reedy.
"There is $1,600. Turn water on the Chandler ranch. As for mine, youcan be damned."
Reedy toyed idly with the check a moment, slowly tore it up, and threwit in the wastebasket.
"I'm sorry, but I can't get water to the Chandler ranch without therest order it, too. Perhaps"--he again took on a leer--"if MissChandler should come in and see me personally, something might bearranged."
"Jenkins"--the coolest, most concentrated anger of his life was inBob's tone--"I know your whole plot. You can't get away with it. Youmay ruin my cotton, probably will, but I'm going to smash you and sellthe pieces to pay your debts."
Reedy got to his feet, and flushed hotly. The threat had gone home.
"There are six hundred Mexican soldiers and policemen that will answermy call. You won't make a move they don't see.
"Don't bank on any threat about the United States Government. Mexicanshave been picking off Americans whenever they got ready for the lastthree years; and nothing ever happens. They aren't one bit scared ofthe American Government.
"Don't fool yourself, Rogeen; you are outclassed this time. I knowwhat I'm doing, and I'm going to do it. If you don't want to rot in aMexican jail or bleach on the sands somewhere, you'll walk softly andstay on the other side."
The Desert Fiddler Page 25