Under the Desert Sky

by Sara Luck

  “Yes, I can see how she would.”

  “Phoebe, I want you to know that I think a great deal of Ina Claire. As I told you, I’ve never had a family of any kind, so that means that people like Ina Claire, her mother and father, are very important to me, and they always will be.”

  “I understand.” But did she?

  “Mama, you know what I want for dessert?” Will’s question was a welcome interruption to the way the conversation was going.

  “What do you mean, dessert? You just had dessert.”

  “No, that was my dinner. We’re in a restaurant and I can have anything I want, remember? That’s what Wet said. I had apple pie for my dinner, and now, for dessert, I want cherry pie.”

  “Will . . .” Phoebe said.

  “Oh, indulge him just this once,” Christian said. “After all, this is his first time ever in a restaurant. We should make it memorable for him.”

  Phoebe shook her head. “I can tell, right now, that if the two of you gang up on me, I’ll never have a chance.”

  • • •

  At the same time Christian, Phoebe, and Will were in the restaurant, many of the city’s elite were having lunch in the Phoenix Country Club. Here, at the “Bankers’ Table,” business competition was left behind as the bankers celebrated their affluence and importance to the city. W. F. and Frank Sloan were both there, as well as the officers of several of the other banks. Daniel Murphy, president of the Prescott National Bank, was in town, and everyone was commiserating with him over his brother’s loss in his bid to be Arizona’s delegate to Congress.

  “There had to be some kind of shenanigans going on,” Murphy said. “He shouldn’t have lost.”

  “At least Oakes will keep his job as governor,” Frank said as he took out his pocketknife and began to pare his fingernails. “Bryant didn’t have a chance against McKinley.”

  “No, there was no question McKinley was going to win the presidency,” Charles Forbes said. “Now we’ll just have to wait and see if Marcus Smith can get some traction on our petition for statehood. I’d feel a lot better if we’d elected a Republican.”

  “I don’t think there’s a chance we’ll get anything done on statehood until we get the water situation settled,” Emil Ganz said.

  “Yhomas Prinsen brought in this new engineer Ben Fowler hired,” Bill Ainsworth said. “Named Woodson. He seemed like a nice enough fellow, but I don’t know what he can do.”

  “The question is what can that other South African do—the one who supposedly worked for Cecil Rhodes? Fowler says he’s come up with a plan to get the money without relying on the government,” Ganz said.

  “You mean Christian De Wet?” Ainsworth asked.

  “Christian? That’s not a very common name around here. Is this fellow tall . . . sandy hair, wears tall boots and jodhpurs?” Charles Forbes asked.

  “That’s him,” Frank said. “I think he’s pulling a fast one. There’s no way he worked for Cecil Rhodes.”

  “Frank, why do you say that? Have you met this man?” W.F. asked.

  “Damned right I’ve met him. Pop, that’s the guy who’s moved in with Phoebe.”

  “Well, now, that explains things,” Charles Forbes said. “Your sister-in-law came into the bank this morning. She deposited quite a bundle of cash, but this guy—I seem to recall now, she did call him Christian—offered to pay off her interest and she wouldn’t let him.”

  “A bundle of cash? I wonder where she came up with that?” W.F. asked.

  “Well, you can be sure she didn’t make it off those damned birds,” Frank said. “She probably thinks she’s hit the mother lode with this guy. You say he offered to pay her interest?”

  “He did,” Forbes said. “Had a wad of cash.”

  W.F. shook his head. “Poor little Will. What’s going to become of him?”

  “You don’t have to worry about him, Pop.” Frank opened his hand where his knife lay. “Every morning when I drop my brother’s knife into my pocket, I make a vow that I won’t allow that woman to ruin his son.”

  • • •

  When Christian, Phoebe, and Will returned to the farm, Ina Claire was sitting in the front porch swing with Andy Patterson, and they were laughing.

  “I was beginning to think you two ran off with the money,” Andy said as he rose from the swing. “It’s about time you got here.”

  “Wet took me to a restaurant,” Will said. “Do you know you can eat anything you want there? And nobody has to cook?”

  “Someone had to cook the food, but it wasn’t your mother,” Phoebe said. “Andy, Mr. Stein was amazed at what a good job you’d done grading the feathers. He accepted every one in the grade we delivered.”

  Andy beamed with Phoebe’s compliment. “I’m glad it turned out that way, but it was really July who made the final decisions. The more I’m around that man, the more I admire him.”

  “He’s a good man,” Christian said. “You both are.”

  “Well, I’m going to be in a heap of trouble if I don’t get you back over to Mr. Prinsen’s. He says the Board of Trade is having a meeting with the Water Storage Committee, and he thinks you should be there.”

  “Is it at Yhomas’s house?” Christian asked.

  “No, I think he said it’d be at the Dorris Theater, so we’d better hurry if you’re going to make it in time.”

  “All right, just let me step inside and get a jacket. I need to look like I know something if anybody asks me a question.”

  “I think I’ll go back with you,” Ina Claire said. “I want to tell my mother about all the work it takes just so she can have a feather in her hat.”

  When Christian stepped out onto the porch, he’d put on a brown cashmere jacket. He had a black strip of cloth in his hand. “Do you think I should put on this butterfly?”

  “A butterfly? You can’t wear a butterfly,” Will said.

  “I guess that takes care of it.” Christian laughed. “If Will says I can’t wear a butterfly, then I won’t.” He handed the tie to Phoebe. “I don’t suppose I’ll be back tonight.” Then he did something unexpected. He kissed Phoebe in full view of both Ina Claire and Andy.

  “Mama, Wet kissed you,” Will said with a big-eyed expression.

  “Yes, he did,” Phoebe said with no embarrassment.

  “All right, Will. I’m leaving you in charge. Can you do that for me?” Christian asked as he climbed up into the wagon.

  “Yes, sir.” Will stepped over in front of Phoebe.

  Phoebe watched as the wagon pulled away. She’d never felt happier in her life. Her grand experiment with the ostriches had paid off, and she now had money, but most of all, there was no question she was in love with Christian De Wet.

  • • •

  Christian, Yhomas, and Clarence Woodson went directly to the Dorris Theater, where about fifty men were gathered.

  “I didn’t think you were going to make it on time,” Captain Hancock said when Yhomas stepped down from the surrey. “Ben is back from Washington and he’s brought some gasbags with him.”

  Yhomas laughed. “I take it they don’t agree that we should own the water rights outright.”

  “That’s it,” the captain said, “and I’m afraid they’ve convinced Ben that the government route is the way to go.”

  “It may be,” Christian said. “I know it’d be possible to raise the capital privately, but it would take a lot of cajoling.”

  “More like horse trading,” Captain Hancock said. “Already Alexander Chandler and Dwight Heard are maneuvering to make certain they increase their advantages.”

  “Do you think the committee still needs my services?” Woodson asked.

  “Depends on whether or not they agree with what you’ve come up with. We’d better go on in now.”

  Captain Hancock led the way, and the four found seats near the front of the theater. When they were seated, Ben Fowler began to speak.

  “I want to thank all of you who came out tonight. It is my privil
ege to introduce several dignitaries among us. First, there’s the secretary of the interior, Ethan Hitchcock—I’ll be glad to serve as his interpreter for those of you who can’t understand him.”

  Several of the men cast questioning glances toward one another.

  Then the gentleman in question rose from his chair. “Despite what Ben says, ya’ll won’t be needin’ any interpreter. I’ll just slow down a little mo’, and when ya’ll come on down to Mobile, why, ya’ll will fit right in.”

  The room erupted with laughter.

  “His accent takes a little getting used to, but talking to Yhomas Prinsen gave me good practice before I went to Washington,” Ben said.

  “Hear, hear,” several others called.

  “That brings me to George Maxwell, and believe me, the people in Washington understand him. What shall I say your position is, George?”

  “I prefer to be called an irrigation propagandist,” the man seated beside the secretary said.

  “He’d rather be called that than a wire-puller,” Fowler said, “but he’s a lobbyist through and through. If he can do for us what he’s done for California, we’ll have our water project, and we won’t be out a penny of our own money.”

  Captain Hancock took a deep breath and said, “That’s what we’re all afraid of,” his voice audible only to Christian.

  For the next hour both Hitchcock and Maxwell advocated for the government to step in and take over the project, while several others advanced their ideas that the local people should control their own water. When the subject of money was brought up, they turned to Christian, and he methodically laid out his plan again. However, he could tell that the enthusiasm was rapidly turning toward government financing.

  When the merits of the project had been discussed ad nauseam, Fowler introduced Frederick Newell, the surveyor from Washington, and finally he called on Yhomas to introduce Clarence.

  “Thank you, Yhomas,” Clarence said when he got up to speak. “Gentlemen, I wasn’t sure what I was getting into when I came here, and I don’t know anything about the annual rainfall, or how much water you expect to move, but I can say that, in my opinion, where you’ve chosen to locate the dam is excellent. The gorge offers a favorable site for a masonry dam, and the sedimentary formation, with the strata inclined about thirty degrees to the horizontal, and dipping toward the reservoir, is a most favorable condition, both for retaining water and the stability of the dam. The foundation and rock abutments are excellent. In short, gentlemen, I see no geological or physical impediments to this project.”

  “Mr. Newell, do you have anything to add?” Fowler asked.

  “Nothing,” Newell said, “except that I agree entirely with Mr. Woodson and I congratulate him on the excellence of his report.”

  “Then, if that’s the case, I make a motion that we hire the man. Are there any objections?”

  • • •

  The next morning Phoebe was still in a good mood. Will was sleeping later than usual, and she was out watering the orange trees that Katie Prinsen had given her. Even though the trees were young, they’d bloomed, and she now had several oranges beginning to color. She hoped she could find a piece of fruit that was sufficiently ripe for Will to pick. Then she heard a vehicle approach. Smiling, she was sure it’d be Christian and they could all have breakfast together. But she was immediately on the defensive when she saw that it was Frank.

  “Oh, no.” A knot formed in her stomach. “I don’t need this.”

  Frank climbed down from the buggy and withdrew a valise from behind the seat. “Get in the house,” he said as he advanced toward her. It wasn’t a request but an order to which he fully expected compliance.

  “Whatever you have to say to me, you can say it right here.” Phoebe still clutched the bucket. She felt safer out here. Christian was gone, but July and Trinidad had to be somewhere nearby. She knew all it would take was a scream and one of them would come running.

  “Phoebe.” Frank’s tone of voice changed. He held up the valise. “I have some papers here that are important. They concern Will, and it will be easier for you to examine them if I can spread them out on the table. Please, can we go inside?”

  “What do you mean, they concern Will?”

  “If you look at them, you’ll understand.”

  Phoebe paused for a moment, then she heard July speaking to Trinidad. If she could hear him that easily when he was just talking, she knew he’d be able to hear her if she screamed.

  “All right.” She started toward the house.

  Once in the kitchen, Frank sat at the table. She was glad to see that he’d chosen the side of the table with his back to the wall and the table between him and the door. If Phoebe needed to run, she’d have a slight advantage.

  “My father and I had lunch with Charles Forbes yesterday.”

  “Oh?”

  “He told us you made a rather substantial deposit at the Loan and Trust.”

  “I did, but I don’t see how that’s any business of yours.”

  “Where’d you get the money?”

  Phoebe let out a long sigh. “I know you find this hard to believe, but my ‘silly little ostrich farm’ is making money, in spite of the Sloans.”

  “May I remind you that you wouldn’t have this place without the Sloans—or, more specifically, Aunt Gertrude?”

  “I agree, it was Aunt Gertrude’s money that allowed Edwin to buy this place, but she didn’t leave him enough to pay for it outright. I’m the one who’s made this place work, and I’d have a lot more money if you hadn’t broken all the eggs in my brooder.”

  “What makes you think I did that?”

  “When you came out here, you knew what’d happened.”

  “I told you Rojas told me, and Cornello told him.”

  “That’s not possible. Cornello didn’t know anything about the eggs, and Trinidad was in jail. The only way you could have known about my eggs was if you hired someone to break them, or did it yourself.”

  Frank had no answer. He opened the valise and took out an envelope. “You may say you got that money from all your hard work, but you’re not fooling me. I know who you are, and what you are.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Charles Forbes told us about your paramour, how he tried to pay your debt. ‘Christian, you don’t have to do that. Take your money back,’ ” Frank said, mimicking a woman’s voice.

  “Get out! Get out of my house!” Phoebe rose from the table as she pointed toward the door.

  “Not so fast. You haven’t listened to my offer.”

  “If it’s coming from you, no matter what it is, I’m not interested.”

  He withdrew a piece of paper from the envelope and slid it across the table. “Take a look at the third paragraph.”

  Phoebe picked it up and began to read. She furrowed her brow and then turned her eyes toward Frank. “What’re you trying to do?”

  “Exactly what it says. My father has set up a trust fund for Will.”

  “But this paper says it’s worth twenty-five thousand dollars. That can’t be.”

  “Ha! If you knew how much money W. F. Sloan really has, you’d treat us all a lot better.”

  Phoebe sat down as she continued reading. It stated that Will would have access to the trust when he was eighteen, and that the only stipulation was that he wouldn’t leave Arizona.

  Frank took out a bottle of ink and a pen. “Will you sign the paper?”

  “If the only stipulation is that he stay in Arizona, I have no problem with that. Where do I sign?”

  “The last line on the second page. Oh, and make sure you date it.” Frank turned the page.

  Phoebe took the pen and wrote the date. Then she glanced up at the paragraph above where she would affix her signature.

  “Go ahead. Sign it. I need to get back to town.”

  “Wait. This says that I can’t get married. What does that have to do with Will’s trust?”

  “It’s just a
precaution. My father wants to ensure that you don’t get married and run off with Will or, worse yet, that you let some man come along and adopt his only heir.”

  “I will not sign this.” Phoebe put the pen down and slid the paper across the table. “As I said before, get out of my house.” She worked hard to control her anger.

  “You oversexed little chippie.” Frank’s lip curled. “You would throw away Will’s inheritance just so you can diddle the South African?”

  Phoebe picked up the bucket sitting at her feet. She threw the water at Frank, and it went splattering everywhere.

  Wiping his face, Frank turned to her. “Mark my words, you will regret not signing this paper.”

  18

  After Frank left, Phoebe began to clean up the mess she’d made in the kitchen.

  “What happened?” Will said. “I heard yelling, and then a loud noise.”

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Come here, I just want to hold you.”

  “Mama! I’m too big for that.”

  “I guess you are, but I can still muss up your hair.” Phoebe ran her hand through his hair, which showed he’d just climbed out of bed. “What would you like for breakfast?”

  A big smile crossed his face. “Can I have anything I want?”

  “If we have it, sure. What would you like?”

  “I want bread . . . and butter.” He shouted that last word.

  “I think that’s a good idea. It’s been a long time since we had butter, but you know what? We’re going to have it anytime we want it from now on.” Phoebe took out a loaf of bread.

  For the rest of the morning, Phoebe entertained Will. She read to him and helped him set up some of his animals. When she spotted a new animal, she wondered where he got it. “What is this and where did it come from?”

  “July made it. He says it’s a giraffe.”

  Just then she looked up to see July running from the paddocks. For a big man he was moving quickly.

  “Oh, dear, something’s happened.” She left Will on the floor and went out to meet July.

  “Utshani on fire! Sinazo ukusindisa izintshe!”

  Phoebe didn’t understand everything he was saying, but the word fire jolted her into action.