"How does the ranch go?" he asked.
"Very well, thank you, Mr. Thaddler."
"Them Chinks pay up promptly?"
"As prompt as the month comes round. Their rent is a very valuable part
of the estate."
"Yes," Mr. Thaddler pursued. "They have a good steady market for their
stuff. And the chicken man, too. Do you know who buys 'em?"
Ross did not. Did not greatly care, he intimated.
"I should think you'd be interested--you ought to--it's Diantha Bell."
Ross started, but said nothing.
"You see, I've taken a great interest in her proposition ever since she
sprung it on us," Mr. Thaddler confided. "She's got the goods all
right. But there was plenty against her here--you know what women are!
And I made up my mind the supplies should be good and steady, anyhow.
She had no trouble with her grocery orders; that was easy. Meat I
couldn't handle--except indirectly--a little pressure, maybe, here and
there." And he chuckled softly. "But this ranch I bought on purpose."
Ross turned as if he had been stung.
"You!" he said.
"Yes, me. Why not? It's a good property. I got it all fixed right,
and then I bought your little upstate shop--lock, stock and barrel--and
gave you this for it. A fair exchange is no robbery. Though it would
be nice to have it all in the family, eh?"
Ross was silent for a few turbulent moments, revolving this far from
pleasing information.
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