June Deweese was then the active manager of the ranch, and after securing a classification of their salable stock, I made out a memorandum and secured authority in writing, to sell their holdings at prevailing prices for Nueces river cattle.  The remainder of the day was spent with my old friends in a social visit, and as we delved into the musty past, the old man’s love of the land and his matchmaking instincts constantly cropped out.

“Tom,” said he, in answer to a remark of mine, “I was an awful fool to think my experience could be of any use to you boys.  Every last rascal of you went off on the trail and left me here with a big ranch to handle.  Gallup was no better than the rest, for he kept Jule Wilson waiting until now she’s an old maid.  Sis, here, always called Scales a vagabond, but I still believe something could have been made of him with a little encouragement.  But when the exodus of the cattle to the north was at its height, he went off with a trail herd just like the rest of you.  Then he followed the trail towns as a gambler, saved money, and after the cattle driving ended, married an adventuress, and that’s the end of him.  The lack of a market was one of the great drawbacks to ranching, but when the trail took every hoof we could breed and every horse we could spare, it also took my boys.  Tom, when you get old, you’ll understand that all is vanity and vexation of spirit.  But I am perfectly resigned now.  In my will, Las Palomas and everything I have goes to Jean.  She can dispose of it as she sees fit, and if I knew she was going to leave it to Father Norquin or his successor, my finger wouldn’t be raised to stop it.  I spent a lifetime of hard work acquiring this land, and now that there is no one to care for the old ranch, I wash my hands of it.”

Knowing the lifetime of self-sacrifice in securing the land of Las Palomas, I sympathized with the old ranchero in his despondency.

“I never blamed you much, Tom,” he resumed after a silence; “but there’s something about cattle life which I can’t explain.  It seems to disqualify a man for ever making a good citizen afterward.  He roams and runs around, wasting his youth, and gets so foxy he never marries.”

“But June and the widow made the riffle finally,” I protested.

“Yes, they did, and that’s something to the good, but they never had any children.  Waited ten years after Annear was killed, and then got married.  That was one of Jean’s matches.  Tom, you must go over and see Juana before you go.  There was a match that I made.  Just think of it, they have eight children, and Fidel is prouder over them than I ever was of this ranch.  The natives have never disappointed me, but the Caucasian seems to be played out.”