Between Scattergood and his wife there was a deep, true, abiding
affection. Folks who regarded it as a business partnership--and there
were many of them--lacked the seeing eye.
The stage rattled off down the valley--Scattergood's valley. He had
invaded it some years before because valleys were his hobby and because
_this_ valley offered him the opportunity he had been searching for.
Scattergood knew what could be done with a valley, and he was busy doing
it, but he was only at the beginning. As he bumped along he could see
busy villages where only hamlets rested; he could see mills turning
timber into finished products; he could see business and life and
activity where there were only silence and rocks and trees. And where
ran the rutted mountain road, over which his stage was carrying him
uncomfortably, he could see the railroad that was to make his dream a
reality. He could see a railroad stretching all the way from Coldriver
village to the main line, and by virtue of this railroad Scattergood
would rule the valley.
He had arrived with forty-odd dollars in his pocket. His few years of
labor there, assisted by a wise and business-like marriage, had
increased that forty dollars to what some folks would call wealth.
Pages:
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89