“Yes, sir. It would. And it would be true.”

“That’s all I want to ask. That’s all.” Will leaned forward and put his hands against his sweating, pulsing forehead. He could not remember when he had been so shaken. And in Cal there was a cautious leap of triumph. He knew he had won and he closed his face against showing it.

Will raised his head and took off his glasses and wiped the moisture from them. “Let’s go outside,” he said. “Let’s go for a drive.”

Will drove a big Winton now, with a hood as long as a coffin and a powerful, panting mutter in its bowels. He drove south from King City over the county road, through the gathering forces of spring, and the meadowlarks flew ahead, bubbling melody from the fence wires. Pico Blanco stood up against the West with a full head of snow, and in the valley the lines of eucalyptus, which stretched across the valley to break the winds, were gleaming silver with new leaves.

When he came to the side road that led into the home draw of the Trask place Will pulled up on the side of the road. He had not spoken since the Winton rolled out of King City. The big motor idled with a deep whisper.

Will, looking straight ahead, said, “Cal—do you want to be partners with me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I don’t like to take a partner without money. I could lend you the money, but there’s only trouble in that.”

“I can get money,” said Cal.

“How much?”

“Five thousand dollars.”

“You—I don’t believe it.”

Cal didn’t answer.

“I believe it,” said Will. “Borrowed?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What interest?”

“None.”

“That’s a good trick. Where will you get it?”

“I won’t tell you, sir.”

Will shook his head and laughed. He was filled with pleasure. “Maybe I’m being a fool, but I believe you—and I’m not a fool.” He gunned his motor and then let it idle again. “I want you to listen. Do you read the papers?”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’re going to be in this war any minute now.”

“That’s what it looks like.”

“Well, a lot of people think so. Now, do you know the present price of beans? I mean, what can you sell a hundred sacks for in Salinas?”

“I’m not sure. I think about three to three and a half cents a pound.”

“What do you mean you’re not sure? How do you know that?”

“Well, I was thinking about asking my father to let me run the ranch.”

“I see. But you don’t want to farm. You’re too smart. Your father’s tenant is named Rantani. He’s a Swiss Italian, a good farmer. He’s put nearly five hundred acres under cultivation. If we can guarantee him five cents a pound and give him a seed loan, he’ll plant beans. So will every other farmer around here. We could contract five thousand acres of beans.”

Cal said, “What are we going to do with five-cent beans in a three-cent market? Oh, yes! But how can we be sure?”

Will said, “Are we partners?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes, Will!”

“Yes, Will.”

“How soon can you get five thousand dollars?”

“By next Wednesday.”

“Shake!” Solemnly the stout man and the lean dark boy shook hands.

Will, still holding Cal’s hand, said, “Now we’re partners. I have a contract with the British Purchasing Agency. And I have a friend in the Quartermaster Corps. I bet we can sell all the dried beans we can find at ten cents a pound or more.”

“When can you sell?”

“I’ll sell before we sign anything. Now, would you like to go up to the old place and talk to Rantani?”

“Yes sir,” said Cal.

Will double-clutched the Winton and the big green car lumbered into the side road.

Chapter 42

A war comes always to someone else. In Salinas we were aware that the United States was the greatest and most powerful nation in the world. Every American was a rifleman by birth, and one American was worth ten or twenty foreigners in a fight.

Pershing’s expedition into Mexico after Villa had exploded one of our myths for a little while. We had truly believed that Mexicans can’t shoot straight and besides were lazy and stupid. When our own Troop C came wearily back from the border they said that none of this was true. Mexicans could shoot straight, goddam it! And Villa’s horsemen had outridden and outlasted our town boys. The two evenings a month of training had not toughened them very much. And last, the Mexicans seemed to have outthought and outambushed Black Jack Pershing. When the Mexicans were joined by their ally, dysentery, it was godawful. Some of our boys didn’t really feel good again for years.

Somehow we didn’t connect Germans with Mexicans. We went right back to our myths. One American was as good as twenty Germans. This being true, we had only to act in a stern manner to bring the Kaiser to heel. He wouldn’t dare interfere with our trade—but he did. He wouldn’t stick out his neck and sink our ships—and he did. It was stupid, but he did, and so there was nothing for it but to fight him.

The war, at first anyway, was for other people. We, I, my family and friends, had kind of bleacher seats, and it was pretty exciting. And just as war is always for somebody else, so it is also true that someone else always gets killed. And Mother of God! that wasn’t true either. The dreadful telegrams began to sneak sorrowfully in, and it was everybody’s brother. Here we were, over six thousand miles from the anger and the noise, and that didn’t save us.