V
THE BIGNESS OF THE VENTURE
"And now," said Judith Sanford to the stillness about her--she wasalone in the big ranch-house--"not being constructed of iron, I'm goingto take a snooze."
She yawned, stretched her supple young body luxuriously, and passedslowly through the empty rooms which, at her command, Jose had openedto the sweet morning air. Through the great living-room, library, andmusic-room, where the grand piano stood dejectedly in its mantle ofdust, she came to her own chambers at the southwest corner of thebuilding. Her bed was made, the sheets clean and fresh and inviting,dressing-gown and slippers were upon the window-seat, and from hertable a vase of glorious roses sent out a welcoming perfume.
"Good old Jose," she smiled.
Vivid blossom that she was upon the tough, hardy stalk of her pioneerancestry, creature of ardent flame and passion which her blood and herlife in the open had made her, she was not devoid of the understandingof the limit of physical endurance. Last night, through the latemoonlight and later starlight, through the thick darkness which layacross the mountain trails before the coming of day, on into the dawn,she had ridden the forty miles from the railroad at Rocky Bend.Certain of treachery on the part of Bayne Trevors, she had arrived onlyto find him plotting another blow at her interests. She had ridden amad brute of a horse whose rebellious struggle against her authorityhad taxed her to the last ounce of her strength. She had shot a man inthe right shoulder and the left forearm. . . . And now, with no one tosee her, she was pale and shaking a little, suddenly faint from theheavy beating of her own heart. She had had virtually no sleep lastnight. She was glad of it. For now she would sleep, sleep.
"I am not to be called, no matter what happens," she said to Jose whocame trotting to the tinkle of her bell. "Thank you for the roses,Jose."
Slipping out of her clothes, she drew the sheet up to her throat--andtossed for a wretched hour before sleep came to her. A restless sleep,filled with broken bits of unpleasant dreams.
At two o'clock, swiftly dressing after a leisurely bath, she went outinto the courtyard, where she found Jose making a pretense ofgardening, whereas in truth for a matter of hours he had done littlebut watch for her coming.
"Jose," she said, as he swept off his wide hat and made her the bowreserved for _la senorita_ and _la senorita_ alone, "you will have tobe lady's maid and errand-boy for me until I get things running right.I am going to telephone into town this minute for a woman to do mycooking and housekeeping and be a nuisance around generally. While Ido that, will you scare up something for me to eat and then saddle ahorse for me? And don't make a fire, either; just something cold outof a can, you know."
She went to the office, arranged over the wire with Mrs. Simpson ofRocky Bend to come out on the following day, and then spent fifteenminutes studying the pay-roll taken from the safe, which, fortunately,Trevors had left open. As Jose came in with a big tray she was runningthrough a file of reports made at the month-end, two weeks ago, bycertain of the ranch foremen.
"Put it down on the table, Jose. Thank you," and she found time for asmile at her devoted servitor; "Now, have a horse ready, will you?" Andwithout waiting for Jose's answer, taking up the telephone, she askedfor the office at the Lower End, as the rich valley land of the westernportion of the ranch was commonly known.
Briefly making herself known to the owner of the boyish voice whichanswered, she asked, for "Doc" Tripp and was informed that the ranchveterinarian was no longer with the outfit. Judith frowned.
"Where is he?"
"Rocky Bend, I think."
"When did he leave us?"
"Three days ago."
"Why?"
"Fired. Mr. Trevors let him go."
"Hm!" said Judith. "Who has taken his place?"
"Bill Crowdy is sort of acting vet, right now."
"Thanks," she said. Clicking off, she put in a call for "Doc" Tripp inRocky Bend. "Get him for me as quick as you can, will you, please?"she asked of the operator in town.
For five minutes she munched at a sandwich and pored over the papersbefore her, dealing with this or that of the many interests of the bigranch. When at last her telephone-bell rang she found that it wasTripp.
"Hello, Doc," she said cordially. "I haven't seen you for so long Ialmost have forgotten how you comb your hair!" Tripp laughed with herat that; across the miles she could picture him running his big handthrough the rebellious shock. "Yes, I'm back to stay, and from thelooks of it I didn't come any too soon. Yes, Doc, we do miss him," andher voice softened wonderfully to Tripp's mention of the man who hadbeen more than father to her, more than friend to him. "But we aregoing to buck up and show folks that he _knew_. He would have made ago of the thing; we are going to do it. What was the trouble with youand Trevors?"
Tripp explained succinctly. He and the general manager had disagreedopenly and frequently about that part of the work in which, until thecoming of Trevors, the veterinarian had been entirely unhampered. Twomonths ago Trevors had reduced Tripp's wages and had threatened anothercut.
"Just to make me quit, you know," he added. "And I would have quit ifit had been any other outfit in the world."
"I know," she said, and she did understand. "Go on. What was theexcuse for canning you?"
"Case of lung-worms," he told her. "Some of the calves, I don't knowjust how many yet. He insisted on my treating them the old way."
"Slaked lime? Or sulphur fumes?" she said quickly. "And you insistedon chloroform?"
"You've hit it!" he exclaimed wonderingly. "How'd you know?"
"I haven't been loafing on the job the last six months," she laughed."I've been at the school at Davis and hobnobbing with some of theuniversity men at Berkeley. They're doing some great work there. Doc,I'll want to talk to you about it. You're going down there, expensespaid, to brush up with a course or two this year. Now, how soon canyou get back here?--Trevors? Oh, Trevors is fired. I'm running theranch myself. And, Doc, I need a few men like you! Can you come earlyto-morrow?--To-night? You're a God-blessed brick! Yes, I'll stop thatmurderous sulphur treatment if it isn't too late. Good-by."
She lost no time in calling for Bill Crowdy, the man whom Trevors hadput into Tripp's place.
"By the way," she said when the man with the voice which had sounded soboyish in her ears answered again, "who are you?"
"Ed Masters," he told her. "Electrician, you know."
A glance at the pay-roll in front of her showed that Edward Masters,general electrician, was a new man and was drawing eighty-five dollarsmonthly.
"What are you doing this afternoon?" she demanded sharply--"justhanging around the office? Is that the way you earn your eighty-fivedollars?"
"Not always. But Trevors told me to be on hand to-day to take someorders."
"What work?"
"Don't know," he said frankly. "He didn't say."
"Well," said Judith, "I'll tell you one thing, Ed Masters. If you areone of the loaf-around kind you'd better call for your time to-night.If there's anything for you to do, go do it. Don't wait for Trevors.He's gone. Yes, for good. You can report to me here the first thingin the morning. Now send me Crowdy."
"He's down in the hospital and the hospital phone is out of order."
"And you're an electrician, hanging around for orders! That's yourfirst job. Send the first man you can get your hands on to tell CrowdyI say not to touch one of those calves with the lung-worm. And not todo anything else but get ready to talk with me. I'll be down in halfan hour."
She clicked up the receiver, drank a cup of lukewarm coffee, notingsubconsciously that Jose must have had a fire ready against the time ofher awakening, and again consulted the files before her. Then againshe used the telephone, ringing the Lower End office. This time it wasanother voice answering her.
"Where's Masters?" she asked.
"Gone down to the cow hospital," was the answer.
"Where's Johnson, the irrigation foreman?"
"Out in the south fields."
"And Dennings?"
"Went to look the olives over."
"Send out for both of them. I'm coming right down as fast as a horsewill carry me and I want to talk with them. Wait a minute--I'll tellyou when I'm through with you. Who are you, anyway?"
"Williams, the ranch carpenter."
"What _are_ you doing to-day? Repairs needed at the office where youare?"
"No. You see----"
"You bet I see!" she cried warmly. "The first thing I see is that I'vegot more men on this job than I need. If there's no work for you todo, call tonight for your time. If you've got anything to do, go doit."
She clicked off again, waited a brief second and rang three for thedairy. After she had rung several times and got no answer, shemurmured to herself:
"There's some one too busy on the ranch to be just hanging round afterall, it seems."
And she went out to Jose and the waiting horse.
As she rode the five miles down to the office at the Lower End, herthoughts were constantly charged with an appreciation of the wonderswhich had been worked about her everywhere since that day, ten yearsago, when she had first come with Luke Sanford to the original BlueLake ranch. Then there had been only a wild cattle-range, ten thousandacres of brush, timber, and uncultivated open spaces. Nowhere wouldone find rougher, wilder stock-land in California. But Luke Sanfordhad seen possibilities and had bought the whole ten thousand acres,counting, from the first sight of it, upon acquiring as soon as mightbe those other thousands of acres which now made Blue Lake ranch one ofthe biggest of Western ventures.
It was late May, and the afternoon air was sweet and warm with thepassing of spring. The girl's eager eyes travelled the length of thesky-seeking cliff almost at the back door of the ranch-house, whichstood like some mighty barricade thrown up in that mythical day givenover to the colossal struggle of a contending race of giants, and shefound that there, alone, time had shown no change. Elsewhere,improvements at every turn were living monuments to the tireless brainof her father. Stock-corrals, sturdily built, out-houses spotless intheir gleaming whitewash, monster barns, fenced-off fields, bridgesacross the narrow chasm of the frothing river, telephone-poles withtheir wires binding into one sheaf the numerous activities of theranch, a broad, graded road over which she and her father had come herethe last time together in the big touring-car.
Here the valley was only a mile across, shut in on both sides by cliffand steep, rocky mountain, walled by cliffs at the upper end, where theriver from three-mile distant Blue Lake came down in flashingwaterfalls.
But, as she rode, the valley widened, changed in character. At first,wandering herds of beef-cattle, with now and then a riding cowboyturning in his saddle to wonder at her; then a gate to be opened as shestooped forward from her own saddle, and wide fields where the grassstood tall and untrodden and blooded Jersey cows looked up in mildinterest; yonder a small pasture in which were five Guernseys, kept inreligious seclusion, under ideal conditions, to further certaininvestigations into the ratios of five different kinds of fodder to theamount of butter-fat produced; across a green meadow a pure-bloodedJersey bull, whose mellow bellowings drew Judith's eyes to the cleanline of his perfect back, over which, with pawing hoofs, he wasthrowing much trampled earth; in a more distant pen, accepting thetrumpeted challenge and challenging back, a beautiful specimen ofcareful breeding in Ayrshire.
The road wound on, following generally the line of the river, whichbegan a generous broadening, flowing more evenly through level fields.Looking down the valley, Judith could see the whitewashed clump ofbuildings where were the second office, the store and the blacksmith'sshop, the tiny cottages. And beyond, the barns, the dairy, the tallsilos standing like lookout towers, the alfalfa-fields crisscrossedwith irrigating ditches, and still farther on, the pasture-lands wherethe big herd of cows was grazing.
Here the valley was spread out until from side to side it measuredsomething more than four miles. The bordering mountains, like theriver, had grown into a softer mood; rolling hills scantily timbered,rich in grass, were dotted with herds, cattle and horses, or fenced offhere and there, reserved for later pasturage.
Across the river, to the south, Judith marked the wandering calves,offspring of the herd; to the north, along the foothills, the subduedgreen of the olive-orchards.
"It's a big, big thing!" she whispered, and her eyes were very brightwith it all, her cheeks flushed. "Big!"
Passing one of the great barns, she heard the trumpet call of astallion and, turning, saw in the corral one of those glorious bruteswhich Bud Lee had spoken of to Trevors as "clean spirit." From theinstant her eyes filled to the massive beauty of him, she knew who hewas: Night Shade, sprung from the union of Mountain King and BlackEmpress; regal-blooded, ebon-black from silken fetlock to flowing mane;a splendid four-year-old destined to tread his proud way to a firstprize at the coming State fair at Sacramento, a horse manystock-fanciers had coveted.
She stopped and marvelled afresh at him, paid him his due of unstintedadmiration, and then spurred on to the little clump of buildingsmarking the lower ranch headquarters. At the store, where a ten-by-tenroom was partitioned off to serve as office, she swung down from thesaddle and, leaving her horse with dragging reins, went in.
"Hello, Charlie. You're still left to us, are you?" she said, as shestepped forward to shake hands with Miller, the storekeeper and generalutility man of the settlement. "I'm glad to see you.
"So'm I, Miss Judy," grinned Charlie, looking the part. "Howdy."
"I wanted to see Johnson and Dennings. Are they here yet?"
"No," answered Miller. "Johnson, the ditch man, you mean? He'ssomewhere at the Upper End. Has got a crew of men up there making anew dam or somethin' or other. Been at it purty near a week, now, Iguess. They camp up there."
"How many men are with him?" she asked quickly.
"About a dozen," and he looked hard at her. Judith frowned. Butinstead of saying what she might be thinking, she inquired whereDennings was.
"Out in the olive-orchards, I guess." He paused, filled a pipe he hadneither desire nor intention of smoking, and said abruptly: "What'sthis I hear about Trevors? Canned him?"
"Yes."
"Um!" said Miller. "Well, Miss Judy, I ain't sayin' it wasn't purtynear time he got the hooks. But, lemme tell you something. Whileyou're riding around this afternoon, if I was you I'd pike over to themilking corrals."
She looked at him sharply.
"What is it, Charlie?"
"You just ride over," said Miller. "It ain't more'n a step an' I'lljust shet up store an' mosey along after you."
Vaguely uneasy because of Charlie Miller's manner, Judith galloped downtoward the four corrals where the cows were milked. From a distanceshe saw that there were a number of men, ten or twelve of them,standing in a close-packed group. She wondered what it was that haddrawn them from their work at this time of day; what that big,bull-voiced man was saying to them. She heard the muttering rumble ofhis words before the words themselves meant anything to her. A quickglance over her shoulder showed her Charlie Miller hastening behindher, pick-handle in hand.
Her way carried her by a long, narrow building standing out like agreat capital E, the cow hospital. She thought of Bill Crowdy and thesick calves as she drew near, but was passing on to the men at the milkcorrals, when the breeze, blowing lightly from the west, brought to hernostrils a whiff of sulphur.
A quick tide of red ran into her cheeks; that fool, Ed Masters, had nottold Crowdy to refrain from the old-fashioned, deadly treatment!Almost before her horse had set his four feet at the command of a quicktouch upon the reins, the girl was down and hurrying into the middledoor of the three, calling out as she went:
"Crowdy! Oh, Crowdy!"
She came into a small whitewashed room where were a table, two chairs,and a telephone; passed through this into the calf-yard. Here wereseveral compartments with doors which allow
ed of making them almostair-tight. And here she was met by a stronger smell of sulphur fumes.
"Crowdy!" she called again. "Where are you?"
Bill Crowdy, a heavy, squat figure of a man, shifty-eyed, with hardmouth and a nervous, restless air, came down a long hallway, smoking acigarette. His eyes rested with no uncertain dislike upon Judith'seager face.
"I'm Crowdy," he said. "Want me?"
"I told Masters to tell you to stop the sulphur treatment for thelung-worm calves. Hasn't he told you?"
"Mr. Trevors said I was to give it to them," said Crowdy. "I can't betaking orders off'n every hop-o'-my-thumb like that college kid."
"Then Masters did tell you?"
"Sure, he told me," said Crowdy in surly defiance. "But if I was tolisten to everything the likes of him says----"
Judith's eyes were fairly snapping.
"You'll listen to the likes of me, Bill Crowdy!" she criedpassionately, a small fist clinched. "You get those calves out intosome fresh air just as quick as the Lord will let you! Into a pen bythemselves. Doc Tripp will attend to them in the morning."
"Tripp's gone."
"He's on his way back, right now. And you're on your way off theranch. Understand? You can come to the office for your pay to-night."
Crowdy shrugged his shoulders and turned away.
"If I'm fired," he growled in that ugly voice which was so fitting acompanion to that ugly mouth of his, "I quit right now. Get some ofyour other Willies to turn your calves out."
For a moment, in the heat of her anger, Judith's quirt was lifted asthough she would strike him. Then she turned instead and ran to do herown bidding. A moment later Miller was with her. The two of them gotthe calves--there were seven of them--out of the sulphur-laden air andinto the corral. The poor brutes, coughing softly in paroxysms, someof them frothing at the mouth, two of them falling repeatedly andrising slowly upon trembling legs, filed by in a pitiful string. Oneof the youngest lay still in the hospital, dead.
"He would have killed them all," said Judith, her teeth set as shelooked at the living calves in the corral where, with necks thrust farout, they fought for each breath. "And Bayne Trevors ordered atreatment that he knows has gone into the discard! Charlie, that manhas gone further than I thought he had the nerve to go."
"Crowdy did something else that don't look just right," said Miller,gazing with eyes of longing after the burly, departing figure. "I sawhim do it just after Masters carried him your message. He drove threeof the sick calves--there's a dozen or more got the worms, youknow--out into the pasture with the well calves."
Judith didn't answer. She looked at Miller a moment as though shethought this must be some wretched jest of his. And when she read inhis eyes the earnestness in his heart, there rose within her thequestion: "How far has Bayne Trevors gone?"
"Charlie," she said finally, "I want you to close store for the rest ofthe day. Get some one to help you and cut the sick calves out from thebunch. Haze them back here into the detention corral. Tripp willattend to them all in the morning. Now, tell me--what's wrong down atthe milk corrals? What are all of those men up to?"
"We're going to see, me an' you," answered Miller. "I don't just know.But I do know there's a big guy down there that come onto the ranch acouple of hours ago an' that don't belong here. He's that guy talking.Name of Nelson. He ain't done any talking to me, but from a word ortwo I picked up from one of the milkers I got a hunch he's been sentover by Trevors."
Nelson, the big emissary for Trevors--for he admitted the fact openlyand pleasantly--took off his hat to Judith and said he guessed he'd begoing. And the men with whom he had been talking, including all of themilkers and all of the other workmen upon whom Nelson could get hismeddlesome hands at short notice, all men whom Trevors had placed here,made known in hesitant speech or awkward silence that they were goingwith Nelson. There were good jobs open with the lumber company, itseemed. Nelson even expressed the hope that the quitting of these menwouldn't work any hardship to the Blue Lake ranch.
Judith, her eyes flashing, asked no man of them to remain, seeing thatthus she would but humiliate herself fruitlessly, and turned away. Andyet, with the herds of cows with bursting bags soon ready for thenightly milking, she watched the men move away, her heart bitter withanger.
"They've got to be milked, Charlie," was all that she said. "Who willmilk them until I can get a new crew?"
"I'll tuck in an' help," answered Miller ruefully. "I hate it worse'npoison, an' I can't milk more'n ten cows, workin twenty-four-hourshifts. I'll try an' scare up some of the other boys that can milk."But he shook his head and looked regretfully at the pick-handle. "Goodmilkers is scarce as gold eggs," he muttered. "And the separator menhas quit with the rest."
"Get Masters, the electrician, on the job. Get anybody you can. I'mgoing back to the ranchhouse pretty soon and I'll try to send some onefrom there."
"Cowboys can't milk," said Miller positively. "An' besides, theywon't. But somehow we'll make out for a day or so."
"We've got to make out!" exclaimed Judith. "We've got to beat that manTrevors, Charlie, and do it quick. If he'll try to keep usshort-handed, if he'll spend money to do it, if he'll do a trick likegiving sulphur for lung-worm and then send infected stock out into theherds, I don't know just where he will stop--unless we stop him."
In spite of her intentions, it was nearing the time of dusk when shereturned to the ranchhouse. As she came up the knoll from the barn,she saw for the first time a thin line of bluish smoke rising from thenorth ridge. Saw and understood the new menace.
For that way had Benny, the discharged cook, gone.
Judith of Blue Lake Ranch Page 5