CHAPTER XXIII
THE PEACEMAKER
"But I ain't no dove--more like a stork, I guess," reflected Sundown ashe stood in the doorway of his house. "And storks bringsresponsibilities in baskets, instead of olive branches. No wonder oleman Noah fired the dove right out ag'in--bringin' him olives whatwa'n't pickled, instead of a bunch of grapes or somethin' you can eat!And that there dove never come back. I reckon he figured if he did,ole man Noah'd shoot him. Anyhow, if I ain't no dove of peace, I'mgoin' to do the best I can. Everybody 'round here seems like they wastryin' to ride right into trouble wishful, 'stead of reinin' to oneside an' givin' trouble a chance to get past. Gee Gosh! If I'd 'a'knowed what I know now--afore I hit this country--but I'm here.Anyhow, they's nothin' wrong with the country. It's the folks, like it'most always is. Reckon I ought to keep on buildin' fence thismornin', but that there peace idea 's got to singin' in me head. I'lljest saddle up Pill and ride over and tell ole man Loring that I'mtakin' care of his sheep charitable what's been hangin' around heresince 'Sandro passed over. Mebby that'll kind o' start the talk. ThenI can slip him a couple of ideas 'bout how neighbors ought to act.Huh! Me nussin' them sheep for two weeks and more, an' me just dyin'for a leetle taste o' mutton. Mebby his herders was scared to come for'em, I dunno."
Sundown was established at the water-hole. Corliss had sent a team toAntelope for provisions, implements, and fencing. Meanwhile, Sundownhad been industrious, not alone because he felt the necessity forsomething to occupy his time, but that he wanted to forget the tragedyhe had so recently witnessed. And he had dreams of a morecompanionable future which included Mexican dishes served hot, eveningsof blissful indolence accompanied by melody, and a Senora who wouldsing "Linda Rosa, Adios!" which would be the "piece de resistance" ofhis pastoral menu.
The "tame cow," which he had so ardently longed for, now grazedsoulfully in a temporary enclosure out on the mesa. Two young andsprightly black pigs prospected the confines of their litteredhermitage. Four gaunt hens and a more or less dilapidated roosterstalked about the yard, no longer afraid of the watchful Chance, whohad previously introduced himself to the rooster without the formalityof Sundown's presence as mediator. Sundown was proud of his chickens.The cow, however, had been, at first, rather a disappointment to him.Milk had not heretofore been a conspicuous portion of Sundown's diet,nor was he versed in the art of obtaining it except over the counter intins. With due formality and some trepidation he had placed a pailbeneath "Gentle Annie" as he called her, and had waited patiently. Sohad Gentle Annie, munching a reflective cud, and Sundown, in ametaphorical sense, doing likewise. He had walked around the cowinspecting her with an anxious and critical eye. She seemed healthfuland voluptuously contented. Yet no milk came. Bud Shoop, having atthat moment arrived with the team, sized up the situation. When he hadrecovered enough poise to stand without assistance and had wiped thewild tears from his eyes, he instructed the amazed Sundown as tocertain manipulations necessary to produce the desired result. "Huh!Folks says cows _give_ milk. But I reckon that ain't right," Sundownhad asserted. "You got to take it away from 'em." So he had takenwhat he could, which was not, at first, a great deal.
This momentous morning he had decided that his unsolicited mission wasto induce or persuade Loring to arbitrate the question ofgrazing-rights. It was a strange idea, although not incompatible withSundown's peculiar temperament. He felt justified in taking theinitiative; especially in view of the fact that Loring's sheep had beentrespassing on his property.
He saddled "Pill," and called to Chance. "See here, Chance, you andme's pals. No, you ain't comin' this trip. You stick around and keepyour eye on me stock. What's mine is yourn exceptin' the rooster.Speakin' poetical, he belongs to them hens. If he ain't here when Iget back, I can pretty nigh tell by the leavin's where he is. When Igit back I look to find you hungry, sabe? And not sneakin' aroundlookin' at me edgeways with leetle feathers stickin' to your nose. Ireckon you understand."
Chance followed his master to the road, and there the dog sat gazing atthe bobbing figure of Sundown until it was but a speck in the morningsunshine. Then Chance fell to scratching his ear with his hind foot,rose and shook himself, and stalked indolently to the yard where he laywith his nose along his outstretched fore legs, watching the proscribedrooster with an eloquence of expression that illustrated the proverbialpower of mind over matter.
Sundown kept Pill loping steadily. It was a long ride, but Sundown'smind was so preoccupied with the preparing of his proposed appeal tothe sheep-man that the morning hours and the sunlit miles swept pastunnoticed. The dark green of the acacias bordering the hacienda, thetwinkling white of the speeding windmill, and the dull brown of theadobes became distinct and separate colors against the far edge of theeastern sky. He reined his pony to a walk. "When you're in a hurry todo somethin'," he informed his horse, "it ain't always good politics tolet folks know it. So we'll ride up easy, like we had money to spend,and was jest lookin' over the show-case." And Pill was not averse tothe suggestion.
Sundown dismounted, opened the gate, and swinging to the saddle, rodeup to the ranch-house. Had he known that Anita, the daughter of ChicoMiguel, was at that moment talking with the wife of one of Loring'sherders; that she was describing him in glowing terms to her friend,and moreover, as he passed up the driveway, that Anita had turnedswiftly, dropping the pitcher of milk which she had just brought fromthe cooling-room as she saw him, he might well have been excused frompromulgating his mission of peace with any degree of coherence.Sublimely ignorant of her presence,--spiritualists and sentimentaliststo the contrary in like instances,--he rode directly to the hacienda,asked for the patron, and was shown to the cool interior of the houseby the mildly astonished Senora. Senor Loring would return presently.Would the gentleman refresh himself by resting until the Senorreturned? Possibly she herself could receive the message--or theSenorita, who was in the garden?
"Thanks, lady. I reckon Pill is dry--wants a drink--agua--got athirst. No, ma'am. I can wait. I mean me horse."
"Oh! Si! But Juan would attend to the horse and at once."
"Thanks, lady. And if Miss Loring ain't too busy, I reckon I'd like tosee her a minute."
The Senora disappeared. Sundown could hear her call for Juan.Presently Nell Loring came to the room, checked an exclamation ofsurprise as she recognized him, and stepping forward, offered her hand."You're from Mr. Corliss. I remember. . . . Is Chance all right now?"
"Yes, ma'am. He is enjoyin' fust-rate health. He eats reg'lar--andrabbits in between. But I ain't from the Concho, lady. I'm from meown ranch, down there at the water-hole. Me boss ain't got nothin' todo with me bein' here. It's me own idea. I come friendly and wishfulto make a little talk to your pa."
Wondering what could have induced Sundown to call at her home,especially under the existing circumstances, Nell Loring made himwelcome. After he had washed and strolled over to the stables to seeto his horse. Sundown, returning, declined an invitation to come in,and sat on the veranda, smoking cigarettes and making mental note ofthe exterior details of the hacienda: its garden, shade-trees, corrals,and windmill. Should prosperity smile upon him, he would have awindmill, be Gosh! Not a white one--though white wasn't so bad--butsomething tasty; red, white and blue, mebby--a real American windmill,and in the front of the house a flagpole with the American flag. Andhe would keep the sign "American Hotel" above the gate. There wasnothin' like bein' paterotic. Mexican ranches--some of 'em--was purtyenough in a lazy kind of style, but he was goin' to let folks know thata white man was runnin' the water-hole ranch!
And all unknown to him, Anita stood in the doorway of one of theherder's 'dobes, more than ever impressed by the evident importance ofher beau-ideal of chivalry, who took the kick of horses as a matter ofcourse, and rose smilingly from such indignities to present flowers toher with eyes which spake of love and lips that expressed, as best theycould, admiration. Anita was a bit disappointed and perhaps a bitplea
sed that he had not as yet seen her. As it was she could worshipfrom a distance that lent security to her tender embarrassment. Thetall one must, indeed, be a great caballero to be made welcome at thepatron's home. Assuredly he was not as the other vaqueros who visitedthe patron. _He_ sat upon the veranda and smoked in a lordly way,while they inevitably held forth in the less conspicuous latitude ofthe bunk-house and its environs. Anita was happy.
Sundown, elated by the righteousness of his mission as harbinger ofpeace, met Loring returning from one of the camps with graciousindifference to the other's gruff welcome.
They sat at the table and ate in silence for a while. With therefreshing coffee Sundown's embarrassment melted. His weird command oflanguage, enhanced by the opportunity for exercise in a good cause,astonished and eventually interested his hearers. He did not approachhis subject directly, but mounted the metaphorical steps of his rostrumleisurely. He discoursed on the opportunities afforded by the almostlimitless free range. He hinted at the possibility of internecinestrife eventually awakening the cupidity of "land-sharks" all over thecountry. If there was land worth killing folks for, there was landworth stealing. If the Concho Valley was once thrown open tohomesteaders, then farewell free range and fat cattle and sheep. Andthe mention of sheep led him to remark that there was a small band atthe water-hole, uncared-for save by himself. "And he was no sheep-man,but he sure hated to see any critters sufferin' for water, so he hadallowed the sheep to drink at the water-hole." Then he paused,anticipating the obvious question to which he made answer: "Yes. Thewater-hole ranch is me ranch. I filed on her the same day that you andMiss Loring come to Usher. Incondescent to that I was in the calabooseat Antelope. Somebody tole the sheriff that I was a suspiciouscharacter. Mebby I am, judgin' from the outside, but inside I ain't.You can't always tell what the works is like by the case, I ain't gotno hard feelin's for nobody, and I'm wishful that folks don't have nohard feelin's ag'in' me or anybody else."
Loring listened in silence. Finally he spoke. "I'll take care of mysheep. I'll send for 'em to-day. Looks like you're tryin' to playsquare, but you don't figure in this deal. Jack Corliss is at thebottom of it and he's using you. And he'll use you hard. What yougoin' to do with the overflow from the water-hole?"
"I'm goin' to irrigate me ranch," said Sundown.
Loring nodded. "And cut off the water from everybody?"
"Not from me friends."
"Which means the Concho."
"Sure! Jack Corliss is me friend. But that ain't all. If you want tobe me friend, I ain't kickin' even if you did tell the sheriff he oughtto git acquainted with me closer. I'm goin' to speak right out. Ireckon it's the best way. I got a proposition. If you'll quit sickin'them herders onto cowboys and if Jack'll quit settin' the punchers atyour herders, I'll open up me spring and run her down to where they'swater for everybody. If cows comes, they drink. If sheep comes,_they_ drink. If folks comes, they drink, likewise. But no fightin'."
Sundown as arbiter of peace felt that he had, in truth, "spoken rightout." He was not a little surprised at himself and a bit fearful. Yethe felt justified in his suggestion. Theoretically he had made a fairoffer. Practically his offer was of no value. Sheep and cattle couldnot occupy the same range. Loring grumbled something and shoved backhis chair. They rose and stepped to the veranda.
"If you can get Corliss to agree to what you say--and quit runnin'cattle on the water-hole side--I'll quit runnin' sheep there." AndLoring waved his hand toward the north.
"But the Concho is on the west side--" began Sundown.
"And cattle are grazin' on the east side," said Loring.
Sundown scratched his head. "I reckon I got to see Jack," he said.
"And you'll waste time, at that," said Loring. "Look here! Are youranchin' to hold down the water-hole for Corliss or to make a livin'?"
Sundown hesitated. He gazed across the yard to the distant mesa.Suddenly a figure crossed the pathway to the gate. He jerked up hishead and stood with mouth open. It couldn't be--but, yes, it wasAnita--Linda Rosa! Gee Gosh! He turned to Loring. "I been tellin'you the truth," he said simply. "'Course I got to see me boss, now.But it makes no difference what he says, after this. I'm ranchin' formeself, because I'm--er--thinkin' of gettin' married."
Without further explanation, Sundown stalked to the stable and got hishorse. He came to the hacienda and made his adieux. Then he mountedand rode slowly down the roadway toward the gate.
Anita's curiosity had overcome her timidity. Quite accidentally shestood toying with a bud that she had picked from the flower-borderedroadway. She turned as Sundown jingled up and met him with a murmur ofsurprise and pleasure. He swung from his horse hat in hand andadvanced, bowing. Anita flushed and gazed at the ground.
"'Mornin', Senorita! I sure am jest hoppin' glad to see you ag'in. IfI'd 'a' knowed you was here . . . But I come on business--important.Reckon you're visitin' friends, eh?"
"Si, Senor!"
"Do you come here reg'lar?"
"Only to see the good aunt sometimes."
"Uhuh. I kind of wish your aunt was hangin' out at the Concho, though.This here ain't a reg'lar stoppin'-place for me."
"You go away?" queried Anita.
"I reckon I got to after what I said up there to the house. Yes, I'mgoin' back to feed me pigs and Chance and the hens. I set uphousekeepin' since I seen you. Got a ranch of me own--that I wastellin' you about. You ought to see it! Some class! But it's mightylonely, evenin's."
Anita sighed and glanced at Sundown. Then her gaze dwelt on the budshe held. "Si, Senor--it is lonely in the evenings," she said, andalthough she spoke in Spanish, Sundown did not misunderstand.
He grinned hugely. "You sure don't need to talk American to tell it,"he said as one who had just made a portentous discovery. "It wasworryin' me how we was goin' to get along--me short on the Spanish andyou short on my talk. But I reckon we'll get along fine. Your pa ingood health, and your ma?"
Anita nodded shyly.
Sundown was at a loss to continue this pleasant conversation. Hebrightened, however, as a thought inspired him. "And the leetle hoss,is he doin' well?"
"That Sarko I do not like that he should keeck you!" flamed Anita, andSundown's cup of happiness was full to overflowing.
Quite unconsciously he was leading his horse toward the gate and quiteunconsciously Anita was walking beside him. Forgotten was the Loringranch, the Concho, his own homestead. He was with his inamorata, the"Linda Rosa" of his dreams.
At the gateway he turned to her. "I'm comin' over to see your folkssoon as I git things to runnin' on me ranch. Keeps a fella busy, butI'm sure comin'. I ain't got posies to growin' yet, but I'm goin' tohave some--like them," and he indicated the bud which she held.
"You like it?" she queried. And with bashful gesture she gave him therose, smiling as he immediately stuck it in the band of his sombrero.
Then he held out his hand. "Linda Rosa," he said gently, "I can't makethe big talk in the Spanish lingo or I'd say how I was lovin' you andthinkin' of you reg'lar and deep. 'Course I got to put your pa and mawise first. But some day I'm comin'--me and Chance--and tell you thatI'm ready--that me ranch is doin' fine, and that I sure want you tocome over and boss the outfit. I used to reckon that I didn't want nowoman around bossin' things, but I changed me mind. Adios!Senorita!--for I sure got to feed them hens."
Sundown extended his hand. Anita laid her own plump brown hand inSundown's hairy paw. For an instant he hesitated, moved by a mostnatural impulse to kiss her. Her girlish face, innocently sweet andtrusting, her big brown eyes glowing with admiration and wonder, as shegazed up at him, offered temptation and excuse enough. It was nottimidity nor lack of opportunity that caused Sundown to hesitate, butrather that innate respect for women which distinguishes the gentle manfrom the slovenly generalization "gentleman." "Adios! Linda Rosa!" hemurmured, and stooping, kissed her brown fingers. Then he gesturedwith magnificence toward
the flowers bordering the roadway. "And yousure are the lindaest little Linda Rosa of the bunch!"
And Anita's heart was filled with happiness as she watched her bravecaballero ride away, so tall, so straight, and of such the gentlemanner and the royal air!
It was inevitable that he should turn and wave to her, but it was notinevitable that she should have thrown him a pretty kiss with the graceof her pent-up emotion--but she did.
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