CHAPTER XIII
WHEN AMBITION CAME
Lucy Davison was seldom absent from Justin's mind; and he was thinkingof her as he drove to town to make some purchases for Pearl, who,though married, was still the housekeeper at the ranch. The knowledgethat Lucy was to arrive at home in a short time filled him withlonging and delight.
As he drove along he could but note the appearance of the valley, andthe houses of the new settlers and the old. Sanders had purchased moreland, and had moved his dug-out close up to the trail and much nearerto the river. He had been indefatigable in his efforts to inducesettlers to come into the valley, and successful to a degree thatsurprised Justin and the Davisons, Of the newer arrivals several weremen of force and intelligence. They had given the valley theirapproval, and had set to work.
Sanders, it now appeared, had sold his land at Sumner for aconsiderable sum of money. At Sumner, irrigation was being practicedsuccessfully. He was firm in his belief that Paradise Valley could beirrigated as easily, and would make an agricultural section as rich.Therefore, he and the new farmers, joined by certain of the olderones, among them Sloan Jasper, had built a dam across the stream nearJasper's and turned the water thus secured into some small canals,from which laterals conveyed it to the places where it was required.
They were working under unfavorable conditions, however; their dam wascheaply and hastily constructed, and the canals and ditches being newsucked up the water almost as fast as it could be turned into them.
Naturally Davison and Fogg were not pleased. The water which thefarmers were using decreased the supply in the water-holes, andthreatened suffering for the cattle if a dry season came on. They didnot accept the theory promulgated by the farmers, that the water wouldfind its way back through the soil into the stream. That the newenterprise troubled the ranchmen gave secret joy to William Sanders,whose bitter and vindictive mind was filled with ineradicable hatredof Davison and all connected with him. To strike a blow at Davisondelighted him immeasurably.
Justin had a dusty drive that afternoon, for the land was dry. Forseveral days a strong south wind had been blowing, and the mountainwas draping its wide shoulders in misty vapor. These were goodportents of rain; and when rain came at that season, after a period ofdrought, it came usually in a heavy storm.
Ben Davison had set out for the town ahead of Justin, on his pony. Benhad practically ceased to work on the ranch, except at intervals. Hewas much in the company of Clem Arkwright, and enjoyed certainpleasures of the town, to which Arkwright had introduced him. For onething, Arkwright played a game of poker that few men could beat.Arkwright was a small politician, and by virtue of that fact held theoffice of justice-of-the-peace. Arkwright had thrown his politicalfollowing to Ben's support, in a recent county convention; and that,with the influence of Davison and Fogg, had given to Ben Davison thenomination to the state legislature.
As the bronchos climbed to the summit of a low divide, giving a longview of the trail, Justin saw Ben, far ahead, nearing the town. Itgave him thought. Ben was not only ahead of him on the trail that day,but in other ways.
That summer of patient toil and sturdy thought spent high in themountains with the sheep had brought to Justin the knowledge that hewas now a man. As a man he was beginning to feel that he must dosomething, must set about the work of making a place and a name forhimself in the world. Influenced by the idealist, Clayton, and by hislove for Lucy, he had heretofore fed on love and dreams. He stillloved, and he still dreamed, but he knew now that to these must beadded action and accomplishment.
No one understood Ben Davison's unworthiness more thoroughly thanJustin. Because of the influence of his father and the support givento his candidacy by a tricky politician Ben was apparently on the highroad to political preferment and honors. His name was mentioned in theDenver dailies, and his picture was in the county paper.
Philip Davison was pleased, probably Lucy was pleased also, and Justinfelt that he really ought to look upon the matter in a kindly andamiable light. Yet, even as he thought so, he felt his heart burning.
"I might have had that nomination, if things had been different!"
That was Justin's thought. He knew to the core of his being that inevery way he was better qualified than Ben Davison to fill thatimportant place. He had not only mental but moral qualities which Bentotally lacked. In addition, the position and the honor appealed tohis growing desire to be something and do something. It would giveopportunity to talents which he was sure he possessed. Denverrepresented the great world beyond, where men struggled for the thingsworth while. Ben Davison would go to Denver, become a member of thelegislature, and would have the doors of possibility opened to him,when he had not the ability nor the moral stamina to walk through themwhen they were opened, and he--Justin--would remain--a cowboy.
When Justin reached the town, which consisted of a double row of framehouses strung along the railroad track, he hitched the bronchos to thepole in front of one of the stores and proceeded to the purchase ofthe groceries required by the housekeeper. That done he walked tothe postoffice for the ranch mail. As he came out with it in his handsand began to look over the county paper, where he saw Ben Davison'sname and political qualifications blazoned, he observed several menconverging toward a low building. Over its door was a sign, "Justiceof the Peace."
"Arkwright's got a trial on to-day," said one of the men, speaking tohim. "You ranchers air gittin' pugnacious. Borden has brought suitagainst Sam Turner for the killin' of them cattle. I s'pose you heardabout it?"
Justin's interest was aroused. He was acquainted with both Arkwrightand Borden, and he knew of the killing of the cattle, but he had notheard of the lawsuit. Borden's ranch lay over beyond the first mesa,along Pine Creek. It had been established since the Davison ranch. Notall the line between the two ranches was fenced, and the open lineJustin had ridden for a time with one of Borden's cowboys.
There were a few settlers along Pine Creek, one of them being SamTurner, a young farmer from Illinois. Justin remembered Turner well,and Turner's wife, a timid little woman wholly unfit for the life shewas compelled to live in this new country. She had a deathly fear ofBorden's cowboys, a fear that was too often provoked by their actions.They were chiefly Mexicans and half-breeds, a wild lot, much given todrinking, and often when they came riding home from the town in theirsprees they came with their bronchos at a dead run, firing theirrevolvers and yelling like Indians as they swept by Turner's house.Whenever she saw them coming Mrs. Turner would catch up her littlegirl in her arms, dart into the house, lock and bar the doors, andpull down the blinds. The cowboys observed this, and it aroused themto even wilder demonstrations; so that now they never passed Turner'swithout a fusillade and a demoniacal outburst of yells.
The death of the cattle had come about through no fault of Turner.They had simply broken down a fence during a storm, and getting intoTurner's sorghum had so gorged themselves with the young plants thatsome of them had died. It did not seem to matter to Borden thatTurner's sorghum had been devoured. In his rage over his loss Turnerhad threatened violence, and Borden was answering with this suit fordamages for the loss of the cattle.
Justin squeezed into the midst of the crowd that already filled theoffice. Clem Arkwright's red face showed behind his desk, which wasraised on a platform. Justin, still thinking of Lucy and Ben, lookedat Arkwright with interest. He did not admire Arkwright himself, butBen Davison thought highly of him, and that was something. A heap oflaw books was stacked on Arkwright's desk. A pair of pettifogginglawyers had been kicking up a legal dust, and one of them, Borden'slawyer, was still at it. As the lawyer talked, Clem Arkwright tookdown one of the books and began to examine a decision to which hisattention was called.
While Arkwright looked at the decision, the lawyer went right on,pounding the book he held in his hand and shaking his fist now andthen at the justice and now and then at Sam Turner and the opposinglawyer. Turner sat with his counsel, and at intervals whispered in hisear. Justin had never atten
ded a trial and he found it interesting.His sympathies were with Turner.
From the claims made by Borden's lawyer, it appeared that Sam Turnerwas wholly in the wrong. He should have guarded his crops or fencedhis land. He had done neither, and as a result Borden's cattle hadlost their lives and Borden had sustained financial loss. Borden wasnot required to maintain a fence, nor to employ riders to hold thecattle beyond any certain imaginary line, the lawyer maintained; buthe had kept riders so employed, and had built a fence on a part of hisrange. He had done these things, that his cattle might not becomemixed up with cattle belonging to other ranches, and particularly, asit appeared, in pure kindness of heart, that they might not trespasson the farms of such men as the defendant. It was admitted that Turnerhad a perfect right to live on and cultivate his land; it was his, todo with as he pleased, by virtue of title conveyed to him by thegovernment under the homestead laws. But he was compelled, if hewished to prevent trespass of this kind, to erect and maintain astock-tight fence, or guard his land in some other substantial way;and having failed to do that, he should be mulcted in damages for theloss sustained by the plaintiff.
Justin was listening with much interest to the argument of Borden'slawyer, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning about he beheldWilliam Sanders.
"We want to see you outside a minute er two," said Sanders.
He tried to smile pleasantly, but there was a queer gleam in hislittle eyes.
"All right," said Justin, wondering what Sanders could want.
Several farmers and a few of the citizens of the town were awaitinghim outside, he discovered, and had sent Sanders in to get him.
"We want to have a talk with you about the election," said one ofthem. "We'll go into that back room over there; we've got theprivilege of using it awhile."
Sloan Jasper shambled up, his hands in his pockets.
"Howdy, Justin!" he exclaimed, with an anxious smile. "I've beentalkin' round a bit amongst my friends, and what I've said about you Idon't take back for any man."
Somewhat bewildered, Justin accompanied these men into the vacant roomthey had indicated, back of one of the stores. Here William Sandersestablished himself at a small table; the doors were closed, the mendropped into seats, and Sanders rapped with his knuckles for order.That queer gleam still shone in his little eyes.
"Gentlemen," he said, rising, "I'm goin' to ask Mr. Jasper to set outthe object of this meetin'. Me and him talked it up first, I guess;and he understands it as well as I do, and maybe can set it outbetter."
Sloan Jasper shambled to his feet, declaring that he was no speaker;and then proceeded to a heated denunciation of the ranchmen and theirmethods.
"How many times have they tramped me an' my farm under foot as if wewas muck?" he asked. "That trial over there before that scoundrel,Arkwright, is a sample of it. They've run the county till they thinkthey own it. But they don't own me! Justin hyer is a cowboy and candraw cowboy votes. We all think well of him, because we know he can bedepended on to do the fair thing by everybody. That's all we'reaskin'--the fair thing; we don't want to take advantage of anybody, erinjure anybody; but we do intend to protect ourselves, and to do itwe've got to stand together, and stand up fer men who will stand upfer us. There's certain things that will come before this nextlegislature in which we're interested. If Ben Davison sets in it asthe representative frum this county he'll vote ag'inst us every time.Now, there's a lot o' men in this town who don't like him, nerArkwright; and all over the county it's the same way. So I say ifwe'll stand together, us farmers, as one man, and can git somebodythat the cowboys like to run ag'inst Ben Davison, we can beat him outof his boots, fer he ain't popular, though the newspaper and hisfriends is tryin' to make it out that he is. And that's why we'rehyer--a sort of delegation of the farmers an' the people of the townwho have talked the thing over; an' we're goin' to ask Justin Wingateto make the race fer us ag'inst Ben Davison. If he does it, we'll takeoff our coats and work fer him until the sun goes down on the day ofelection; and so help me God, I believe as truly as I stand hyer, thatwe can elect him, and give Ben Davison the worst beatin' he'll evergit in his life."
Sloan Jasper sat down with flushed face, amid a round of applause.Before Justin could get upon his feet, William Sanders was speaking.He said he had come to see that Justin was the man they wanted--theman who could make the race and have a chance of winning; and for thatreason he favored him, and would do all in his power for him, if hewould run.
Justin was confused and gratified. His pulses leaped at the bugle callof a new ambition. He knew how justly unpopular Ben was. It waspossible, it even seemed probable, that if he became the candidate ofthe men who would naturally oppose the ranching interests he coulddefeat Ben Davison. But would not such an attempt be akin totreachery? He was in the employ of Philip Davison.
"I don't think I ought to consider such a thing," he urged, in someconfusion, without rising to his feet. "Mr. Davison has treated mewell. I want to remain on friendly terms with him and with Ben. Icouldn't do that, if I ran against Ben. I'm obliged to you, just thesame, you know, for the compliment and the honor; but, really, I don'tthink I ought to consider it."
He saw these men believed that he and Ben Davison were not on terms ofgood friendship; on that they based their hope that he would becometheir candidate. They were not to be dissuaded easily, and theysurrounded him, and plied him with appeals and arguments.
"We'll give you till Thursday to think it over," they said, stillhoping to win him. "We're going to put some one up against Ben, andyou're the one we want."
Though Justin did not retreat from his declaration that it was a thinghe should not consider, they observed that he did not say he would notconsider it. The stirrings of ambition, the flattery of their words,and the gratifying discovery that the world regarded him now as afull-grown man, kept him from saying that.
Just beyond the town, as he proceeded homeward, he was overtaken byBen Davison, who had ridden hard after him on his pony. Ben's face waswhite, his eyes unnaturally bright, and his hand shook on hisbridle-rein.
"I've been hearing that talk in town," he began, "and I want to knowabout it!"
Justin felt the hot blood sing in his ears. With difficulty he crowdeddown the violent temper that leaped for utterance.
"What did you hear?" he asked.
"That you intend to run against me."
Justin gave him a look that made the shining eyes shift and turn away.
"Some of the farmers, and others, want you to run," said Ben.
"Yes, that is true."
"And do you intend to?"
"I haven't said that I did."
"Well, I want to know!"
"What if I decline to answer?"
Ben changed his tone.
"It will make trouble for me, if you run. If you keep out of it I'vegot the thing cinched--they can't beat me, for I will pull the cowboyvote. You might split that vote. I don't say I think you could beelected, for I don't; but it would make me a lot of trouble, and wouldkick up bad feeling all round."
"In what way?" said Justin, speaking coldly. He was studying Benclosely; he had never seen his face so white nor his eyes sounnaturally bright.
"Well, with father, for one thing. He wouldn't like it; he wants me tobe elected, and has already spent a lot of money."
"Ben," said Justin, speaking slowly, "you have yourself to blamelargely for this stirring up of the farmers. You have made them hateyou. They will put up some one against you, whether I run or not."
"They can't beat me, unless they run some fellow who can swing thecowboy vote, and they know it. That's why they came to you."
"Yes; they said it was."
"You told them you wouldn't run?"
"I told them I ought not consider it."
"Well, that's right; you oughtn't."
"But I want you to understand, Ben, that I have just as good a rightto run as you have!"
"I don't think so; not while you're working for father, and when I'malread
y in the race."
Mentally, Justin acknowledged that this was a point well taken.
"You won't run?" said Ben, anxiously.
Justin hesitated, shifting uneasily on the high spring seat.
"N-o, I hardly think I ought to."
"Thank you! I wanted to make sure."
Ben wheeled his pony, and galloped back toward the town.
"Am I easy?" Justin asked himself, as his eyes followed the recedingfigure. "But, really, it does seem that I oughtn't to think of such athing, under the circumstances. Davison would be angry--and I don'tsuppose Lucy would be at all pleased."
He drove on, turning the matter over in his mind, recalling withpleasure the flattery of the farmers, and wondering why Ben Davison'sface looked so unnaturally white and his eyes so bright. He knew thatanger alone was not the cause.
Justin Wingate, Ranchman Page 13