CHAPTER XVII
OIL
"I'll take off my hat to Dave," said Hart warmly. "He's chain lightnin'.I never did see anything like the way he took that street in two jumps.And game? Did you ever hear tell of an unarmed man chargin' a guy with agun spittin' at him?"
"I always knew he had sand in his craw. What does Doc Green say?" askedCrawford, lighting a corncob pipe.
"Says nothin' to worry about. A flesh wound in the shoulder. Ought toheal up in a few days."
Miss Joyce speaking, with an indignant tremor of the voice: "It wasthe most cowardly thing I ever saw. He was unarmed, and he hadn'tlifted a finger when that ruffian began to shoot. I was sure he wouldbe ... killed."
"He'll take a heap o' killin', that boy," her father reassured. "In a wayit's a good thing this happened now. His enemies have showed their hand.They tried to gun him, before witnesses, while he was unarmed. Whateverhappens now, Dave's got public sentiment on his side. I'm always glad tohave my enemy declare himself. Then I can take measures."
"What measures can Dave take?" asked Joyce.
A faint, grim smile flitted across the old cattleman's face. "Well, onemeasure he'll take pronto will be a good six-shooter on his hip. One I'lltake will be to send Miller back to the pen, where he belongs, soon as Ican get court action. He's out on parole, like Dave is. All the State hasgot to do is to reach out and haul him back again."
"If it can find him," added Bob dryly. "I'll bet it can't. He's headedfor the hills or the border right now."
Crawford rose. "Well, I'll run down with you to his room and see the boy,Bob. Wisht he would come up and stay with us. Maybe he will."
To the cattleman Dave made light of his wound. He would be all right in afew days, he said. It was only a scratch.
"Tha's good, son," Crawford answered. "Well, now, what are you aimin' todo? I got a job for you on the ranch if tha's what you want. Or I can useyou in the oil business. It's for you to say which."
"Oil," said Dave without a moment of hesitation. "I want to learn thatbusiness from the ground up. I've been reading all I could get on thesubject."
"Good enough, but don't you go to playin' geology too strong, Dave. Oilis where it's at. The formation don't amount to a damn. You'll find itwhere you find it."
"Mr. Crawford ain't strong for the scientific sharps since a collegeprofessor got him to drill a nice straight hole on Round Top plumbhalfway to China," drawled Bob with a grin.
"I suppose it's a gamble," agreed Sanders.
"Worse'n the cattle market, and no livin' man can guess that," said theowner of the D Bar Lazy R dogmatically. "Bob, you better put Dave withthe crew of that wildcat you're spuddin' in, don't you reckon?"
"I'll put him on afternoon tower in place of that fellow Scott. I've beenintendin' to fire him soon as I could get a good man."
"Much obliged to you both. Hope you've found that good man," saidSanders.
"We have. Ain't either of us worryin' about that." With a quizzical smileCrawford raised a point that was in his mind. "Say, son, you talk a heapmore like a book than you used to. You didn't slip one over on us and goto college, did you?"
"I went to school in the penitentiary," Dave said.
He had been immured in a place of furtive, obscene whisperings, but hehad found there not only vice. There was the chance of an education. Hehad accepted it at first because he dared not let himself be idle in hisspare time. That way lay degeneration and the loss of his manhood. He hadstudied under competent instructors English, mathematics, the Spanishgrammar, and mechanical drawing, as well as surveying and stationaryengineering. He had read some of the world's best literature. He hadwaded through a good many histories. If his education in books waslopsided, it was in some respects more thorough than that of many acollege boy.
Dave did not explain all this. He let his simple statement of fact standwithout enlarging on it. His life of late years had tended to make himreticent.
"Heard from Burns yet about that fishin' job on Jackpot Number Three?"Bob asked Crawford.
"Only that he thinks he hooked the tools and lost 'em again. Wisht you'drun out in the mo'nin', son, and see what's doin'. I got to go out to theranch."
"I'll drive out to-night and take Dave with me if he feels up to it. Thenwe'll know the foreman keeps humpin'."
"Fine and dandy." The cattleman turned to Sanders. "But I reckon youbetter stay right here and rest up. Time enough for you to go to workwhen yore shoulder's all right."
"Won't hurt me a bit to drive out with Bob. This thing's going to keep meawake anyhow. I'd rather be outdoors."
They drove out in the buckboard behind the half-broken colts. The youngbroncos went out of town to a flying start. They raced across the plainas hard as they could tear, the light rig swaying behind them as thewheels hit the high spots. Not till they had worn out their first wildenergy was conversation possible.
Bob told of his change of occupation.
"Started dressin' tools on a wildcat test for Crawford two years ago whenhe first begun to plunge in oil. Built derricks for a while. Ran a drill.Dug sump holes. Shot a coupla wells. Went in with a fellow on a star rigas pardner. Went busted and took Crawford's offer to be handy man forhim. Tha's about all, except that I own stock in two-three dead ones andsome that ain't come to life yet."
The road was full of chuck holes and very dusty, both faults due to theheavy travel that went over it day and night. They were in the oil fieldnow and gaunt derricks tapered to the sky to right and left of them.Occasionally Dave could hear the kick of an engine or could see a bigbeam pumping.
"I suppose most of the D Bar Lazy R boys have got into oil some,"suggested Sanders.
"Every man, woman, and kid around is in oil neck deep," Bob answered."Malapi's gone oil crazy. Folks are tradin' and speculatin' in stockand royalty rights that never could amount to a hill o' beans. Slickpromoters are gettin' rich. I've known photographers to fake gushers intheir dark-rooms. The country's full of abandoned wells of bustedcompanies. Oil is a big man's game. It takes capital to operate. I'llbet it ain't onct in a dozen times an investor gets a square run forhis white alley, at that."
"There are crooks in every game."
"Sure, but oil's so darned temptin' to a crook. All the suckers areshovin' money at a promoter. They don't ask his capitalization orinvestigate his field. Lots o' promoters would hate like Sam Hill tostrike oil. If they did they'd have to take care of it. That's a lotof trouble. They can make more organizin' a new company and rakin' inmoney from new investors."
Bob swung the team from the main road and put it at a long rise.
"There ain't nothin' easier than to drop money into a hole in theground and call it an oil well," he went on. "Even if the propositionis absolutely on the level, the chances are all against the investor.It's a fifty-to-one shot. Tools are lost, the casin' collapses, the cablebreaks, money gives out, shootin' is badly done, water filters in, or oilain't there in payin' quantities. In a coupla years you can buy a deskfulof no-good stock for a dollar Mex."
"Then why is everybody in it?"
"We've all been bit by this get-rich-quick bug. If you hit it right inoil you can wear all the diamonds you've a mind to. That's part of it,but it ain't all. The West always did like to take a chance, I reckon.Well, this is gamblin' on a big scale and it gets into a fellow's blood.We're all crazy, but we'd hate to be cured."
The driver stopped at the location of Jackpot Number Three and invitedhis friend to get out.
"Make yoreself to home, Dave. I reckon you ain't sorry that fool team hasquit joltin' yore shoulder."
Sanders was not, but he did not say so. He could stand the pain of hiswound easily enough, but there was enough of it to remind him prettyconstantly that he had been in a fight.
The fishing for the string of lost tools was going on by lamplight. Witha good deal of interest Dave examined the big hooks that had been sentdown in an unsuccessful attempt to draw out the drill. It was a slowbusiness and a not very interesting one.
The tools seemed as hard to hookas a wily old trout. Presently Sanders wandered to the bunkhouse and satdown on the front step. He thought perhaps he had not been wise to comeout with Hart. His shoulder throbbed a good deal.
After a time Bob joined him. Faintly there came to them the sound of anengine thumping.
"Steelman's outfit," said Hart gloomily. "His li'l' old engine goes righton kickin' all the darned time. If he gets to oil first we lose. Man whomakes first discovery on a claim wins out in this country."
"How's that? Didn't you locate properly?"
"Had no time to do the assessment work after we located. Dug a sump hole,maybe. Brad jumps in when the field here began to look up. Company thatshows oil first will sure win out."
"How deep has he drilled?"
"We're a li'l' deeper--not much. Both must be close to the sands. We wereshowin' driller's smut when we lost our string." Bob reached into his hippocket and drew out "the makings." He rolled his cigarette and lit it."I reckon Steelman's a millionaire now--on paper, anyhow. He was aboutbusted when he got busy in oil. He was lucky right off, and he's crookedas a dawg's hind laig--don't care how he gets his, so he gets it. He suretrimmed the suckers a-plenty."
"He and Crawford are still unfriendly," Dave suggested, the inflection ofhis voice making the statement a question.
"Onfriendly!" drawled Bob, leaning back against the step and letting asmoke ring curl up. "Well, tha's a good, nice parlor word. Yes, I reckonyou could call them onfriendly." Presently he went on, in explanation:"Brad's goin' to put Crawford down and out if it can be done by hook orcrook. He's a big man in the country now. We haven't been lucky, like hehas. Besides, the ol' man's company's on the square. This business ain'tlike cows. It takes big money to swing. You make or break mighty sudden."
"Yes."
"And Steelman won't stick at a thing. Wouldn't trust him or any one ofhis crowd any further than I could sling a bull by the tail. He'd blowCrawford and me sky high if he thought he could get away with it."
Sanders nodded agreement. He hadn't a doubt of it.
With a thumb jerk toward the beating engine, Bob took up again his story."Got a bunch of thugs over there right now ready for business ifnecessary. Imported plug-uglies and genuwine blown-in-the-bottle hometalent. Shorty's still one of the gang, and our old friend Dug Doble isboss of the rodeo. I'm lookin' for trouble if we win out and get to oilfirst."
"You think they'll attack."
A gay light of cool recklessness danced in the eyes of the young oilman."I've a kinda notion they'll drap over and pay us a visit one o' thesenights, say in the dark of the moon. If they do--well, we certainly aimto welcome them proper."
Gunsight Pass: How Oil Came to the Cattle Country and Brought a New West Page 17