CHAPTER II
"I'LL BE SEVENTEEN, COMING GRASS"
The camper looked up from the antelope steak he was frying, to watch aman cross the shallow creek. In the clear morning light of the Southwesthis eyes had picked the rider out of the surrounding landscape nearly anhour before. For at least one fourth of the time since this discovery hehad been aware that his approaching visitor was Pedro Menendez, of theA T O ranch.
"Better 'light, son," suggested Roberts.
The Mexican flashed a white-toothed smile at the sizzling steak, tookone whiff of the coffee and slid from the saddle. Eating was one of thethings that Pedro did best.
"The ol' man--he sen' me," the boy explained. "He wan' you at theranch."
Further explanation waited till the edge of Pedro's appetite wasblunted. The line-rider lighted a cigarette and casually asked aquestion.
"Whyfor does he want me?"
It developed that the Mexican had been sent to relieve Roberts becausethe latter was needed to take charge of a trail herd. Not by the flickerof an eyelash did the line-rider show that this news meant anything tohim. It was promotion--better pay, a better chance for advancement, aneasier life. But Jack Roberts had learned to take good and ill fortunewith the impassive face of a gambler.
"Keep an eye out for rustlers, Pedro," he advised before he left. "Youwant to watch Box Canon. Unless I'm 'way off, the Dinsmore gang areoperatin' through it. I 'most caught one red-handed the other day. Luckyfor me I didn't. You an' Jumbo would 'a' had to bury me out on the loneprairee."
Nearly ten hours later Jack Roberts dismounted in front of thewhitewashed adobe house that was the headquarters of the A T O ranch. Onthe porch an old cattleman sat slouched in a chair tilted back againstthe wall, a run-down heel of his boot hitched in the rung. The wrinkledcoat he wore hung on him like a sack, and one leg of his trousers hadcaught at the top of the high boot. The owner of the A T O was aheavy-set, powerful man in the early fifties. Just now he was smoking acorncob pipe.
The keen eyes of the cattleman watched lazily the young line-rider comeup the walk. Most cowboys walked badly; on horseback they might be kingsof the earth, but out of the saddle they rolled like sailors. ClintWadley noticed that the legs of this young fellow were straight and thathe trod the ground lightly as a buck in mating-season.
"He'll make a hand," was Wadley's verdict, one he had arrived at afternearly a year of shrewd observation.
But no evidence of satisfaction in his employee showed itself in thegreeting of the "old man." He grunted what might pass for "Howdy!" ifone were an optimist.
Roberts explained his presence by saying: "You sent for me, Mr. Wadley."
"H'm! That durned fool York done bust his laig. Think you can take aherd up the trail to Tascosa?"
"Yes, sir."
"That's the way all you brash young colts talk. But how many of 'em willyou lose on the way? How sorry will they look when you deliver the herd?That's what I'd like to know."
Jack Roberts was paying no attention to the grumbling of his boss--for ayoung girl had come out of the house. She was a slim little thing, witha slender throat that carried the small head like the stem of a rose.Dark, long-lashed eyes, eager and bubbling with laughter, were fixed onWadley. She had slipped out on tiptoe to surprise him. Her soft fingerscovered his eyes.
"Guess who!" she ordered.
"Quit yore foolishness," growled the cattleman. "Don't you-all see I'mtalkin' business?" But the line-rider observed that his arm encircledthe waist of the girl.
With a flash of shy eyes the girl caught sight of Roberts, who had beenhalf hidden from her behind the honeysuckle foliage.
"Oh! I didn't know," she cried.
The owner of the A T O introduced them. "This is Jack Roberts, one of mytrail foremen. Roberts--my daughter Ramona. I reckon you can see foryoreself she's plumb spoiled."
A soft laugh welled from the throat of the girl. She knew that for herat least her father was all bark and no bite.
"It's you that is spoiled, Dad," she said in the slow, sweet voice ofthe South. "I've been away too long, but now I'm back I mean to bringyou up right. Now I'll leave you to your business."
The eyes of the girl rested for a moment on those of the line-rider asshe nodded good-bye. Jack had never before seen Ramona Wadley, nor forthat matter had he seen her brother Rutherford. Since he had been in theneighborhood, both of them had been a good deal of the time in Tennesseeat school, and Jack did not come to the ranch-house once in threemonths. It was hard to believe that this dainty child was the daughterof such a battered hulk as Clint Wadley. He was what the wind and thesun and the tough Southwest had made him. And she--she was a daughter ofthe morning.
But Wadley did not release Ramona. "Since you're here you might as wellgo through with it," he said. "What do you want?"
"What does a woman always want?" she asked sweetly, and then answeredher own question. "Clothes--and money to buy them--lots of it. I'm goingto town to-morrow, you know."
"H'm!" His grunt was half a chuckle, half a growl. "Do you call yoreselfa woman--a little bit of a trick like you? Why, I could break you intwo."
She drew herself up very straight. "I'll be seventeen, coming grass. Andit's much more likely, sir, that I'll break you--as you'll find out whenthe bills come in after I've been to town."
With that she swung on her heel and vanished inside the house.
The proud, fond eyes of the cattleman followed her. It was an easy guessthat she was the apple of his eye.
But when he turned to business again his manner was gruffer than usual.He was a trifle crisper to balance the effect of his new foreman havingdiscovered that he was as putty in the hands of this slip of a girl.
"Well, you know where you're at, Roberts. Deliver that herd without anyloss for strays, fat, an' in good condition, an' you won't need to goback to line-ridin'. Fall down on the job, an' you'll never get anotherchance to drive A T O cows."
"That's all I ask, Mr. Wadley," the cowboy answered. "An' much obligedfor the chance."
"Don't thank me. Thank York's busted laig," snapped his chief. "We'llmake the gather for the drive to-morrow an' Friday."
Oh, You Tex! Page 3