Collected Works of Zane Grey

by Zane Grey

  Mr. Lindsay had not been seen by a member of the family since early morning, nor had Neale put in an appearance. This latter circumstance caused Mrs. Lindsay much concern, and she was finally silenced by a caustic remark from Lenta to the effect that Neale did not have nerve enough to get into real trouble. Finally Mr. Lindsay returned, tired out and pale, but quite excited. He bade them go into dinner and he would follow promptly.

  This they did, and to Harriet’s satisfaction they did not go unnoticed, especially Florence. Then the father joined them to announce that “he had been and gone and done it.”

  A contrast to Harriet’s consternation was Mrs. Lindsay’s inquiry about Neale.

  “Last I saw of that nincompoop he was playing pool,” replied Lindsay, shortly.

  “John, you should have looked after him,” said the mother, reprovingly.

  “Neale will look after himself and I hope he gets his eye-teeth cut.” He was impatient with his wife and turned to Harriet and her sisters. “Eat your dinners. I’m too excited to eat. Besides, I had three or four stiff drinks. I’ll talk.”

  And he did, with the effect of shocking his wife and taking Harriet’s breath. He had met Allen and his foreman, as agreed, and had gone over maps and papers and figures, to consummate and settle the Spanish Peaks Ranch deal then and there. Before giving them time to ask questions he explained that he had really committed himself to the deal by correspondence, and as long as he was satisfied with representation, had decided to close the thing at once.

  “John, you should have seen what you bargained for before paying,” reproved Mrs. Lindsay, severely.

  “Well, after I heard the ranch described I knew you womenfolk wouldn’t let me buy it if we saw it, so I took the bull by the horns. Allen is a bluff Westerner. Selling ranches and cattle is common with him. He introduced me to Garden City business men who evidently regarded the deal one of mutual advantage. The location is extremely healthful and beautiful, which I made clear was the main issue. Allen sold approximately ten thousand head of stock, including horses, mules, steers, cows. His foreman Arlidge — Luke Arlidge, who by the way, will catch the eye of you girls — could not give an exact estimate of the number, but it was around ten thousand. Finally I told Allen the price was a little high. He said he did not care to sell to anyone who was not perfectly satisfied, and asked me what I’d pay. I told him. He accepted. We went to a bank where the transfer was made. . . . We now have a ranch, a home to build up. So don’t look so sober. It’s done, and I won’t squeal if I do get a little the worst of it in a business way. I can afford it. The big thing is I feel a new man already. Instead of being cooped up over a desk all day I’ll be out in the open — in the sun.”

  “Father, you have trusted men before to your sorrow,” was all Harriet ventured to say. What more could be said? He had been set on the Western ranch idea from the very beginning, and now he had had his way. No doubt his feeling of gain and hope should be taken into consideration.

  “Both Allen and Arlidge will drop in at the hotel later,” went on Lindsay. “I asked them to dinner, but they begged off on that, having come in their ranch togs. They are driving out tomorrow, so it is just as well you meet them when the chance offers. I couldn’t remember the things you wanted to know about.”

  Mrs. Lindsay joined in the discussion then, relative to the property and its prospective needs. The dinner ended without Neale having joined them, but the girls encountered him on the stairs. He was in no mood to be questioned and rushed on to his room.

  “He had a black eye,” asserted Florence, certainly more speculative than sympathetic. “Did you see that, Lent?”

  “I should smile,” retorted Lenta, highly diverted. “Some Westerner has punched our darling.”

  “Oh dear! Oh dear!” cried Mrs. Lindsay, who had seen and heard. At the head of the stairs she left them, presumably to console her afflicted favorite. The girls went into the parlor while Mr. Lindsay waited downstairs for his callers.

  “Flo, old girl, we’re stuck. Pa’s done it,” remarked Lenta. Florence’s silent acceptance was not conducive to hopefulness. Nevertheless, Harriet did her best to bring up pictures of prospective work, fun and home-making, and of the undoubted fact that they were committed to the wild and lonely West for good.

  Presently their father entered the parlor accompanied by two tall men, of striking enough appearance to have interested any Easterner. They were introduced to Harriet and her sisters. The rancher, Lester Allen, was no longer young and had a face like a hawk. He wore a dark suit, the trousers of which were tucked in high top boots. He carried a huge tan sombrero and a whip. It did not take a moment to prove him shy and awkward in the presence of women.

  The other man, Luke Arlidge, did not suffer from his marked contrast. He manifested a bold and admiring ease. He made a superb figure of a man, still young, scarcely thirty, though his bronzed hard, lean face, his eagle eyes, indicated long years of experience. His garb was what Harriet took for that of the plains rider. He was spurred, booted, belted over rough dusty apparel, and most conspicuous was the ivory-handled gun that swung from his hip, and the absence of any coat.

  Mrs. Lindsay came in, and presently all were seated in a half-circle.

  “Now, Allen, you must allow yourself to be questioned,” said Lindsay, happily. “This is my family, except my only boy, and they want to know things.”

  “Fire away,” replied Allen.

  Lenta was not in the least embarrassed in the presence of these impressive Westerners.

  “Is it lonesome?” she asked.

  “Wal, I’d say shore, if you mean the ranch-house. The coyotes and wolves howl at night an’ the wind moans. Only three ranches inside of fifty miles. Two days by hossback to La Junta an’ six by buckboard to Denver.”

  “Heavens!” was Lenta’s reply, but undaunted she ventured one more query.

  “Any young people?”

  “Wal, if you call my cow-punchers people, there’s shore a heap of them. Ten all told, isn’t it, Luke?”

  “No. Only nine. I let Happy go,” replied the foreman.

  “Only nine!” murmured Lenta.

  “Thet’s all now. But your father will need three or four more.”

  “No girls?” queried Florence, thoughtfully.

  “Let’s see. There’s one — two — at the nearest ranches. No more closer than La Junta.”

  That seemed to exhaust the interest of the two younger members of the Lindsay family, whereupon their mother had her opportunity. The upshot of her swift and numerous queries brought out that Spanish Peaks Ranch consisted of weather, landscape, a stone-and-clay house with two wings, porches, doors, and patio on the inside, facing east.

  “It used to be an old fort. Built by trappers who traded with the Utes an’ Kiowas. There’s a fine spring comes right up inside the patio an’ some big cottonwoods. It’s shore pleasant summer or winter.”

  “And the house itself is practically empty?” concluded Mrs. Lindsay.

  “Wal, it will be. I’m movin’ some wagons of furniture, beddin’, an’ sich, which you wouldn’t want. My other ranch is about two days’ ride north. I’ve a cabin there an’ some stock. How many haid of cattle there now, Luke?”

  “I don’t know, boss. Mebbe two thousand, mebbe four,” replied Arlidge.

  “We must figure on hauling in everything to make a home?” asked Lindsay, rubbing his hands as if the prospect was alluring.

  “Wal, I reckon so, if you want comfort,” drawled the rancher.

  “How far to drive loaded wagons?”

  “Four days, with good luck.”

  “And La Junta is only two?”

  “No. It’d be more fer wagons. We figured Garden City was your best startin’-point, because of the good stores where you can buy, an’ then mostly level road out to the ranch.”

  “How about wagons and horses? Did you fetch some in for me?”

  “No. We’ve been bad off for wagons an’ teams. I’m leavin’ you the
chuck-wagon. You’ll have to buy wagons an’ teams here. Luke has made a deal for you. Man named Hazelit will call on you here. Wagons, though, you’ll get at the Harvester Company store. There’s saddle hosses aplenty.”

  So the practical questioning went on, with Harriet listening silently and her two younger sisters losing interest. Harriet’s deductions during that half-hour were not reassuring. Allen did not inspire her with great confidence, though he seemed frank enough. She had dealt with thousands of men while bookkeeper in her father’s ship-chandler and general merchandise business, and her intuition never went wrong if her perspicuity sometimes was amiss. As for Arlidge, he was quickly gauged as a strong, subtle personality, bold and crafty under a pleasing exterior. It was not only a blush that mantled Harriet’s neck, which her gown had left modestly bare: she felt burned by a lightning glance from Arlidge’s piercing eyes. But it had been so swift that she could not be sure some of her reaction was not due to her habitual reserve. Later, however, this glance leaped upon Florence, as she sat there in her young fair beauty. Only then did Harriet yield to distrust of her father’s venture. Toward the end of that interview Harriet chose to break silence.

  “Mr. Arlidge, I understand a foreman’s duty is to manage the ranch. Am I correct?” queried Harriet, looking him in the eyes.

  “Yes. An’ managin’ a ranch is most handlin’ the riders an’ stock,” replied Arlidge, pleased to be questioned by her.

  “What’s the number of horses and cattle my father has purchased?”

  “She’ll pin you down, Arlidge,” laughed Lindsay. “She was my foreman for years.”

  This manifestly was not so pleasant. Arlidge kept his smile, but he shifted a little uneasily.

  “I don’t know, Miss Lindsay. We sold in a lump. Somewhere around ten thousand haid.”

  “Don’t you count the heads when you sell?”

  “Sometimes, in small bunches.”

  “Oh, I see. You mean then in this case a number a little more or less than ten thousand?”

  “Not more. An’ mebbe a good deal less. Your father was satisfied with a rough estimate. But I’ll have a count when you come out, if thet will please you.”

  “Yes, do. But it’s a matter of business. I shall continue to keep my father’s books, and will take immediate steps to learn the ropes — or lassoes, I suppose I should say,” returned Harriet, with a laugh.

  “A bookkeeper on a big ranch is somethin’ new, especially when it’s a handsome young woman,” said Arlidge, sincere in his dubiousness.

  “Thank you. I dare say it’s a much-needed innovation in your slipshod method of cattle-selling,” returned Harriet, lightly. “Mr. Arlidge, are you going to remain at Spanish Peaks Ranch as my father’s foreman?”

  “He shore is, Miss. I sold him along with the stock. Nobody but Luke could ever handle thet fire-eatin’ outfit of riders,” interposed Allen as he rose, sombrero in hand.

  Arlidge likewise got up, lithe and graceful, a forceful, doubtful character. He fastened eyes of admiration upon Harriet.

  “No, Miss Lindsay, I wasn’t shore I’d stay on at Spanish Peaks until I met you — an’ all,” he replied, gallantly.

  Then the Westerners bade the company good-night and left, with Lindsay accompanying them to the door, where he was heard planning to see them early next day, before they left. He hurried back to confront his family. It thrilled Harriet to see him so keen and enthusiastic.

  “Tell me, one by one, what do you think,” he beamed.

  “Well, John, there is one good thing about this deal. It’ll take plenty of work and money to make your old fort livable,” replied his wife, complacently, and that from her was assuredly favorable.

  “Well, Lent?”

  “Pa, I’ll shore upset thet outfit of cow-punchers,” returned the youngest of the Lindsays. Already she was imitating the drawl and words of the Westerners.

  “You Flo?”

  “Like it fine. Why didn’t you tell us the place was Spanish? That porch all around the patio — the big cottonwoods and the spring! I must have a Spanish hammock, embroidered shawl, lace mantilla, castanets — and the rest of the duds. If they can’t be bought here, I surely will find them in that La Junta town.”

  This was a long speech for the beauty of the family and it had telling effect.

  Lindsay turned to Harriet: “My bookkeeper lass, what is your say?”

  She smiled tenderly upon him, and suddenly kissed his cheek. When had she seen a little color in them?

  “Father darling, you have been tricked — robbed so far as the cattle deal is concerned. But if you are happy and are sure you’ll get well and strong — I am heart and soul for our Spanish Peaks Ranch.”

  CHAPTER IV

  ON SUNDAY GARDEN City appeared to become a deserted village, as far as the main street was concerned. The short walk that Harriet took with her mother discovered but few people and these were on the side streets. Outside of this interval the whole of that day was devoted to planning of purchases for their newly acquired home. Fortunately they were not limited as to means; otherwise they would have faced a sorry prospect.

  Naturally there were several squabbles in the family, precipitated by the younger Lindsays. Mrs. Lindsay gave Harriet the duty of censorship over each individual list. To Florence she said: “Substitute these articles I checked with things that will make your room livable.” To Lenta: “Child, you’ve done pretty well, but if you ate all the candy listed here we’d need a doctor.” And to Neale: “I’ll talk to father about the saddles, chaps, guns, on yours. I should think one of each would be sufficient to start on, if you are to be permitted freedom with such.”

  What this trio said to Harriet was vastly more forceful than elegant. Neale left in high dudgeon to take his case to his court of appeal — his mother.

  After dinner Mr. Lindsay summoned them to meet a remarkable Westerner. This was the famous plainsman, Buffalo Jones. Upon first sight Jones struck Harriet singularly and not favorably. He was a rugged man in the prime of life, tall, erect, broad-shouldered, with a physiognomy that baffled her. Like so many of these Westerners he had a hard cast of face, and eyes narrowed by years of exposure to the open. They were light-blue eyes and looked right through Harriet. His smile, however, seemed to change the ruthless, craggy set of mouth and chin. After all the Lindsays had been introduced Jones won Harriet over in a single speech.

  “Wal, I shore am glad to meet you-all. It’s a lucky day for the West. Lindsay, you’re still a young man an’ in a few months you’ll be strong as an ox, ridin’ all day. Mrs. Lindsay, you will soon accustom yourself to the plains an’ be a pioneer’s wife. It’s a hard but wonderful life. . . . An’ what shall I say to these handsome, healthy girls? Wal, I wish I were a young man again. Three strappin’ riders somewhere out there don’t know the great good luck in store for them. . . . Young man, you’ve got good eyes — at least one of them is — an’ a good chin. But you’re kind of pale round the gills an’ your hands are soft. Look out for the cow-punchers, keep quiet an’ work — that’s Buffalo Jones’ hunch.”

  Jones appeared to strike them all, except possibly Neale, to be the Westerner they needed to meet. Lenta did not show the least awe and her first wide-eyed query, accompanied by her irresistible smile, evidently pleased him: “Why do they call you Buffalo Jones? Are you another Buffalo Bill?”

  “Yes, in a way. Bill an’ I are friends and we both were buffalo-hunters, but now I’m putting my energies to savin’ buffalo. I lassoed an’ captured most of the live buffalo left today, of course when they were calves.”

  “How thrilling! Oh, tell us about it,” burst out Lenta.

  “Hold on, Lent,” spoke up her father, gaily. “I lassoed and captured Buffalo Jones. I’d like to hear wild stories as well as you. But let’s not wear him out. What we need to get straight is the thing we’re up against. This West — our lately acquired ranch — what we must expect — and do — in fact all a family of blessed tenderfeet needs to know.�
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  Jones presented a contrast to most of the aloof Westerners they had seen and met. Harriet was quick to grasp that it was because he loved the country, had been and no doubt still was a factor in its development, and that he delighted in the acquisition of new pioneer blood.

  They led him upstairs to the parlor, which was empty, and all of them seemed inspired by his presence. It was Jones, however, who took the initiative by plying Mr. Lindsay with questions. In a few moments he was in possession of all the facts about Lindsay’s deal with Allen.

  “Wal, wal, you are a fast stepper. I hope it’s all right. I’ll look into it. . . . Spanish Peaks Ranch? It’s over in Colorado. Beautiful country, fine range, ideal for cattle. A high dry climate.”

  Then he asked further questions as to distances from towns, railroad, market, water, and lastly the ranch-house.

  “Big place, stone and mortar, built round some cottonwood trees and a spring — —”

  “O Lord! Is that your ranch-house? Wal! — I’ve been there. You needn’t fear that it’ll blow down or that you can’t keep the wolves and cold out in winter.”

  “Dear me!” sighed Mrs. Lindsay. Harriet hid what the two younger girls expressed. But Neale was eager to know more about the wolves, the hunting, the wildness. Jones rather endeavored to retrieve the dismaying impression he had conveyed, despite the fact that if he was not dismayed for them he certainly was concerned.

  “May I ask if you are prepared to spend considerable more money to make this place possible for your women folk?”

  “Oh yes. I expected that. I can afford it.”

  “Wal now, that puts a different light on the matter,” said Jones, with satisfaction. “You can make that old fort one of the show places of the West. Like Maxwell’s Ranch over in New Mexico. . . . Will you arrange for me to meet this Lester Allen and his foreman?”

  “I’m sorry. They left town at daybreak. I had planned to meet them here at the hotel. But they had breakfast before I was up.”

  “Wal, you don’t say!” ejaculated Jones, plainly surprised. “An’ the deal was only settled yesterday?”