CHAPTER II
PETER DREW'S LAST MESSAGE
"I'll take a seegar," Mr. Damon Tamroy replied in response to Oliver'sinvitation.
They lighted up and sat at a card-table against one wall of the gloomysaloon.
"You speak of this as a gun country," remarked Oliver.
"Well, it's at least got traditions," returned Mr. Tamroy, adding theunlettered man's apology for his little fanciful flight, "'as the fellasays.' Like father like son, you know. The Seldens are gunmen. Old AdamSelden's dad was a 'Forty-niner; and Adam Selden--the Old Man Selden oftoday--was born right close to here when his dad was about twenty-fiveyears old. Le's see--that makes Old Adam 'round about seventy. But he'sspry and full o' pep, and one o' the best rifle shots in the country.
"He takes after the old man, who was a bad actor in the days o''Forty-nine, and his boys take after him. They're a bad outfit, takin''em all in all. The boys are Hurlock, Moffat, Bolar, and Winthrop--fourof 'em. All gunmen. Then there's Jessamy Selden--the only girl--whoain't rightly a Selden at all. None o' the old man's blood in Jessamy,o' course. Mis' Selden--she was an Ivison before she marriedLomax--Myrtle Ivison was her name--she's a fine lady. But she won'tleave the old man for all his wickedness, and Miss Jessamy won't leaveher mother. So there you are!"
"I see," said Oliver musingly, not at all displeased with the presentsubject of conversation.
"Now, here's this Digger Foss," Tamroy went on. "He's half-American,quarter-Chinaman, and quarter-Digger-Indian. The last's what gives himhis name. There's a tribe o' Digger Indians close to here. He's killedtwo men and got away with it. Now he's added a third to his list, andlikely he'll get away with that. The rest o' the Poison Oakers are ObedPence, Ed Buchanan, Jay Muenster, and Chuck Allegan--ten in all."
"Just what are the Poison Oakers?" Oliver asked as Damon Tamroy pausedreflectively.
"Well, _anybody_ who lives in this country is called a Poison Oaker.You're one now. The woods about this country are full o' poison oak, andthat's where we get the name. That's what outsiders call us. But when weourselves speak of Poison Oakers we mean Old Man Selden's gang--him, hisfour sons, and the hombres I just mentioned--a regular old back-countrygang o' rowdies, toughs, would-be bad men. You know what I mean.
"They just drifted together by natural instinct, I reckon. Old ManSelden shot a man up around Willow Twig, and come clean at the trial.Obed Pence is a thief, and did a stretch for cattle rustlin' here aboutthree years ago. Chuck and Ed have both done something to make 'emeligible--knife fightin' at country dances, and the like. And the Seldenboys are chips off the old block."
"But what is the gang's particular purpose?"
"Meanness, s'far's I c'n see! Just meanness! Old Man Selden owns a ranchdown your way that you can get to only by a trail. No wheeled vehiclecan get in. All the boys live there with him. Kind of a colony, for twoo' the boys are married. The other Poison Oakers live here and thereabout the country, on ranches. Ambition don't worry none of 'em much.Old Man Selden's said to distil jackass brandy, but it's never beenproved."
"Now about the Old Tabor Ivison Place?" said Oliver.
"Well, it's there yet, I reckon; but I ain't been down that way foryears. Now and then a deer hunt leads me into Clinker Creek Canyon, butnot often.
"It's a lonely, deserted place, and the road to it is fierce. Severalfamilies lived down in there thirty years ago; but the places have beenabandoned long since, and all the folks gone God knows where. It's apretty country if a fella likes trees and rocks and things, and wild andrough; but down in that canyon it's too cold for pears and suchfruit--and that's about all we raise on these rocky hills.
"Old Tabor Ivison homesteaded your place. He's been dead matter o'fifteen years. Died down there. For years he'd lived there all by'imself. Good old man. Asked for little in life--and got it.
"But for years now all that country's been abandoned. There's prettygood pickin's down in there; and Old Man Selden and some more o' thePoison Oakers have been runnin' cattle on all of it."
"I'm glad there's pasture," Oliver interposed.
"Oh, pasture's all right. But Selden's outfit has looked at that land astheirs for so long that you won't find it particularly congenial. You'rebound to have trouble with the Poison Oakers, Mr. Drew, and I'd considerthe land not worth it. Why, I can buy a thousan' acres down in there fortwo and a half an acre! You'll starve to death if you have to depend onthat forty for a livin'. How come you to own the place?"
"My father willed it to me," Oliver replied.
"Your father?"
"Yes, Peter Drew. Have you ever heard of him?"
"No," returned Damon Tamroy. "I reckon he was here before my time. How'dhe come by the place? I thought one o' the Ivison girls--Nancy--stillowned it."
"I'm sure I can't tell you how Dad came to own it," Oliver made answer."I haven't an abstract of title. I know, though, that Dad owned it forsome time before his death."
"Well, well!" Damon Tamroy's eyes roved curiously over the young manonce more. They steadied themselves on the silver-mounted Spanish spurson Oliver's riding boots. "Travellin' horseback?" he wanted to know, andhis look of puzzlement deepened.
"Yes," said Oliver a little bitterly. "I'm riding about all that Ipossess in this world, since you have pronounced the Old Tabor IvisonPlace next to worthless." He grew thoughtful. "You're puzzled over me,"he smiled at last. "Frankly, though, you're no more puzzled over me thanI am over myself and my rather odd situation. I'm a man of mystery." Helaughed. "I think I'll tell you all about it.
"As far back as I can remember, my home has been on a cow ranch in thesouthern part of the state. I can't remember my mother, who died when Iwas very young. I always thought my father wealthy until he died, twoweeks ago, and his will was read to me. He had orange and lemon grovesbesides the cattle ranch, and was a stockholder in a substantial countrybank. I was graduated at the State University, and went from there toFrance. Since, I've been resting up and sort of managing Dad's property.
"My father was a peculiar man, and was never overly confidential withme. He was uneducated, as the term is understood today--arough-and-ready old Westerner who had made his strike and settled downto peaceful days--or so I always imagined. But two weeks ago he diedsuddenly from a stroke of apoplexy; and when his will was read to me Igot a jolt from which I haven't yet recovered.
"The home ranch and the other real estate, together with all livestockand appurtenances--with one exception, which I shall mention later--werewilled to the Catholic Church, to be handled as they saw fit. It seemedthat there was little else to be disposed of. I was left five hundreddollars in cash, a saddle horse named Poche, a silver-mounted bridle andsaddle and martingales, the old Spanish spurs you see on my feet, andthe Old Tabor Ivison Place, in Chaparral County, of which I knew almostnothing. That was all--with the exception of the written instructions inmy father's handwriting that were given me by his lawyers. Maybe you canthrow some light on the matter, Mr. Tamroy. Would you care to hear myfather's last message to me?"
Tamroy evinced his eagerness by scraping forward his chair.
Oliver took from a leather billbook a folded piece of paper. "I don'tknow that I ought to," he smiled, "but, after all, I'll never learn themystery of it if I keep the matter from people about here. So here goes:
"'_My dear son Oliver_:
"'As you know perfectly well, I am an ignorant old Westerner. There is no use mincing matters in regard to this. When I was young I didn't have much of a chance to get an education; but when I grew up and married, and you was born, I said you'd never be allowed to grow up in ignorance like I did. So I tried to give you an education, and you didn't fail me.'
"'I did this for a double purpose, Oliver. I knew that I was going to die someday, and that then you'd have to settle a little matter that's bothered me since before you was born. For pretty near thirty years, Oliver, I've had a problem to fight; and I never knew how to settle the matter because I wasn
't educated. So I let it rest and waited for you to grow up, and go through college. And now that's happened; and you're educated and fit to answer the question that's bothered me for nearly half my life. The answer is either Yes or No, and you've got to find out which is right.'
"'I'm leaving you Poche, the best cow horse in Southern California, my old silver-mounted saddle that's carried me thousands of miles, the martingales, and my old silver-mounted bridle, which same three things made me the envy of all the vaqueros of the Clinker Creek Country over thirty years ago, and my Spanish spurs that go along with the outfit. These things, Oliver, and five hundred dollars in Cash, and forty acres of land on Clinker Creek, in Chaparral county, called the Old Tabor Ivison Place.'
"'They are all you'll need to find the answer to the question that's bothered me for thirty years. Buckle on the spurs, throw the saddle on Poche, bridle him, put the five hundred dollars and the deed to the Old Tabor Ivison Place in your jeans, and hit the trail for Clinker Creek. Stay there till you know whether the answer is Yes or No. Then go to my lawyers and tell them which it is. And the God of your mother go with you!'
"'Your affectionate father,'
"'PETER DREW.'
"'In his seventy-third year.'"
Oliver folded the paper. Damon Tamroy only sat and stared at him.
The Heritage of the Hills Page 2