Hope Hathaway: A Story of Western Ranch Life

by Frances Parker

  CHAPTER X

  "We'll beat any cow-pony workin' on the round-up," declared thesoft-voiced twin as he coiled up the stake-rope and tied it on to hissaddle.

  It was four o'clock in the afternoon of the same day. School had beendismissed and the dozen children of various sizes were stragglinghomeward. Hope stood beside her horse patiently waiting for the twins togo, but they seemed in no particular hurry. She listened absent-mindedlyto the boys' conversation.

  "An' another thing about this pony o' mine, he'll never slack up on arope," continued Dan. "Once you've got a rope on a steer he'll neverbudge till the cinch busts off the saddle. He'll just sit right back onhis haunches an' _pull_. Yes, sir; you'd think he knew just as much as aman!"

  Dave grunted. "He's all right 'nough, only he'll bust the bridle if youtie him, an' he won't stand without bein' tied. He'll buck if he'scinched too tight or gets too much to eat, an' he ain't fit for a ladyto ride, nohow. He's an Indian pinto to boot, a regular fool calicopony! Now _my_ horse is an all 'round good one, an' so gentle any ladycan ride him, just like any sensible horse ought to be."

  "Yes, that's all he's good for, is to stand 'round an' look pretty, likesome o' these here bloods--an' them pretty soldiers over to the post. Inotice when there's any real work to be done, Mr. Dude ain't in it. Oh,he can stand 'round an' look pretty all right, but the pinto's the bestall 'round, an's got the most sense!"

  Their discussion seemed at an end, for the soft-voiced twin havingfastened the rope securely, walked around to the other side of his pintoand had just turned the stirrup toward him, preliminary to mounting,when the other boy grasped him roughly by the collar, throwing himbackward to the ground.

  "That's my lariat; you hand it over here!" he exclaimed gruffly;thereupon the soft-voiced twin picked himself up, very carefully brushedthe dust from his sleeve, and answered slowly, in a particularly sweettone:

  "I ain't a-goin' to fight you here in front of the teacher. That's myrope. Go an' get it if you want it! But _she's_ got yourn. I saw herpick it up by mistake this mornin'. You've tied up your dude cayusetwice with her'n to-day. Must have somethin' the matter with your eyes.I ain't a-goin' to lick you er fight with you, but I'm goin' to get evenwith you for this!"

  "Here's your rope," said Hope, taking it from her saddle and handing itto the boy. Dave took it shamefacedly, throwing her rope on the ground,then hid himself on the opposite side of his pony. In an instant thesoft-voiced twin picked up the teacher's stake-rope, coiled it, and tiedit on to her saddle.

  The girl stood to one side watching him. She wondered at his quickness.He must have inherited something of his grandmother's acuteness. But hersympathy turned to the other boy--big, clumsy, rough Dave. He wasstanding out of sight behind his horse, embarrassed by his own error.Hope felt sorry for him. She had already found it very difficult to keeppeace between these boys and herself. Each day brought some new rufflethat required all her wit to smooth over.

  The soft-voiced twin handed the bridle reins to her, then turned to hisown horse, which had wandered away toward more tempting pasture. Thegirl thanked him, and walked over to Dave. He looked at her sullenly, acertain dogged obstinacy in his eyes. She had intended to say somethingkind to him, instead she spoke indifferently, yet to the point.

  "Go home with Dan the same as usual. Say nothing about it, but get myrifle and meet me here at the school in two hours--six o'clock. There isa big flock of chickens that fly over that point every evening."

  The boy made no reply, but his face changed noticeably, and he jumped onhis horse, calling his twin to hurry up; but the soft-voiced boy had nonotion of leaving his teacher, so Dave, with a savage whoop, ran hispony to the top of the hill, leaving the school-house and hisuncomfortable feelings far in the background.

  "Why don't you go with him?" asked the girl.

  "I'm waitin' for you," replied the boy.

  "But I'm not going just now. You'd better run along with Dave."

  "I ain't in no hurry."

  "Aren't you? Well, that is good, for I just happened to think ofsomething. I want you to go down to Pete La Due's place where they arebranding, and hang around awhile and keep your ears open. There will bea lot of breeds there, and some of those men over on Crow Creek, andmaybe something will be said that we ought to know about. Youunderstand. You are my faithful scout, you know. And anotherthing--don't try to pay Dave back for what he did. He's sorry enoughabout it."

  The boy's face took on a shrewd, determined expression, causing him atonce to look years older. For an instant Hope imagined that heresembled his aged grandmother, old White Blanket, the "witch."

  "I'll go over there," he replied, "an' I'll see what I can find out, butabout Dave--I'll get even with him if it takes me ten years. He needsteachin'."

  "We all do," said the girl thoughtfully. "I have begun a series oflessons myself--on humanity. No, on sympathy, on what is expected of awomanly woman. We're lucky when we have a good teacher, aren't we? Butit's pretty hard to learn what doesn't come natural. Remember Dave isn'tlike you. He wasn't made like you, and never will be like you. Think ofthis, and don't be hard on him, that's a good boy."

  The soft-voiced twin smiled sweetly, and mounting his horse, remarked:

  "I expect I'd better be movin' over there if I'm goin' to find outanything to-day."

  "Yes," said Hope, pleased that he should leave her at last. "I thinkyou're right. Be sure to come home before bedtime and _report_."

  The boy dug his heels into the pinto's sides, starting off on a bound.She watched him, absent-mindedly, until he disappeared over thehill-top, then she rode away at a lively canter toward the sheep-man'sranch.

  A horseman came rapidly toward her before she reached Livingston's gate.It was a slender, boyish figure, who sat his horse with remarkable easeand grace. The girl frowned savagely when she saw him, but only for aninstant. He waved his hat above his dark head and called to her from thedistance. His voice possessed a rich musical ring which might have stoodfor honesty and youthful buoyancy.

  When Hope met him she was smiling. In fun she passed rapidly, seeingwhich he wheeled his horse about, caught up with her, and leaning farover, grasped the bridle, bringing her horse to a stand-still besidehim. It was an old trick of his boyhood. The girl's ringing laughterreached a small group of men at work with shovels upon the rise of agreen knoll not far away. They stopped work and listened, but the notesdied away and nothing more could be heard.

  "That wasn't fair, Syd!" she cried. "I thought you'd forgotten it. I wasgoing to run you a race."

  "Rowdy's thin, he couldn't run. A stake-rope don't agree with him, andI'll bet he hasn't seen an oat since you've been here," he answered,growing sober. "Hopie, dear, leave these breeds and go home, that's agood girl! I can't bear to have you stay there. You've been up here aweek and you look thin already. I'll bet you're starving right now!Come, own up, aren't you hungry?"

  "I hadn't thought of it," replied Hope. "But now that you remind me, Ibelieve I am--the least bit. A steady diet of eggs--boiled in their_own_ shells, is apt to make one hungry at times for a good dinner. Butwhat's the difference? I feel fine. It certainly agrees."

  "But that's terrible! Eggs! Eggs only--eggs in the shell. Haven't youbrought yourself to meat, bread, and potatoes yet? Eggs only! It's ajoke, Hope, but somehow I can't feel amused. I've eaten eggs for a mealor two, around those places, but a week of it! Hope, your father wantsyou. Go home to him!"

  "No; you see it's this way, Sydney, I couldn't if I would, and Iwouldn't if I could. I couldn't because father told me to stay until theschool term ended, and I wouldn't because--I like it here. It's new andexciting. I feel just like a boy does in going out into the world forthe first time. You know how that is, Syd, how you roamed about formonths and months. You had your fling and then you were satisfied."

  "I know," said Carter softly, stroking her horse's neck. "But you hadsuch a free 'fling' there at the ranch, what else could you want? Youhad your choice between the ranch and New York. You
could travel if youwished. Surely there was nothing left to be desired. You can't make mebelieve that you really like it up here among these breeds, teaching ahandful of stupid children their A B C's! I can't see the attraction.Clarice Van Rensselaer with the Cresmonds and that little jayEnglishman, Rosehill, are due at the ranch this week. You like Clarice;go home, Hope, and look after things there. You're needed, and you knowit. Do go, that's a good girlie!"

  "Don't say anything more about it to me, Sydney. I can't go, I'm notgoing, and I want to forget for this one summer about the ranch andeveryone on it."

  "I am wasting my breath, but yet," he looked at her searchingly, "Idon't understand you in this. I see no attraction here for you. Why,even the hunting isn't good! I'll not admit that there is any attractionfor you in this Englishman over here. You've known dozens of them, andyou've always expressed an aversion to every one. I'm not going to bescared of one lone Englishman!" He grasped her hand and his facedarkened. "Hope, if I thought you would ever care for him I'd----"

  She interrupted:

  "You need not finish that! Show a little manhood! Oh, Syd, a moment agoyou were my dear old companion--my brother, and now----If you knew howI detest you in this! It is not yourself--your dear self, at all, butthe very devil that has taken possession of you. Sydney, are you surethere isn't something the matter with your brain? Do you realize howawful it seems? Doesn't it make you feel ashamed of yourself when youthink of all the sweetness of our past life? It makes me, Syd. Sometimesat night before I go to sleep I think of the way you've acted lately,and I can feel a hot flush creep all over my face. It makes me soashamed! I've grown up with you for my brother, I think of you always asmy brother, and this makes a new person out of you--a person whom Ineither love nor respect. Syd, dear Syd, forget it and I will neverthink of it again, for I will have my brother back. I loved you, Sydney,you and father, better than anyone else in this world. And now----" Sheturned her head away from him and began to cry quietly. In an instant hewas filled with commiseration and tenderness.

  "Don't, Hope!" he exclaimed, bending close to her. "I can't standanything like that! Don't cry. I'm sorry, girlie. I've been a fool, abrute, a low-lived beggar, but I can't stand tears from _you_! Hereyou're hungry, starving, living among a lot of breeds, and I've addedmore to your misery. It's all a mistake. I know now when I see youcrying--don't do it, dear! You've never cried since you were a baby, andnow you're such a great big girl. The other feeling's all gone. I guessit must have been because you were the only girl out here and I letmyself think of you that way until it grew on me. But you are mysister--my dear little pard!"

  He had dismounted and stood beside her. Now he reached up and took herhands away from her face. She was ashamed of her tears, as people arewho seldom cry, and hastily mopped her face with her handkerchief.

  "I'm so glad, Syd, dear!" she exclaimed in a moment, then reached downand kissed him. "What a baby you must think I am!"

  "Your tears woke me up, dear; don't be sorry. Maybe some time they'llmake a man out of me."

  "Nonsense! you were a man all the time, only you didn't know it. Youdon't know how happy I was all at once when you called me 'pard' again.I knew then I had my brother back."

  The young fellow mounted his horse again. His own eyes were suspiciouslymoist.

  "And I have my sister, which seems better than anything to me," he said.Then they both laughed.

  "I was going to the Englishman's," said Hope, "to see if I could helpany about the poor herder who was shot."

  "They're burying him now," announced her cousin, "right around the bendof this hill just inside the fence. Do you want to go over there?"

  "Yes, I think I do," she replied. "I want to ask Mr. Livingston when thelittle German girl is expected to arrive and what is going to be doneabout her."

  "The herder's sister?" asked Sydney.

  "No, his sweetheart. Just think, Sydney, his little sweetheart, who ison her way to marry him! Isn't it sad? Who will meet her and who willtell her, I wonder, and what will she do? How are such things managed, Iwonder. Isn't it terrible, Syd?"

  "Some beggars around here shot the poor fellow, Livingston told me. Thewhole bunch ought to be hanged for it."

  "It was a cowardly thing to do!" exclaimed the girl.

  "Sheep in a cattle country, the same old story. I imagine old Harris isa pretty strong element here. They've driven out a couple of bandsalready. Someone ought to put Livingston next. But he probably scentsthe situation now from this occurrence. He is one of the kind who trustseveryone. I met him last fall in town when he first came out here. Hehas put a lot of money into this business, and I'd like to see him makeit a go. He'll have something to learn by experience."

  "Isn't it too bad he didn't invest in cattle?" deplored Hope.

  "Yes, though they say there's bigger returns in sheep." He pointedahead. "You can't see the men, but they're just around that point ofrocks, though they must be about through with the job by now."

  "You'll go along, won't you? Then you can ride back to the school-housewith me. I'm going to meet one of the twins there at six o'clock, andwe're going to see if we can get some chickens."

  "If you will promise to bring the chickens over to the camp and let thecook get you up a good, square meal," he replied. "Jim will be backbefore dark."

  "If I shouldn't happen to get any birds," she asked, "does theinvitation still hold good?"

  "Pard!" he reproved.