Buck Peters, Ranchman

by Clarence Edward Mulford and John Wood Clay

  CHAPTER IX

  ANY MEANS TO AN END

  Jean LaFrance carefully cleaned his boots and stepped into the cabin."_Bon jour, ma belle Rose_. Breakfast is ready, eh? But for why youmake three to eat?"

  "Did you not see, on the trail?"

  "No." He took up a bucket of water and a tin basin, going to a benchoutside, to wash. In a few moments a horseman loped into view anddisappeared again, hidden by an intervening rise. At sight of the ridera look of fear flashed across the face of Jean and he smothered a curse,hastily re-entering the cabin to dry his hands. "Dave!" he exclaimed.

  "Yes," assented Rose, impassively.

  "You know he come?"

  "No," as expressionless as before.

  "For why he come some early? But yes! Schatz, he send the money, eh?Eh?"

  Rose shrugged her shoulders doubtfully and answered the consequent lookof anxiety on Jean's face by placing her hands on his shoulders andgently shaking him. "Wait till he comes, _mon pere_," she encouragedhim.

  He nodded his head, unconsciously squaring his shoulders in response tothe subtle appeal to his manhood. At the sound of the horseman's feethe went outside. Dave's smiling cheerfulness relieved his mind and hereturned the greeting with newborn good humor, leading the horse off tothe stable while Dave went indoors.

  The handsome animal glowed with the health of youth; not a trace of hisevil nature showed in the sparkle of his eyes, and the clear red of hischeek still stood proof against the assaults of a life of recklessdebauchery. "Hello, Rose," he cried, "I could n't stay away no longer.I come up last night but you 'd turned in." Encircling her waist hedrew her to him to kiss her on the cheek, laughing good-naturedly at theinterposed hand. "All right, have it your own way. But I wants you toknow I never aims to kiss a girl yet, as I don't kiss her, comekissin'-time."

  "It is not kissing-time for me, Dave--no. Not for any man. Why youstay away so long?" she asked--and could have bitten her tongue for itthe next instant.

  "Missed me, did you?" commented Dave, delighted. "Well, you see I--" hehesitated.

  "You do not want to tell for why you kill that unoffensive man and leaveFritz without a father." The contempt in her voice cut like a whip.

  "Unafensive!" he repeated, the color ebbing from his face to leave itthe dangerous white of the fated homicide. "He was that unafensive heknocked me off my feet an' started to pull a gun on me. It was an evenbreak. That's more 'n yore dad allows when anybody tries to rush him."

  She winced as if struck. "Is it not promise you speak nothing of this?"

  "I ain't a-speakin' of it. Nobody knows 't was him. Leastwise nobodybut me. I would n't 'a' dug it up on'y you go accusin' me o' killin'when I has to protect myself."

  Jean was heard approaching and Rose made a weary gesture of submission."_Eh, bien_. Me, I know nothing but what I hear. Do not be angry whenfather comes."

  "Peters, I suppose. D--n him for a liar." His face cleared as Jeanentered. "Well, I got bad news for you, Jean. Schatz says he can't letyou have that money just now, but he 'll remember you."

  "Good! Soon, I hope," and Jean rubbed his hands in pleased anticipationas he drew up to the table.

  * * * * *

  Dave sat silently watching Rose, after Jean had left them to go to hiswork. She went about her daily duties, patiently waiting. Something inDave's manner told her he had come for more than the mere pleasure ofseeing her.

  "Rose, sit down," he said at last. "I want to talk to you." She seatedherself obediently and faced him.

  "_Allons_," she prompted him.

  "You see, it's this way: Here 's me, errand boy for Schatz. I draws mytime, same as I 'm a-punchin' for him, but what is it? Not enough tolive on. I can make more with th' cards, a whole lot more, on'y yousays no. An' there ain't nothin' reglar 'bout gamblin', anyhow. Schatzis honin' for his ranch. He 's bound to get it an' I 'm bound to helphim. 'Cause why? I strike it rich. Schatz will put me on as foremanor mebby better. Now, how do we get th' ranch? Break thatMcAllister-Peters combine, that's how. An' how do we break 'em? You."

  "Me?"

  "You. It's pie. You get him here--Peters--an' I got a man as 'll cleanhim out like a cyclone lickin' up a haystack. You get him here, that'sall. You know how. I ain't a-goin' to be jealous of a girl as breaksoff a kiss in th' middle an' han's me back my end of it. You ain't wokeup yet, Rose, an' when you do, I 'll be there."

  "You will be there."

  "You bet--with aces--four of 'em." He nodded with confident assurance."You get Peters a-comin' here an' then some night Comin' Thirty drops incasual to see yore daddy. That 'll be all. Comin' knows his business."

  "Who is Comin'?"

  "Who is he?" Dave grinned. "Well, he's th' on'y man can deal a deckbetween th' Mississip' an' th' Rockies. When Peters gets through withhim he won't think so much o' that feller he met in Cheyenne--H--l!" Hesprang to his feet, consternation on his face. Rose gazed at him inmute wonder. "It can't be!" he muttered, "he went out long ago." Hewas silent in troubled speculation for a while. "Rose," he continuedabruptly, "you ask Peters, first time you see him--when 'll you go?To-day?"

  "Go where?"

  "Over to th' ranch," he explained, impatiently. "You 've got to set herrollin'. Go over to see Pickles, can't you?"

  "Yes, if you say go."

  "All right. Go to-day. An' ask Peters when he 's seen Tex Ewalt.Don't forget th' name: Tex Ewalt."

  "Tex Ewalt. I go now. It may be difficult. Men do not come here likebefore--"

  "Before I showed 'em th' way. You 'll get Peters, if you try right."

  "And you? Is it to Big Moose you ride?"

  "No, I got to go to Wayback. Will I throw th' leather onto Swaller?"

  "No, Swallow come when I call."

  "All right. Then I'll hit th' trail. What, you won't? Wait till youwake up." He went off laughing and in a minute more swung past thehouse with a rattle of harness and shout of farewell. Rose stood in thedoorway, motionless, looking after him.

  "If I try right. You beast!" The words came through her lips laden withunutterable loathing. She put her hands before her eyes to shut out thesight of him and turned back into the room, throwing out her arms indespair. "What can I do?" she asked passionately; and again: "What canI do?"

  * * * * *

  To Tex, grimly watchful in the bar-room of the Why-Not, her comingbrought a shock. He remembered her as she appeared when publiclydenouncing him for a crime he had not committed, a memory that illprepared him for the all-pervading charm of her beauty. Approachingrapidly, a glorious figure, sitting the powerful black with unaffectedgrace, her grave loveliness smote him with a sort of wonder. Plungingthrough the ford in a series of magnificent leaps, the rifted sprayflashed about her in the sunlight like bursting clouds of jewels. Thesolid ground once more under his feet, the black settled into his strideand they were away, the blue sky above the distant hills set wide forthem, a gateway of the gods. "When she had passed it seemed like theceasing of exquisite music," murmured Tex.

  Dutch Fred laughed genially at his companion's interest. They two werealone in the room. "Der French Rose, a fine voman, yes," he remarked,with open and honest admiration. "You like her?"

  Tex stared steadily out of the window as he answered:

  "'Had she been true If Heaven had made me such another world Of one entire and perfect chrysolite I 'd not have sold her for it.'"

  "Sold her! Sold her for a--vot? Vot you talk, anyvay?"

  "That, my friend, is what the nigger said when the shoe pinched. There's a h--l of a lot of tight shoes in th' world, Fred."

  Fred walked to the door and gazed solemnly after Tex as he rode away;then he walked back to the bar and solemnly mixed himself a fancy drink,which he compounded with the judgment of long experience. He set downthe glass and admonish
ed it with a pudgy forefinger: "How _he_ know shevear tight shoes, vat?"

  But the glass had already given up all it contained.

  Swallow, meanwhile, was putting the trail behind him with praiseworthyspeed, and brought Rose within hailing distance of the ranch house justas Jake, with his carefully concealed stones, re-entered the kitchen.As she dropped from her horse Buck appeared at the door and sprangforward to greet her, his stern face aglow with pleasure. "Why, ma'am,I 'm right glad to see you," he declared, appreciative of the firm claspof the hand she gave him. "Honest as a man's," was his thought. "Jake!O-o, Jake!" he called.

  Jake tip-toed to the door and peered cautiously forth, heaving a hugesigh of relief at the new development. "Better run him in the stable,Jake," advised Buck. "An' take some o' th' sweat off 'n him. Take yoretime. We 'll wait. You see," he went on to Rose, "none of th' boys isup; but Ned ought to be here right soon. An' Pickles, Pickles 'll bethat pleased he won't eat nothin'. Pickles says yo 're a brick an' helikes you 'most as well as Whit."

  Her bubbling laughter set Buck to laughing in sympathy and they stood,one at either side the table, looking at each other like two happychildren, moved to mirth by they knew not what.

  "It is a disappointment I have not come before, M'sieu Peters," saidRose, "you make me so very welcome. But Whit--who is Whit?"

  "Whit? Oh, he's th' Britisher we took on when--when we went short ahand. He 's willin' an' strong an' learns quick, though he shore hassome amazin' ideas about cows."

  The momentary clouding of her face as she recalled how he had "goneshort a hand," he allowed to pass without comment and went gayly on."Pickles, he likes to hear him tell stories; fairy stories, you mightcall them, but they ain't like no fairy stories I ever heard. An' hetells 'em like he believes 'em. I ain't right certain he don't.Pickles does. You would n't think a kid like that would take to fairystories, would you, ma'am?"

  "No-o. Always he is for the grand minute--to be a man, to ride, tothrow the rope,--like that. And to shoot--he must not shoot, M'sieuPeters."

  "Well, you see, ma'am, he--you--I--" he was clearly embarrassed, butTruth and Buck were Siamese twins and always moved in pairs. Hot anduncomfortable as it made him, he had to confess. "Why, he 's justnaturally boun' to shoot. Yesterday I give him a rifle an' a big buncho' cartridges. He won't hurt nothin', ma'am."

  "_Mais non_--I hope not. Make him to be--to be good. A strong man canbe good, M'sieu Peters?"

  Buck frowned in thought. "Yes," he declared. "But there 's more waysthan one o' bein' good. Our way 'd never do for some places, an' theirway 'd never do for us. Th' quickest man with a short gun I ever knowedan' one as has killed considerable few, first an' last, he 's a goodman, ma'am. He would n't lie, nor steal, nor do a mean act. An' henever killed a man 'less he was driven to it. I say it an' I know it.I 'd trust him with my life an' my honor. An' there 's more like him,ma'am, a-plenty." He stood tensely upright, an admirable figure, deepin earnest thought. And she stood watching him, silent, studying hisface, absorbing his words with a thirsty soul: the firm conviction of aman who, intuition told her, was sound to the core. "This is a roughcountry," he continued, "with rough ways. There 's good men an' badmen. Th' bad men are th' devil's own an' it seems like th' good men arescattered soldiers with a soldier's work to do. If a bad man takesoffence an' you know he means to get you if he can, it's plumb foolishto wait till yo 're shot before you begin shootin'. He did n't beginwith you an' he shore won't stop with you, an' it's your plain duty todrop him at th' first threatenin' move. Mebby you won't have to killhim, but if you must, you must. I don't say it's right but it'snecessary. That's all, ma'am."

  He turned to her with a whimsical smile. Her face was alight with aheartfelt gratitude, for Buck, all unknowingly, had exonerated herfather, in showing her a new aspect of his doubtful matter from theview-point of a man among men. She passed her hand across her eyes in aswift gesture, then laid it for an instant firmly upon his shoulder."_Merci, mon ami_," she said quietly. That shoulder, whenever hethought of it, tingled for days after, in a way that to Buck wasunaccountable.

  A moment later Jake appeared. "Ready in two shakes," he promised,referring to the meal.

  "Can't you rustle up somethin' extra, Jake?" asked Buck. "You know wegot company."

  Jake assumed an air of nonchalant capability. "Well, now, I reckon," heanswered; in spite of himself a hint of boasting was in his voice."What do you say to aigs?"

  "Aigs?" repeated Buck, his eyes widening.

  "Aigs!" reiterated Jake, complacently.

  Rose looked on in much amusement while Buck's astonished stare wandereddown half the length of Jake's lofty height and stopped. "Are youcarryin' 'em in yore pockets?" asked Buck.

  "In my pockets!" exclaimed Jake. He glanced down. What in blazes didhe have in his pockets? A hasty investigation brought forth two largestones.

  "What in--what are you carryin' _them_ for?" asked Buck, with livelycuriosity.

  Jake turned to Rose with his explanation: "You see, ma'am, it's th'cyclone. I got a' almanac as says a cyclone is a-comin' an' due to-day,an' I did n't want to be blown onto th' top o' one o' these yermountains an' mebby freeze to death." Rose's responsive peal oflaughter repaid him, and, withering Buck with a look, he retired to thekitchen to cook his magically acquired eggs.

  The meal was nearly finished when Pickles appeared, late as usual. Nedhad been given up by Buck, who explained his absence as probably due tothe development of some unexpected duty. Rose, awaiting a morefavorable opportunity to introduce the real object of her visit, haddeliberately prolonged the enjoyment of listening to his conversation.His friends would not have known the usually taciturn Buck. Quite equalto the production of a flow of language when language was desirable, hiscalling and environment seldom found it necessary. Indeed, if brevitywere the sole ingredient of wit, few men had been wittier. But to-dayhe surpassed himself in eloquence; and it was in the midst of anunconsciously picturesque narrative that he was interrupted.

  There came a scramble of hoofs, the slam of a door, a rapid padding ofmoccasined feet, followed by a yell from Jake and the taunting treble ofa boyish voice, and Pickles sped into view, clutching the door frame ashe ran, and swinging himself out of range. His back toward them and hishead craned in the direction of Jake to insure the full effect of atruly hideous grimace, he jeered that worthy for his bad marksmanship:"Yah! you missed me ag'in! W'y don't you use a gun like a man?" and byway of emphasis he shook the light rifle he was carrying. As Jakedirected a missile with unerring skill at anything short of a bird onthe wing, it is to be presumed that, with Pickles as a mark, he did nottry very hard. It is certain that he was chuckling gleefully as he wentto pick up the dishcloth, a large remnant of what looked suspiciouslylike the passing of a blue flannel shirt.

  Satisfied there was no immediate danger from the rear, Pickles wheeledabout. "Buck, I near got--" he stopped short. "Rose!" he exclaimed andlooked sharply from her to Buck and back again. "You ain't a-goin' totake me back?" he asked, doubtfully.

  Rose shook her head as she looked at him. It was a new Pickles she saw.The roguish mischief had gone from the eyes which, when he faced them,had been alive with eager intensity; the air of precocious anxiety,tribute to a happy-go-lucky father (oftener "happy" than lucky) hadvanished completely; motionless as he stood in his hopeful expectancy,he was aquiver with life. "No, Fritz," she assured him, "M'sieu Peters,he need you--more than me--yes."

  Pickles was at the table in a moment. "Betcher life he does," heagreed. "You don't want a boy, anyhow. I 'd have a girl if I was you.Say, Buck," he informed between bites, "I seen Ned an' he says that d--nbull's broke out again. He 's gone after him. An' Cock Murray says: Canyou lend him a hat. That wall-eyed pinto o' his made b-- out o' his 'n."

  "You young scallywag! You must n't swear afore a lady--not never. An'you must talk polite, besides. Don't you never forget it."

  Pickles looked straight into Buck's stern
eyes, without fear. "Iwon't," he promised, earnestly. "Gosh! I 'm hungry," and he proceededto prove it. And Rose knew then that Pickles would grow up a "strongman"--and a good man, after the ideas of M'sieu Peters, which, she hadbecome convinced, were very good ideas, indeed.

  Pickles had long since departed with a hat for the far-distant Murray;the boys had straggled in and gone again from the bunk-house, where Jakeministered to their amazing appetites; and the afternoon sun was castingshadows of warning before Rose remembered the long ride home which wasto come. A silence, longer than usual, had fallen upon them, whichneither seemed to find embarrassing. Buck's inscrutable face, as helooked upon her, told nothing of his thoughts; but on hers was a softwistfulness that surely sprang from pleasant imaginings. She pushedback her chair at last with a murmur of regret. Jake was glad to hearit. He had begun to have anxious misgivings regarding his job. Buckglanced through the window and really saw the outside world for thefirst time in two hours. He sprang to his feet and exclaimed inbewilderment. "First time in my life I ever did it," he declared. Roselooked an inquiry. "First time th' sun ever stole a march on me thatway," he explained. "Reckon I must a' been some interested in yourtalk, ma'am," and his humorous smile was deliciously boyish. Thesparkle in her eyes and the flush on her cheeks told that Rose discerneda compliment higher than the spoken one. She began to draw on her thickman's gloves with an air almost demure.

  "It is very selfish that I have make you waste so much time, M'sieuPeters," she apologized, her eyes intent upon the gloves.

  Buck stared. There was a certain grimness in his humor as he answered:"Hm! Well, I 'm a-goin' to waste some more. That is, I will if youdon't run away from Allday. He 's good, but that black o' yourn has gotth' laigs of him, I reckon."

  She watched him as he strode away for the horses, deciding how best toapproach the object of her visit. True to her nature it was less anapproach than a direct appeal. As they set off together she spokeabruptly: "What time did you see Tex Ewalt last? I think--I am sure--itis better if you have not see him for a long time--so."

  "Well, I ain't seen him in a long time." He was plainly surprised. "Doyou know Tex?" he asked, wonderingly.

  She shook her head. "No. Some one ask me--but you have not seen him.That is good. Once I tell you I am glad if you come to see me aboutFritz."

  "Shore I 'll come," he promised heartily.

  "You must not," she warned him. "In the morning, a little while, yes;at night or to stay long--no."

  A light broke in upon Buck, who recalled the mysteriously deliveredletter of that morning. The wholesome admiration for a lovely woman,the natural pleasure in an experience infrequent in his man-surroundedlife, began to concentrate and take definite shape in his mind at thepromised vindication of his judgment. He tested her shrewdly: "Youdon't want to see me," was his brusque comment.

  She looked reproachfully at his set profile. "_Mais, quelle folie_! Iam glad to see you always," she assured him, "but it must be like that.It is better." She hesitated a moment and continued: "It is better_aussi_, if you will not play cards. I--I like it, much, if you willnot play cards." Her heightened color and diffident manner showed whatit cost her to make it a personal request.

  "By G--d! I knew it," cried Buck. He whanged Allday over one eye withhis hat, and that sedate animal executed a side jump that would havedone credit to a real bad pony. There are limits to all things andAllday was feeling pretty good just then, anyway.

  Rose was startled. "What is it you know?" she asked, doubtfully.

  Buck's face was alight with smiling gratification. Oblivious of the factthat at last he had stung Allday into remonstrance, he answered by thecard, "I knowed that gamblin' habit 'd grow on me so my friends couldsee it. An' I hereby swears off. I never touches a deck till you saysso, ma'am. That goes as it lays."

  Still doubtful as to his meaning--such exuberance of feeling couldscarcely be induced by swearing off anything--she questioned him in someembarrassment. "Is it I ask too much, that you will not play?"

  "Too much! There ain't nothin' you can't ask me, nothin'--" he paused."It's time I was hittin' th' back trail 'fore I say mor'n I ought. Justone thing, ma'am: I can't never know you better than I do right now.An' I want to say I 'm right proud to know you." He drew Allday down toa walk and halted as she stopped and faced him, sweeping her a salute aseloquent in gesture as were his words in speech.

  The color came and went in her cheeks as she regarded him. "I am glad,"she said at last, "Oh, I am very glad," and turning, she left him at aspeed that vied with her racing thoughts.

  Buck watched her go, the definite shape in his mind assuming aseductiveness that fascinated while it scared him. "If I was only tenyears younger," he muttered. He jerked Allday's head around. "Get away,boy," he cried, and the horse struck his gait at a bound.

  Buck was riding wide of the ranch house when a suspicion pricked him andhe headed for home. At the door he shouted for Jake.

  Jake lounged out. "What's th' noise?" he asked, languidly.

  "Say, Jake, where 'd you get them aigs?"

  Jake looked pained. "I got 'em off Cheyenne Charley," he asserted.

  "Cheyenne Charley? Where 'n blazes did he get 'em," wondered Buck.

  "Well, now, I can't rightly say," drawled Jake, "but I'm certain shoreo' one thing: he never laid 'em."

  "No," agreed Buck, reflectively. "Did he give 'em to you?" he added.

  Jake yawned elaborately to hide the weakness of his position. "Notexactly," he admitted. "I got him drunk."

  "Oh," commented Buck. He turned to ride off when another questionobtruded itself, but Jake had disappeared. Buck slid to the ground andentered quietly by another door, going to where he kept his privatestock. A rapid inspection showed where Jake had obtained his supply.He had appropriated Buck's whiskey to pay for eggs which it was veryevident he had meant to eat himself. Only his vanity had led to theirdisclosure. "Th' d--n scoundrel!" said Buck, and he hurriedly securedthe demijohn in the one place in the house that locked.