“Then they can quit!” cried Florence. “Are they and you coming down here to dictate to me how I’ll run this ranch and who I’ll employ?”
“I wouldn’t say, ma’am,” he said in a hard voice, rising and taking up his hat. “I was merely tryin’ to tip you off.”
“Then you can go back to your range,” she said, pointing to the door.
He left without speaking.
Florence hurried furiously out the porch and called for Howard. When he came, she assailed him with rapid questions.
“Did you see Link up there last night?” she demanded.
“No, I didn’t,” he answered.
“Did Bannister see him?”
“I don’t know if he did or not, for sure.”
“Well, Hayes is trying to tell me that Bannister shot Link,” she said sternly. “And in the dark, at that. Do you know if he did or not?”
“Can’t say as I do,” replied the boy, “but I know one thing. While I was getting the horses, there were a powerful lot of shots being fired at Bannister. And I know another thing. This outfit don’t like him because they’re afraid of him . . . every last one of ’em. He just licked the tar out of Hayes out in the yard because, when Hayes accused him of shooting Link, he started to kid him. Then Hayes made for him. He gave Hayes what he well an’ good deserved and pointed the way to the house with his gun. Hayes went.”
For a time Florence was silent. “Tell Bannister I want to see him . . . no, don’t do that. Anyway, you can go now.”
“Bannister’s worth the whole crew of them,” was Howard’s parting shot.
Florence sat thinking. What kind of a man had she hired? He had the lure of an engaging personality. Next minute he was a raging, fighting demon. He had probably saved Howard’s life against the gun terror, Le Beck. He had turned Howard away from the treacherous bars through sheer logic. He would do his job, she knew. And, deep in her heart, she believed he had shot Link. The thing that amazed her was the fact that she didn’t seem to care.
Chapter Twelve
Bannister and Howard left soon afterward for a tour of the badlands, that wilderness of twisted ridges, ragged gulches, soap holes with their treacherous sands, and timber patches that reached for miles below the ranch along Indian River. Howard led the way, explaining the various trails so that Bannister could become acquainted to some extent with the district. All Bannister knew of it was the Marble Dome trail leading to the widest and best ford in the badlands, but Howard showed him many other fords and cross trails and one trail in particular that led along the river under a hanging bank. They didn’t follow this trail as it was time to eat, the sun having crossed the zenith.
“We’ll go to Old Luke’s cabin,” Howard announced. “There’s few of ’em that know where it is.”
So they went back half a mile on the Marble Dome trail to where a huge cottonwood tree leaned out over the plain. Howard led the way in behind this tree and through a screen of bushes. Here they came upon a dim trail that was well concealed. They followed it about a mile and suddenly burst upon a small meadow, at the farther end of which was a cold spring, by which stood a small cabin, a corral, and a three-sided horse shelter.
“Old Luke once lived here alone,” Howard explained, “and everybody thought that he rustled cattle.”
They ate their lunch and followed a trail across the river to the south side. Here they proceeded northward until they reached the big Marble Dome ford, where they crossed again. Then they headed for the ranch. They had hardly arrived there when Manley came galloping in from the Dome range. Florence came out on the porch, astonished, because Manley very seldom rode so furiously. He brought his horse to a rearing stop below the steps. Bannister and Howard came running.
“The men!” exclaimed Manley. “Every man of them has gone. North, I suppose, perhaps because they can get better wages up there.”
“Hayes threatened that they might do that this morning,” Florence explained, her face paling.
“Well, he’s gone with the rest of them,” said Manley bitterly. “There’s something behind this besides more money for the men.”
“I reckon I’m the cause of it,” said Bannister. “He doesn’t want me here. He’s made that clear. And we had some trouble this morning . . . a fight in the yard . . . and I licked him.”
“Maybe,” said Manley, “but I can’t help believing there’s more to it than your being here. Anyway, we’ll have to look after the stock till we can pick up a new crew.”
“There’s three of us to see they don’t stray too far,” said Bannister, “and old Jeb can come along and cook.”
“Yeh, an’ I sure kin do more’n thet,” said Jeb, who had come up to find out what it was all about. “I’m still able to sit a hoss an’ I’m still able to ride one. So’s there bein’ only four of us, I kin help out on the range ’tween times.”
“And meanwhile,” said Florence in a determined voice, “I’ll ride to Prairie City and pick up what men I can. I’m sure of getting a few, anyway, even if I have to ask them to come for a short time till we can fill out an outfit as a favor to me.”
“Just the thing!” Manley exclaimed enthusiastically. “You can go up in the morning. Sure you can pick up some men. You can do it better than I could. You ought to be able to get a dozen. If it wasn’t for this irrigation business . . . us being for it and him being against it . . . we could borrow some hands from John Macy.”
Florence shook her head. “We can’t do that,” she said.
“You know, I’m wondering,” drawled Bannister, “if there might not be someone who prevailed upon Hayes to entice the crew away.”
“What do you mean?” asked Florence with a puzzled look.
“I say I’m just wondering,” Bannister replied. “Maybe, later on, we’ll find out something.”
“Oh, you and your mysteries!” Florence exclaimed, stamping her foot. “I like men who come right out in the open with what they think.”
“That’s all right, too,” said Bannister, lifting his brows, “but I’m not going to make any accusations I can’t back up. I just put that in because later you will recall the remark.”
“Well, we’ve had enough parley,” said Manley impatiently. “Now let’s get back to the cattle.”
“After this, Bannister,” said Florence in a tone of annoyance, “if you can’t tell me what you’re thinking about, don’t try to confuse me with veiled hints and mysteries.”
Bannister bowed as she flounced into the house.
“Would you mind my asking what you were driving at?” asked Manley later, when they were saddling in the barn.
“Not a bit of it,” Bannister replied, drawing him aside, “as long as it doesn’t go any further. I think Cromer had a hand in it. I think he wants to bring pressure to bear on the Half Diamond for personal reasons of his own. That’s all I’ll say.”
He turned on his heel, leaving Manley with a thoughtful look on his face, and went for his horse.
In a few minutes the quartet was on its way to Dome range, where they arrived at dusk. Joe found the cook wagon in good order, with no supplies or utensils missing, and went to work at once preparing supper. Manley arranged the night-watch shifts and, despite the situation, they were cheerful at supper.
“I’m going to bring down a couple of men from the north range tomorrow,” Manley announced, “and a couple from the lower herd. So we won’t be so awful bad off, after all. Miss Flo is sure to bring back a few from Prairie City, and then I . . .” He stopped short and looked keenly at Bannister. “Could you take charge of the outfit for a few days? I mean, do you feel capable?”
“I reckon so,” Bannister drawled in reply.
“Then you can take hold for a few days and I’ll go cut and rustle men and a foreman,” said Manley. “Oh, we’ll come out all right. It isn’t so hard to pick up a crew for such a ranch as the Half Diamond. We’ve got too good a reputation.”
“I reckon so,” Bannister said again.
* * * * *
Next morning Florence Marble was off for Prairie City with the first faint light of dawn. Before noon she had gathered nine experienced hands—all that were available in town. She stood their dinner at the hotel and started back with them right after the meal. Several of them had no mounts, but she borrowed horses, as she could easily do, and they would get their remudas at the ranch.
They passed above the ranch house and headed straight for the Dome. There she turned them over to Manley, told him to look after the borrowed horses and see they were returned, and then rode back to the house, well pleased with her day’s work.
“Hayes tried to cripple me,” she explained to Martha, her housekeeper. “Why, I should have gotten rid of him long ago.”
Manley was in rare good humor that day. They now had a good emergency working force for the Dome range and he sent the men he had borrowed back to their stations in the north and south. He planned to take a trip in a day or two to pick up more men, leaving Bannister temporarily in charge. The latter already had successfully demonstrated that he was a cowman from the high heels of his boots to the crown of his Stetson, and he was more than ever a god in the eyes of Howard Marble.
This was the situation on the morning of the second day when he stared in surprise at a whirling cloud of dust in the north.
“What the . . . ?”
“Those are your men coming back,” Bannister told him mildly. “Remember I mentioned there might be somebody besides Hayes mixed up in this?”
“The devil!” Manley exclaimed. “Well, Hayes will never work on this ranch again.”
“Don’t worry,” said Bannister with a cryptic smile. “He won’t be with the bunch. Anyway, Manley, it’s just as well they don’t see me. I’ll streak for the ranch and tell Miss Marble. I’ve a reason in going back, too. Sure it’s your crowd?”
“Sure as shootin’,” Manley responded. “I could tell that mob of Indians just by their dust. All right, go ahead. And tell Miss Flo that, if Hayes is with them, I’m going to fire him and to pay him off. I reckon she won’t have any objections.”
Bannister was off like a streak. It was all as clear to him as day. Cromer, working hand in glove with Hayes, had told him to take the men away. Now the men were coming back. Cromer would ride down to the Half Diamond ranch house and tell Florence that he had refused to hire the men, knowing that she needed them, and had compelled them to return. Her foreman had been furious and had refused to return. He was sorry. It was a well-laid scheme to further his interests in her favor. Bannister laughed outright and loped, whistling, into the yard.
“’Morning, ma’am,” he said with a great sweep of his hat, as she came out on the porch wearing a wondering look.
“Well, did you come on business or just to pay a call?” she said. She couldn’t forget his innuendo the last time she had seen him.
“Business,” he sang cheerfully, dismounting. “And I am the bearer of good tidings. I bring a message of great good cheer, and later I shall make a prediction . . . a prediction, Miss Florence, that I would bet my horse, gun, and money belt will come true.”
“Stop that nonsense,” she said with a pretty frown. “I know what your tidings are. The men are returning to the Dome.”
He arched his brows in mock surprise. “A mind-reader as well as a rancheress,” he said. “Yes, they have returned, pack and parcel.”
“I’ll not take Hayes back,” she said in a determined voice.
“Hayes won’t be with them,” he declared.
“How do you know?” she asked. “Oh, I might have known. You’ve seen them, of course.”
“No, I haven’t seen them, except coming in like a fury on their sturdy and, I suspect, Half Diamond beasts,” he said. “But I don’t think he’ll be with them, because . . . well, because I don’t think he’ll be along.”
“Another mystery,” she said disdainfully. “I’ll soon know without your help.”
“Are you interested in my prediction?” he asked in a plaintive voice.
“If it has to do with my business,” she returned.
“Very well,” he said complacently. “You will receive a visit, probably this very morning, from Mister Cromer, who will explain that he refused to engage your men and sent them back because he knew you needed them. He will say your foreman was angry and quit, and he will express his sorrow because of the fact.”
Her face had flushed and then gathered in stern lines. “Just what do you mean by that, Bannister? You mustn’t forget there are lines beyond which hands on this ranch cannot pass.”
“Exactly, Miss Florence,” he said with a bow, “and that’s why I’m going to stop at this one. There! You see? Dust on the north trail. I’ve got to look after my horse.”
He left her staring northward where a golden streamer proclaimed the approach of a rider.
Chapter Thirteen
The dust spiral lost its golden luster as horse and rider reached the top of the bench and dropped down the winding road to the ranch house. They disappeared a few moments around a bend, came into sight again trotting through the windbreak, and next drew up in the yard near the porch.
Cromer dipped his hat with a smile to Florence, slid out of the saddle, and called to Bannister.
“Take my horse,” he commanded abruptly,
“I have a horse,” Bannister returned innocently.
Cromer halted on his way to the porch. “I say, aren’t you working here . . . or do I have to put my horse up myself?”
“Oh, oh,” drawled Bannister. “Put him up. That’s different. I thought you were trying to give him to me. Sure, I’ll put him up, Mister Cromer. Glad to do it. Take good care of him, too. See, he’s been ridden powerful hard. He’ll need a blanket and a rub down . . . and he’ll get it. Don’t worry, go right in.”
Cromer bit his lip under his thick mustache and glared. He was being made a fool of and insulted in the bargain, but there was no comeback because of the way in which Bannister had put it. He whirled on his heel and went up the porch, a smile of genuine pleasure routing the scowl.
“Florence, you look prettier than any flower in your yard,” he said, taking her hand.
“As a brazen flatterer, you are even more able than an engineer,” she returned, although anyone could have seen that she was pleased. “Come in, Mister Cromer.” It was noticeable that while at all times she addressed him by his last name, he invariably addressed her by her first.
He tossed his hat on the table and dropped into an easy chair. “Well, you may think it is flattery, but it isn’t,” he protested. “You are beautiful and someday I’m going to tell you just how beautiful you are, and how dear you are to me. But not today, Miss Spitfire, for I see it is not the time, and . . . we are both so busy.” He laughed, and to his unmitigated satisfaction she laughed with him.
“I didn’t think you came down here to tell me things like that,” she observed.
“I could, though,” he asserted. “I could tell ’em all day. What do you think I came down for?”
Florence remembered Bannister’s prediction of this visit and his forecast as to its nature. Well, it was merely a guess on his part and she couldn’t by any means be sure.
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” she told him.
“I come with glad tidings . . . if you haven’t heard,” he said with a smile. Florence started, for Bannister also had stressed glad tidings at the start. “Your men are returning to work,” he said impressively.
“Yes, I heard they were seen coming back,” she said.
He seemed a bit set back at this, for it sort of robbed his announcement of its drama. “They came up on the project and asked me for work, and, while I surely need men, I turned them down flat.”
Florence nodded and waited expectantly.
“I could have used them,” he went on, “but I realized that you needed them more than I did. So I shooed ’em home where they belonged.”
“That was very kind of you, Mister Cromer,” said the girl sober
ly.
He glowed with satisfaction. “Oh, nothing,” he protested with a dramatic wave of his hand. “Florence, I’d do anything for you.” He paused for just the proper interval. “But I’m afraid I am also the bearer of bad news as well as good.” His brow wrinkled with concern.
She remembered again what Bannister had predicted. Why, the interview was progressing just as he said it would. She could think of nothing to say to this at the moment, so remained passive, merely lifting her brows a trifle.
“You see,” said Cromer, clearing his throat, “that foreman of yours, Bill Hayes, is accustomed to having his own way, you know?” She nodded. “Well,” he went on wryly, “he became very angry when I refused them work. Said they could make more money up there . . . which they could . . . and that I needed men, and why should I discriminate?”
“He was always bullheaded,” Florence observed.
“I started to tell him that his place was here on the ranch and that, in any event, he and the others of the outfit should not quit, if they had to quit, until after the beef shipment. That’s as far as I got. I never received such a cursing . . . well, I haven’t received any cursing to my face . . . in my life. He called me everything he could think of. I took it all calmly and told him he was taking advantage of me because I couldn’t, in my position, afford to get into a brawl with him.” He paused at this point.
“And I see where you’re right, Mister Cromer,” she said with spirit. “I suppose he quit the outfit. Well, I would not have taken him back under any circumstances.”
He stared at her a moment, and then sighed with relief. He even wiped a few imaginary drops of perspiration from his brow. “You don’t know what a relief that is to me,” he said. “I was afraid you might think I was in some way responsible for his quitting, that I kept him and sent the others back, or something of the sort. And I’ll try my best to help you get a man to take his place.”
“No,” said the girl, “you’ve enough to do. Manley will look after that. Don’t you bother. Of course you’ll stay to dinner.” She went to the dining room door. “Martha. Martha! Oh, there you are. Mister Cromer will be with us for dinner.”
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