Bull Hunter

by Max Brand

  CHAPTER 14

  "That's the way they all do," said the old man. "They all gape thesame fool way when they see Diablo the first time."

  "Is that the wild horse?" asked Bull in his gentle voice. "That's him.I s'pose after seeing Tod handle him, you'll want to try to ride himright off?"

  Bull looked in the direction in which the horse had disappeared. Heswallowed a lump that had risen in his throat and shook hishead sadly.

  "Nope. You see, I dunno nothing about horses, really."

  The old man regarded him with a new and sudden interest.

  "Takes a wise man to call himself a fool," he declared axiomatically.

  Bull took this dubious bit of praise as an invitation and came slowlycloser to the other. He had the child's way of eyeing a stranger withembarrassing steadiness at a first meeting and thereafter payinglittle attention to the face. He wrote the features down in his memoryand kept them at hand for reference, as it were. As he drew nearer,the old man grew distinctly serious, and when Bull was directly beforehim he gazed up into the face of Bull with distinct amazement. At adistance the big man did not seem so large because of the grace of hisproportions; when he was directly confronted, however, he seemed averitable giant.

  "By the Lord, you _are_ big. And who might you be, stranger?"

  "My name's Charlie Hunter; though mostly folks call me just plainBull."

  "That's queer," chuckled the other. "Well, glad to know you. I'mBridewell."

  They shook hands, and Bridewell noted the gentleness of the giant. Asa rule strong men are tempted to show their strength when they shakehands; Bridewell appreciated the modesty of Charlie Hunter.

  "And you didn't come to ride Diablo?"

  "No. I just stopped in to see him. And--" Bull sighed profoundly.

  "I know. He gives even me a touch now and then, though I know what adevil he is!"

  "Devil?" repeated Bull, astonished. "Why, he's as gentle as a kitten!"

  "Because you seen Tod ride him?" Bridewell laughed. "That don't meannothing. Tod can bully him, sure. But just let a grown man come nearhim--with a saddle! That'll change things pretty pronto! You'll seethe finest little bit of boiled-down hell-raising that ever was! Thejingle of a pair of spurs is Diablo's idea of a drum--and he makes hischarge right off! Gentle? Huh!" The grunt was expressive. "And whatgood's a hoss if he can't be rode with a saddle?" He waved the subjectof Diablo into the distance. "They ain't any hope unless Hal Dunbarcan ride him. If he can't, I'll shoot the beast!"

  "Shoot him?" echoed Bull Hunter. He took a pace back, and his big,boyish face clouded to a frown. "Not that, I guess!"

  "Why not?" asked Bridewell, curious at the change in the big stranger."Why not? What good is he?"

  "Why--he's good just to look at. I'd keep him just for that."

  "And you can have him just for that--if you can manage to handle him.Want to try?"

  Bull shook his head. "I don't know nothing about horses," he confessedagain. He glanced at the skeleton of standing beams. "Building abarn, eh?"

  "You wouldn't call it pitching hay or shoeing a hoss that I'm doing, Iguess," said the old fellow crossly. "I'm fussing at building a barn,but a fine chance I got. I get all my timber here--look at that!"

  He indicated the stacks of beams and lumber around him.

  "And then I get some men out of town to work with me on it. But theyget lonely. Don't like working on a ranch. Besides, they had a scrapwith me. I wouldn't have 'em loafing around the job. Rather have nohelp at all than have a loafer helping me. So they quit. Then I triedto get my cowhands to give me a lift, but they wouldn't touch ahammer. Specialists in cows is what they say they are, ding bust 'em!So here I am trying to do something and doing nothing. How can Ihandle a beam that it takes three men to lift?"

  He illustrated by going to a stack of long and massive timbers andtugging at the end of one of them. He was able to raise that end onlya few inches.

  "You see?"

  Bull nodded.

  "Suppose you give me the job handling the timbers?" he suggested. "Iain't much good with a hammer and nails, but I might managethe lifting."

  "All by yourself? One man?" he eyed the bulk of Bull hopefully for amoment, then the light faded from his face. "Nope, you couldn't raise'em. Not them joists yonder!"

  "I think I could," said Bull.

  Old Bridewell thrust out his jaw. He had been a combative man in hisyouth; and he still had the instinct of a fighter.

  "I got ten dollars," he said, "that says you can't lift that beam andput her up on end! That one right there, that I tried to lift aminute ago!"

  "All right," Bull nodded.

  "You're on for the bet?" the old man chuckled gayly. "All right. Let'ssee you give a heave!"

  Bull Hunter obediently stepped to the timber. It was a twelve footerof bulky dimensions, heavy wood not thoroughly seasoned. Yet he didnot approach one end of it. He laid his immense hands on the center ofit. Old Bridewell chuckled to himself softly as he watched; he wasbeginning to feel that the big stranger was a little simple-minded.His chuckling ceased when he saw the timber cant over on one edge.

  "Look out!" he called, for Bull had slipped his hand under the liftedside. "You'll get your fingers smashed plumb off that way."

  "I have to get a hold under it, you see," explained Bull calmly, andso saying his knees sagged a little and when they straightened thetimber rose lightly in his hands and was placed on his shoulder.

  "Where'd you like to have it?" asked Bull.

  Bridewell rubbed his eyes. "Yonder," he said faintly.

  Bull walked to the designated place, the great timber teetering up anddown, quivering with the jar of each stride. There he swung one end tothe ground and thrust the other up until it was erect.

  "Is this the way you want it?" said Bull.

  By this time Bridewell had recovered his self-possession to somedegree, yet his eyes were wide as he approached.

  "Yep. Just let it lean agin' that corner piece, will you, Hunter?"

  Bull obeyed.

  "That might make a fellow's shoulder sort of sore," he remarked, "ifhe had to carry those timbers all day."

  "All day?" gasped Bridewell, and then he saw that the giant, indeed,was not even panting from his effort. He was already turning hisattention to the pile of timbers.

  "Here," he said, reluctantly drawing out some money. "Here's yourten."

  But Bull refused it. "Can't take it," he explained. "I just made thebet by way of talk. You see, I knew I could lift it; and you didn'thave any real idea about me. Besides, if I'd lost I couldn't havepaid. I haven't any money."

  He said this so gravely and simply that old Bridewell watched himquizzically, half suspecting that there was a touch of irony hiddensomewhere. It gradually dawned on him that a man who was flat brokewas refusing money which he had won fairly on a bet. The ideastaggered Bridewell. He was within an ace of putting Bull Hunter downas a fool. Something held him back, through some underlying respectfor the physical might of the big man and a respect, also, for thehonesty which looked out of his eyes. He pocketed the money slowly. Hewas never averse to saving.

  "But I've been thinking," said Bull, as he sadly watched the moneydisappear, "that you might be needing me to help you put up the barn?Do you think you could hire me?"

  "H'm," grumbled Bridewell. "You think you could handle these bigtimbers all day?"

  "Yes," said Bull, "if none of 'em are any bigger than that last one.Yes, I could handle 'em all day easily."

  It was impossible to doubt that he said this judiciously and not witha desire to overstate his powers. In spite of himself the oldrancher believed.

  "You see," explained Bull eagerly, "you said that you needed three menfor that work. That's why I ask."

  "And I suppose you'd want the pay of three men?"

  Bull shook his head. "Anything you want to pay me," he declared.

  The rancher frowned. This sounded like the beginning of a shrewdbargain, and his respect and suspicion were equall
y increased.

  "Suppose you say what you want?" he asked.

  "Well," Bull said slowly, "I'd have to have a place to sleep. And--I'ma pretty big eater."

  "I guess you are," said Bridewell. "But if you do three men's work yougot a right to three men's food. What else do you want?"

  Bull considered, as though there were few other wishes that he couldexpress. "I haven't any money," he apologized. "D'you think maybe youcould pay me a little something outside of food and a place to sleep?"

  Bridewell blinked, and then prepared himself to become angry, when itdawned on him that this was not intended for sarcasm. He found thatBull was searching his face eagerly, as though he feared that he wereasking too much.

  "What would do you?" suggested Bridewell tentatively.

  "I dunno," said Bull, sighing with relief. "Anything you think."

  It was plain that the big man was half-witted--or nearly so. Bridewellkept the sparkle of exultation out of his eyes.

  "You leave it to me, then, and I'll do what's more'n right by you.When d'you want to start work?"

  "Right now."