by B. M. Bower
CHAPTER 7. THE COMING OF THE COLONY
If you would see northern Montana at its most beautiful best, you shouldsee it in mid-May when the ground-swallows are nesting and the meadowlarks are puffing their throats and singing of their sweet ecstasywith life; when curlews go sailing low over the green, grassy billows,peering and perking with long bills thrust rapier-wise through the sunnystillness, and calling shrilly, "Cor-r-ECK, cor-r-eck!"--which, I takeit, is simply their opinion of world and weather given tersely in plainEnglish. You should see the high prairies then, when all the worldis a-shimmer with green velvet brocaded brightly in blue and pink andyellow flower-patterns; when the heat waves go quivering up to meet thesun, so that the far horizons wave like painted drop-scenes stirred by abreeze; when a hypnotic spell of peace and bright promises is woven overthe rangeland--you should see it then, if you would love it with a sweetunreason that will last you through all the years to come.
The homeseekers' Syndicate, as represented by Florence GraceHallman--she of the wheat-yellow hair and the tempting red lips and thenarrow, calculating eyes and stubborn chin--did well to wait for thespell of the prairies when the wind flowers and the lupines blue thehillsides and the new grass paints green the hollows.
There is in us all a deep-rooted instinct to create, and never is thatinstinct so nearly dominant as in the spring when the grass and theflowers and the little, new leaves and the birds all sing the song ofCreation together. Then is when case-hardened city dwellers study thebright array of seed-packets in the stores, and meditate rashly uponthe possibilities of back-yard gardening. Then is when the seasonedcountry-dwellers walk over their farms in the sunset and plan largelyfor harvest time. Then is when the salaried-folk read avidly thereal-estate advertisements, and pore optimistically over folders anddream of chicken ranches and fruit ranches and the like. Surely, then,the homeseekers' Syndicate planned well the date of their excursion intothe land of large promise (and problematical fulfillment) which lay eastof Dry Lake.
Rumors of the excursion seeped through the channels of gossip and setthe town talking and chuckling and speculating--after the manner of verysmall towns.
Rumors grew to definite though erroneous statements of what was to takeplace. Definite statements became certified facts that bore fruit indetailed arrangements.
Came Florence Grace Hallman smilingly from Great Falls, to canvass thetown for "accommodations." Florence Grace Hallman was a capable womanand a persuasive one, though perhaps a shade too much inclined to takecertain things for granted--such as Andy's anchored interest in her andher project, and the probability of the tract remaining just as it hadbeen when last she went carefully over the plat in the land office.Florence Grace Hallman had been busy arranging the details of the comingof the colony, and she had neglected to visit the land officelately. Since she cannily represented the excursion as being merely asight-seeing trip--or some such innocuous project--she failed also toreceive any inkling of recent settlements.
On a certain sunny morning in mid-May, the Happy Family stood upon thedepot platform and waited for the westbound passenger, that had attachedto it the special car of the homeseekers' Syndicate. The Happy Familyhad been very busy during the past three weeks. They had taken all theland they could, and had sighed because they could still look from theirclaims upon pinnacles as yet unclaimed save by the government. They haddone well. From the south line of Meeker's land in the very foothillsof the Bear Paws, to the north line of the Flying U, the chain ofnewly-filed claims remained unbroken. It had taken some careful workupon the part of the Happy Family to do this and still choose landnot absolutely worthless except from a scenic viewpoint. But they hadmanaged it, with some bickering and a good deal of maneuvering. Alsothey had hauled loads of lumber from Dry Lake, wherewith to build theirmonotonously modest ten-by-twelve shacks with one door and onewindow apiece and a round hole in the roof big enough for a length ofstove-pipe to thrust itself aggressively into the open and say by itssmoke signal whether the owner was at home. And now, having heard of themysterious excursion due that day, they had come to see just what wouldtake place.
"She's fifteen minutes late," the agent volunteered, thrusting his headthrough the open window. "Looking for friends, boys?"
"Andy is," Pink informed him cheerfully. "The rest of us are justhanging around through sympathy. It's his girl coming."
"Well, I guess he thinks he needs a housekeeper now," the agent grinned."Why don't you fellows get busy now and rustle some cooks?"
"Girls don't like to cook over a camp-fire," Cal Emmett told himsoberly. "We kinda thought we ought to build our shacks first."
"You can pick you out some when the train gets in," said the agent,accepting a match from Weary. "There's a carload of--" He pulled in hishead hurriedly and laid supple fingers on the telegraph key to answer acall, and the Happy Family moved down to the other end of the platformwhere there was more shade.
The agent presently appeared pushing the truck of outgoing express,a cheap trunk and a basket "telescope" belonging to one of the hotelgirls--who had quit her job and was sitting now inside waiting forthe train and seeing what she could of the Flying U boys through thewindow--and the mail sack. He placed the truck where the baggage carwould come to a halt, stood for a minute looking down the track where asmudge of smoke might at any moment be expected to show itself over thelow ridge of a hill, glanced at the lazy group in the patch of shade andwent back into the office.
"There's her smoke," Cal Emmett announced in the midst of an apatheticsilence.
Weary looked up from whittling a notch in the end of a platform plankand closed his jack-knife languidly.
Andy pushed his hat backward and then tilted it forward over one eyebrowand threw away his cigarette.
"Wonder if Florence Grace will be riding point on the bunch?" hespeculated aloud. "If she is, I'm liable to have my hands full. FlorenceGrace will sure be sore when she finds out how I got into the game."
"Aw, I betche there ain't no such a person," said Happy Jack, doubter tothe last.
"I wish there wasn't," sighed Andy. "Florence Grace is kinda gettingon my nerves. If I done what I feel like doing, I'd crawl under theplatform and size up the layout through a crack. Honest to gracious,Boys, I hate to meet that lady."
They grinned at him heartlessly and stared at the black smudge that wasrolling toward them. "She's sure hittin' her up," Pink vouchsafed with acertain tenseness of tone. That train was not as ordinary trains; dimlythey felt that it was relentlessly bringing them trouble, perhaps;certainly a problem--unless the homeseekers hovered only so long asit took them to see that wisdom lay in looking elsewhere for a home.Still--
"If this was August instead of May, I wouldn't worry none about thempilgrims staying long," Jack Bates voiced the thought that was uppermostin their minds.
"There comes two livery rigs to haul 'em to the hotel," Pink pointed outas he glanced toward town. "And there's another one. Johnny told me everyroom they've got is spoke for, and two in every bed."
"That wouldn't take no crowd," Happy Jack grumbled, remembering thelimitations of Dry Lake's hotel. "Here come Chip and the missus. Wonderwhat they want?"
The Little Doctor left Chip to get their tickets and walked quicklytoward them.
"Hello, boys! Waiting for someone, or just going somewhere?"
"Waiting. Same to you, Mrs. Chip," Weary replied.
"To me? Well, we're going up to make our filings. Claude won't take ahomestead, because we'll have to stay on at the Flying U, of course, andwe couldn't hold one. But we'll both file desert claims. J. G. hasn'tbeen a bit well, and I didn't dare leave him before--and of courseClaude wouldn't go till I did. That the passenger coming, or a freight?"
"It's the train--with the dry-farmers," Andy informed her with a glanceat the nearing smoke-smudge.
"Is it? We aren't any too soon then, are we? I left Son at home--and hethreatened to run away and live with you boys. I almost wish I'd broughthim along. He's been perfectly awful. So hav
e the men Claude hired totake your places, if you want to know, boys. I believe that is whatmade J. G. sick--having those strange men on the place. He's been like abear."
"Didn't Chip tell him--"
"He did, yes. He told him right away, that evening. But--J. G. has suchstubborn ideas. We couldn't make him believe that anyone would be crazyenough to take up that land and try to make a living farming it. He--"She looked sidewise at Andy and pursed her lips to Keep from smiling.
"He thinks I lied about it, I suppose," said that young man shrewdly.
"That's what he says. He pretends that you boys meant to quit, and justthought that up for an excuse. He'll be all right--you mustn't pay anyattention--"
"Here she comes!"
A black nose thrust through a Deep cut that had a curve to it. At theirfeet the rails began to hum. The Little Doctor turned hastily to see ifChip were coming. The agent came out with a handful of papers and stoodwaiting with the rest. Stragglers moved quickly, and the dischargedwaitress appeared and made eyes covertly at Pink, whom she consideredthe handsomest one of the lot.
The train slid up, slowed and stopped. Two coaches beyond the platform aworried porter descended and placed the box-step for landing passengers,and waited. From that particular coach began presently to emerge afluttering, exclaiming stream of humanity--at first mostly feminine.They hovered there upon the cindery path and lifted their faces to watchfor others yet to come, and the babble of their voices could be, heardabove the engine sounds.
The Happy Family looked dumbly at one another and drew back closer tothe depot wall.
"Aw, I knowed there was some ketch to it!" blurted Happy Jack withdismal satisfaction. "That there ain't no colony--It's nothin' but abunch of schoolma'ams!"
"That lady ridin' point is the lady herself," Andy murmured, edgingbehind Weary and Pink as the flutter came closer. "That's Florence GraceHallman, boys."
"Well, by golly, git out and speak your little piece, then!" mutteredSlim, and gave Andy an unexpected push that sent him staggering out intothe open just as the leaders were coming up.
"Why, how de do, Mr. Green!" cried the blonde leader of the flock. "Thisis an unexpected pleasure, I'm sure."
"Yes ma'am, it is," Andy assented mildly, with an eye cocked sidewise insearch of the guilty man.
The blonde leader paused, her flock coming to a fluttering, staringstand behind her. The nostrils of the astonished Happy Family caught amingled odor of travel luncheons and perfume.
"Well, where have you been, Mr. Green? Why didn't you come and see me?"demanded Florence, Grace Hallman in the tone of one who has a rightto ask leading questions. Her cool, brown, calculating eyes wentappraisingly over the Happy Family while she spoke.
"I've been right around here, all the time," Andy gave meek account ofhimself. "I've been busy."
"Oh. Did you go over the tract, Mr. Green?" she lowered her voice.
"Yes-s--I went over it."
"And what do you think of it--privately?"
"Privately--it's pretty big." Andy sighed. The bigness of that tract hadworried the Happy Family a good deal.
"Well, the bigger the better. You see I've got 'em started." Sheflicked a glance backward at her waiting colony. "You men are perfectlyexasperating! Why didn't you tell me where you were and what you weredoing?" She looked up at him with charming disapproval. "I feel likeshaking you! I could have made good use of you, Mr. Green."
"I was making pretty good use of myself," Andy explained, and wished heknew who gave him that surreptitious kick on the ankle. Did the chumpwant an introduction? Well! In that case--
"Miss Hallman, if you don't mind I'd like to introduce some men Irounded up and brought here," he began before the Happy Family couldmove out of the danger zone of his imagination. "Representativecitizens, you see. You can sic your bunch onto 'em and get a lot ofinformation. This is Mr. Weary Davidson, Miss Hallman: He's a hayseedthat lives out that way and he talks spuds better than anything else.And here's Slim--I don't know his right name--he raises hogs to afare-you-well. And this is Percy Perkins"--meaning Pink--"and he'sanother successful dryfarmer. Goats is his trade. He's got a lot of 'em.And Mr. Jack Bates, he raises peanuts--or he's trying 'em this year--andhas contracts to supply the local market. Mr. Happy Jack is our localundertaker. He wants to sell out if he can, because nobody ever diesin this country and that makes business slow. He's thinking some ofstarting a duck-ranch. This man"--indicating Big Medicine--"has gotthe finest looking crop of volunteer wild oats in the country. He knowsall about 'em. Mr. Emmett, here, can put you wise to cabbage-heads;that's his specialty. And Mr. Miguel Rapponi is up here from Old Mexicolooking for a favorable location for an extensive rubber plantation. Thenatural advantages here are simply great for rubber.
"I've gone to some trouble gathering this bunch together for you, MissHallman. I don't reckon you knew there was that many dry-farmers in thecountry. They've all got ranches of their own, and the prettiest foldersyou ever sent under a four-cent stamp can't come up to what these mencan tell you. Your bunch won't have to listen to one man, only--here'shalf a dozen ready and waiting to talk."
Miss Hallman was impressed. A few of the closest homeseekers shebeckoned and introduced to the perspiring Happy Family--mostly femininehomeseekers, of whom there were a dozen or so. The men whom the hotelhad sent down with rigs waited impatiently, and the unintroduced malecolonists stared at the low rim of Lonesome Prairie and wondered if overthere lay their future prosperity.
When the Happy Family finally made their escape, red-faced and mutteringthreats, Andy Green had disappeared, and no one knew when he went orwhere. He was not in Rusty Brown's place when the Happy Family went tothat haven and washed down their wrongs in beer. Pink made a hurriedtrip to the livery stable and reported that Andy's horse was gone.
They were wondering among themselves whether he would have the nerve togo home and await their coming--home at this stage of the game meaningOne Man coulee, which Andy had taken as a homestead and desert claim andwhere the Happy Family camped together until such time as their claimshacks were habitable. Some thought that he was hiding in town, andadvised a thorough search before they took to their horses. The NativeSon--he of mixed Irish and Spanish blood--told them with languidcertainty that Andy was headed straight for the camp because he wouldfigure that in camp was where they would least expect to find him.
The opinions of the Native Son were usually worth adopting. In thiscase, however, it brought them into the street at the very moment whenFlorence Grace Hallman and two homeseekers had ventured from the hotelin search of them. Slim and Jack Bates and Cal Emmett saw them in timeand shied across the street and into the new barber shop where they satthemselves down and demanded unnecessary hair-cuts and a shampoo apiece,and spied upon their unfortunate fellows through the window while theywaited; but the others met the women fairly since it was too late toturn back without making themselves ridiculous.
"I was wondering," began Miss Hallman in her brisk, business tone,"if some of you gentlemen could not help us out in the matter ofconveyances. I have made arrangements for most of my guests, but wesimply can't squeeze another one into the rigs I have engaged--and I'veengaged every vehicle in town except a wheelbarrow I saw in the backyard of the hotel."
"How many are left out?" asked Weary, since no one else showed anysymptoms of speech.
"Oh, not many, thank goodness. Just us three here. You've met MissAllen, Mr. Davidson--and Miss Price. And so have you other gentlemen,because I introduced you at the depot. I went blandly ahead and toldeverybody just which rig they were to ride in, and put three in a seat,at that, and in counting noses I forgot to count our own--"
"I really don't see how she managed to overlook mine," sighed MissAllen, laying a dainty, gloved finger upon a nose that had the tiniestpossible tilt to it. "Nobody ever overlooked my nose before; it's almostworth walking to the tract."
Irish, standing close beside Weary and looking enough like him to bea twin instead of a mere cousin, smile
d down at her with traitorousadmiration. Miss Allen's nose was a nice nose, and above it twinkled apair of warm brown eyes with humorous little wrinkles, around them; andstill above them fluffed a kinky-curly mass of brown hair. Weary lookedat her also, but he did not smile, because she looked a little like hisown schoolma'am, Miss Ruty Satterly--and the resemblance hurt a soreplace in his heart.
"--So if any of you gentlemen could possibly take us out to the tract,we'd be eternally grateful, besides keeping our independence intact withthe usual payment. Could you help us out?"
"We all came in on horseback," Weary stated with a gentle firmness thatwas intended to kill their hopes as painlessly as possible.
"Wouldn't there be room on behind?" asked Miss Allen with hope stillalive and flourishing.
"Lots of room," Weary assured her. "More room than you could possiblyuse."
"But isn't there any kind of a rig that you could buy, beg, borrow orsteal?" Miss Hallman insisted. "These girls came from Wisconsin to takeup claims, and I've promised to see that they get the best there isto be had. They are hustlers, if I know what the word means. I have acouple of claims in mind, that I want them to see--and that's whywe three hung back till the rest were all arranged for. I had a rigpromised that I was depending on, and at the last minute discovered itwas not to be had. Some doctor from Havre came and got it for a tripinto the hills. There's no use talking; we just must get out to thetract as soon as the others do--a little sooner wouldn't hurt. Couldn'tyou think of some way?"
"We'll try," Irish promised rashly, his eyes tying to meet Miss Allen'sand succeeding admirably.
"What has become of Mr. Green?" Miss Hallman demanded after she hadthanked Irish with a smile for the qualified encouragement.
"We don't know," Weary answered mildly. "We were trying to locate himourselves."
"Oh, were you? He seems a rather uncertain young man. I rather countedon his assistance; he promised--"
"Mr. Irish has thought of a rig he can use, Miss Hallman," said theAllen girl suddenly. "He's going to drive us out himself. Let's hurryand get ready, so we can start ahead of the others. How many minuteswill it take you, Mr. Irish, to have that team here, for us?"
Irish turned red. He HAD thought of a rig, and he had thought of drivingthem himself, but he could not imagine how Miss Allen could possibly;have known his thoughts. Then and there he knew who would occupy theother half of the front seat, in case he did really drive the team hehad in mind.
"I told you she's a hustler," laughed Miss Hallman. "She'll be raisingbigger crops than you men--give her a year to get started. Well, girls,come on, then."
They turned abruptly away, and Irish was left to his accounting with theHappy Family. He had not denied the thoughts and intentions imputed tohim by the twinkling-eyed Miss Allen. They walked on toward the liverystable--where was manifested an unwonted activity--waiting for Irish toclear himself; which he did not do.
"You going to drive them women out there?" Pink demanded after animpatient silence.
"Why not? Somebody'll have to."
"What team are you going to use!" asked Jack Bates.
"Chip's" Irish did not glance around, but kept striding down the middleof the road with his hands stuck deep in his pockets.
"Don't you think you need help, amigo?" the Native Son insinuatedcraftily. "You can't talk to three girls at once; I could be hired to goalong and take one off your hands. That should help some."
"Like hell you will!" Irish retorted with characteristic bluntness. Thenhe added cautiously, "Which one?"
"That old girl with the blue eyes should not be permitted to annoy thedriver," drawled the Native Son. "Also, Florence Grace might want someintelligent person to talk to."
"Well, I got my opinion of any man that'll throw in with that bunch,"Pink declared hotly. "Why don't you fellows keep your own side thefence. What if they are women farmers? They can do just as muchharm--and a darn sight more. You make me sick."
"Let 'em go," Weary advised calmly. "They'll be a lot sicker when theladies discover what they've helped do to that bench-land. Come on,boys--let's pull out, away from all these lunatics. I hate to see themget stung, but I don't see what we can do about it--only, if they comearound asking me what I think of that land, I'm going to tell 'em."
"And then they'll ask you why you took claims up there, and you'lltell 'em that, too--will you?" The Native Son turned and smiled at himironically.
That was it. They could not tell the truth without harming their owncause. They could not do anything except stand aside and see the thingthrough to whatever end fate might decree. They thought that Irish andthe Native Son were foolish to take Chip's team and drive those womenfifteen miles or so that they might seize upon land much better leftalone; but that was the business of Irish and the Native Son, who didnot ask for the approval of the Happy Family before doing anything theywanted to do.
The Happy Family saddled and rode back to the claims, gravely discussingthe potentialities of the future. Since they rode slowly while theytalked, they were presently overtaken by a swirl of dust, behind whichcame the matched browns which were the Flying U's crack driving team,bearing Irish and Miss Allen of the twinkling eyes upon the front seatof a two seated spring-wagon that had seen far better days than this.Native Son helped to crowd the back seat uncomfortably, and waved a handwith reprehensible cheerfulness as they went rattling past.
The Happy Family stared after them with frowning disapproval, and Wearyturned in the saddle and looked ruefully at his fellows.
"Things won't ever be the same around here," he predicted soberly."There goes the beginning of the end of the Flying U, boys--and we ain'tbig enough to stop it."