by B. M. Bower
CHAPTER XX. A BLOTCHED BRAND
At the brow of the hill, which was the western rim of the coulee, Kentturned and waved a farewell to Val, watching him wistfully from the kitchendoor. She had wanted to go along; she had almost cried to go and help, butKent would not permit her--and beneath the unpleasantness of denying heranything, there had been a certain primitive joy in feeling himself masterof the situation and of her actions; for that one time it was as if shebelonged to him. At the last he had accepted the field glasses, which sheinsisted upon lending him, and now he was tempted to take them from theirworn, leathern case and focus them upon her face, just for the meagersatisfaction of one more look at her. But he rode on, oat of sight, for thenecessity which drove him forth did not permit much loitering if he wouldsucceed in what he had set out to do.
Personally he would have felt no compunctions whatever about letting thecalf go, a walking advertisement of Manley's guilt. It seemed to him a sortof grim retribution, and no more than he deserved. He had not exaggeratedhis sentiments when he intimated plainly to her his hatred of Manley, andhe agreed with her that the fellow was making a despicable return for thekindness his neighbors had always shown him. No doubt he had stolen fromthe Double Diamond as well as the Wishbone.
Once Kent pulled up, half minded to go back and let events shape themselveswithout any interference from him. But there was Val--women were so queerabout such things. It seemed to Kent that, if any man had caused him asmuch misery as Manley had caused Val, he would not waste much time worryingover him, if he tangled himself up with his own misdeeds. However, Valwanted that bit of evidence covered up; so, while Kent did not approve, hewent at the business with his customary thoroughness.
The field glasses were a great convenience. More than once they saved himthe trouble of riding a mile or so to inspect a small bunch of stock.Nevertheless, he rode for several hours before, just at sundown, hediscovered the cow feeding alone with her calf in a shallow depression nearthe rough country next the river. They were wild, and he ran them out ofthe hollow and up on high ground before he managed to drop his loop overthe calf's head.
"You sure are a dandy-fine sign-post, all right," he observed, and grinneddown at the staring VP brand.
"It's a pity you can't be left that way." He glanced cautiously around himat the great, empty prairie. A mile or two away, a lone horseman was lopingleisurely along, evidently bound for the Double Diamond.
"Say--this is kinda public," Kent complained to the calf. "Let's you andme go down outa sight for a minute." He started off toward the hollow,dragging the calf, a protesting bundle of stiffened muscles pulling againstthe rope. The cow, shaking her head in a halfhearted defiance, followed.Kent kept an uneasy eye upon the horseman, and hoped fervently the fellowwas absorbed in meditation and, would not glance in his direction. Once hewas almost at the point of turning the calf loose; for barring out brands,even illegal brands, is justly looked upon with disfavor, to say the least.
Down in the hollow, which Kent reached with a sigh of relief, he dismountedand hastily started a little fire on a barren patch of ground beneath ajutting sandstone ledge. The calf, tied helpless, lay near by, and the cowhovered close, uneasy, but lacking courage for a rush.
Kent laid hand upon his saddle, hesitated, and shook his head; he mightneed it in a hurry, and cinch ring takes time both in the removal and thereplacement--and is vitally important withal. His knife he had lost on thelast round-up. He scowled at the necessity, lifted his heel, and took offa spur. "And if that darned ginny don't get too blamed curious and conefogging over this way--" He spoke the phrase aloud, out of the middle of amental arrangement of the chance he was taking.
To heat the spur red-hot, draw it across the fresh VP again and again, andfinally drag it crisscross once or twice to make assurance an absolutecertainty, did not take long. Kent was particular about not wasting anyseconds. The calf stopped its dismal blatting, and when Kent released itand coiled his rope, it jumped up and ran for its life, the cows amblingsolicitously at its heels. Kent kicked the dirt over the fire, eyed itsharply a moment to make sure it was perfectly harmless, mounted in haste,and rode up the sloping side down, which he had come. Just under the top ofthe slope, he peeked anxiously out over the prairie, ducked precipitately,and went clattering away down the hollow to the farther side; dodged arounda spur of rocks, forced his horse down over a wicked jumble of boulders tolevel land below, and rode as if a hangman's noose were the penalty fordelay.
When he reached the river--which he did after many windings andturnings--he got off and washed his spur, scrubbing it diligently with sandin an effort to remove the traces of fire. When the evidence was at leastless conspicuous, he put it on his heel and jogged down the river bankquite innocently, inwardly thankful over his escape. He had certainly donenothing wrong; but one sometimes finds it rather awkward to be forced intoan explanation of a perfectly righteous deed.
"If I'd been stealing that calf, I'd never have been crazy enough to takesuch a long chance," he mused, and laughed a little. "I'll bet Fred thoughthe was due to grab a rustler right in the act--only he was a little bitslow about making up his mind; deputy stock inspectors had oughta thinkquicker than that--he was just about five minutes too deliberate. I'llgamble he's scratching his head, right now, over that blotched brand,trying to _sabe_ the play--which he won't, not in a thousand years!"
He gave the reins a twitch and began to climb through the dusk to thelighter hilltop, at a point just east of Cold Spring Coulee. At the top heput the spurs to his horse and headed straight as might be for the Wishboneranch. He would like to have told Val of his success, but he was afraidManley might be there, or Polycarp; it was wise always to avoid PolycarpJenks, if one had anything to conceal from his fellows.