Bunch Grass: A Chronicle of Life on a Cattle Ranch

by Horace Annesley Vachell

  VII

  FIFTEEN FAT STEERS

  "Uncle Jake says," murmured Ajax, "that Laban Swiggart has been'milking' us ever since we bought this ranch."

  Laban was our neighbour. A barbed-wire fence divided his sterile hillsfrom our fertile valleys, and emphasised sharply the differencebetween a Government claim and a Spanish grant. The County Assessorvalued the Swiggart ranch at the rate of _one_, and our domain at_six_ dollars per acre. We owned two leagues of land, ourneighbours but half a section. Yet, in consequence of dry seasons andlow prices, we were hardly able to pay our bills, whereas theSwiggarts confounded all laws of cause and effect by living incomparative splendour and luxury.

  "Uncle Jake believes that he stole our steers," continued Ajax,puffing slowly at his pipe.

  Some two years before we had lost fifteen fat steers. We had employedLaban to look for them, and he had charged us thirty dollars forlabours that were in vain.

  "Ajax," said I, "we have eaten the Swiggarts' salt, not to mentiontheir fatted chicks, their pickled peaches, their jams and jellies.It's an outrage to insinuate, as you do, that these kind neighboursare common thieves."

  My brother looked quite distressed. "Of course Mrs. Swiggart can knownothing about it. She is a real good sort; the best wife and mother inthe county. And I'm only quoting Uncle Jake. He says that fifteensteers at $30 a head make $450. Laban built a barn that spring, andput up a tank and windmill."

  With this Parthian shot my brother left me to some sorry reflections.I cordially liked and respected Laban Swiggart and his family. He hadmarried a Skenk. No name in our county smelled sweeter than Skenk: asynonym, indeed, for piety, deportment, shell-work, and the preservingof fruits. The Widow Skenk lived in San Lorenzo, hard by theCongregational Church; and it was generally conceded that the hand ofone of her daughters in marriage was a certificate of character to thegroom. No Skenk had been known to wed a drunkard, a blasphemer, or anevil liver. Moreover, Laban had been the first to welcome us--two rawEnglishmen--to a country where inexperience is a sin. He had helped usover many a stile; he had saved us many dollars. And he had an honestface. Broad, benignant brows surmounted a pair of keen and kindlyeyes; his nose proclaimed a sense of humour; his mouth and chin wereconcealed by a beard almost apostolic in its silky beauty. Could sucha man be a thief?

  The very next day Laban rode down his steep slopes and asked us tohelp him and his to eat a Christmas turkey. He said something, too,about a fine ham, and a "proposition," a money-making scheme, to besubmitted to us after the banquet.

  "Hard times are making you rich," said Ajax.

  "My God!" he exclaimed passionately, "have I not been poor longenough? Have I not seen my wife and children suffering for want ofproper food and clothing? If prosperity is coming my way, boys, I'vepaid the price for it, and don't you forget it."

  His eyes were suffused with tears, and Ajax took note of it. Mybrother told me later that so tender a husband and father wasassuredly no cattle-thief.

  Upon Christmas Day we sat at meat for nearly two hours. Mrs. DoctorTapper, the wife of the stout dentist of San Miguelito, was present.Of the three Misses Skenk she had made the best match--from a worldlypoint of view. She wore diamonds; she kept two hired girls; sheentertained on a handsome scale, and never failed to invite her lessfortunate sisters to her large and select parties--she was, in a word,a most superior person, and a devout church-member. To this lady Ajaxmade himself mightily agreeable.

  "Now really," said she, "I do wish the doctor was here. He does sodearly love badinage. That, and bridgework, is his forte."

  "And why isn't he here?" demanded my brother.

  "He's hunting our bay mare. It broke out of the barn this morning. Itold him that I wouldn't disappoint Alviry for an ark full of baymares. I knew she would count on me to help her entertain yougentlemen."

  "I hope your husband will find his mare," said Ajax. "We lost fifteenfat steers once, but we never found them."

  "That's so," observed Mr. Swiggart. "And I wore myself out a-hunting'em. They was stolen--sure."

  "The wickedness of some folk passes my understanding," remarked Mrs.Tapper. "Well, we're told that the triumphing of the wicked is short,but--good Land!--Job never lived in this State."

  "He'd been more to home in New England," said Laban slily. The Skenkswere from Massachusetts, the Swiggarts from Illinois.

  "There's a pit digged for such," continued Mrs. Tapper, ignoring theinterruption, "a pit full o' brimstone and fire. Yes, sister, I willtake one more slice of the ham. I never ate sweeter meat. Eastern, Ipresume, my dear?"

  "No, sister. Laban cured that ham. Pork-packing was his trade backeast."

  Laban added: "Boys, I hope ye like that ham. I've a reason forasking."

  We assured our host that the ham was superlatively good. Mince andpumpkin pies followed, coffee, then grace. As we rose from the table,Laban said pleasantly, "Boys, here are some imported cigars. We'llsmoke outside."

  Having, so to speak, soaped the ways, Mr. Swiggart launched his"proposition." He wished to pack bacon. Hogs, he pointed out, wereselling at two cents a pound; bacon and hams at twelve and fifteencents. We had some two hundred and fifty hogs ready for market. TheseLaban wanted to buy on credit. He proposed to turn them into lard,hams, and bacon, to sell the same to local merchants (thereby savingcost of transportation), and to divide the profits with us after theoriginal price of the hogs was paid. This seemed a one-sided bargain.He was to do all the work; we should, in any case, get the marketprice for the hogs, while the profits were to be divided. However, ourhost explained that we took all the risk. If the bacon spoiled hewould not agree to pay us a cent. With the taste of that famous ham inour mouths, this contingency seemed sufficiently remote; and we saidas much.

  "Well, I could rob ye right and left. Ye've got to trust me, andthere's a saying: 'To trust is to bust.'"

  He was so candid in explaining the many ways by which an unscrupulousman might take advantage of two ignorant Britons, that Ajax, notrelishing the personal flavour of the talk, rose and strolled acrossto the branding-corral. When he returned he was unusually silent, and,riding home, he said thoughtfully: "I saw Laban's brand thisafternoon. It is 81, and the 8 is the same size as our S. His ear-markis a crop, which obliterates our swallow-fork. Queer--eh?"

  "Not at all," I replied indignantly. "It's a social crime to eat, asyou did to-day, three large helpings of turkey, and then----"

  "Bosh!" he interrupted. "If Laban is an honest man, no harm has beendone. If he stole our steers--and, mind you, I don't say he did--threeslices off the breast of a turkey will hardly offset my interest infive tons of beef. As for this packing scheme, it sounds promising;but we lack figures. To-morrow we will drive into San Lorenzo, andtalk to the Children of Israel. If Ikey Rosenbaum says that bacon islikely to rise or stay where it is, we will accept Laban'sproposition."

  The following morning we started early. The short cut to San Lorenzolay through the Swiggart claim, and the road passed within a few yardsof the house. We saw Mrs. Swiggart on the verandah, and offered toexecute any commissions that she cared to entrust to two bachelors. Inreply she said that she hated to ask favours, but--if we were going totown in a two-seater, would we be so very kind as to bring back hermother, Mrs. Skenk, who was ailing, and in need of a change."Gran'ma's hard on the springs," observed Euphemia, Mrs. Swiggart'syoungest girl, "but she'll tell you more stories than you can shake astick at; not 'bout fairies, Mr. Ajax, but reel folks." We assuredMrs. Swiggart that we should esteem it a pleasure to give her mother alift. Ajax had met the old lady at a church social some six monthsbefore, and, finding her a bonanza of gossip, had extracted some richand curious ore.

  In San Lorenzo we duly found Isaac Rosenbaum, who proved an optimiston the subject of bacon. Indeed, he chattered so glibly of risingprices and better times that the packing scheme was immediatelyreferred to his mature judgment; and he not only recommended itheartily, but offered to handle our "stuff" on commission, or to buyit outright if it proved
marketable. According to Ikey the conjunction"if" could not be ignored. Packing bacon beneath the sunny skies ofSouthern California was a speculation, he said. Swiggart, he added,ought to know what good hams were, for he bought the very best Easternbrand.

  "What!" we cried simultaneously, "does Mr. Swiggart _buy_ hams?"

  Yes; it seemed that only a few days previously Laban had carefullyselected the choicest ham in the store.

  Ajax clutched my arm, and we fled.

  "We have convicted the wretch," he said presently.

  "The _wretches_," I amended.

  The use of the plural smote him in the face.

  "This is awful," he groaned. "Why, when you were away last summer, andI broke my leg, she nursed me like a mother."

  "Women throw such sops to a barking conscience."

  I was positive now that Laban had stolen the steers, and that his wifewas privy to the theft. The lie about the ham had been doubtlessconcocted for purposes of plunder. The kindness and hospitality of ourneighbours had been, after all, but a snare for tenderfeet.

  * * * * *

  We found Mrs. Skenk--whom we had seen on arrival--sitting on her frontporch, satchel in hand, patiently awaiting us. Ajax helped her tomount--no light task, for she was a very heavy and enfeebled woman. Idrove. As we trotted down the long straggling street our passengerspoke with feeling of the changes that had taken place in the oldmission town.

  "I've lived here thirty years. Twenty mighty hard ones as a marriedwoman; and ten tol'able easy ones as a widder. Mr. Skenk was a saintlyman, but tryin' to live with on account o' deefness and the azmy. Inever see a chicken took with the gapes but I think o' Abram Skenk.Yes, Mr. Ajax, my daughters was all born here, 'ceptin' Alviry. Shewas born in Massachusetts. It did make a difference to the child. As alittle girl she kep' herself to herself. And though I'd rather cut outmy tongue than say a single word against Laban Swiggart, I do feelthat he'd no business to pick the best in the basket. Favourite? No,sir; but I've said, many a time, that if Alviry went to her long home,I could not tarry here. Most women feel that way about the first-born.I've told Alviry to her face as she'd ought to have said 'No' to LabanSwiggart. Oh, the suffering that dear child has endured! It did seemtill lately as if horse-tradin', cattle-raisin', and the butcherbusiness was industries against which the Lord had set his face. Sairymarried an undertaker; Samanthy _couldn't_ refuse Doctor Tapper.And, rain or shine, folks must have teeth if they want to eat thesteaks they sell in Californy, and likewise they must have casketswhen their time comes. Yes, Alviry does take after me, Mr. Ajax.You're reel clever to say so. She ain't a talker, but brainy. You'veseen her wax flowers? Yes; and the shell table with 'Bless our Home'on it, in pink cowries? Mercy sakes! There's a big storm a'comin' up."

  The rain began to fall as she spoke; at first lightly, then moreheavily as we began to cross the mountains. Long before we came to theSalinas River it was pouring down in torrents--an inch of water to thehour.

  "It's a cloud-burst," said Mrs. Skenk, from beneath a prehistoricumbrella. "This'll flush the creeks good."

  I whipped up the horses, thinking of the Salinas and its treacherouswaters. In California, when the ground is well sodden, a very smallstorm will create a very big freshet. At such times most rivers aredangerous to ford on account of quicksands.

  "I'll guess we'll make it," observed the old lady. "I've crossed whenit was bilin' from bank to bank. I mind me when Jim Tarburt wasdrowned: No 'count, Jim. He'd no more sense than a yaller dog. 'Twas abig streak o' luck for his wife and babies, for Susannah Tarburtmarried old man Hopping, and when he died the very next year she wasleft rich. Then there was that pore thin school-marm, Ireen Bunker.She--"

  And Mrs. Skenk continued with a catalogue, long as that of the shipsin the _Iliad_, of travellers who, in fording the Salinas, hadcrossed that other grim river which flows for ever between time andeternity. We had reached the banks before she had drained her memoryof those who had perished.

  "'Tis bilin'," she muttered, as she peered up and down the yellow,foam-speckled torrent that roared defiance at us; "but, good Land! wecan't go around now. Keep the horses' noses upstream, young man, anduse your whip."

  We plunged in.

  What followed took place quickly. In mid-stream the near horsefloundered into a quicksand and fell, swinging round the pole, andwith it the off horse. I lashed the poor struggling beastsunmercifully, but the wagon settled slowly down--inch by inch. Deathgrinned us in the teeth. Then I heard Mrs. Skenk say, quitecollectedly: "'Tis my fault, and my weight." Then Ajax roared out:"For God's sake, sit down, ma'am, sit down. SIT DOWN!" he screamed,his voice shrill above the bellowing, booming waters. A crash behindtold me that he had flung her back into her seat. At the same momentthe near horse found a footing; there was a mighty pull from both theterrified animals, the harness held, and the danger was over. When wereached the bank I looked round. Mrs. Skenk was smiling; Ajax waswhite as chalk.

  "She w-w-would have s-s-sacrificed her l-l-life," he stammered. "If Ihadn't grabbed her, she would be dead this minute."

  "I reckon that's so," assented our passenger. "I took a notion tojump. My weight and fool advice was like to cost three lives. Betterone, thinks I, than three. You saved my life, Mr. Ajax. Yes, you did.Alviry, I reckon, will thank you."

  The rest of the journey was accomplished in silence. We drove up tothe Swiggarts' house, and both Laban and his wife expressed greatsurprise at seeing us.

  "You're wet through, mother," said Mrs. Swiggart, "and all of atremble."

  "Yes, Alviry, I've had a close call. This young man saved my life."

  "Nonsense," said Ajax gruffly. "I did nothing of the sort, Mrs.Skenk."

  "Yes, you did," she insisted, grimly obstinate.

  "Any ways," said Mrs. Swiggart, "you'll lose what has been saved,mother, if you stand there in the rain."

  For five days it rained steadily. Our creek, which for eleven monthsin the year bleated sweetly at the foot of the garden, bellowed loudlyas any bull of Bashan, and kept us prisoners in the house, where wehad leisure to talk and reflect. We had been robbed and humbugged,injured in pride and pocket, but the lagging hours anointed ourwounds. Philosophy touched us with healing finger.

  "If we prosecute we advertise our own greenness," said Ajax. "Afterall, if Laban did fleece us, he kept at bay other ravening wolves. Andthere is Mrs. Skenk. That plucky old soul must never hear the story.It would kill her."

  So we decided to charge profit and loss with five hundred dollars, andto keep our eyes peeled for the future. By this time the skies hadcleared, and the cataract was a creek again. The next day Mrs.Swiggart drove up to the barn, tied her horse to the hitching-post,and walked with impressive dignity up the garden path. We had time tonote that something was amiss. Her dark eyes, beneath darker brows,intensified a curious pallor--that sickly hue which is seen upon thefaces of those who have suffered grievously in mind or body. Ajaxopened the door, and offered her a chair, but not his hand. She didnot seem to notice the discourtesy. We asked if her mother hadsuffered from the effects of her wetting.

  "Mother has been very sick," she replied, in a lifeless voice. "She'sbeen at death's door. For five days I've prayed to Almighty God, and Iswore that if He'd see fit to spare mother, I'd come down here, and onmy bended knees"--she sank on the floor--"ask for your forgiveness aswell as His. Don't come near me," she entreated; "let me say what mustbe said in my own way. When I married Laban Swiggart I was an honestwoman, though full o' pride and conceit. And he was an honest man. To-day we're thieves and liars."

  "Mrs. Swiggart," said Ajax, springing forward and raising her to herfeet. "You must not kneel to us. There--sit down and say no more. Weknow all about it, and it's blotted out so far as we're concerned."

  Her sobs--the vehement, heart-breaking sobs of a man rather than of awoman--gradually ceased. She continued in a softer voice: "It began'way back, when I was a little girl. Mother set me on a pedestal;p'r'aps I'd ought to say I set myself there. It's l
ike me to beblaming mother. Anyways, I just thought myself a little mite clevererand handsomer and better than the rest o' the family. I aimed to beatSarah and Samanthy at whatever they undertook, and Satan let me do it.Well, I did one good thing. I married a poor man because I loved him.I said to myself, 'He has brains, and so have I. The dollars willcome.' But they didn't come. The children came.

  "Then Sarah and Samanthy married. They married men o' means, and thegall and wormwood entered into my soul, and ate it away. Laban wasawful good. He laughed and worked, but we couldn't make it. Times wastoo hard. I'd see Samanthy trailin' silks and satins in the dust, and--and my underskirts was made o' flour sacks. Yes--flour sacks! And me aSkenk!"

  She paused. Neither Ajax nor I spoke. Comedy lies lightly upon allthings, like foam upon the dark waters. Beneath are tragedy and thetears of time.

  "Then you gentlemen came and bought land. They said you was lords,with money to burn. I told Laban to help you in the buyin' o' horses,and cattle, and barb-wire, and groceries. He got big commissions, buthe kept off the other blood-suckers. We paid some of our debts, andLaban bought me a black silk gown. I couldn't rest till Samanthy hadfelt of it. She'd none better. If we'd only been satisfied with that!

  "Well, that black silk made everything else look dreadful mean. 'Twasthen you spoke to Laban about choosin' a brand. Satan put it into myhead to say--S. It scart Laban. He was butcherin' then, and hesurmised what I was after; I persuaded him 'twas for the children'ssake. The first steer paid for Emanuel's baby clothes and cradle. Theywas finer than what Sarah bought for her child. Then we killed theothers--one by one. Laban let 'em through the fence and then clappedour brand a-top o' yours. They paid for the tank and windmill. Afterthat we robbed you when and where we could. We put up that baconscheme meanin' to ship the stuff to the city and to tell you that ithad spoiled on us. We robbed none else, only you. And we actuallyjustified ourselves. We surmised 'twas fittin' that Britishers shouldpay for the support o' good Americans."

  "I've read some of your histories," said Ajax drily, "and canunderstand that point of view."

  "Satan fools them as fool themselves, Mr. Ajax. But the truth struckme and Laban when we watched by mother. She was not scared o' death.And she praised me to Laban, and said that I'd chosen the better partin marryin' a poor man for love, and that money hadn't made Christianwomen of Sarah and Samanthy. She blamed herself, dear soul, forsettin' store overly much on dollars and cents. And she said she coulddie easier thinking that what was good in her had passed to me, andnot what was evil. And, Mr. Ajax, that talk just drove me and Labancrazy. Well, mother ain't going to die, and we ain't neither--tillwe've paid back the last cent, we stole from you. Laban has figgeredit out, principal and interest, and he's drawn a note for fifteenhundred dollars, which we've both signed. Here it is."

  She tendered us a paper. Ajax stuck his hands into his pockets, and Idid the same.

  She misinterpreted the action. "You ain't going to prosecute?" shefaltered.

  Ajax nodded to me. Upon formal occasions he expects me, being theelder, to speak. If I say more or less than he approves I am severelytaken to task.

  "Mrs. Swiggart," I began, lamely enough, "I am sure that your husbandcan cure hams----"

  Ajax looked at me indignantly. With the best of motives I had given asore heart a grievous twist.

  "We bought that ham," she said sadly, "a-purpose."

  "No matter. We have decided to go into this packing business with yourhusband. When--er--experience goes into partnership with ignorance,ignorance expects to pay a premium. We have paid our premium."

  She rose, and we held out our hands.

  "No, gentlemen; I won't take your hands till that debt is cancelled.The piano and the team will go some ways towards it. Good-bye, and--thank you."