CHAPTER X
WAR WITHOUT QUARTER
He found her where he had left her, but now she was standing and lookingout over the silent prairies, as though searching for someone.
"What are you trying to see?" Bud asked.
"I thought father and some of the cowboys would probably follow the sheeponce they had started them. Oh, what have I said?"
"I imagined it was they who had done it," said Bud quietly, the fullenormity of the thing not yet having sunk deep into his mind. "How did youget mixed up in it?"
"Simply enough," replied Julie. "Late in the afternoon Chuck, one of themen on the eastern range, came riding in and said that your sheep weredirectly east of the ranch house. Father and Mike Stelton talked a lotabout it at supper, and figured up then that the easiest way--well, toteach you a lesson, they called it--was to run them over the bank of theLittle River.
"I don't like sheep, Bud, as you know; but that was going too far for me,and I protested, with the result that father took Mike outside with him,quite upset that I said anything at all. Both of them looked black as asilk hat."
"Good little girl!" cried Bud gratefully, and she turned her face directlytoward him and smiled; just such a smile, Larkin remembered, as he hadseen her use on other soft nights years before, in circumstances sototally different.
"After supper," she continued, "there was a great bustle of getting away,and I grew curious to see what they would do and how. So as soon as theyleft I saddled my calico and set out after them, keeping about abreast buta couple of miles to the north. The next thing I heard was a terrific lotof shooting and yelling, and the business was done. I don't wonder thesheep were in a panic!
"Then I heard the sound of the stampede, but I did not realize it wasdriving straight at me. I must have been confused in my idea of where theLittle River was. Anyway, before I had time to think about it I realized Iwas directly in their path and with a very small advantage. I could escapeneither to right nor left, for the wings of the running flock were wide,and all I could do was to run my pony as hard as he could go.
"He seemed to know the danger; all cow ponies do, I guess, for I never sawhim travel like that in all my life; he stretched so flat along theground that it almost seemed as though I could reach down and touch itwith my hand. You know what such speed as that is at night with thegopher-holes and other ankle-breakers! Well, we took the chance, and Billyactually drew away from the sheep, panicky as they were.
"But I couldn't gain enough to dare to turn to right or left, and I hadjust about given up hope because the trees were ahead, when I saw theflash and heard the report of your gun. Thank God it was you, Bud. I'venever known you to be a coward or to fail in any situation. I can't sayhow grateful I am for what you have done to-night."
"I assure you I didn't do it, Julie; it was that man who got sick and leftus. He's disappeared now."
"Who was he? One of the Bar T punchers?"
"No, it was that fellow, Caldwell. Perhaps you don't remember him--he cameto the Bar T for supper the same night I did."
"Yes, I remember him," said Julie in a tone out of which all the impetuouswarmth had gone. Suddenly in this strange situation she found herself faceto face with another chapter in the mystery that baffled her.
"Well, he saved my life to-night, and, though I can't say I admire thefellow very much, I am mighty grateful to him."
"It is strange you two should be together out here when your sheep weresomewhere else," hazarded Juliet, looking full at Larkin and expectingsome action or word to betray his fear of her suspicions.
"Not at all strange when you know the circumstances," he replied. "Justlisten to this tale of adventure. But first I think we had better startwalking toward the Bar T ranch house. We ought to meet some of thecowboys. Br-r--it's cold!" and Bud shivered in the piercing chill of thespring night.
To the plainsman walking is the most refined form of punishment. Your realcowboy slouches miserably along in his tight-fitting, uncomfortablehigh-heeled boots, looking about as much in his element as a strandedwhale. In cowboy parlance his "feet don't track," his backbone wilts, andhis knees bow naturally as a result of early horseback riding. On solidearth the cowboy is a crestfallen and dejected object.
As the two trudged along beneath the calm stars that had seen a thousandstampedes since the millions of buffalo roared up and down its length,Larkin told Juliet of the events that had occurred since they had saidfarewell at the fork of Grassy Creek. At the mention of the rustlers andthe activities they were carrying on the girl gave a little, low cry.
"Father must hear that," she said. "He would give a lot to havedescriptions of those men."
"He couldn't give me back two thousand sheep and lambs," rejoined Budbitterly.
"No, but I think he would give you their value."
"Yes, and stampede it into another gully when I brought it across hisrange. Juliet, I'm not done with this thing. I'll fight your father or anyother man that ever heard a calf bawl for milk, until I get my rights onthe free range."
Larkin's voice was deep and full-throated with the righteous anger thatsurged through him over the outrage that had been wrought that night.
As for the girl, she did not recognize this Bud Larkin. The man she hadknown had been one of gay pleasantries, but rather ineffectual endeavors;this man who spoke was one to whom his will was his law, and obstaclesmerely helps because of their strengthening of his determination. For thefirst time she saw the Bud Larkin that had developed in the last year,and a kind of admiring thrill at the mental stature of the man wentthrough her.
And yet she knew that war--hard, tenacious, ugly war--war without quarter,mercy, or respite, was irrevocably declared between Larkin and her father;and, even in her instinctive loyalty to her house, she had to admit thatBud was justified.
"Oh, I wish you would give the whole thing up!" she said plaintively. "Itwill only result in ruin to everybody."
Larkin laughed harshly.
"I'll never give it up until I am either dead or haven't a dollar left,"he replied. "I am determined to have my rights in this matter, and I shallhave them whatever the cost."
For a time there was silence between them, each realizing that furtherdiscussion could only prove unhappy.
They had gone about two miles from the scene of the stampede when suddenlya man appeared close in front of them and commanded them to halt.
"Hello, Sims!" cried Larkin joyfully, recognizing the other's voice, butat the same time hoisting his hands above his head.
"Well, chief," said the herder imperturbably, returning his revolver toits holster, "I allow your vacation has cost you a lot of money."
Bud then outlined his experiences briefly, concluding with his story ofthe stampede, and Sims whistled in amazement, his one method of expressingastonishment.
"Well, what's the story now?" Bud asked.
Juliet had walked ahead when the two men met, and now Larkin dropped farenough behind to be out of ear-shot and yet keep the girl dimly in sight.
Hurriedly, for him, Sims related the story of the ill-fated expedition upto the time of the stampede. He and the herders had put up what defensethey could, he said, and, as a result, two of his men were dead and theothers scattered. However, he expected they would return to the nowdeserted camp.
"I want you to take them back south to the Badwater River," orderedLarkin. "The second flock ought to be there by this time, but I want youto hold them there. In two days the boys from Montana ought to be down,and when you're ready to start north you will have force enough to fightany bunch of cowboys old Bissell can scrape together."
"But if we don't move that flock out right away the others will come andpile up there, and then we shore will have our hands full."
"All right, let 'em pile up. We'll get 'em through just the same. Now,Sims, we are in this thing for blood from now on, and don't you forget itfor a minute."
"Trust me, boss," drawled the herder. "Are you comin' down to join us?"
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sp; "Yes, if I can. As soon as I get Miss Bissell into safe hands I'll come.But don't count on me; I may never get there. Do whatever you think best,but bring those sheep through. And tell the herders and the boys from thenorth that while this trouble is on I'll pay them five dollars a dayapiece."
"Shore, they'd rassle the devil himself for that," commented Sims.
"And you get ten," supplemented Larkin. "Now go ahead and make allpreparations the way you think best. Everything is in your hands."
Sims faded from sight noiselessly, and Larkin hurried forward to overtakeJuliet. They had not been together five minutes when the rapid trotting ofhorses was heard ahead and Larkin, taking the chance of falling into evilhands, called out to the travelers.
"Who's there?" came a gruff voice, accompanied by the click of hammersdrawn back.
"Oh, father, it's I--Juliet!" cried the girl, recognizing the speaker andrunning toward him.
There was a surprised exclamation out of the darkness, and the sound of aman vaulting from the saddle. The next moment and he had clasped hisdaughter in his arms.
Larkin, his mission completed, started to back away from the scene, butthe girl herself wrecked this intention.
"It was Mr. Larkin who called out," she said, evidently in answer to aquestion. "He saved my life, father, and he has brought me safely back. Heis standing right over there."
At this Bud turned and ran, but the sound of a pony closing in on himbrought him to a stop.
"Well, what do you want?" he demanded angrily.
"Bissell wants to see you," said the rider whose voice the sheepmanrecognized as that of Stelton.
Not deigning to enter an argument with the foreman, Bud walked back towhere Bissell stood beside his horse.
"Now the sheep are out of the way, if you want to learn anything aboutrustlers I guess our friend here can tell you," remarked Steltonsuddenly, in a voice exultant as it was ugly.
"Oh, yes, father," added Juliet, "he's been with them for almost twodays."
"Is this so, Mr. Larkin?" asked Bissell.
"Yes."
"Well, we won't discuss it now," said the cowman. "Let's go back to theranch house and get something to eat. I have an extra horse here, Larkin,if you care to ride."
"I don't care to, thanks," answered Bud dryly. "Since you have ruined me,you will do me a favor by letting me go."
"I allow I'd like to do you a favor," rejoined Bissell with equalcourtesy, "but I've got to find out about them rustlers. We won't keep yuhlong."
"Come on, get up on that horse," said the voice of Stelton close besidehim, and Bud turned to look into the long barrel of the foreman's gun thatwas stuck under his nose.
Trembling with suppressed fury, he did as he was told, but on the ten-mileride to the Bar T ranch said nothing, and only revolved in his mind onequestion: How did Stelton know he had been with the rustlers before Juliehad said anything about them?
The Free Range Page 10