Buck Peters, Ranchman Read online

  CHAPTER IV

  THE FOREMAN OF THE DOUBLE Y

  Buck cinched up his saddle on Allday and led him out of the stable."Ned, this is shore one scrumptious hotel," he observed as he swung intohis seat.

  "It certainly is. Nothin' to beat it in Montany, I reckon," was Ned'shearty endorsement.

  Buck shook his head as they passed through the gate together. "Most toogood," he suggested.

  "I dunno," Ned doubted, "th' branch from Wayback 's shore to come downth' Jones' Luck, an' then Sandy 'll rake in."

  They had just turned into the trail when a rider passed them at speed,causing Ned's cayuse to shy and buck half way to the Jill. Theevener-tempered Allday only pointed his ears and pulled on the bit."Reckon you could catch that feller, eh? Well, you could n't," wasBuck's careless insult. "If Hoppy could see that horse he 'd give allhe 's got for him--bar Mary."

  The horse merited his criticism. A powerful black, well over fifteenhands, he showed the sloping thigh bones and shoulder of a borngalloper, while the deep chest gave promise of long-sustained effort.His rider had pulled up at the general store just beyond the hotel andNed joining him, Buck expressed his admiration. A moment later he addedto it: "By th' Lord, Ned, that 's a woman." The rider had dropped fromthe saddle and paused to wave her hand to Ned before she entered thestore. Buck caught the glance from a pair of beautiful dark eyes thatrested on him a moment before it fleeted past to his companion. Thegrave smile was well suited to the wonderfully regular features and whenshe turned and entered the store it was with the swinging step ofperfect movement. Buck faced about with a jerk when he realized that hehad actually turned in his saddle to gaze after her.

  "Best horse in these parts an' th' finest woman," agreed Ned, "an'honest," he added, gruffly.

  Buck stared at him, surprised. "Why, o' course! Anybody saysdifferent?" He unconsciously stiffened at the thought.

  "Um--no, not as I knows of. Her daddy 's a nester; got aquarter-section 'tother side o' Twin River, off th' trail a piece. RosaLaFrance--pretty name, ain't it? Th' boys calls her the French Rose."

  "Yes, 'tis pretty," drawled Buck. "What I'm askin' about is thisrecommendation o' character to me."

  It was Ned's turn to feel surprised. He pondered as he looked at Buck."I reckon I warn't exactly speakin' to you, Cheyenne," he explained;"more to myself, like. You see, it's this way: Dave Owens, he won thathorse from McReady of the Cyclone, one night in Wayback. I was n'tthere but I hears it's a regular clean up. McReady was in a streak o'bad luck and would a' lost ranch an' all but his friends hocussed hisliquor an' Mac, he drops out of his chair like somebody hit him with anaxe. Next day Rose rides into Twin River on that same horse. John,that's her daddy, he never bought him; he could n't. Then how did shecome by it? That's her business, I says. That's one thing. Foranother, Dave Owens travels that way considerable, an' Dave ain't nocompany for the French Rose. I 'm too old to interfere or I durn soonwould."

  Buck brooded on this situation for some time and then burst into alaugh. Ned eyed him with stern disapproval. "I was thinkin' of acow-punch I know," explained Buck, in apology. "He 'd interfere soquick, there would n't be time to notify th' mourners."

  Ned smiled in sympathy. "That 'd do," he admitted, "but you can't jumpin an' shoot up a fellow if a girl's sweet on him, can you? It 'd bejust nacheraly foolish."

  "That 's so," agreed Buck, "but if the French Rose can look at that sonof a thief and like him, then Hopalong Cassidy has no call to be proudo' _his_self."

  "Eh?" questioned Ned.

  "Th' name slipped out. But now 's as good a time as any to tell you.Did you ever hear o' Frenchy McAllister?"

  "Owner o' the Double Y?"

  "Half owner--leastways, he was. Frenchy 's dead. You was cussin' hisbrother last night. I want to tell you about Frenchy."

  Buck told the story in terse, graphic sentences, every one a vividpicture. He painted the scene of Trendley's crime to the accompanimentof a low-voiced growl of lurid profanity from Ned, who was quiteunconscious of it. The relentless hunt for the criminals, extendingthrough many months; the deadly retribution as one by one they werefound; the baffling elusiveness of Slippery Trendley and the unknownmanner of his fate when run to earth at last--one scene followed anotheruntil Buck left the arch devil in his story, as he had left him in fact,bound and helpless, looking up at the pitiless face of the man he hadinjured beyond the hope of pardon, their only witnesses the silentgrowths of Texas chaparral and the grieving eye of God.

  It was a terrible story, even in the mere telling of it. Buck's levelvoice and expressionless face hid the seething rage which filled himnow, as always, when his thoughts dwelt upon the awful drama. Ned'sjudgment was without restriction: "By the Eternal!" he swore, "thath--l-hound deserved whatever he got. D--d if you ain't made me sick."They rode in silence for several minutes and then: "Poor fellow! poorfellow!" he lamented. "Did you say he's dead?"

  "Yes, Frenchy's gone under," answered Buck gravely. "You 'd 'a' likedhim, Ned."

  "Yes, I reckon I would," agreed Ned. He looked at the other,considering. "Where do you come in?" he asked. Buck's narrative hadfailed to connect the new-born "Cheyenne" as "Frenchy's pardner."

  "I 'm Buck Peters," was the simple explanation.

  Ned pulled his horse back onto its haunches and Buck wheeled and facedhim. So they sat, staring, Ned inarticulate in his astonishment, Buckwaiting. The power of coherent thought returned to Ned at last and herode forward with outstretched hand. "Th' man as stuck to FrenchyMcAllister through that deal is good enough for me to tie up to," hedeclared, and the grip of their hands was the cementing of an unfailingfriendship. "An' I 'd like for Buck Peters to tell Frenchy's brother asI takes back what I said agin' him."

  Their way led through an excellent grass country. The comparatively lowground surrounding Wayback rose gradually to Twin River and more rapidlyafter leaving that town. The undulating ground now formed in higher andmore extensive mounds, rising in places to respectable-sized hills;usually the sides reached in long slopes the intervening depressions,but not infrequently they were abrupt and occasionally one was met whichpresented the broad, flat face of a bluff. The air was perceptiblycolder but the bunch grass, hiding its wonderfully nourishing qualitiesunder the hue it had acquired from the hot summer sun, was capable offattening more cattle to the acre than any but the best lands of theTexan ranges with which Buck was familiar. Snow had not yet swept downover the country, though apt to come with a rush at any time. Evenwinter affected the range but little as a general rule; disastrous yearswere luckily few and far separated, so that the average of loss fromseverity of weather was small. The talk of the two naturally veered tothis and kindred topics and Buck began stowing away nuggets of northernrange wisdom as they fell from the lips of the more experienced Ned.

  Studying the trail ahead of him, Buck broke the first silence by asking:"Ain't we near the boundary of the Double Y?"

  "You 'll know, soon enough. Th' first big butte we come to, some cuss'll be settin' there, hatchin' out trouble."

  "That's him, then," and Buck pointed to the right where a solitaryhorseman showed dark against the sky-line.

  "Yep, that's one of 'em. Reglar garjun, ain't he?"

  "Beats me how you let 'em stand you off, Ned," wondered Buck.

  "Well, when we made good and sure you owned the range, Buck, there weren't no use in fighting. That McAllister would 'a run in th' reglar armynext, d--d if he would n't."

  Buck chuckled. "He 's sure a hard man to beat. I don't mind fightingwhen I have to, but I 'm mighty glad it looks peaceful."

  "We 'll have fightin'. When I was turned off my ranch, it just aboutfoundered me. I sold th' stock, every head, an' you saw where th' lasto' th' cash went. But don't forget Smiler Schatz. He 's a bigger manan' a better man nor I ever was, an' he 's a-layin' low an' a-waitin'.He calculates to get you--I dunno how."

  "An' I dunno h
ow," mused Buck. "Say, Ned, I thought th' stage line ranthrough to Big Moose: there ain't no tracks?"

  "'Cause it crosses th' ford at th' Jack an' goes to th' Fort; then itswings round to Big Moose, an' back th' same road. Wonder who 's thatpointin' this way?"

  Buck glanced ahead to see a moving speck disappear behind a knoll faralong the trail. "Dunno; maybe another deputy," he suggested.

  The distant rider came into sight again and Ned stared steadily at him."No," he declared, "think I know that figger. Yessir! It's Smiler. Ikin tell him 'most as far as I kin see him."

  "That's the feller gave us the fight, ain't it?"

  "Did his share--some over, mebbe. He 's a hard nut."

  "Well, I 'm not bad at a pinch, myself, Ned; mebbe I can crack him."Ned smiled grimly at the jest and hoped he would be cracked good.Evidently there was no great liking between the quondam owners of theDouble Y.

  However, this was not apparent in their greeting. The steady approachhad been uninterrupted and Buck looked with interest at the "hard nut"as they met.

  In a land of dirty men--dirty far more frequently from necessity thanfrom choice--Schatz was a by-word for slovenliness nearly approachingfilth. If he washed at all it left no impression on the cakedcorrugations of his smiling countenance. His habit of smiling wasconstant, so much a part of him that it gave him his name. And it hadbeen solemnly affirmed by one of his men that he never interfered withhis face until the dirt interfered with his smile; then he chipped itoff with a cold chisel and hammer. This must have been slander: no onehad ever seen him when it looked chipped. A big man, with a fine head,he sat in his saddle with the careless ease of long practice. "Hello,Ned!" he called, with a gay wave of the hand. "_Wie geht's_?"

  "Howdy, Karl!" replied Ned. "How's sheep?"

  "Ach! don't say it, der grasshoppers. Never vill dey reach Big Moose.Also, I send East a good man to talk mit dat McAllister to lease derrange yet. Before now he say a manager come from Texas, soon. Vat issTexas like Montana? Nodding. Ven der snow come--"

  "Hol' on! This is th' manager, Mr. Buck Peters, half owner o' theDouble Y, an' he 's put me in as foreman."

  "So--it pleases me greatly, Mr. Buck. Ned iss a good man. If you hafNed, that iss different." He shook hands with Buck who took note of theblue eyes and frank smile of the blonde German, at a loss to discoverwhere he hid that hardness Ned had referred to.

  "Sorry I can't offer you a job," said Buck, matching the other's smileat the joke, "but from what I hear, one foreman will be a-plenty on theDouble Y."

  "It iss a good range--eggselent--und der iss mooch free grass ven youhaf der Double Vy for der hard years; but dere iss not enough for youund for me, too, so I turn farmer. Also some of der boys, dey turnfarmer. I take oud quarter-section alretty."

  "Quarter-section! Turn farmer! You! Sufferin' cows! give me a drink,"and Ned looked wildly around for the unattainable.

  "_Donnerwetter_! Somet'ing I must do. To lend money iss good but notenough. Also my train vill not vait. So I say good-morning und vishyou luck."

  Ned wheeled his horse to gaze after the departing figure and Buck satlaughing at his expression. "Luck," echoed Ned; "bad luck, you mean, yougrinnin' Dutchman. H--l of a farmer you 'll be. Now I wonder what'shis little game."

  "Aw, come on, Ned. 'Pears to me he 's easy," and Allday sprang awayalong the trail.

  "Easy, eh!" growled Ned, when he caught up, "he 's this easy: him and mestarted even up here, 'bout th' same time. 'T was n't long before hebegun crowdin' me. Neither of us had nuthin' at first but when we quithe could show five cows to my one. How 'd he do it?"

  "Borrowed th' money and bought yearlin's," answered Buck.

  "Yes, he did," Ned grudgingly admitted. "But I kep' a-watchin' him an'he allus branded more than th' natural increase, every round-up--an' Icould never see how he done it."

  "You--don't--say," was Buck's thoughtful comment, "Well, down our waywhen a man gets to doin' miracles on a free range we drops in on himcasual an' asks questions--they don't do it twice"; and he unconsciouslyincreased Allday's pace.

  "Here, pull up," urged Ned; "this bronc 's beginnin' to blow. That's abang-up horse you 've got there. No good with cattle, is he?"

  "No," agreed Buck. "I got this horse because 'discretion is sometimesbetter than valler,' as Tex Ewalt said when somebody asked him why hedid n't shoot Hoppy. Most times I finish what I start, but once in awhile, on a big job, it's healthy to take a vacation. An' I naturallyexpected to leave some hasty an' travel fast."

  "Ain't nothin' could catch you, in these parts, not if you got a goodstart, less'n it's French Rose an' Swallow."

  "Well, I was n't aimin' to run far nor yet to stay long. That seemslike it 'd be th' ranch."

  "That's her," agreed Ned.

  The ranch house, rectangular and of much greater dimensions than Buckexpected to find it, presented two novel features, one of which henoticed at once. "What's th' idea of a slopin' roof, Ned?" he asked.

  "That's Karl's notion. See that upside down trough runs along th' highpart at th' back? There ain't a foot o' that roof you can't slosh witha bucket o' water. An' you can shoot along th' walls from them cubbyholes built out at each corner. Th' house is a heap bigger 'n th' oldone was; it used to set over yonder in that valley, but th' wipin' outo' Custer put th' fear o' God in Smiler an' he raised this place soonafter. Five men could stand off five hundred Injuns."

  "Where 's th' water?"

  Ned chuckled. "Wait till you see it. There 's a well sunk at th' sidean' you can pull it in without goin' out-door if you wants to. Karl isone o' them think-of-everything fellers. He put th' ranch house on aknoll an' th' bunk-house on another. Then, he figgers, if they wants torush me they 'll be good an' winded when they gets here. My shack is apig-pen 'long side o' this un', but I got it figgered out I need n't tostop if I don't want."

  "How's that, Ned?"

  "I could cut an' run any time--come night. I 'll show you when we goesover there."

  Bare as was the interior, the ranch house gave promise of comfort andthe bunk-house and the stable with its adjacent corral proved equallysatisfactory. The fire-place of the bunk-house was built over the bareearth and there they repaired to make a fire and eat the food they hadbrought with them. The added warmth was a distinct comfort but thesmoke brought company on the run. They had scarcely begun their mealwhen a faint sound led Buck to saunter to the door and look out. Downthe steep side of a high butte dropped a horseman with considerably morespeed and no more care than a dislodged boulder; arriving at the bottom,his horse straightened out into a run that showed he was expected to getsomewhere right away. Buck gravely bit into a sandwich the while headmired the rider's horsemanship; an admiration that was directed intoanother channel when the object of it slipped rifle from holster, pumpeda cartridge into the barrel, and threw it forward in business-likeattitude. "'Spects to have use for it, right soon," mused Buck, andthen, over his shoulder: "Better hide, Ned. Here comes a garjun an' he's got his gun out."

  "Th' h--l he has!" rumbled Ned. "Come an' push me up th' chimley, Buck;I 'm a-scared."

  Buck strolled back to the fire and half a minute later the horse poundedup to the house, his rider sprang off and came through the door, gunfirst. He continued across the room with solemn countenance, set hisgun against the wall, and went to the fire where he extended his handsto the blaze. "Howdy, Ned; howdy, stranger," was his easy greeting.

  Ned, sitting cross-legged, smirked up at him. "Howdy, Jack. You weren't going to run me off'n th' range, was you?"

  "Nope. Saw Cheyenne Charley headin' this way 'bout an hour since.Thought mebbe he 'd burn her up--Pipes o' peace!" His eyes widened ashe gazed at Ned's upturned mouth. "Bottled beer, or I 'm a Injun. Youlives high," and he swallowed involuntarily as the inspiring gurglestimulated his salivary glands.

  "I 'm taperin' off on beer," explained Ned. "Got three bottles, one forBuck and two for me. I 'm biggest. But you can have one o' mi
ne.Buck, this is Jim's Jack, head garjun an' a right good sort. BuckPeters has come to take charge of his own ranch, Jack."

  "Shake," said Jack. He glanced over the papers Buck handed him andpassed them back. All three turned to look at the open door.

  "Hang up a sign, Buck," advised Ned. "If we stops here long enough wecan start a hotel. Come in, Charley."

  The Indian stepped slowly in. "Cheyenne Charley, Buck," said Ned; "offthe Reservation for a drunk at Twin River. You 'd think he 'd stop inBig Moose. Reckon he 's hungry, too; he--" Ned paused and his eyessought the object of Charley's steady and significant gaze. "Oh, thatbe d--d!" he exclaimed, swooping onto the third bottle of beer besidehim and holding it out to Buck. "He wants your beer. Charley is a goodInjun--I _think_--but 'lead us not into temptation'"--and with the otherhand he proceeded to put his share of temptation out of sight, anexample that Jim's Jack emulated with dignified speed.

  "Let him have it," said Buck, good naturedly. "I never hankered muchfor beer, nohow." He passed the bottle to the Indian, not in the leastsuspecting what "an anchor he had cast to windward." The other twoexchanged a look of regretful disapproval.

  Half an hour later they had separated, Buck and Ned going on to the moredistant NM ranch, Jack to gather up his fellow deputies, and theCheyenne hitting the trail for Twin River with a thirst largelyaugmented by the sop he had thrown to it.