On the Cowboy's Trail: Western Boxed-Set. Coolidge Dane

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СКАЧАТЬ us out, you can try it on; but for God’s sake cut it out about your sacred rights!”

      He rose up in his saddle, haranguing the assembly as he spoke, and once more Jim Swope felt his cause being weakened by the attacks of this vehement little cowman.

      “Well, what kin I do about it?” he cried, throwing out his hands in virtuous appeal. “My sheep has got to eat, hain’t they?”

      “Sure,” assented Hardy, “and so have our cattle. But I tell you what you can do –– you can go out through that pass yonder!”

      He pointed at the cañon down which the sheep had come in the Fall, the great middle fork which led up over the Four Peaks; but the sheepman’s only reply was a snarl of refusal.

      “Not if I know myself,” he muttered spitefully. “How’d do, Judge!” He fixed his eyes eagerly upon Judge Ware, who was hastening to join in the struggle. “You’re just the man I want to see,” he continued, advancing briskly to meet him, “and I want to ask you, here and now before these witnesses, do you claim any right to the exclusive use of this land?”

      “Why, certainly not, certainly not,” answered the judge warmly, “but at the same time I do claim an equity which rises from prior and undisputed possession, and which has always and ought now to protect my range from any outside invasion.”

      “Very likely, very likely,” remarked Swope dryly. “And now, Judge, I want to ask you another question before these witnesses. Did you or did you not authorize your superintendent and foreman to threaten and intimidate my men and me, with the idea of driving us off this public land?”

      “I did not,” replied the judge, his mind suddenly filled with visions of criminal proceedings. “On the contrary, I have repeatedly warned them against any such action.”

      “At the same time,” echoed Swope, quick to follow up his advantage, “these men, who are your agents and employees, have systematically moved my herders off this range by armed violence, and your foreman has just now struck my brother, besides threatening to kill some of us if we don’t turn back. I want to tell you right now, Mr. Ware, that I have consulted the best lawyers in this Territory as to my rights on public lands, and you will be held personally responsible for any acts of violence on the part of your employees. Now I want to ask you one more question: Do you deny my right to pass through this range on my way to the Sierra Blancas? You don’t? Well then, call off these men!”

      He paused and jerked his thumb toward Creede and Hardy, grinning evilly, and as he spoke Creede crowded forward, his brow black as a thunder cloud.

      “I don’t take orders from nobody,” he cried vehemently, “not now, and never will. I’ve got a few hundred head of cows on this range myself and I intend to protect ’em if I have to kill somebody. You’ll have to git another foreman, Judge, –– I’ve quit.”

      He shot a glance of pitying contempt at the man who had so stupidly marred their fortunes, then he turned and fixed his burning eyes upon his archenemy.

      “Jim,” he said, speaking quietly at last, “my father had ten thousand head of cattle on this range before you sheepmen came –– and that’s all I’ve got left. If you think you can sheep me out, go to it!”

      He turned his horse’s head toward Hidden Water, never looking back at the sheep; and the cowmen fell in behind him, glad of an excuse to retreat. What were a bunch of cowboys, armed with six-shooters, to half a hundred sheepmen armed with repeating rifles and automatic revolvers? No, it was better to let the sheep come, let them spread out and scatter, and then jump the herders at night, if it came to that. But what, reasoned the cautious ones, were a few hundred head of cows anyhow, in a losing fight against the law itself? What was a petty revenge upon some low-browed Mexican to the years of imprisonment in Yuma which might follow? There were some among that little band of cowmen who yelled for action, others who were disgusted enough to quit, and others yet who said nothing, riding by themselves or exchanging furtive glances with Creede. The Clark boys, Ben Reavis, and Juan Ortega –– these were the men whom the rodéo boss knew he could trust, and none of them spoke a word.

      Worn and haggard from his night’s riding, Rufus Hardy rode along with Judge Ware and the ladies, explaining the situation to them. The sheep had come in from the far east, crossing where sheep had never crossed before, at the junction of Hell’s Hip Pocket Creek and the drought-shrunk Salagua. They had poured into the Pocket in solid columns, sheeping it to the rocks, and had taken the pass before either he or Bill Johnson could get to it. All through the night the sheepmen had been crowding their flocks through the defile until there were already twenty or thirty thousand on Bronco Mesa, with fifty thousand to follow. Bill Johnson had shot his way through the jam and disappeared into the Pocket, but he could do nothing now –– his little valley was ruined. There would not be a spear of grass left for his cattle, and his burros had already come out with the pack animals of the sheepmen. No one knew what had happened when he reached his home, but the Mexican herders seemed to be badly scared, and Johnson had probably tried to drive them out of the valley.

      All this Hardy explained in a perfectly matter-of-fact way, free from apprehension or excitement; he listened in respectful silence to Judge Ware’s protests against violence and threats of instant departure; and even humored Kitty’s curiosity by admitting that Mr. Johnson, who was apparently out of his head when he shot the sheep, had probably taken a shot or two at the herders, as well. But Lucy Ware was not deceived by his repose; she saw the cold light in his eyes, the careful avoidance of any allusion to his own actions, and the studied concealment of his future intent. But even then she was not prepared when, after supper, her father came into the ranch house and told her that Mr. Hardy had just resigned.

      “I can’t imagine why he should leave me at this time,” exclaimed the judge, mopping the sweat from his brow, and groaning with vexation, “but a man who will desert his own father in the way he has done is capable of anything, I suppose. Just because he doesn’t approve of my policies in regard to these sheep he coolly says he won’t embarrass me further by staying in my employ! I declare, Lucy, I’m afraid I’m going to lose everything I have down here if both he and Creede desert me. Don’t you think you could persuade Rufus to stay? Go out and see him and tell him I will consent to anything –– except this unlawful harrying of the sheep.”

      The old judge, still perspiring with excitement, sank wearily down into a chair and Lucy came over and sat upon his knee.

      “Father,” she said, “do you remember that you once told me you would give me this ranch if I wanted it? Well, I want it now, and perhaps if you give it to me Rufus will consent to stay.”

      “But, daughter –– ” protested the judge, and then he sat quiet, pondering upon the matter.

      “Perhaps you are right,” he said at last. “But tell me one thing –– there is nothing between you and Rufus, is there?”

      He turned her face so that he could look into her honest eyes, but Lucy twisted her head away, blushing.

      “No,” she said faintly. “He –– he is in love with Kitty.”

      “With Kitty!” cried Judge Ware, outraged at the idea. “Why, he –– but never mind, never mind, darling. I am glad at least that it is not with you. We must be going home soon now, anyway, and that will break off this –– er –– But I don’t remember having seen them together much!”

      “No,” said Lucy demurely, “he has been very discreet. But you haven’t answered my question, father. Will you give me the ranch if I get Rufus to stay? Oh, you’re a dear! Now СКАЧАТЬ