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

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СКАЧАТЬ the dead. Leaping up from his blankets Hardy opened the door and called him in –– hoarse, black, distorted, yet overflowing with love and affection. Poor little Tommy! He took him in his arms to comfort him, and bedded him down on the pillow. But when he stepped outside he found that his world too was vacant –– the house deserted, the corrals empty, the rodéo camp a smouldering fireplace, surrounded by a wilderness of tin cans.

      As the slow grief of the forsaken came upon him he turned and went to his room, where the atmosphere of womankind still lingered to suggest the dear hands that were gone, and suddenly his eyes leaped to the letters left upon the table. It was Kitty’s which he opened first, perhaps because it was nearest; but the torrent of inconsequential words confused him by their unreason and he turned to Lucy’s, reading it over thoughtfully.

      “Dear Rufus:

      “We have waited a long time for you to wake up, and now father says we must go. You were so tired last night that I doubt if you heard a word I said, although I thought I was making a great impression in my new role as a business woman. I asked father to give me the ranch, not because I wanted to own it but to save you from your madness. The cattle are all mine now and I leave them in your care. Whatever you do I will consent to, if you will leave your guns at home. Is that too much for a friend to ask? I know that Mr. Creede is your friend too, and I admire your devotion to his cause, but I think you can do just as much for him and more by not risking your life in a battle against the sheep. They are so many, Rufus, and they have their rights, too. Father is confident that the Forest Reserve will be declared next Winter and then the sheep will be debarred forever. Can’t you give over the fight for my sake? And I will pay you any price –– I will do anything you ask; but if you should be killed or kill some other man, I could never be happy again, though I gained the whole world. Dear Rufus, please –– but I leave it for you to decide –– ”

      The note ended abruptly, it was not even signed, and Hardy could imagine the agitation in which it was written. Dear little Lucy, always thinking of others, always considerate, always honest and reasonable. If only Kitty –– But no –– in her own right as Queen of Love and of his heart, she was above all criticism and blame. It was a madness, deeper than his anger against the sheep, mightier than his fiercest resentment –– he could not help it; he loved her. Changeable, capricious, untamed, she held him by her faults where virtues would hardly have sufficed in another. He had tried, and failed; so long as she was in the world he must love her. But what a life! He cast the letter from him and his heart turned to Jeff and the big fight, the battle that they had planned to wage together. In the rush and struggle of that combat he could forget the pangs which tortured him; he could have his revenge on life, which had treated him so shabbily! And yet –– and yet –– could he desert a friend like Lucy –– Lucy who would give her life to make him happier, who had always by every act tried to make him forget his sorrows?

      For a long time he sat with his head bowed, thinking. Then he rose up and took down his long-barrelled Colt’s, fingered it lovingly, and thrust it, scabbard and all, into the depths of his war bag.

      As he rode down the hill into the camp that afternoon Creede came out to meet him, and when his eyes fell upon the empty belt, he smiled knowingly.

      “Well, you woke up, did you?” he inquired, laying one hand carelessly on the bulge in Hardy’s right shap, where modest cowboys sometimes secrete their guns. “Um-huh!” he grunted, slapping the left shap to make sure. “I suspected as much. Well, I congratulate you, supe –– if my girl had asked me I reckon I’d’ve give up my gun too. But she gimme a kiss, anyway,” he added, tossing his head triumphantly.

      “Who did?” demanded Hardy, coming suddenly out of his dream.

      “Why, Kitty, sure,” returned Creede artlessly; and then, noting the look of incredulity on his partner’s face, he slapped him on the leg and laughed consumedly.

      “Oh, you’re not the only pebble on the beach,” he cried. “Ump-um –– there are others! Say, it’s hell to be in love, ain’t it?”

      He looked up at Hardy, the laughter still in his cheeks, but for once there was no answering smile. The large gray eyes were far away and distant, fixed vacantly upon the dust cloud where the sheep gathered in the east. Then, as if dismissing some haunting vision from his mind, the little man shook himself and drew away.

      “That’s right,” he said solemnly, “it is.”

      CHAPTER XVII

       CHICO AND GRANDE

       Table of Contents

      Between the mouth of Hell’s Hip Pocket and the cow camp at Carrizo Creek there lie three high ridges and three broad valleys, all running north and south from the Peaks to Bronco Mesa –– the heart of the upper range; and there in compact bands the invaders held their sheep. From the lower levels they strayed out gradually over the rocky mesa; above they clambered up toward the wooded peaks; but at night the sheepmen worked back to the three ridges and camped close together for defence. After many years of struggle they had at last obtained their legal rights –– their sheep were up to the ears in grama, eating out the heart of the cow country –– but Jeff Creede was just over the hill, and the Mexicans were afraid. For years now the huge form of “Grande” had loomed before them whenever they entered that forbidden range, and they had always given way before him. And now he had the little man Chico with him, the son of a soldier, so it was said, and a gentleman of categoría; he always carried a pistol and his eyes were stern and hard. What would not Chico and Grande do to them, now that they were like bees robbed of their long-hoarded honey, who have nothing left but their stings?

      So the word passed around amongst the herders and camp rustlers, and Jim and Jasp rode from one camp to the other, cursing and exhorting and holding them to their work. The hour of victory had come, but their triumph was poisoned by a haunting fear for their sheep. One hundred thousand sheep –– five hundred thousand dollars’ worth –– the accumulation of a lifetime –– and all in the hands of these cowardly Mexicans, not half of whom would fight! For the day or two that they held together they were safe, but when they spread out –– and spread they must, to reach the western pass –– then the cowmen could rush them at night like lions that raid a corral, scattering one band after the other, and the coyotes would do the rest! That was the joint in the armor of the sheepmen, and it robbed them of their sleep.

      Evening came, and the fires of the camp rustlers on the ridges lit up the dust cloud that hung in the east. The hateful bray of the sheep was hushed, at last, and the shrill yell of the coyotes rose from every hilltop, bidding farewell to the sun; for as vultures and unnumbered birds of prey hovered in the wake of barbarian armies, casting their dread shadows upon the living and glutting upon the dead, so the coyotes follow tirelessly after the sheep, gorging upon chance carcasses and pulling down the strays. As the wild, gibbering chorus rose and quavered back from the cliffs the cowmen at Carrizo glanced up from their supper and swore, and in the general preoccupation Hardy put down his plate and slipped away to the corral. He was sitting on the fence listening to the mad yelping of the coyotes and watching the shadows gather among the peaks, when Creede strolled over and joined him. There were times when he could read Hardy like a book, but at others the little man’s thoughts were hidden, and he brooded by himself. On such occasions, after a sufficient interval, Jeff esteemed it his duty to break in upon these unprofitable ruminations and bring him back to the light. So he clambered up on the top log and joined in the contemplation of nature.

      “Hear them dam’ coyotes,” he observed sociably. “They’d cry that way if they’d had a chicken dinner, all around. I bet ye every one of ’em has got СКАЧАТЬ