Chapter XXXVII. Ben Swann
Since the night when old Joe Cumberland died and Kate Cumberland rodeoff after her wild man, Ben Swann, the foreman of the Cumberland ranch,had lived in the big house. He would have been vastly more comfortablein the bunkhouse playing cards with the other hands, but Ben Swann feltvaguely that it was a shame for so much space in the ranch house to goto waste, and besides, Ben's natural dignity was at home in the placeeven if his mind grew lonely. It was Ben Swann, therefore, who ran downand flung open the door, on which a heavy hand was beating. Outsidestood two men, very tall, taller than himself, and one of them a giant.They had about them a strong scent of horses.
"Get a light" said one of these. "Run for it. Get a light. Start a fire,and be damned quick about it!"
"And who the hell might you gents be?" queried Ben Swann, leaningagainst the side of the doorway to dicker.
"Throw that fool on his head," said one of the strangers, "and go on in,Lee!"
"Stand aside," said the other, and swept the doorknob out of Ben'sgrip, flattening Ben himself against the wall. While he struggled there,gasping, a man and a woman slipped past him.
"Tell him who we are," said the woman's voice. "We'll go to theliving-room, Buck, and start a fire."
The strangers apparently knew their way even in the dark, for presentlyhe heard the scraping of wood on the hearth in the living-room. Itbewildered Ben Swann. It was dream-like, this sudden invasion.
"Now, who the devil are you?"
A match was scratched and held under his very nose, until Ben shrankback for fear that his splendid mustaches might ignite. He found himselfconfronted by one of the largest men he had ever seen, a leonine face,vaguely familiar.
"You Lee Haines!" he gasped. "What are you doin' here?"
"You're Swann, the foreman, aren't you?" said Haines. "Well, come out ofyour dream, man. The owner of the ranch is in the living-room."
"Joe Cumberland's dead," stammered Ben Swann.
"Kate Cumberland."
"Her! And--Barry--the Killing at Alder--"
"Shut up!" ordered Haines, and his face grew ugly. "Don't let thatchatter get to Kate's ears. Barry ain't with her. Only his kid. Now stirabout."
After the first surprise was over, Ben Swann did very well. He found thefire already started in the living-room and on the rug before the heartha yellow-haired little girl wrapped in a tawny hide. She was soundasleep, worn out by the long ride, and she seemed to Ben Swann a verypretty picture. Surely there could be in her little of the father ofwhom he had heard so much--of whom that story of the Killing at Alderwas lately told. He took in that picture at a glance and then went torustle food; afterward he went down to sleep in the bunkhouse and atbreakfast he recounted the events of the night with a relish. Not one ofthe men had been more than three years on the place, and therefore theirminds were clean slates on which Swann could write his own impressions.
"Appearances is deceivin'" concluded the foreman. "Look at Mrs. DanBarry. They tell you around these parts that she's pretty, but theydon't tell you how damned fine lookin' she is. She's got a soft look andyou'd never pick her for the sort that would run clean off with a gentlike Barry. Barry himself wasn't so bad for looks, but they'll tell youin Elkhead how bad he is in action, and maybe they's some widders inAlder that could put in a word. Take even the kid. She looks no more'n ababy, but what d'you know is inside of her?
"Speakin' personal, gents, I don't put no kind of trust in that housefulyonder. Here they come in the middle of the night like there was a posseafter 'em. They climb that house and sit down and eat like they'd riddenall day. Maybe they had. Even while they was eatin' they didn't seemnone too happy.
"That loose shutter upstairs come around in the wind with a bang andBuck Daniels comes out of his chair as fast as powder could blow him.He didn't say nothin'. Just sat down lookin' kind of sick, and the othertwo was the same way. When they talked, they'd bust off in the middle ofa word and let their eyes go trailin' into some corner of the room thatwas plumb full of shadow. Then Lee Haines gets up and walks up and down.
"'Swann,' says he, 'how many good men have you got on the place?'
"'Why,' says I, 'they're all good!'
"'Huh,' says Haines, and he puts a hand on my shoulder, 'Just how goodare they, Swann?'"
"I seen what he wanted. He wanted to know how many scrappy gents waspunchin' cows here; maybe them three up there figures that they mightneed help. From what? What was they runnin' away from?"
"Hey!" broke in one of the cowpunchers, pointing with a dramatic forkthrough the window.
It was a bright spot of gold that disappeared over the top of thenearest hill; then it came into view again, the whole body of ayellow-haired child, clothed in a wisp of white, and running steadilytoward the north.
"The kid!" gasped the foreman. "Boys, grab her. No, you'd bust her; Iknow how to handle her!"
He was gone through the door with gigantic leaps and shot over the crestof the low hill. Then those in the cookhouse heard a small, tinglingscream; after it, came silence, and the tall foreman striding across thehill with the child high in his arms. He came panting through the doorand stood her up on the end of the table, a small and fearless creature.She wore on her feet the little moccasins which Dan himself hadfashioned for her, but the tawny hide was not on her--perhaps her motherhad thrown the garment away. The moccasins and the white nightgownwere the sum and substance of her apparel, and the cowpunchers stood uparound the table to admire her spunk.
"Damed near spat pizen," observed Ben Swann, "when I hung intoher--tried to bite me, but the minute I got her in my hands she quitstrugglin', as reasonable as a grown-up, by God!"
"Shut up, Ben. Don't you know no better'n to cuss in front of a kid?"
The great, dark eyes of Joan went somberly from face to face. If she wasafraid, she disguised it well, but now and then, like a wild thing whichsees that escape is impossible, she looked through the window and outover the open country beyond.
"Where was you headed for, honey?" queried Ben Swann.
The child considered him bravely for a time before she replied.
"Over there."
"Over there? Now what might she mean by that? Headed for Elkhead--in anightgown? Any place I could take you, kid?"
If she did not altogether trust Ben Swann, at least she preferred himto the other unshaven, work-thinned faces which leered at her around thetable.
"Daddy Dan," she said softly. "Joan wants to go to Daddy Dan."
"Daddy Dan--Dan Barry," translated Ben Swann, and he drew a bit awayfrom her. "Boys, that mankillin' devil must be around here; and that'swhat them up to the house was runnin' from--Barry!"
It scattered the others to the windows, to the door.
"What d'you see?"
"Nothin'."
"Swann, if Barry is comin' to these parts, I'm goin' to pack mywar-bag."
"Me too, Ben. Them that get ten thousand'll earn it. I heard about theKillin' at Alder."
"Listen to me, gents," observed Ben Swann. "If Barry is comin' here weain't none of us goin' to stay; but don't start jumpin' out from undertill I get the straight of it. I'm goin' to take the kid up to the houseright now and find out."
So he wrapped up Joan in an old blanket, for she was shivering in thecold of the early morning, and carried her up to the ranchhouse. Thealarm had already been given. He saw Buck Daniels gallop toward thefront of the place leading two saddled horses; he saw Haines and Katerun down the steps to meet them, and then they caught sight of theforeman coming with Joan on his shoulder.
The joy of that meeting, it seemed to Ben Swann, was decidedlyone-sided. Kate ran to Joan with a little wailing cry of happiness andgathered her close, but neither big Lee Haines nor ugly Buck Danielsseemed overcome with happiness at the regaining of Joan, and the childherself merely endured the caresses of her mother. Ben Swann made them aspeech.
He told them that anybody with half an eye could tell they were botheredby something, that they acted as
if they were running away. Now,running in itself was perfectly all right and quite in order when itwas impossible to outface or outbluff a danger. He himself, Ben Swann,believed in such tactics. He wasn't a soldier; he was a cowpuncher. Sowere the rest of the boys out yonder, and though they'd stay by theirwork in ordinary times, and they'd face ordinary trouble, they were notminded to abide the coming of Dan Barry.
"So," concluded Swann, "I want to ask you straight. Is him they callWhistlin' Dan comin' this way? Are you runnin' from him? And did yousteal the kid from him?"
Lee Haines took upon his competent shoulders the duty of answering.
"You look like a sensible man, Swann," he said severely. "I'm surprisedat you. In the first place, two men don't run away from one."
A fleeting smile appeared and disappeared on the lips of Ben Swann.Haines hastily went on: "As for stealing the baby from Dan Barry, goodheavens, man, don't you think a mother has a right to her own child? Nowgo back to that scared bunch and tell them that Dan Barry is back in theGrizzly Peaks."
For several reasons this did not completely satisfy the foreman, but hepostponed his decision. Lee Haines spoke like one in the habit of givingorders, and Swann walked slowly back to the cookhouse.