CHAPTER FIVE
THEY RIDE AND THEY DO NOT TELL WHERE
Aleck Douglas, having questioned the crew as Tom had suggested, andhaving inexorably ridden through the herd--in search of brands thathad been "worked," or for other evidence of the unlawful acquisitionof wealth, rather than in hope of finding his spotted yearling--rodeaway with the parting threat that he would "gang to the shuriff andhae a talk wi' him." Tom had advised him of one or two otherdestinations where he hoped the Douglas would arrive without any delaywhatever, and the branding proceeded rather slowly with the crew threemen short.
Duke and Mel Wilson rode in about three o'clock with a few cows andcalves which they had gleaned from some brushy draw to cover theirreal errand. By the time they had snatched a hasty meal at the wagon amile away, and had caught up fresh horses, the afternoon's work wasnearly over. A little earlier than usual, Tom kicked the branding fireapart, ordered the herd thrown on water and grazed back to thebed-ground that had been used during round-up time ever since he couldremember, and rode slowly toward camp, whither the lucky ones not onherd were speeding.
Cheyenne, Tom observed, seemed in a greater hurry than the others, andhe beckoned to him a slim, swarthy-skinned youth who answered to theeuphonious name of Sam Pretty Cow, who was three-quarters Indian andforgiven the taint for the ability to ride anything he ever tried toride, rope anything he ever swung his loop at, and for his unfailinggood humor which set him far above his kind.
"Cheyenne's in a hurry to-night, Sam."
"Yeah. Ride hell out of his horse. I dunno, me." Sam grinned amiablyat his boss.
"I wish you would camp on his trail, Sam. He'll maybe ride somewhereto-night."
"Yeah. Uh-huh. You bet," acquiesced Sam, and leaned forward a little,meaning to gallop after Cheyenne.
"Hold on a minute! What did Scotty have to say, Sam?"
"Him? Talk a lot about spotty yearlin' he says is dead. Asking whokills them calf. Search me, I dunno."
"Hear any talk among the boys about beef rustling?"
"Uh-huh. First I hear is them sour-face asking me who kills themcritter. Me, I dunno."
"If you hear anything about it, Sam, let me know. Scotty thinks wedone it."
"Yeah. Uh-huh. Anybody does something mean, everybody says, 'DamnLorrigans done it.' Too much talk in the Black Rim. Talking undertheir hats all the time but no liking to fight them Lorrigans. Uh-huh.They're scared, you bet."
"They'll have something to get scared at, if they ain't careful. I'mgetting tired of it," said Tom gloomily.
"Yeah, you bet!" agreed Sam, his voice all sympathy. Then seeing thatTom had no immediate intention of saying more, he touched his horsewith his long-shanked spurs and hurried on to "camp on the trail ofCheyenne."
Tom had nearly reached camp when Duke came pounding up behind him,coming from the herd. Duke set his horse up, in two jumps slowing froma gallop to a walk. Tom turned his head but he did not speak. Nor didDuke wait for questions.
"Dad, we didn't find any hide over by Squaw Butte," he announcedabruptly. "Mel and I hunted every foot of the willows. I saw where acritter had been killed, all right. There was some scuffed-out tracksand blood on the ground. But there wasn't any hide. Scotty mustacached it somewheres."
"Scotty claims he left it where he found it, for evidence," Tom saidgloomily.
"Darned if I'd take the blame for other folks' rustling," Dukedeclared. "I wisht he'd of come to me with his tale of woe. I'd ashowed him where to head in, mighty darned sudden. I'd of asked wherewas his proof; there's other cow outfits in the Black Rim besides theDevil's Tooth, I'd tell him. And if he didn't have mighty darned goodevidence, I'd of--"
"Yes, I expect you would of tore the earth up all round him," Tominterrupted drily. "You boys shore are fighty, all right--with yourfaces. What I'm interested in, is whereabouts you and Mel hunted. Thathide wouldn't show up like the Devil's Tooth--understand. And Scottywas bawling around like a man that's been hurt in the pocket. He founda hide, and if it ain't his he shore thinks it is, and that's justabout the same. And we camped over there three days ago. Where all didyou and Mel look?"
"All over, wherever a hide could be cached. There ain't any overthere. Scotty musta dreamt it--or else he buried it."
"Scotty ain't the dreamy kind. Might be possible that the ones thatdone the killing went back and had a burying--which they'd oughtahave had at the time. I can't sabe a man rustling beef and leavingthe hide laying around, unless--" Tom pulled his eyebrows togetherin quick suspicion. "It kinda looks to me like a frame-up," heresumed from his fresh viewpoint. "Well, you and Mel keep it underyour hats, Duke. Don't say nothing to any of the boys at all. But ifany of the boys has anything to say, you listen. Scotty made therounds to-day--talked to the whole bunch. They know all about hisspotty yearlin', gol darn him! I'd like to know if any of 'em has gotany inside dope. There's strangers in the outfit this spring. And,Duke, you kinda keep your eye on Cheyenne. Al seems to think heain't right--but Al has got to the suspicious age, when every manand his dog packs a crime on his conscience. You kinda stall aroundand see if Cheyenne lets slip anything."
"What would happen to old Scotty Douglas if he lost a bunch, for goshsake? Drop dead, I reckon," grumbled Duke. "He's sure making a lot offuss over one measly yearlin'."
"Yeah--but I've saw bigger fusses made over smaller matters, son," Tomdrawled whimsically. "I saw two men killed over a nickel in change,once. It ain't the start; it's the finish that counts."
"Well, looking at it that way, uh course--"
"That's the only way to look at it, son. Did you think, maybe, that Ihazed you over to find that hide and bury it, just to keep it fromscentin' up the scenery? It's what I could smell farther ahead that Iwas after. If you'd looked ahead a little further, maybe you'd oflooked a little closer in the willers."
To this Duke had nothing to say; and presently he loped on, leavingTom to ride slowly and turn the matter of the spotted yearling overand over in his mind until he had reached some definite conclusion.
Tom had the name of being a dangerous man, but he had not earned it bybeing hasty. His anger was to be feared because it smoldered long,rather than because it exploded into quick violence. He wanted to seethe trail ahead of him--and just now he thought he saw Trouble waitingon the turn. No Lorrigan had ever ridden the other way because Troublewaited ahead, but one Lorrigan at least would advance with his eyesopen and his weapons ready to his hand.
"Bring your proof," he had said in effect to Aleck Douglas, "or standtrial for libel. Since you won't fight with guns, I'll fight you withthe law." Very good, if he could be sure that the Douglas would failto produce his proof.
Tom knew well enough the reputation he bore in the Black Rim country.Before the coming of Belle, and later, of the boys, Tom had done hisshare toward earning that reputation. But Belle and the boys hadchanged his life far more than appeared on the surface. They had heldhis rope from his neighbors' cattle, for one thing, though hisneighbors never had credited him with honesty.
It is true that Tom could remember certain incidents of the round-upthat had added to his herd and brought him a little nearer themillion-dollar mark. Without remorse he remembered, and knew that anycowman in the country would do the same, or worse if he dared. Forbranding irons do not always inquire very closely into the parentageof a calf that comes bouncing up stiff-legged at the end of acowpuncher's rope. Nor need a maverick worry very long because hebelongs to no one, so long as cowmen ride the range. Cattle wouldalways stray into the Black Rim country from ranges across themountains, and of these the Black Rim took its toll. He supposedstrange irons were set now and then on the hide of an NL animal acrossthe mountains--but the branders had better not let him catch them atit! On the other hand, he would see to it that they did not catch himbranding mavericks on his own range. To Tom that seemed fairenough,--a give-and-take game of the rangeland. According to Tom'scode he was as honest as his neighbors, and that was honest enough forpractical purposes.
It happened
that he had not killed Aleck Douglas' spotted yearling.And to be accused of the theft hurt.
"Why, humpin' hyenas! If I'd a beefed that critter, old Scottywouldn't ever have found no hide to catch me on! What kinda mark doeshe think I am! Rustle a beef and leave the hide laying around? why,any darn fool would know better than that!"
It was characteristic of the Lorrigan influence that when Tom rodeinto camp every one of the crew save his own sons quieted a little;not enough to suggest timidity, but to a degree that told how wellthey knew that their master was present.
That master quietly took stock of his men while they ate their supperand loafed and smoked and talked. Cheyenne had unobtrusively retiredto the bed tent. With his thumbs pushed down inside his belt Tomstrolled past and slanted a glance inside. Cheyenne was squatted onhis heels shaving with cold lather and a cracked looking-glass proppedagainst a roll of bedding, and a razor which needed honing. In turninghis head to look at Tom he nicked his chin and while he stopped thebleeding with a bit of old newspaper the size of a small finger-nailhe congratulated himself in the mistaken belief that Tom had not seenhim at all.
Cheyenne did not know Tom very well, else he would have taken it forgranted that Tom not only had seen him, but had also made a guess athis reason for shaving in the middle of the week.
Tom walked on, making a mental tally of the girls within ridingdistance from camp. Jennie Miller was reported engaged to an AJ man,and besides, she lived too far away and was not pretty enough to beworth the effort of a twenty-five mile ride just to hear her playhymns distressingly on an organ with a chronic squeak in one pedal.There was Alice Boyle at the AJ, and there was Mary Hope Douglas, whowas growing to be quite a young lady,--pretty good-looking, too, ifshe wouldn't peel her hair back so straight and tight. Mary HopeDouglas, Tom decided, was probably the girl. It struck Tom assignificant that she should be the daughter of the man who mourned theloss of the yearling. He had not reached the rear of the tent beforehe decided that he himself would do a little riding that night. Hecaught and saddled Coaley, his own pet saddle horse that had nevercarried any man save Tom--never would, so long as Tom had anything tosay about it--and set off toward the Devil's Tooth ranch. Cheyenneducked his head under the tent flap when he heard the sound of hoofbeats passing close, saw that it was his boss, noted the direction hewas taking, and heaved a sigh of relief. While he labored with theknot in his handkerchief which must be tied exactly right before hewould leave the tent, Cheyenne had been composing a reason for leavingcamp. Now he would not need a reason, and he grinned while heplastered his hair down in a sleek, artistically perfect scallop overhis right eyebrow. Tom was going to the home ranch,--to round up Al,very likely. He would be gone all night and he would not know how manyof his men rode abroad that night.
So presently Cheyenne saddled the freshest horse in his string andloped off, making an insulting sign with one hand when the boys wishedhim luck with the girl and offered to go along and talk religion with"feyther" just to help him out.
Very soon after that Sam Pretty Cow drifted away, and no one noticedhis absence. Sam Pretty Cow's wanderings never did attract muchattention. He was Injun, and Injuns have ways strange to white men.For instance, he did not sleep in the tent, but spread his blanketsunder whatever shelter he could find within hailing distance from theothers. He was always around when he was wanted, and that seemed to beall that was expected of him. Sleep settled on the Devil's Toothround-up camp, and the night guard sang to the cattle while they roderound and round the herd, and never dreamed that this night was not asother nights had been.