CHAPTER VII
THE CHANCE OF RECLAMATION
Beyond the bunkhouse, which was the nearest building to the corral,stood the low but roomy log structure of the main ranch house. AsAshton came around the front corner, close behind Gowan and the girl,Knowles rose from his comfortable chair in the rustic porch, knockedout the half burned contents of his pipe and extended a freckled,corded hand to the stranger.
"Howdy, Mr. Ashton! Glad to see you!" he said with hearty hospitality."Hope you've come to ease up our lonesomeness by a month or two'svisit."
"Why, I--You're too kind, really!" replied Ashton, his voice quaveringand breaking at the unexpected cordiality of the welcome. "If you--Ishall take advantage of your generous offer. You see, I'm rather in abox, owing to my--" He caught himself up, and tightened his slackeninglip. "But you'll pardon me if I ask you to let me do something inreturn for your hospitality."
"We don't sell our hospitality on the range," brusquely replied thecowman.
"Oh, no, no, I did not mean--I could not pay a penny. I'm utterlydestitute--a--a pauper!" A spasm of bitter despair contorted hishandsome face.
Knowles and the girl hastily looked away from him, that they might notsee him in his weakness. But he rallied and forced a rather unsteadylaugh at himself. "You see, I haven't quite got used to it yet. I'vealways had money. I never really had to work. Now I must learn to earna living. It's very good of you, Mr. Knowles, but--there's that veal.If only you'll let me work out what I owe you."
"You don't owe me a cent for the yearling," gruffly replied thecowman. "Don't know what I could put you at, anyway."
"Might use him to shoo off the rattlers and jackrabbits from in frontthe mowing machine," suggested Gowan.
"Mr. Ashton can ride," interposed the girl, with a friendliness oftone that brought Gowan to a thin-lipped silence.
"That's something," said Knowles, gazing speculatively at the slimaristocratic figure of the tenderfoot. "You're not built for pitchinghay, but like as not you have the makings of a puncher. Ever throw arope?"
"Never. I shall start practicing the art--at once."
"No, not until you and Kid have had dinner," gayly contradicted thegirl. "We've had ours. But Yuki always has something ready. Kid, ifyou'll show Mr. Ashton where to wash, I'll tell Yuki."
She darted through the open doorway into the house. At a curt nod fromGowan, Ashton followed him around to the far side of the house,leaving Knowles in the act of hastily reloading his pipe. Under alean-to that covered a door in the side of the house was a barrel ofwater and a bench with two basins. On a row of pegs above hung anumber of towels, all rumpled but none dirty.
Gowan pointed to a box of unused towels, and proceeded to lather andwash himself. Ashton took a towel, and after rinsing out the secondwashbasin, made as fastidious a toilet as the scant conveniences ofthe place would permit. There were combs and a fairly good mirrorabove the soap shelf. Gowan went in by the side door, without waitingfor his companion. Ashton presently followed him, having looked invain for a razor to rid himself of his two days' growth of beard.
The long table told him that he had entered the ranch mess-hall, orrather, dining-room. Though the table was covered with oilcloth andthe rough-hewn logs of the outer walls were lime-plastered only in thechinks, the seats were chairs instead of benches, and between the gayMexican _serape_ drapes of the clean windows hung several well-donewater color landscapes, appropriately framed in unbarked pine. On theoiled deal floor were scattered half a dozen Navajo rugs.
Gowan had taken a seat at one end of the table. As Ashton sat down atthe neatly laid place opposite him, a silent, smiling, deft-handed Japcame in from the kitchen with a heaping trayful of dishes. For themost part, the food was ordinary ranch fare, but cooked with the skillof a _chef_. The exceptions were the fresh milk and delicious unsaltedbutter. On most cattle ranches, the milk comes from "tin cows" and thebutter from oleomargarine tubs.
The two diners were well along in their meal, eating as earnestly andas taciturnly as the Jap served, when Miss Isobel came in with herfather. The girl had dressed for the afternoon in a gown of the lateststyle, whose quiet color and simple lines harmonized perfectly withher surroundings. She smiled impartially at puncher, tenderfoot, andJap.
"Thank you, Yuki. I see you did not keep our hungry hunterswaiting.--Mr. Ashton, I have told Daddy about that shooting."
"It's a mighty strange happening. You might tell us the fullparticulars," said Knowles.
Ashton at once gave a fairly accurate account of the affair. He couldhardly exaggerate the peril he had incurred, and the touch ofexultance with which he described his defeat of the murderer was quitepardonable in a tenderfoot.
"Strange--mighty strange. Can't understand it," commented the cowmanwhen Ashton had finished his account.
"It shore is, Mr. Knowles," added Gowan. "The only thirty-eight on theranch is mine. That seems to clear our people."
"Of course! It could not possibly be any of our people!" exclaimed thegirl.
"Mr. Ashton thinks it might have been his guide," went on Gowan.
"His guide? What caliber was his rifle?" shrewdly queried the cowman.
"Why, I--really I cannot remember," answered Ashton. "I know it was ofa larger bore than mine, but that is all."
"Um-m," considered Knowles. "Looks rather like he's the man. Can'tthink of anyone else. Trouble is, if he was laying in wait for you,his horse would be fresh. Must have covered a right smart bit ofterritory by now."
"I'll go out and take a look at his tracks," said Gowan, rising with areadiness that brought a nod of approval from his employer.
"You'll be careful, Kid," cautioned the girl, with a shade of concernin her tone.
"He'll keep his eye open, Chuckie," reassured her father. "It's theother fellow wants to be careful, if he hasn't already vamoosed. Hey,Kid?"
"I'll get him, if I get the chance," laconically replied Gowan,looking from the girl to Ashton with the characteristic straighteningof his lips that marked the tensing of his emotions.
As he left the room Miss Isobel smiled and nodded to Ashton. "You seehow friendly he is, in spite of his cold manner to strangers. Ithought he had taken a dislike to you, yet you saw how readily heoffered to go out after your assailant."
"More likely it's because he thinks it would discredit us to let sucha scoundrel get away," differed her father. "However, he'll leave youalone, Mr. Ashton, if you stay with us as a guest, and will only hazeyou a bit, if you insist upon joining our force."
"You mean, working for you? I must insist on that," said Ashton, withan eager look at the girl. "If only I can do well enough to beemployed right along!"
The cowman grunted, and winked solemnly at his daughter. "Yes, I canunderstand your feeling that way. How about the winter, though? Youmayn't like it over here so well then."
Ashton flushed and laughed at the older man's shrewdness; hesitated,and confessed candidly: "No, I should prefer Denver in winter."
Miss Isobel blushed in adorable payment of his compliment, but thrustback at him: "We bar cowboys in the Sacred Thirty-six."
He winced. Her stroke had pierced into his raw wound.
"Oh!--oh!" she breathlessly exclaimed. "I didn't mean to--Oh, I'm sosorry!"
He dashed the tears from his eyes. "No, you--don't apologize! It'sonly that I'm--Please don't fancy I'm a baby! You see, when a fellowhas always lived high--on top, you know--and then to have everythinggo out from under him without warning!"
"Keep a stiff upper lip, son," advised Knowles. "You'll pull throughall right. It isn't everyone in your fix that would be asking forwork."
Ashton laughed a trifle unsteadily. "It's very kind of you to saythat, Mr. Knowles. I--I wish a steady position, winter as well assummer."
"How about Denver?" asked Knowles.
"That can wait," replied Ashton. He met the girl's smile of approval,and rallied fully. "Yes, that can wait--and so can I."
Again the girl blushed, but she found a bantering rej
oinder: "With youand Kid and Daddy all waiting for me to come home, I suppose I'll haveto cut the season short."
"The winters here are like those you read about up at the NorthPole," the cowman informed Ashton. "But we get our sunshine back alongin the spring."
"Oh, Daddy! you're a poet!" cried his daughter, flinging her armaround his sunburnt neck.
"Wish I were one!" enviously sighed Ashton. The cowman gave him a lookthat brought him to his feet. "Mr. Knowles," he hastened to ask, "ifyou'll kindly tell me what my work is to be this afternoon."
The older man's frown relaxed. "Did you come out here from Stockchute?"
"Yes."
"Think you could find your way back?"
"Why, yes; though we wandered all around--But surely, Mr. Knowles,you'll not require me--"
"I want a man to ride over with some letters and fetch the mail. I'llneed Gowan for work you can't do. Chuckie was to have gone; but Ican't let her now, until we're more sure about that man who shot atyou."
"I see."
"Well, have you got the nerve, in case the man is loose over thatway?"
Ashton's eyes flashed. "I'll go! Perhaps I'll get another crack at thescoundrel."
"Keep cool. It's ninety-nine chances in the hundred he's on the runand'll keep going all week."
"Shall I start now? As we came by a very roundabout way--We went firstin the opposite direction, and then skirted High Mesa down from themountains. So, you see, I may have a little difficulty--"
"No you won't. There's our wagon trail. Even if you got off that, allyou'd have to do would be to keep headed for Split Peak. That's rightin line with Stockchute. But you'll not start till morning. I haven'tgot all my letters written. That'll give you all day to go and come.It's only twenty-five miles over there. Chuckie, you show this newpuncher of ours over the place, while I write those letters."
"I'll start teaching him how to throw a rope," volunteered the girl.
She led the way out through a daintily furnished front room, in whichAshton observed an upright piano and other articles of culture that hewould never have expected to come upon in this remote section. Inpassing, the girl picked up a wide-brimmed lacy hat.
Once outside, she first took Ashton for a walk up Plum Creek to wherehalf a dozen men were at work with a mowing machine and horse rakesmaking hay of the rich bunch-grass.
"Daddy feeds all he can in winter," she explained. "The spring when Ifirst came back from Denver I cried so over the starving cattle thathe promised to always afterwards cut and stack all the hay he could.And he has found it pays to feed well. We would put a lot of land intooats, but, as you see, there's not enough water in the creek."
"That's where an irrigation system would come in," remarked Ashton.
"Oh, I hope you don't think it possible to water our mesa!" she cried."I told you how it would break up our range."
"I assure you, I don't think at all," he replied. "I'm not areclamation engineer--never specialized on hydraulics."
She flashed an odd look at him. "You never? But Mr. Blake--thatwonderful engineer of the Zariba Dam--he would know, wouldn't he?"
"I--suppose he would--that is, if he--" Ashton hesitated, andexclaimed, "But that's just it!"
"What?" she asked.
"Why, to--to have him come here. He's the luckiest for blundering onways to do things," muttered Ashton. He added with growing bitterness:"Yes, if there's any way at all to do it, you'd have him flooding yourwhole range--deluging it. He's got all those millions to back him."
"You do not like him," said the girl. She looked off towards HighMesa, her face glowing with suppressed excitement. "No doubt you areright--as to his ability. But--don't you see?--if it can be done, itis bound to be done sooner or later. All the time Daddy and I--andKid, too--are living under this constant dread that it may bepossible. But if such an engineer as--as Mr. Blake came and lookedover the situation and told us we needn't fear--don't you see how--?"
"You don't mean that you--?" Ashton, in turn, left his questionunfinished and averted his face.
"Yes," she answered. "I'm sure it will be best to put an end to thisuncertainty. So I believe I shall send for--for Mr. Blake."
"But--why for--for him--in particular?" he stammered.
"I am sorry you dislike him," she said, regaining her composure whenshe saw that he too was agitated.
He did not reply. She tactfully changed the subject. By the time theyhad circled around, back to the half open feed-sheds, he was gaylychatting with her on music and the drama. When they came down to thehorse corral she proceeded to lecture him on the duties of a cowboyand showed him how to hold and throw a rope. Under her skillfultuition, he at last learned the knack of casting an open noose.
Evening was near when they returned to the house. As before, theycaught Knowles in the front porch contentedly puffing at his pipe. Hedropped it down out of sight. The girl shook her finger at him, noddedto Ashton, and went indoors. Immediately the cowman put his pipe backinto his mouth and drew another from his pocket, together with anunopened sack of tobacco.
"Smoke?" he asked.
Ashton's eyes gleamed. In the girl's presence he had been able torestrain the fierce craving that had tortured him since dinner. Now itso overmastered him that he almost snatched the pipe and tobacco outof the cowman's hand. The latter gravely shook his head.
"Got it that bad, have you?" he deplored.
Ashton could not answer until his pipe was well under way.
"I'm--I'm breaking off," he replied. "Haven't had a cigarette allday--nor anything else. A-ah!"
"Glad you like it," said Knowles. "A pipe is all right with this kindof tobacco. You can't inhale it like you can cigarettes, unless youwant to strangle."
"I shall break off entirely as soon as I can," asserted Ashton.
"Well," considered Knowles, "I'm not saying you can't or won't. It'smighty curious what a young fellow can do to please a pretty girl.Just the same, I'd say from the color of Kid's fingers that he hasn'tforgotten how to roll a fat Mexican _cigaretto_.--Hello! 'Talk of thedevil--' Here he comes now."
Gowan came around the corner of the house, his spurs jingling. Hiseyes were as cold and his face as emotionless as usual.
"Well?" asked Knowles. "Have a seat."
"Didn't get him," reported Gowan, dropping into a chair. "Near as Icould make out, he cut straight across for the railroad, on thejump."
"Then it must have been that guide!" exclaimed Ashton.
"Looks that way," added Knowles. "Glad of it. We won't see him again,unless you want to notify the sheriff, when you ride over tomorrow."
"No, oh, no. I am satisfied to be rid of him."
"If he don't come back," remarked Gowan.
"He won't," predicted Knowles.
"Well, not for a time maybe," agreed Gowan.