The Free Range

  CHAPTER VIII

  FOR REVENGE

  Breakfast next morning at the Bar T ranch was disturbed by the arrival ofa cowboy on a lathering, wicked-eyed pony who announced to Stelton thatBud Larkin and his sheep had crossed over into the range. What thenoccurred is already known, and after Bissell had returned from his finalparley with Larkin, he retired sullenly into himself to rage silently.

  In his perturbed state of mind, the sheepman's double-edged remark aboutclearing out had had but one meaning, and he took it for granted thatLarkin had been awed or frightened into the better part of valor. This wasa partial relief, but he foresaw that although this danger to his cattlewas averted, it was merely the first of many such struggles that he mightexpect.

  Human desires, particularly those of great urgency, are of such dominationthat they take little thought for anything but themselves, except inpersons of particularly adroit mind. It was Stelton's misfortune,therefore, to embark on an ill-timed conversation with his chief.

  The foreman for ten years had secretly adored Juliet Bissell with all theintensity of a soul made single of purpose by the vast, brooding immensityof his surroundings. So long as he might be near her, serving her in manylittle ways, he had been, in a manner, content with the situation.

  But the sudden appearance of Larkin and the enthusiastic renewal of aformer intimacy had spurred Stelton to seek some sort of a definiteunderstanding. Bissell's retirement to the veranda after the noonday mealwas shortly followed by Stelton's appearance there, timorous and abashed.

  The interview had been short and not very satisfactory. The cowman,remembering with considerable pain the conversation with his daughter,told his employe frankly that he had better give up any such ideas asevidently possessed him. Stelton, who had with some right formerly felt hemight count on the favorable attitude of his chief, was astounded, andtook the venom of the curt refusal to heart.

  Retiring without betraying his emotion, he had resolved to speak to thegirl herself, and that same afternoon asked permission to accompany her onher daily ride across the prairies, a thing not unusual with him.

  Juliet, although she wished to be alone, consented, and at four o'clockthey set out, unobserved by Bissell.

  It was not until they had turned their horses homeward that Stelton spoke,almost tongue-tied by the emotions that rent him, alternate waves of fearand hope.

  "Miss Julie," he began, "I allow I've known you a long while."

  "Yes, Mike, you have."

  "An' I allow that I would be plumb miserable if you ever went away fromhere again."

  "Thank you, Mike; I should miss you, too," replied the girl civilly,growing uneasy at the unusual trend of the man's speech, halting andindefinite though it was.

  "Miss Julie, I ain't no hand at fine talk, but I want to ask yuh if youwill marry me? I've thought about it a lot, an' though I ain't noways goodenough fer yuh, I'd try to make yuh happy."

  Juliet, taken aback by the suddenness of this declaration, particularlyafter her talk with her father, remained silent.

  "Take yore time, Miss Julie," pleaded Stelton, riding closer to her. "Iain't in no hurry."

  "I can't tell you how much I appreciate what you've said, Mike," shereplied slowly. "I've always liked you and I always will, but I don't loveyou, and I would sooner tell you now than keep you in suspense. I can'tmarry you."

  Stelton bit his lip and his dark face grew even blacker with rage at thefutility of his position. With anyone other than Juliet Bissell, perhaps,he realized that insistent pressure of his suit might have favorableresults. But this cool, calm girl offered no opportunity for argument orhope.

  "Mebbe if yuh waited a bit, yuh might think different about it," heventured nevertheless. She shook her head.

  "No, Mike, I wouldn't, I am sure. If you care for me you will nevermention this again. And for my part, I shall always remember what you havesaid to me to-day. It is a sweet thing for a girl to know that a man lovesher."

  Such gracious refusals are effective with most men, both because theysucceed in closing a tender subject and at the same time leave anunwounded pride. But Stelton was not the ordinary type of lover.

  Repressed emotions in somber minds feed and grow fat upon their ownsubstance, and it was inconceivable that Stelton's genuine thoughdistorted love, an abnormal product of ten long years, should bedismissed thus with a few words.

  "Why won't you marry me?" he demanded, looking angrily into her level,brown eyes.

  "I have told you I did not love you. That is the reason and the bestreason in the world. Now I ask you to drop the subject."

  "Love somebody else, I suppose," he sneered, baring his teeth in a fatalattempt at an ugly smile.

  "If I do, it is none of your business," she replied, her eyes beginning toblaze.

  "That dude sheepman, I allow. He's a gilt-edged vanderpoop, he is! But I'dhate to be in his boots, if you want to know it."

  "Look here, Mike Stelton," and Juliet drew her horse abruptly to a stop,"either you say nothing more on this subject or I shall tell my fatherwhat you have done this afternoon when we reach home."

  Instantly the man saw he had gone too far, and, with a quickness born ofhatred, immediately changed his front.

  "I was only thinkin' of protectin' you," he muttered, "and I'm sorry I wasornery about things. That feller Larkin is a bad lot, that's all. Hewouldn't be out here if he wasn't."

  Perhaps it was that Juliet had given a greater place to Larkin in herthoughts than she realized; perhaps his eloquent defense of wool-growinghad not been sufficient explanation for his unheralded appearance on therange. Whatever the reason, the girl rose to the bait like a trout whenthe ice has left the rivers.

  "What do you mean by that?" she demanded.

  "You remember that feller Caldwell that rode in late to supper the nightLarkin come?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, I heard him blackmail Larkin for five hundred dollars back by thecorral fence. An' Larkin knew what he had to do as soon as Caldwell showedup. Didn't yuh see him turn yaller at the table?"

  As a matter of fact Larkin's perturbation at that time had been puzzlingand inexplicable to Juliet. Also the disappearance of the two menimmediately after supper had mystified her. But without admitting this toStelton she asked:

  "What was it all about?"

  "I don't know exactly, Miss Julie, but it worked in somethin' he done backin Chicago a year or so ago. From what I heard 'em say, Larkin just dodgedthe calaboose. Now there ain't no disgrace in that--that's reallycredit--but that don't clear him of the crime noways. Why, I even heard'em talk about two thousand dollars that Larkin give this Caldwell acouple of years back."

  "How did you learn all this?" she asked.

  "I was a goin' back to the corral for a rope I left hangin' on a postthere, an' I heard 'em talkin'."

  "And you listened, I suppose," remarked Julie contemptuously.

  "Mebbe I did," he retorted, stung by her tone. "But you can be thankfulfor it. I'd be plenty mad if you throw'd yourself away on a manlike-a-that. A hoss that'll kill one puncher'll kill another. Same with aman."

  "What are you saying, Mike?" cried the girl, frightened out of herattitude of aloof reserve. "Kill a man! He's never killed a man, has he?"

  "He didn't say so in so many words, no ma'am, but that talk o' their'n wasmighty suspicious."

  Unwittingly Stelton had struck his hardest blow. To him, as to other roughand ready men in the West, life was a turbulent existence conducted withas few hasty funerals as was absolutely necessary. But in the girl who hadabsorbed the finer feelings of a civilized community, the horror of murderwas deep-rooted.

  She knew that to a man in Larkin's former position the slightestdivergence from the well-defined tenets of right and wrong wasinexcusable. Crime, she knew, was a result of poverty, necessity,self-defense or lack of control, and she also knew that Bud Larkin hadnever been called upon to fall back on any of these. How much of truth,therefore, was there in Stelton's innuendoes?

/>   "Would you swear on the Bible that you overheard what you have told me?"she asked suddenly.

  "Yes, ma'am, I shore would," Stelton answered with solemn conviction.

  There was no question now in her mind but that Larkin was paying the piperfor some unsavory fling of which she had heard nothing. She did not for amoment believe that the affair could be as serious as Stelton wished herto imagine; but she was sorely troubled, nevertheless, for she had alwayscared for Larkin in a happy, wholehearted way.

  Many times since her final coming West she had remembered with a secrettenderness and pride that this wealthy and popular young man had beenwilling to trust his life to her. It was one of the sweetest recollectionsof those other far-off days.

  Now, because the thought of Stelton's revelations was unbearable to hershe resolutely put it from her until a time when she could mourn aloneover this shattered illusion.

  "Thank you, Mike, for telling me this," she said gently. "Please never sayanything further about it."

  And Stelton, elated that his plan of revenge had worked so well, smiledwith satisfaction and relapsed into silence during the remainder of theride home.

  All of these events are set down here with some pretense at detail toindicate the important trend of affairs after Larkin had said amore-or-less indifferent good-by to Juliet Bissell at the fork of GrassCreek. While he was wrestling with material problems, these others thatdestiny had suddenly joined to him were undergoing mental disturbances inwhich he was the principal though unconscious factor. And this unconsciousprominence was to be the main reason for what next occurred.

  It was perhaps noon of the day following Larkin's capture by the rustlers,when from a point directly east of the ranch house a cowboy appeared,riding at a hard gallop. Contrary to most fictions, cowboys rarely everurge their ponies beyond a trot, the only occasions being the round-up,the stampede, the drive, or when something serious has occurred.

  Mike Stelton saw the puncher from a distance and walked to the corral tomeet him. Jerking his pony back on his haunches, the rider leaped from hisback before the animal had fairly come to a stop.

  "Mike, we've been tricked!" he cried. "That whole two thousand head ofsheep are tracking north as fast as they can go far over east on therange, beyond the hills."

  "What!" cried the foreman, hardly able to credit his ears. "The boys downon watch at the Big Horn swore they had scattered the flock last nightwhen Larkin started to run them north on the range."

  "Well, they swore wrong, then, for I've just come from where I seen 'em. Iwas over back of them hogbacks and buttes lookin' for strays and maverickswhen along come them muttons in a cloud of dust that would choke a cow. Iallow that darned sheepman has made us look like a lot of tenderfeet,Mike."

  Stelton at this intelligence fairly gagged on his own fury. Larkin hadscored on him again. The two were joined at this moment by Bissell whohad noted the excitement at the corral. When apprised of what hadhappened, the cowman's face went as dark with anger as that of hisforeman.

  Beef Bissell was not accustomed to the sensation of being outwitted inanything, and the knowledge that the sheep were nearly half-way up therange put him almost beside himself.

  For a few moments the trio looked at one another speechless. Then Bissellvoiced the determination of them all.

  "By the devil's mare!" he swore. "I won't be beaten by any sheepman thatever walked. Stelton, how many men will be in to-night?"

  "Fifteen."

  "Get 'em and bring 'em to me as soon as they come."

  While the foreman went off about this business Bissell learned from Chuck,the cowboy, just where he had seen the sheep last, how fast they weretraveling, and how far he calculated they would go before bedding down forthe night.

  "I reckon the outfit ought to camp somewhere about Little Creek," saidChuck. "That's runnin' water."

  "And how far beyond that is Little River?"

  "Two miles more or less."

  "Fine. Wait around till the rest of the boys come in, Chuck. Oh, by theway, how near are the sheep to our eastern herd of cows?"

  "Five miles more will bring 'em to the range the cows are on now."

  An hour before supper the rest of the punchers began to come in fromriding the range and rounding up strays. Before they were permitted amouthful, however, Bissell went out to the bunk house with Stelton.

  "Boys," he said, "which of you was down at the Big Horn last night an'turned them sheep back?"

  A man spoke up and then two more who had been left on guard in thevicinity.

  "How many did you scatter?"

  "Dunno, boss," replied the first judicially. "From the noise they made Iallow there was at least a thousand."

  "Well, I bet you a month's wage there wasn't more'n a hundred," saidBissell, glaring at the puncher.

  "Won't take yer, boss," returned the other calmly. "Why?"

  "Because practically the whole flock is beddin' down at Little Creek now.Chuck seen 'em. Now I want all you fellers to get supper an' then rope an'saddle a fresh hoss. There is shore goin' to be some doin's to-night."