Laramie Holds the Range

  CHAPTER III

  DOUBLEDAY'S

  When they got back to the ford it was daylight and the Crazy Woman washurrying on as peacefully as if a frown had never ruffled its repose.Gnarled trees springing out of gashes along its tortuous channelshowed, in the debris lodged against their flood-bared roots andmud-swept branches, the fury of the night, and the creek banks, scouredby many floods, revealed new and savage gaps in the morning sun; butBradley made his crossing with the stage almost as uneventfully as if acloud-burst had never ruffled the mountains.

  Kate was eager to meet her father, eager to see what might be her newhome. The moment the horses got up out of the bottom, Bradley pointedwith his whip to the ranch-house. Kate saw ahead of her a long,one-story log house crowning, with its group of out-buildings, a levelbench that stretched toward the foothills. The landscape was bare oftrees and, to Kate, brown and barren-looking, save for a patch of greennear the creek where an alfalfa field lay vividly pretty in the sun.The ranch-house, built of substantial logs, was ample in itsproportions and not uninviting, even to her Eastern eyes.

  Bradley, with a flourish, swept past the stable, around the corral anddrew up before the door with a clatter. In front of the bunk-house onthe right, a cowboy rolling a cigarette, was watching the arrival, andjust as Bradley plumped Kate, on his arms, to the ground, her father,Barb Doubleday himself, opened the ranch-house door.

  Kate had never seen her father. And until Bradley spoke, she had notthe slightest idea that this could be he. She saw only a rough-lookingman of great stature, slightly stooped, and with large features burntto a deep brown.

  "Hello, Barb," said Bradley, without much enthusiasm.

  His salutation met with as little: "What's up?" demanded Doubleday.Kate noticed the huskiness in the strong, cold tone.

  "Brought y' a passenger."

  From the talk of the night she recognized her father's nickname. Itwas a little shock to realize that this must, indeed, be he. And theunmoved expression of his face as he surveyed her without a smite orgreeting, was not reassuring.

  But she hastened forward: "Father?" there was a note of girlish appealin her greeting: "I'm Kate--your daughter. You don't remember me, ofcourse," she added with an effort to extort a welcome. "You got myletter, did you?"

  He looked at her uncertainly for a moment and nodded slowly. "Was itall right," she asked, now almost panic-stricken, "to come to see you?"

  Confused or preoccupied, he stumbled out some words of welcome, spoketo Belle on the stage, took the suitcase out of Bradley's hand and ledKate into the house. In the large room that she entered stood a longtable and a big fireplace opened at the back. On the left, twobedrooms opened off the big room, and on the right, the kitchen.

  The chill of the strange greeting embarrassed Kate the more because shefelt Belle could hardly fail to notice it, and her own resentment of itdid not easily wear off. But hoping for better things she freshened upa little, in her father's bedroom, and by that time a man cook wasbringing breakfast into the big room, which served as living-room anddining-room. Bradley, Belle, Kate and her father sat down--the men hadalready breakfasted.

  Kate, her head in a whirl with novelty and excitement, was overcomewith interest in everything, but especially in her father. Sitting atthe head of the table--at one end of which fresh places had beenset--he maintained her first impression of his stature. His spreadingframe was covered with loose corduroy clothes--which could hardly besaid to fit--and his whole appearance conveyed the impression ofunusual physical strength. It had been said of Barb Doubleday, as arailroad builder, that he could handle an iron rail alone. Hispowerful jaw and large mouth--now fitted, or rather, supplied--withartificial teeth of proportionate size--all supported Kate's awe of hisbigness. His long nose, once smashed in a railroad fight, was notseriously scarred; and originally well-shaped, it was still the bestfeature of a terrifically weather-beaten face that had evidently seenmilder days. The good looks were gone, but not the strength. Hismouth was almost shapeless but unmistakably hard, and his grayish-blueeyes were cold--very cold; try as she would, Kate could discern littlelove or sympathy in them. This was the man who almost twenty yearsearlier had deserted her mother and wee Kate, the baby, and longdisappeared from Eastern view--until by accident the fact that he wasalive and in the far West had become known to his wife and daughter.Kate thought she understood something of the tragedy in her mother'slife when the first sight of her father's eyes struck a chill into herown heart.

  But he was her father--and her mother had tried, in spite of all, tohide or condone his faults; and more than once before she died, hadmade Kate promise to hunt him up and go to him. What the timid girldreaded most was finding another woman installed in his household--inwhich case she meant to make her stay in the West very short. Butevery hour lessened these fears and as he himself gradually thawed alittle, Kate took courage.

  The breakfast went fast. Platters were passed without ceremony ordelay. Her father and Bradley ate as Kate had never seen men eat; onlyher amazement could keep pace with their quiet but unremitting effortsto clean up everything in sight. There was little mastication but muchknife and fork work, with free libation of coffee; and Belle, Katenoticed, while somewhat left behind by the men, paid strict attentionto the business in hand.

  Conversation naturally lagged; but what took place had its surprise forKate. Doubleday asked a few questions of Belle--everybody seemed toknow everybody else--and learning she was headed for the Reservation,possibly to teach school, hired her on the spot away from the job, togo back to his eating-house at Sleepy Cat Junction. No sooner was thisarranged, and Bradley told to take her luggage off the stage, than adiversion occurred.

  A horseman dashed up outside and presently strode into the room. Hewas tall and well put together; not quite as straight as an arrow, butstraight, and not ungraceful in his height. This was Harry Van Horn, aneighboring cattleman, and he wore the ranchman's rig, including thebroad hat and the revolver slung at his hip. But everything about therig was fresh and natty, in the sunshine. He looked alert. His stepwas clean and springy as he crossed the room, and his voice notunpleasant as he briskly greeted Doubleday and looked keenly at hisguests--last and longest at Kate sitting at her father's right hand.

  Doubleday introduced him to his daughter. Van Horn nodded, withoutmuch deference, to Belle and to Bradley, neither of whom responded morewarmly. He sat down near Kate and with a look of raillery scrutinizedthe remnant of meat left on the general platter: "How is it, Barb?" heasked.

  "What?"

  "The antelope."

  "All right, I guess."

  Van Horn with a laugh turned to Kate: "Excited over it, isn't he? Igot an antelope yesterday, so I sent half of it over to your father."Then he lowered his voice in pretended disgust. "_He_ doesn't knowwhat he's eating--it might as well be salt pork. And you're a strangerhere? I never knew your father had a daughter. He's verycommunicative. How do you like antelope?"

  Without paying attention to anyone else, he set out for a moment toentertain Kate. When he talked his face lighted with energy. Everyexpression of his brown eyes snapped with life, and his big Roman nose,though not making for beauty, one soon got used to.

  Barb broke abruptly in on the conversation: "What did Stone find out?"he asked.

  Van Horn answered a question of Kate's and turned then, and not untilthen, to her father: "That's what I came over to tell you. Dutch Henryand another fellow--described like Stormy Gorman--sold ten head ofsteers to the railroad camp last week--that's where our cattle aregoing right along now. And Abe Hawk," he exclaimed, pointing hisfinger at Doubleday and poking it forward to emphasize each point,"sold ten head of your long yearlings to a contracting outfit north ofthe Falling Wall and never changed the brands!"

  Doubleday stared at the speaker. Van Horn, speaking to Kate, wentright on: "There's a bunch of rustlers over in the Falling Wall,snitching steers on us right and left," he explained in a lower andvery
deferential tone, but a warm one.

  While Van Horn talked and Doubleday muttered husky and bitterquestions, Bradley and Belle paid continuous attention to their coffeeand griddle cakes.

  Doubleday by this time had forgotten all about Kate. Completelyabsorbed by the reports brought in he rose from the table and followedVan Horn to the open door where Van Horn turned and paused as he kepton talking so that with his eyes he could still take in Kate at thetable. The two men were now joined at the door by a third. This manlooked in to see who was at the table. Bradley glanced up at him onlylong enough to recognize Tom Stone, the new foreman; no greetingpassed. Kate looked longer, though when she saw the eyes of thenew-comer were on her she gave her attention to Belle.

  Belle had told her that a woman at the ranch would be a great curiosityand Kate every day resigned herself to inspection. When she got betteracquainted with the men, and while there were good and bad among them,she liked them all, except Stone. His face did not seem kindly. Attimes agreeable enough, he was only tolerable at best and when evenslightly in liquor he was irritable. His low forehead, over which heplastered his hair, and his straight yellow eyebrows and hard blue eyeswere not confidence inspiring; even his big mustache was harsh andlacked a generous curve--his normal outlook seemed one of reticence andsuspicion. Kate refused to like him; his smile was not good.

  On this morning he showed the signs of a hard journey. He had broughtthe news from the Falling Wall and was just in after a troublesomeride. Bradley and Belle left the table together and Kate followed tothe door. Bradley tried to edge past the three men without speaking,but Stone not only stopped him with a cold grin but followed the drivertoward the stage: "Wouldn't that kill you"--Kate heard him say toBradley, and she saw his attempt at an ingratiating grin: "Abe Hawkrustling?"

  Bradley gave him scant sympathy: "What did Doubleday discharge himfor?" he demanded. "What did the cattlemen blacklist him for? He'sthe best foreman this ranch ever had--or ever will have," addedBradley, summoning his scant courage to rub it in. "He fired himbecause he took up a little piece of land agin the Falling Wall and gottogether a few cows of his own. That's a crime, ain't it? Like ----.These cattlemen will learn a thing or two when they get old."

  Stone flared back at him: "What are you over here eating their baconfor?"

  "Not f'r any likin' I've got f'r 'em," retorted Bradley, "n'r f'r anyo' their pets."

  The old driver got away without a fight, but he had little to spare.Van Horn rode off presently with Stone, and Doubleday returned to thehouse, where Kate was sitting with Belle. He told Belle he would sendher over to the Junction in the afternoon, and after dinner told Kateshe had better go over and stay at the Junction with Belle till theycould get a room "fixed up" at the ranch.

  There were really no accommodations at the ranchhouse for Kate untilsome could be prepared. A room had to be made ready and there was nobed or furniture. And Belle told her that her father spent most of histime at the Junction, anyway, where he had a cottage. She explainedabout the railroad branching off the main line at the Junction. Herfather had built this to coal mines on the Falling Wall river. He wassupposed to own this branch line and the mines, but she hinted stronglythat his creditors had got everything there was of the railroad but therust, and would sometime get that.

  Kate wished her new acquaintance had been less candid.