The Last Straw Part 6

Around the bend in the road appeared a queer cavalcade. It was headed by a pair of ancient mules drawing a covered wagon, on the seat of which sat a scrawny, discouraged man with drooping lids, mustache and shoulders. To the wagon were tied three old mares and behind them trailed a half dozen colts, ranging from one only a few weeks old to a runty three-year-old.

These were followed by a score of cattle, mostly cows and yearling calves, and the rear was brought up by a girl, riding a big brown horse.

She was young, and yet her face was strangely mature. She wore a hat, the worse for wear, a red shirt, open at the throat, a riding skirt and dusty boots. She was slouched easily in the saddle, as one who has ridden much.

Tom spurred ahead to prevent their horses from entering a draw which opened on the road just where they must pa.s.s and as he slowed to a walk and looked back he saw Hepburn making a movement of one hand. That hand was just dropping to the fork of his saddle but--and he knew that this may have been purely a product of his imagination--he thought that it had been lifted in a gesture of warning.

The foreman halted and the wagon stopped with a creak, as of relief.

"Just foller on down and swing to the left. Keep right on. You'll pa.s.s the state boundry," Beck heard Hepburn say.

The wagon started again and Dad joined him.

"Goin' some place?" Tom asked.

"Utah. He was askin' the way."

Just then the girl came within easy talking distance.

"Goin' far?" Tom asked.

"Not so very fur," the other replied sullenly and swung a worn quirt against her boot.

They rode on after their horses.

"Nesters," Beck commented grimly. "They're a bad lot to see comin' in."

"Thank G.o.d, they're headed for Utah," Dad replied.

"Yeah. Utah's a long ways, though. The girl didn't seem to think they was going so very far."

The other made no answer and after a moment Beck said:

"Notice the brand on them cattle? THO? That ain't a good neighbor for the HC to have.... Unless it's an honest neighbor."

"Well, they're goin' into Utah," Dad said doggedly.

"You know, Hepburn, one of the first things I'd do if I was foreman of this outfit?" Beck asked.

"What's that?"

"Take up the water in Devil's Hole. That's the best early feed this outfit has got, but without water it's worthless. Nesters are comin'

in, which would worry me, if I was foreman. The Colonel had somebody file on it once, planning to buy when he'd patented the claim. This party didn't make good, and the matter dropped."

The other did not reply for a moment, but looked hard at his horse's ears, as if struggling to control himself.

"I've already took that up with her," he said sulkily, and stirred in his saddle.

"If I wasn't foreman of an outfit, do you know what I'd do? I'd let the foreman do the worryin'."

Beck scratched his chin with a concern which surely could not have been genuine, for he said:

"Yeah. That's the best way. Only..."

"Well, you had your chance to be foreman; why didn't you take it?"

Beck pondered a moment.

"In the first place I wasn't crazy wild to stay with this outfit, 'cause when I lift my nose in the air and sniff real careful, I can smell a lot of h.e.l.l coming this way, and I'm a mighty meek and peaceful citizen.

"In the second place, I don't care much about drawing the best job in the country like I'd draw a prize cake at a church social."

Hepburn sniffed.

"You pa.s.sed it up, though. Now, why don't you pa.s.s up worryin' about my job?"

Beck did not reply at once, but turned on the other a taunting, maddening smile.

"You're right. I pa.s.sed it up, but there's something that won't let me pa.s.s up the worry.

"You know what that is,"--nodding toward the distant ranch house. "You know she's in a jack pot. You heard her tell me she needed good men, men she could trust, and the good Lord knows that's so. You know I stayed on because she asked me like she meant it and not because I fancied the job.

"I've got a notion that makin' good out here means more to her than making money; I like her style, and I like to help her sort if I can.

That's why I may do more 'n an ordinary hand's share of worryin'.

"You know, somebody's got to,"--significantly.

"What's meant by that, Beck?" Dad asked after a moment and the grit in his tone told that the insinuation had not missed its mark.

"If it was so awful hard for you to guess, Hepburn, I don't think you'd get on the peck so easy. I mean that since she's asked me to stay and work for her, I'm on the job. Not only with both hands and feet and what head I've got, but with my eyes and my ears and my heart.

"I don't want trouble, but if I've got to take trouble on, I'll do it on the run; you can tie to that! I don't like you, Hepburn; I don't trust you. Your way ain't my way--No, no, you listen to _me!_" as the other attempted to interrupt. "A while back you was trying to talk friendship to me when I'm about as popular with you as fever. I don't do things in that style. I ain't got a thing on you, but if this was my ranch I wouldn't want you for my foreman."

"You mean you think I'd double cross her an--"

"I don't recall bein' that specific. I just mentioned that I don't trust you. There's no use in your getting so wrought up over it. I may be wrong. If I am you'll win. I may be takin' a chance, which is against my religion, but I'm here to work for this Hunter girl and her only and it won't be healthy for anybody who is working against her to bring himself to my notice.

"I guess we understand each other. Maybe you can get me fired. If so, that's satisfactory to me. So long as I'm here and working for you, I'll be the best hand you've got. If you're lookin' for good hands I'll satisfy you. If you ain't ... we may not get along so well."

There was a seriousness in his eyes, but behind it was again the flicker of mockery as though this might not be such a serious matter after all.

"We'll see, Beck," Hepburn said with a slow nodding. "We understand each other. You've covered a lot of territory. Your cards are on the table. Bet!"

Tom stroked his horse's withers thoughtfully. He continued to smile, but the smile was not pleasant.

When they entered the big gate an automobile was standing before the bunkhouse and after turning the horses into a corral they dismounted and walked towards it.

"h.e.l.lo, Larry!" exclaimed Hepburn. "What brings you out?"