The Long Dim Trail Part 44

Without hesitation the men followed him into the living room where the young mother, with the baby on her lap, waited the homage she knew would be accorded freely by these loyal friends.

Cautiously they all approached and regarded the small atom of humanity that gazed back at them with serene eyes.

"Feel how heavy he is," offered Nell, holding the infant toward them.

Each one shrunk back a bit and their eyes shifted to each other.

"Take him, Bronco. He won't bite;" laughed Nell.

Bronco edged back of Limber, as he replied, "Limber's the foreman. He's got the first throw!"

Limber's arms went out, and the little mother laid the child carefully upon them, fussing with the dainty white dress, and smiling down into the baby face against the blue flannel shirt. As she stepped back, she caught a pa.s.sing expression on Limber's face, and her eyes grew misty.

Though he did not know it, she glimpsed Limber's soul in that moment.

The baby blinked up, then a quivering, uncertain little smile touched his lips.

"Gee! Look at him," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Bronco. "Say, he's made friends with Limber already. Isn't he the smart little geezer, though?"

Gaining courage the rest of the men pressed closer, and Bronco put out a h.o.r.n.y finger to touch the pink palm. Like the leaves of a sensitive plant, the fingers curled tightly around the cowboy's digit, then pulled determinedly toward a puckering mouth, while Bronco's eyes opened in consternation.

"Say, you don't want to eat me, do you? That ain't a stick of candy!" he pulled gently but firmly until he managed to rescue the threatened finger, and the other men chuckled in unison.

"Ain't he got a dandy grip! He'll be able to hang onto a steer when he gets it roped, you bet!" Roarer's squeak a.s.serted.

"Smartest baby I ever seen," Holy p.r.o.nounced oracularly, ignoring the fact that it was the first time in his life he had ever been near a young baby.

Fong hovered in the doorway, and as they looked up they saw a cake with gorgeous white icing. It was Fong's only way of expressing his fealty and congratulations. He deposited the cake on the table, and Nell beamed on him.

"We'll make baby cut his own cake, Fong!" Then she turned, "Limber, won't you call Allan?"

Traynor joined them, and the entire outfit stood in admiration, while Nell held the tiny hand about the big butcher knife and thrust it into the heart of the lacy design of icing. Fong's eyes blinked rapidly, and he kept saying, over and over, "Velly fline blaby! Him velly fline bloy!"

Once again Traynor brought champagne, and the gla.s.ses were lifted as he gave the toast, "To the Boss of the Diamond H and his mother. G.o.d bless them both!"

After that Nell got the teething-ring, and when the child grasped and thrust it into its open mouth, the men all grinned. "He sure knows what that is made for," chortled Bronco, "an' that's more'n we knowed till Fong tol' us."

They bombarded Nell with questions regarding his weight, how soon he would acquire real teeth, and how long before he would be wearing trousers. They were thirsting for information regarding infantile development, and when Roarer, in an off-hand manner, referred to his "sister's twins in Texas," they looked at him with envious eyes. Roarer did not disclose that said twins were almost as old as himself. He dilated on various events in their careers, which he remembered hearing the aforesaid twins relate themselves. He cudgeled his brain for historic data.

The boys were feeling very much at home, when the baby began to squirm uneasily in its mother's arms. Its face screwed up, its eyes squinted and disappeared entirely, and the boys looked anxiously at Nell.

"Does he have fits?" inquired Bronco solicitously. "I know its all right for puppies to have 'em, but does babies?"

The infant answered for himself with a sneeze, and Nell looked around at the open window. This gave the men an excuse to plead work, and tiptoe from the room.

Once in the stable they halted, and Bronco, still seeking information, faced Roarer. "Say, Roarer, did your sister's twins in Texas have fits?"

"Sure," answered Roarer cheerfully. "They was so uster havin' 'em that we never paid no attention at all when one come on. It's just like puppies, you know. 'Twouldn't be noways natural if thar wasn't fits--an'

fleas. Don't do no hurt. Jest look at all the people that lives to grow up, anyways!"

But that night Roarer borrowed the big book, telling "How to be Your Own Doctor," which was the Court of Final Appeal for everything from cooking recipes to getting rid of bedbugs, lawsuits and other worries, together with a complete list of the "ills to which the human flesh is heir," and infallible remedies for all.

The men did not know that he was studying a.s.siduously every bit of data obtainable regarding the diseases of infants. They wondered afterwards at Roarer's unfailing supply of information about babies, well or ill; but he ascribed his knowledge entirely to his a.s.sociations with the Texas Twins.

Once more the interrupted routine of ranch life was resumed and Limber divided his time between the Diamond H and the Hot Springs. Though the cowpuncher pa.s.sed the Circle Cross at intervals he never dismounted.

Chappo and Juan kept in touch with each other, and through them Limber and Powell knew that Glendon's wife found life more bearable since the anxiety about Donnie had been removed. Yet she never suspected the part that Doctor Powell and Limber had taken in forcing Glendon's acquiescence to her wishes and plans for the boy.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Unlike most ranches in Arizona, the Diamond H cultivated a number of its fenced fields. Millet, sorghum and other cattle feed was stacked for use of the horses and the thoroughbred bulls during winter, thus insuring first-cla.s.s condition of this particular stock when the gra.s.s started and they were turned out on the open range. This system of Traynor's avoided losing time that would be otherwise required to put his bulls in good breeding condition each spring.

During the plowing season, the blacksmith at the Diamond H suddenly decided to leave for parts unknown, between sunset and sunrise. The cowboys were all able to shoe their own ponies, but tires had to be set, tools sharpened, plowpoints kept in shape, pumping machinery needed constant repairing, and a first-cla.s.s blacksmith was a necessity on the Diamond H. Willc.o.x could not fill the vacancy, and advertis.e.m.e.nts in Tucson and even Los Angeles papers brought no response. Each of the men on the ranch had done the best he could to fill the void, but all acknowledged ruefully, "it's a durn sight different from jest shoein' a pony."

In this emergency Loco, the Mexican who had obtained work at the Diamond H after leaving Walton, announced that he had been a blacksmith in Mexico.

"Well, he can't do no worse than the rest of us," Bronco decided, but one day's trial proved Loco was first-cla.s.s in that work, and so he was transferred from range work to the blacksmith shop with increased pay and additional respect.

He was pounding a red-hot iron on the anvil one day, when Traynor sauntering to the entrance of the shop, stood watching him.

"How soon will you be ready to start, Loco?" he asked.

"In a few minutes I will finish, Senor."

"What is it?" Traynor asked idly.

Without looking up the Mexican replied; "It is a branding iron, Senor."

He skillfully bent the end of the iron, thrust it into a tub of water for a couple of seconds, then withdrew and examined it critically, after which he heated it again. It was a peculiarly shaped iron, and Traynor dropped on a box and looked with interest, as Loco pressed it on a board, leaving a mark covering a s.p.a.ce four inches each way.

O--O X X

"That's an odd brand," said Traynor, picking up the burnt board and scrutinizing it, while the Mexican regarded him closely.

"It is my horse brand," explained Loco. "Apache is leg weary and I am going to turn him on the range a while. I bought another horse."

"There are plenty good horses in the herd without using your pony, Loco."

The Mexican shook his head; "Many thanks, Senor, but I can do better work with my own horse."

"Well suit yourself;" Traynor agreed carelessly. "I want you to go with me this morning to Mud Springs, so I can show you where I want the ditch dug and the mill put up."

Loco was studying the iron with the smile of an artisan who recognizes a satisfactory piece of work. "I will get the horses, Senor;" he said, and turned to the stable carrying the branding iron in his hand.

If Apache, Loco's pony, was leg-weary, it was not very evident as it pranced and danced along the road beside gay little Chinati, whose swift movements had earned his name, "Blackbird." Mud Springs lay twelve miles away from the Diamond H, in the Galiuros toward Hot Springs. The trail through Mud Springs was not often used, as the Box Springs trail, a few miles further north, was more direct and also much easier. It was a wild, desolate place and the spring in a narrow, rocky canon, so cattle preferred the valley during the gra.s.s season. This spring was of great value to the Diamond H and PL ranges, however, giving cattle access to feed in the mountains that otherwise would be too far from water.

Traynor, having learned wisdom from the drouth, had decided to build a huge reservoir at the mouth of this canon for the storage of water that would otherwise be wasted by spreading.