The Spoilers of the Valley Part 6

"Ever see an Indian with hair like that?"

He pushed a tousled head of flaring red hair under the blacksmith's nose. He struck his chest dramatically with his fist.

"Donald McTavish McGregor, that's my name. And I'm off to take your advice, but you can keep the mare till she's shod."

He swaggered out.

At the door he had to side-step--much to his disgust--to get out of the way of one, Ben Todd, who was not in the habit of making way for anyone but a lady. Todd was the Editor and Manager of the _Vernock and District Advertiser_, the man behind most of the political moves in the Valley. He was a hunchback, with a brain that always seemed to have a "hunch" before any other brain in the country started to wake up.

"Hullo, John!" shouted Todd.

"Fine day, Ben!" returned Pederstone.

"See the Government's turned down the new Irrigation Scheme!"

"What?" shouted Pederstone. "The mean pikers!"

"Guess it's about time we had a new Government, John!"

"Yes!--or at least a new member for the Valley," returned the smith.

"Well,--there's truth in that, too. And, as you're President of the a.s.sociation, why don't you get the boys to change their man? The one we've got has been too long on the job. Seems to think he's in for life."

"The trouble is, Ben,--who could we get that would be an improvement?"

"Why not have a try at it yourself, John, at the coming election?"

suggested the editor as a feeler.

"What!--me?" exclaimed the smith in surprise, viewing the serious look on the face of the bearded hunchback.

"Sure!--why not?"

"It isn't a question of why not," laughed Royce Pederstone, "but rather one of WHY."

"Because we want you," returned the editor. "You're one of us, and you know what this Valley requires better than any other."

Royce Pederstone was silent.

"Would you run if we put you up?" pursued Ben Todd.

"Might," grinned the smith, "but I won't say where I'd run to."

"But straight goods?"

"No, siree! Not for me! A bit of ranching and my work here in the shop keeps me busy enough. In fact, I've been thinking lately that I would like to give up this strenuous labour in the smithy."

Ben Todd was about to pursue the subject further when they were interrupted by the approach of a horse, which pulled up abruptly at the front door. A beautiful, full-blooded mare, of tremendous proportions, reared high in the air, then dropped to a stand-still as docile as a lamb.

Mayor Brenchfield, groomed to perfection in leggings and riding breeches, slid to the ground, thrust his reins through a hitching ring and stepped inside, thus providing the third side of an interesting triangle for conversation.

They had been talking for some fifteen minutes, when the conversation veered to the subject that had been uppermost in everyone's mind in the neighbourhood of Vernock for many weeks past.

"I see the a.s.sizes have got through with their work at last," put in Ben Todd.

Brenchfield's eyebrows moved slightly.

"Yes?"

"Loo Yick, the c.h.i.n.k, is to hang."

"You bet,--the yellow skunk! Imagine a fine girl like Lottie Mays being done to death by that; and every man that ever saw her just crazy for her."

"Well!--Lottie and her kind take chances all the time. Somebody generally gets them in the finish," put in Royce Pederstone. "She wasn't content with her price, but stole his wad as well. The town would be better quit of the bunch."

"Guess you're right," agreed Brenchfield. "But it does seem a pity we can't cut down in the number of Chinamen we have in the Okanagan."

"Yes!" put in Todd, "but you know who brought them here. You fellows with the ranches, looking for cheap help, did it."

He laughed. "And, by G.o.d, you got it with a vengeance; and all that goes with it. They're likely to rout us out of house and land before they're through with us. You will have one _high-U_ time getting them out,--believe me."

"And Pierre Qu'appelle got sent down for ten years."

"Guess that ends the wholesale thieving that has been going on around Vernock these last five years."

"Hope so!" exclaimed the Mayor. "But you can't always sometimes tell."

"Pierre didn't have the ghost of a chance; caught with the goods on him," remarked Todd.

"Seems funny to me that he should play a lone game, though," said Royce Pederstone.

"Not when you know the bunch he gangs with," remarked Ben Todd.

"They're generally all in it, and one man takes the risk and the blame. He'll get his share kept for him till he comes out again.

"Morrison of the O.K. Supply Company says he has had over seven thousand dollars' worth of feed and flour stolen from his warehouses inside of six months. The Pioneer Traders never give out what they lose."

"You, yourself, have lost quite a bit, haven't you, Brenchfield?" put in Pederstone.

"Yes!--from time to time, but I could never lay my finger definitely on the shortage. My records have been faulty in the past, but I'm going to keep a better watch on it for the future."

"Well!" returned the smith, "the fewer of Pierre Qu'appelle's thieving kind we have in the community, the better for all of us."

"We pretty nearly had a newcomer of the same brand when you were at Enderby, John."

"So I heard! How did it finish, Ben? I heard they got him. How did they manage it?"

"Better ask the Mayor," said the editor guardedly. "He ought to know how these things finish. Who was the man, Graham? How did the chase end?"

"Oh!" muttered Brenchfield, "it was some runaway from Ukalla. He landed in here under a freight train, and the detectives were riding in the caboose and he didn't know it."