"Which is exactly why I want to come," Malachi smiled. "It is an experiment, Dan, and I'm asking you to help me." They shook hands on the bargain.
Chapter XIII
Beth Trenton returned to the Wagon-wheel sound in body but perturbed in mind. Naturally generous by nature, the attitude her rescuer had adopted distressed and saddened her. Coming from the East, she could not comprehend the stark animosity which could keep two families at war for years. And rude, primitive as he seemed, there was much that was likeable in Dan Dover. If only she could bring about a peace.
Her uncle was alone in the living-room. As she related her adventure, she saw concern, relief, and then both were swept away in a gust of anger at the mention of her preserver's name.
"That fella again?" he stormed. "What cursed ill-luck arranges for him to be handy every time you get into trouble?"
"I am afraid I cannot regard it as ill-luck," she replied. "He saved me, and might have died himself."
"Bah! Only one thing kills that breed--a bullet," was the brutal rejoinder. "I'm not ungrateful, girl; any other man could ask what he liked of me, but Dover ..."
"He does not want even thanks," she said. "He threw my own back in my face."
"The insolent young hound," Trenton growled. "He needs a lesson, an' by Christopher, I'll see that he gets one."
"Uncle, what was the beginning of the trouble?" she asked.
"Oh, it's a long story; I'll spin it for you one day, but you can take this to go on with--a Dover murdered my father," the rancher said, and stood up. "Yo're a Trenton, Beth, an' our enemies must be yores too; we don't forget or forgive."
He had meant to tell her of the coming trip into the hills, but judged this was not the time; better to let the memory of this latest obligation to Dover fade a little. Women were kittle cattle, and he wanted her wholly on his side. He struck another blow.
"Have you noticed Bundy's face?"
"Why, yes, he seems to have met with an accident."
"Yeah, the accident of runnin' into three o' the Circle Dot riders out on the range," Trenton said. "They threw an' savaged him, stole his horse, an' he had to foot it home, over ten miles, in the dark."
"Three to one?" she cried. "The cowards! Was Mister Dover there?"
"No, but his new man, Green, was, so you can be certain his boss approved; probably it was a put-up job, an' they were waitin' for the chance."
"But why?"
"Simply because he's foreman here; it's a blow at me." She could not doubt, although she found it hard to credit that Green, of whom the doctor had spoken highly, could take part in such a sordid enterprise. But she was learning that the Westerner was a creature of fine impulses, strong in his likes and dislikes.
"Isn't there any law?" she ventured.
"No, only a sheriff," was the satirical answer. "Now, don't you worry yourself about these things, my dear. Bundy can take care of himself, an' so can the Wagon-wheel."
Dover also journeyed home in a worried state of mind. He had called on Maitland before leaving town, and the interview had been anything but helpful. It was, the rancher moodily reflected, a fitting climax to a thoroughly imperfect day. So Yorky, to whom it had proved exactly the opposite, found him a morose and pre-occupied companion. Jocular references to his encounter with young Evans met with no encouragement. In the bunkhouse, it was much the same;the boys listened to his story, but it failed to arouse the amusement he had looked for.
"Got back on him for the lickin' he gave you, huh?" Blister commented.
"Never did lick me," Yorky retorted heatedly. "He took as much as I did."
"Then you had nothin' to square up for," the cowboy replied.
Even Yorky's quick wits could find no answer to this, and he subsided into silence. It began to dawn upon him that he had not been so clever after all. This suspicion was strengthened when he showed his new acquisition to Sudden, with an account of how he had got it.
"She's good value," the puncher said. "Told the boys?"
"yep, they didn't seem to think it funny," Yorky admitted, and repeated Blister's remarks.
"They were right--it ain't a bit funny," Sudden said gravely. "Yu fought Evans, an' come out even. Well, nothin' to that, but now yu've put yoreself in his debt by shamin' him, probably made him hate his job. That's bad."
"Never thought of it that way, Jim," the boy said contritely. "What c'n I do?"
"Next time yo're in town, go to Evans an' eat dirt," the puncher said. "That's a meal we all gotta be ready to take, an' if it gets yu a friend, it's worth while."
The boy promised. He had learned another lesson.
Not until the evening meal was ended did Dan unburden his mind to Sudden and the foreman. They had already heard of the cattle incident--Yorky having given a graphic and highly-ornamented version of it to the company in the bunkhouse.
"So you had to git a Trenton outa trouble agin, Dan," Burke remarked. "That girl didn't oughta be allowed out alone."
"It wasn't her fault," the young man found himself saying, and then, "We got somethin' more important than that to discuss. Maitland is beginning to put the screw on--he won't even let me have cash for runnin' expenses. There's tradesmen in town to be settled with, an' pay-day comin' along."
"The boys won't mind waitin'," Burke put in gruffly.
"I know, Bill, an' that's why I don't want 'em to," Dan said. "I've an offer for a hundred three-year-olds; the buyer will take over an' pay at the Bend. It's a poor price, an' will mean hangin' up our start for two-three days, but--"
"Needs must, when the banker goes on the prod," Sudden misquoted.
"You said it," Dan replied with a smile, the first they had seen from him all the evening. "Well, that eases my mind. I wouldn't like to go leavin' debts to folks who can't afford to lose, an' Bill here without a shot in the locker. An' talkin' of goin', Doc Malachi wants to come along; I said he might."
The foreman looked dubious. "Does he understand what he's lettin' hisself in for?"
"I made that plain," Dan replied, and repeated the conversation, finishing with, "He might be useful."
"Shore, but how come he knows we're in a jam?" Burke asked.
"He wouldn't say, but I can guess. He's been seein' a lot o' Maitland's girl since the dance, an' she helps in the bank. Her father trusts her--he told me as much."
"That explains the 'experiment' too," Sudden smiled. "I hope he wins out on it. What about hittin' the hay--we got a coupla busy days to shove behind us?"
With the coming of daylight, they were at work, rounding up, cutting out, and road-branding the steers to be disposed of. Small as the herd was, these operations took time and entailed much riding, for the cattle were spread over a wide range. About half a mile from the ranch-house, a big bunch of steers was collected by four of the outfit, and from these Dover and Sudden roped the selected beasts, dragged them to the nearby fire, where Lidgett hog-tied them and Slow applied the iron.
The bellowing of the branded brutes, blinding sun, swirling clouds of dust, acrid smell of burnt hair, and the varied objurgations of the toilers, who sweated and swore with equal fervour, presented a scene of confusion from which it seemed impossible for order to emerge. By the arrival of dusk, however, the herd was ready to take the trail, and the discarded cattle dispersed again. The boys raced for the river, to rid themselves of the real estate they had acquired during the day. When they arrived at the bunkhouse, Paddy affected astonishment.
"Shure, Dan should 'a' told me he was takin' on new han's," he said.
"Gwan, you of grub-spoiler," Slow retorted. "Hump yore-self. I'm hungry enough to eat you--raw--if I had a ton o' salt."
"An' it's on'y a mouthful I'd be for ye," the Irishman grinned, and Slow, whose mouth was built on generous lines, retired from the combat.