Jim Waring of Sonora-Town; Or, Tang of Life

by Henry Herbert Knibbs

  Chapter XV

  _John and Demijohn_

  The grass on the high mesa was heavy with dew when Lorry stepped fromthe cabin next morning. His pony, Gray Leg, stood close to the corral,where Shoop's horses were playfully biting at him over the bars. Lorryunhobbled Gray Leg and turned Shoop's horses out to water. The threeponies trotted to the water-hole, sniffed at the water, and, whirling,raced across the mesa, pitching and kicking in the joy of liberation.

  After breakfast Bud and Lorry sat out in the sun, enjoying the slowwarmth. The morning air was still keen in the shade. Bondsman laybetween them, watching the distant horses.

  "He won't let 'em get far into the timber," said Shoop. "He sure savesme a lot of steps, roundin' up them hosses."

  "I can whistle Gray Leg to me," said Lorry. "Then the other horses'llcome."

  Shoop nodded. "What you goin' to do to-day?"

  "Me? Well, it's so kind of quiet and big up here I feel like settin'around and takin' it all in. I ain't been in the high country much.'Course I don't aim to camp on you."

  "You're sure welcome," said Shoop heartily. "It gets lonesome up here.But if you ain't got no reg'lar plan I was thinkin' of ridin' over toSheep Crossin'--and mebby on down to Jason."

  "Suits me fine!"

  Shoop heaved himself up. Lorry whistled shrilly. Gray Leg, across themesa, raised his head. Lorry whistled again. The pony lowered his headand nipped at the bunch-grass as he moved slowly toward the house.Shoop's horses watched him, and finally decided that they would follow.Gray Leg stopped just out of reach.

  "Get in the corral, there!" said Lorry, waving his arm.

  The pony shied and trotted into the corral, the other horses following.

  Bondsman was not exactly disgruntled, but he might have been happier.Shoop had told him to "keep house" until they returned.

  "It's a funny thing," said Shoop as he mounted. "Now, if I was to tellthat dog he was gettin' too old to ramble with me, he'd feel plumb sickand no account. But when I tell him he's got to do somethin'--likewatchin' the house--he thinks it's a reg'lar job. He's gettin' old, but,just like folks, he wants to think he's some use. You can't tell me dogsdon't know. Why, I've seen young folks so durned fussy about theirgrandmas and grandpas, trying to keep 'em from putterin' around, thatthe old folks just nacherally folded their hands and set down and died,havin' nothin' else to do. And a dog is right proud about bein' able todo somethin'. Bondsman there keeps me so busy thinkin' of how I can keephim busy that I ain't got time to shine my boots. That there dog bossesme around somethin' scandalous."

  "That's right," acquiesced Lorry. "I seen a ole mule once that theyturned loose from a freight wagon because he was too old to pull his ownweight. And that mule just followed the string up and down the hills andacross the sand, doin' his best to tell the skinner that he wanted toget back into the harness. He would run alongside the other mules, andtry to get back in his old place. They would just naturally kick him,and he'd turn and try to wallop 'em back. Then he'd walk along, with hishead hangin' down and his ears floppin', as if he was plumb sick ofbein' free and wanted to die. The last day he was too stiff to get onhis feet, so me and Jimmy Harp heaved him up while the skinner wasgettin' the chains on the other mules. That ole mule was sure wabblin'like a duck, but he come aside his ole place and followed along all day.We was freightin' in to camp, back in the Horseshoe Hills. You know thatgrade afore you get to the mesa? Well, the ole mule pulled the grade,sweatin' and puffin' like he was pullin' the whole load. And I guess hewas, in his mind. Anyhow, he got to the top, and laid down and died.Mules sure like to work. Now a horse would have fanned it."

  Shoop nodded. "I never seen a animile too lazy to work if it was onlygettin' his grub and exercise. But I've seen a sight of folks too lazyto do that much. Why, some folks is so dog-gone no account they got togit killed afore folks ever knowed they was livin'. Then they's somefolks so high-chinned they can't see nothin' but the stars when they'ddo tol'able well if they would follow a good hoss or a dog around andlearn how to live human. But this ain't gettin' nowhere, and the sun'skeepin' right along doin' business."

  They rode across the beautiful Blue Mesa, and entered the timberlands,following a ranger trail through the shadowy silences. At the lowerlevel, they came upon another mesa through which wound a mountainstream. And along a stream ran the trail, knee-high in grass on eitherside.

  Far below them lay the plains country, its hazy reaches just visibleover the tree-tops. Where the mountain stream merged with a deeperstream the ground was barren and dotted with countless tracks of cattleand sheep. This was Sheep Crossing, a natural pass where the cattlemenand sheepmen drifted their stock from the hills to the winterfeeding-grounds of the lower country. It was a checking point for therangers; the gateway to the hills.

  The thin mountain air was hot. The unbridled ponies drank eagerly, andwere allowed to graze. The men moved over to the shade of a blue-toppedspruce. As Lorry was about to sit down he picked an empty whiskey bottlefrom the grass, turned the label toward Shoop, and grinned. He tossedthe bottle into the edge of the timber.

  Shoop rolled a cigarette, and Lorry squatted beside him. PresentlyShoop's voice broke the indolent silence of noon: "Just why did youchuck that bottle over there?"

  "I don't know. Horse might step on it and cut himself."

  "Yes. But you chucked it like you was mad at somethin'. Would you thrunit away if it was full?"

  "I don' know. I might 'a' smelt of it to see if it was whiskey orkerosene some herder forgot."

  "It's right curious how a fella will smell of a bottle to see what's init or what's been in it. Most folks does that. I guess you know whatwhiskey smells like."

  "Oh, some; with the boys once or twice. I never did get to like it rightwell."

  Shoop nodded. "I ain't what you'd call a drinkin' man myself, but Istarted out that way. I been tol'able well lit up at times. Buttemperance folks what never took a drink can tell you more about whiskeythan I can. Now that there empty bottle, a hundred and thirty miles froma whiskey town, kind of set me thinkin'."

  Lorry leaned back against the spruce and watched a hawk float in easycircles round the blue emptiness above. He felt physically indolent; atone with the silences. Shoop's voice came to him clearly, but as thoughfrom a distance, and as Shoop talked Lorry visualized the theme,forgetting where he was in the vivid picture the old ex-cowboy sketchedin the rough dialect of the range.

  "I've did some thinkin' in my time, but not enough to keep me awakenights," said Shoop, pushing back his hat. "That there whiskey bottlekind of set me back to where I was about your years and some lively.Long about then I knowed two fellas called 'John' and 'Demijohn.' Johnwas young and a right good cow-hand. Demijohn was old, but he was alwaysdressed up like he was young, and he acted right lively. Some folksthought he was young. They met up at a saloon down along the Santa Fe.They got acquainted, and had a high ole time.

  "That evenin', as John was leavin' to go back to the ranch, Demijohntells him he'll see him later. John remembers that. They met up ag'in.And finally John got to lookin' for Demijohn, and if he didn't show upreg'lar John would set out and chase Demijohn all over the country,afoot and ahorseback, and likin' his comp'ny more every time they met.

  "Now, this here Demijohn, who was by rights a city fella, got to takin'to the timber and the mesas, with John followin' him around lively. OleDemijohn would set in the shade of a tree--no tellin' how he gotthere--and John would ride up and light down; when mebby Demijohn wouldstart off to town, bein' empty, and John after him like hell wasn't hotenough 'less he sweat runnin'. And that young John would ride clean totown just to say 'How' to that ole hocus. And it come that John got topayin' more attention to Demijohn than he did to punchin' cows. Thencome a day when John got sick of chasin' Demijohn all over the range,and he quit.

  "But the first thing he knowed, Demijohn was a chasin' him. Every timeJohn rode in and throwed off his saddle there'd be ole Demijohn, settin'in the corner of the corral or under his bunk or
out in the box stall,smilin' and waitin'. Finally Demijohn got to followin' John right intothe bunk-house, and John tryin' his durndest to keep out of sight.

  "One evenin', when John was loafin' in the bunk-house, ole Demijohncrawls up to his bunk and asks him, whisperin', if he ain't most alwaysgive John a good time when they met up. John cussed, but 'lowed thatDemijohn was right. Then Demijohn took to pullin' at young John's sleeveand askin' him to come to town and have a good time. Pretty soon Johngets up and saddles his cayuse and fans it for town. And that time himand Demijohn sure had one whizzer of a time. But come a week later, whenJohn gits back to the ranch, the boss is sore and fires him. Then Johngits sore at the boss and at himself and at Demijohn and the wholeworks. So he saddles up and rides over to town to have it out withDemijohn for losin' a good job. But he couldn't lick Demijohn rightthere in town nohow. Demijohn was too frequent for him.

  "When young John wakes up next mornin' he is layin' under a tree, mightysick. He sees he is up on the high mesa, but he don' know how he gotthere; only his pony is grazin' near by, with reins all tromped and thesaddle 'way up on his withers. John sets up and rubs his eyes, and therehe sees ole Demijohn settin' in the grass chucklin' to hisself, and hisback is turned to young John, for he don't care nohow for a fella whenhe is sick. Ole Demijohn is always feelin' good, no matter how hisfriends feel. Well, young John thinks a while, and pretty soon he moseysover to a spring and gets a big, cold drink and washes his head, andfeels better.

  "He never knowed that just plain water tasted so good till that mornin'.Then he sets awhile, smellin' of the clean pine air and listenin' to thewind runnin' loose in the tree-tops and watchin' the clouds driftin' by,white and clean and proud-like. Pretty soon he rares up and walks overto the tree where ole Demijohn sets rockin' up and down and chucklin'.He takes a holt of Demijohn by the shoulder, and he says: 'You darnedole hocus, you, I lost my job, and I'm broke, lopin' around this countrywith you.'

  "'Forget it!' says ole Demijohn. 'Ain't I good comp'ny?'

  "'Mebby you be--for some folks,' says young John. 'But not for me. Youdon't belong up in this here country; you belong back in town, and Ireckon you better fan it.'

  "Ole Demijohn he laughed. 'You can't run me off the range that easy,' hesays.

  "'I can't, eh?' says young John, and he pulls his gun and up and bustsole Demijohn over the head. Then, bein' a likely young fella, he shutshis jaw tight and fans it back to the ranch. The fo'man is somesurprised to see him come ridin' up, whistlin' like he owned the works.Fellas what's fired mostly looks for work some place else. But youngJohn got the idee that he owed it to hisself to make good where hestarted as a cow-hand. 'I busted my ole friend Demijohn over the head,'he says to the fo'man. 'We ain't friends no more.'

  "The fo'man he grins. 'All right, Jack,' he says. 'But if I see himhangin' round the corrals ag'in, or in the bunk-house, you needn't towait for me to tell you which way is north.'

  "Well, young John had done a good job. 'Course ole Demijohn used to comesneakin' round in the moonlight, once in a spell, botherin' some of theboys, but he stayed clear of young John. And young John he took toridin' straight and hard and 'tendin' to business. I ain't sayin' heever got to be president or superintendent of a Sunday School, for thisain't no story-book yarn; but he always held a good job when he wantedit, and he worked for a good boss--which was hisself."

  Lorry grinned as he turned to Shoop. "That ole Demijohn never got closeenough to me to get busted on the head."

  "Them hosses is strayin' down the creek," said Shoop, rising.

  They turned and rode north, somewhat to Lorry's surprise. The trail wasragged and steep, and led from the mesa to the canon bottom of the WhiteRiver. Before Lorry realized where they were, Jason loomed before themon the mesa below.

  "She's a quick trail to town in summer," explained Shoop. "Snow hangstoo heavy in the canon to ride it in winter."

  At Jason they tied their horses, and entered the ranger's office. Lorrywaited while Shoop talked with Torrance in the private office. PresentlyShoop came to the door and gestured to Lorry.

  "Mr. Shoop says he thinks you could qualify for the Service," Torrancesaid. "We will waive the matter of recommendations from the Starrpeople. But there is one thing I can't do. I can't hire a man who iswanted by the authorities. There's a deputy sheriff in town with awarrant for you. That is strictly your affair. If you can squareyourself with the deputy, I'll put you to work."

  "I'll go see what he wants," said Lorry.

  "He wants you. Understand, you'll only jeopardize your chances bystarting a row."

  "They won't be a row," said Lorry.

  When he returned he was accompanied by the deputy. Lorry took his standwithout parley.

  "I want to ask you folks a question, and then I'm through," he asserted."Will you listen to what he says and what I say, and then say who isright?"

  "That might not settle it," said Torrance. "But go ahead."

  "Then all I got to say is, was I right or wrong when I turned that hoboloose and saved him from gettin' beat up by High Chin and the boys, andmebby strung up, afore they got through?"

  "Morally you were right," said Torrance. "But you should have appealedto Sheriff Hardy to guard his prisoner."

  "That's all right, Mr. Torrance. But suppose they wasn't time. Andsuppose,--now Buck's deputy is here to listen to it,--suppose I was tosay that Buck is scared to death of High-Chin Bob. Everybody knows it."

  The deputy flushed. He knew that Lorry spoke the truth.

  Torrance turned to Shoop. "What do you think, Bud?"

  Bud coughed and shrugged his heavy shoulders. "Bein' as I'm drug intothis, I say the boy did a good job and he's right about Hardy, whichyou can tell him," he added, turning to the deputy.

  "Then that's all I got to say," and Lorry pushed back his hat andrumpled his hair.

  The deputy was not there to argue. He had been sent to get Lorry.

  "I don't say he ain't right. But how about my job if I ride back toStacey with nothin' to show for the trip but my expense card?"

  "Buck Hardy isn't a fool," said Torrance.

  "Oh, hell!" said Lorry, turning to the deputy. "I'll go back with you.I'm sick of jawin' about the right and the wrong and who's to blame. ButI want to say in company that I'll go just as far as the county line ofthis county. You're south of your county. If you can get me across theline, I'll go on to Stacey."

  Bud Shoop mopped his face with a bandanna. He was not overhot, but hewanted to hide the grin that spread over his broad countenance. Heimagined he could see the deputy just about the time they arrived at thecounty line, and the mental picture seemed to amuse him.

  "The idee is, the kid thinks he's right," said Shoop presently."Speakin' personal, I never monkey with a man when he thinks he'sright--and he is."

  "All I got to go by is the law," asserted the deputy. "As for Adams heresayin' I won't run him in, I got orders to do it, and them orders goes."

  "Adams has applied for a position in the Service," said Torrance.

  "I ain't got anything against Lorry personal," said the deputy.

  "Then just you ride back an' tell Buck Hardy that Bud Shoop says he'llstand responsible for Adams keepin' the peace in Jason County, same as Istood responsible for Buck oncet down in the Panhandle. Buck willremember, all right."

  "Can't you give me a letter to Buck, explainin' things?" queried thedeputy.

  Bud glanced at Torrance. "I think we can," said the supervisor.

  Lorry stepped to the door with the deputy. There was no personal feelingevident as they shook hands.

  "You could tell ma to send down my clothes by stage," said Lorry.

  Shoop and Torrance seemed to be enjoying themselves.

  "I put in my say," said Bud, "'cause I kind of like the kid. And Ireckon I saved that deputy a awful wallopin'. When a fella like youngAdams talks pleasant and chokes his hat to death at the same time youcan watch out for somethin' to fall."

  "Do you think Adams would have had it out w
ith him?"

  "He'd 'a' rode along a spell, like he said. Mebby just this side of thecounty line he'd 'a' told the deputy which way was north. And if thedeputy didn't take the hint, I reckon Adams would 'a' lit into him. Iknowed Adams's daddy afore he married Annie Adams and went to live inSonora."

  "Then you knew that his father was Jim Waring?"

  "I sure did. And I reckon I kep' somebody from gettin' a awfulwallopin'. I was a kid oncet myself."