CHAPTER XXXVI
RESPONSIBILITY SITS HEAVILY ON LAFE
"It's a wonder," said Johnson to his wife one day, "it's a wonder weain't never heard anything from Steve Moffatt."
She looked up from her sewing in curiosity. "Surely you don't want tohear from him, do you? I declare, one would think, to hear you talk,that you were sorry."
Lafe did not dispute this, but got down on his knees that his son mightmount and ride him. Lafe, Jr., was pleased to consider his father abucking bronco on these occasions and used to dig his heels gleefullyinto his ribs. Time--two months after Mordecai Bass and the half-breedshook dice against death, and they hanged Baptismo to a stout tree.
The boss of the Anvil freed himself from his rider by pitching him overhis shoulder, and rose and dusted his knees.
"Well, anyhow," he said, "you remember what he done wrote to me when meand you were married. He said 'adios,' you mind. And he told me hewouldn't bother me until after the honeymoon."
"I remember well enough. What of it?"
"It's a mighty long time since the honeymoon," said her husband, shakinghis head dubiously.
Hetty laughed, but the look she turned on Lafe was not wholly devoid ofanxiety. For this was but one of a series of incidents. His behavior andrecent trend of thought worried her. Since Jerry's tragic death, heseemed another individual. Lafe had grown subject to fits of depressionand frequently gave utterance to the gloomiest forebodings. What had heon his mind? Nothing--not a thing in the world. Yet he continued to hintdarkly that it would be just their luck if he fell ill, or were killed,leaving Hetty and the boy alone to starve.
"Nonsense!" cried Hetty, after she had listened patiently to severalrepetitions of this obsession. "We're doing fine. You've got this placeand six hundred dollars saved. And Mr. Horne pays you a hundred andtwenty-five a month, and Bob owes you three hundred--"
Lafe gave a hollow laugh. "Yes," said he, "Bob owes me three hundred.Ha-ha! That's a fine asset--what Bob owes--ain't it?"
"So you think he's going to rob you? Say it. Say it right out. What didyou lend it to him for, then?" she exclaimed.
"Because you done worried me into it," he retorted, but perceiving thathe had offended her, he began to weaken, and ended by apologizing.Although he scoffed at the prospect of his brother-in-law ever repayingthe loan, it is my belief that Johnson had full confidence in Bob andwould have resented with bodily injury any imputation from an outsider.
"If a man can't roast his friends, who can?" said he once, when Iremonstrated with him concerning a criticism of Ferrier. "My friendsknock me, I reckon. If they don't, then they can't think such a heap ofme. No, sir. Bob's behaved like a no-account. Why, man alive, I had tolet him have forty dollars more yesterday. What do you think ofthat--hey?"
Every one of his acquaintance had remarked the transformation in Johnsonand all of us were at a loss. The change was revolutionary. It had neverbeen my fortune to meet with an individual so reckless of the morrow asLafe had been before marriage. Not only had he gambled daily with hislife, but had held to it that money was to spend, and the prospect ofpoverty never appeared to enter into his calculations. Indeed, he hadscorned those who showed reluctance to toss their hard-won earnings tothe winds. Himself had always been penniless or in debt, but he had gonehis way cheerily, indulging no worry over his plight.
Then he married, and now he talked like this: "I swan, Dan, when I thinkof what I married Hetty on, it sure makes me shake like a leaf. It's awonder we didn't starve. A man's pluckier or he don't think of thesethings when he's younger--don't you reckon? I'd never dare do it overagain now."
"Pluckier? No. Simply irresponsible--that's all. A lot of 'em hope fora miracle--these young people," said I.
"And damn my eyes if they don't usually get it," Lafe said. "It's mostamazing how things will turn up to help people who can't helpthemselves--just when you think you're done for, too."
"Then why are you worrying so now?"
"Am I worrying?" he asked, looking sharply at me.
I could see he was displeased, and consequently dropped the subject. ButHorne and others told me that Johnson was much concerned about hishealth merely because he had contracted a cold. This was to them asymptom of hopeless effeminacy.
On a night when Lafe and I were riding under myriads of stars, and adrink of mezcal had contributed to warm the confidential impulsesbegotten by a long day together in the saddle, the boss inquiredabruptly whether I would look after Lafe, Jr., in the event of anythinghappening to him. I gaped at him.
"What on earth's going to happen to you? You're as healthy as a goat."
"Dan, it makes me ashamed, but, consarn it, I lie awake nights often,wondering what would become of Hetty and the kid if I was to be killedor got hurt or fell sick. We ain't got enough saved to--"
"Oh, pshaw!" I protested. "Forget it. This isn't like you, Lafe."
Really anxious, I took the opportunity to mention to Hetty that herhusband was suffering from indigestion and that it behooved her to gethim fit again.
"Do you know," said she, "I've been wondering if that wasn't what ailedhim. A man is only half a man when his stomach is out of order. He's gotto get his meals all proper or he won't amount to anything. Thank you,Dan, I'll attend to it."
Old man Horne put a different interpretation on Lafe's peculiar nervousdread. Very condescendingly he explained to me that, being a bachelor, Icould not be expected to probe the mystery, but the fact was that everymarried man was seized some time with this species of anxiety.
"That is," said Horne, "if he's conscientious and worth his salt. Someof 'em, they never do get rid of it. It isn't cowardice. He's justafraid for his family."
"But Johnson has no real cause for worry. Not like a lot of others. Lookat him."
"Sure not. That's why he's worrying. He's got things too easy, therascal. If he had some real troubles, probably he wouldn't fret at all."
Winter dragged along--a winter of blustering winds, of abrupt, deadcalms and terrible cold. The cold did not last, however. Some snow fellin the hills, and under a bright sun ran down in rills to the river.Later, the rains held off and the grass shriveled. The country turned apale brown.
We never look for the first rains to wash the land until July--for someunexplained reason everybody sets the date at July Fourth. But in earlyJune numberless clouds massed in tumbled glory above the mountains andthe rain drove down in sheets. Three days later the country showed greenand pure, the trees put forth new leaves and the ocatilla flaredturkey-red on the ridges.
"The cattle are looking fine," Lafe reported. "Their hides are loose.We've had a good calf crop. It'll run to seventy per cent, Horne. Andthere ain't no worms, or likely will be."
"Start the roundup next week," said Horne.
Accordingly, the Anvil outfit gathered its horses, packed its chuckwagonwith food and bedding, and set out for Zacaton Bottom, there to pitchthe first camp. They would not reach the mountain pastures, where thewild steers roamed, until late in the autumn.
The horses were on edge from their winter's freedom. One in every threewere broncos just broken. What the Anvil buster facetiously called abroken horse was one that had had three saddles. After those, he wasturned into the remuda--not bridle-wise, full of fight and vicious frommemory of what the buster had imposed on him. As a result, we had fiveor six contests of endurance between riders and mounts each morning. Oneof the boys was thrown and had his collar bone broken.
As boss, Johnson had the privilege of topping the remuda for hisstring--that is to say, he had first choice of all horses. Yet it wasgenerally a point of honor not to appropriate all the gentle ones;also, not to assign all the bad ones to one particular hand; and it isalways a point of honor to retain those selected, and ride them,whatever characteristics they may develop afterwards.
In Lafe's mount was a big J A sorrel that had roved the fastnesses ofPaloduro in Texas. The buster had christened him Casey Jones, after thecelebrated engineer, because of the desperate qu
ality of his courage.Now, by reason of Lafe's recently developed nervousness concerninghimself, I could not repress my impatience for the day to arrive forCasey Jones' saddling--the horses are worked in rotation and, beingentirely grass-fed, each can only be used about once in three days.
In a chill dawn the roper called to Johnson: "Want Casey Jones?"
"No-oo. Catch me Tommy," said the boss.
Nobody but the roper, the horse wrangler and myself marked thisweakening. We did not even comment on it among ourselves, but I was muchcast down. Of course no man after he has got beyond twenty-five years,or has otherwise arrived at some degree of sense, wants to ride abucking horse; but when it is put up to him, when it becomes his duty,then the man who shirks is discredited. Yet none of us could think ofLafe as really shirking. Perhaps he had some excellent reason. Much moreof this, though, and there would be a lessening of his authority.
The Sheriff of Badger: A Tale of the Southwest Borderland Page 36
