Bat Wing Bowles

by Dane Coolidge

  CHAPTER XVI

  THE STRAW-BOSS

  It is the philosophy of the poseurs in pessimism that for every happymoment we have in life we pay at a later date a greater price. Ofcourse, any one who ever took a kid to the circus knows better, butthere are times when the doctrine seems to hold. When Bowles returned tothe round-up, the news of his perfidy had preceded him--he had takenadvantage of his position and spent the evening at the big house!Thereupon the hotheads lowered upon him malignantly, and Hardy Atkinshunted up his high-life bottle.

  The accepted function of carbon bisulphide in the great Southwest is tokill off prairie-dogs. A tablespoonful poured on a cow-chip and rolleddown a dog hole will asphyxiate the entire family. The same amountpoured on a man's horse will make the man think he has been shot with apack-saddle, and that was what happened to Bowles. When he became toowary for the bottle, they resorted to other means, and finally hedetected the bronco-twister with a loaded syringe in his hand.

  "Now, that will do, Mr. Atkins," he observed with some asperity. "It'sall right for you boys to haze me a little, but my horses are gettingspoiled and I'll have to ask you to stop."

  "Oho!" shouted Bar Seven and the stray men, who had sweethearts in otherparts and dearly loved excitement. "He caught you at it, Hardy! Now whatyou goin' to do?"

  "I ain't goin' to do nothin'," declared Hardy Atkins, carefully stowinghis squirt-gun away. "No Hinglishman looks bad to me, and I'll high-lifehim whenever I like!"

  "You will not!" said Henry Lee, coming up as he heard the words. "I'vehad enough of this foolishness, and I want you to quit right now. Firstthing you know that hawse will pitch into the herd and we'll have astampede on our hands. Now, come ahead and clean out this pasture, we'llstart the drive for town."

  They rounded up the pastures then, one after the other, and soon thegreat herd of dogies was strung out on the road. At regular distancesalong the flanks the swing men plodded along; toward the front the twopoint men directed the head of the herd; and, behind, the remainder ofthe men brought up the drag. They traveled slowly, sometimes swingingout into the hills and letting the cattle feed, and as they driftedalong over the rock-patches the _clack, clack, clack_ of splay-toedhoofs made a noise like rain on the roof. At intervals some stubborntwo-year-old would break from the tail of the herd, some fresh-brandedcalf fall by the wayside, to be left for another drive; but the day ofthe steer is past on the lower ranges of the great Southwest, andfeeders are easier to handle. So they dragged on, drifting over to theriver for water and back onto the plains for the night, and many anester's fence was laid flat as they jerked it to turn out the strays.Then, at the end of the third day, they came within sight of Chula Vistaand Henry Lee rode on ahead.

  "Hardy," he said as he turned his horse toward town, "I'll leave you incharge of the herd. Put them into the pens for the night, and hold theremuda out on the flats. I'll be down as soon as I find my men. And,remember, no drinking!"

  He looked very hard at his straw-boss as he spoke, and Hardy Atkinsanswered him dutifully; but when the boss was gone he turned and winkedat his partners.

  "You hear me now, boys," he said. "No drinkin'! You know the rule--youcain't drink whisky and work fer Henry Lee! Umph-umm! But I hope to Gawdsome of them town boys come out with a bottle!"

  He smacked his lips as he spoke, and made up a funny face.

  "I got three months' pay comin' to me," he remarked, and went spurringup to the front.

  "I never seen the time yet," observed Buck Buchanan, as he loafedphilosophically along with the drag, "that I couldn't git another jobsomewhere. When I've got money comin' to me, I want to spend it, byJoe!"

  "Sure!" agreed Happy Jack, who had been singing songs all day. "What'sthe use of workin', anyway?"

  "That's me!" chimed in Poker Bill. "Let's quit and draw our pay!"

  "Put these cows in the pen first," said Jack, snapping his fingers andwaltzing airily in his saddle.

  "Whoopee tee, yi, yo, git along, little dogies, It's all yore misfortune and none of my own. Whoopee tee, yi, yo, git along, little dogies, 'Cause you know my whistle is dry as a bone."

  It was a new experience to Bowles, this riding into a cow town, and heviewed with wide-eyed alarm the evidences of dissolution and revolt.Even Brigham was licking his lips and gazing at the town; and when thefirst bottle came out he took a long drink with the rest. Bowles excusedhimself, and wondered what would happen; but the half-drunken cowboy whobrought out the life-saver never gave him a second look. It was not sohard to dispose of whisky in those parts.

  As the herd neared town, the idle and curious came riding out to see it,and Bowles was pained to notice certain painted women, who seemed toknow the boys by their first names. They rode along the herd, wavinghandkerchiefs and shouting greetings, and a sudden distrust of frontiermorality came over him as he observed the shameless response. Theshipping pens were below the town about a mile--a barren square ofwhitewashed fencing, backed up to a side-track full of emptystock-cars--and as the weary cattle dragged along across the flats HardyAtkins and a bunch of punchers cut off the leaders and whooped them onahead. There was a jam at the gates, a break or two, and then the firsttimid dogie stepped fearfully into the enclosure. The smell of water inthe troughs lured him on, the rest followed, and when the main herd cameup it was artfully tailed on to the drag.

  At last! The high gate swung to on the harvest of the long round-up, andthe punchers raced their horses to be first at the waiting chuck-wagon.In an angle of the fence Gloomy Gus had unpacked his ovens and set uphis fire irons, and now as they flew at their supper he surveyed themwith cynical calm.

  "Whar's Henry Lee?" he inquired at length; and Hardy Atkins pointed backto town with his knife.

  "He's over lookin' up his buyer," he said. "I'm the boss now, Cusi; whatcan I do fer you?"

  "Oh, you're boss now, are you?" repeated Gus, with heavy scorn. "Well,then, why don't you send some one out to relieve thet hawse wrangler?He'll be turnin' the remuda loose pretty soon, from the way he's beenmakin' signs."

  "Aw, he'll keep!" laughed the straw-boss. "Hey, fellers, who wants thefirst guard to-night?"

  Nobody spoke.

  "Somebody's got to stand guard," he observed, running his eyes over thecrowd. "First guard's the best--eight to half-past ten. Bill? Jim? Hank?Well, I'll make it Jim and Hank, anyhow--only way to keep 'em in camp.You boys know Mr. Lee's orders--no drinkin' now--I don't want to findyou downtown!"

  "Aw-haw-haw!" roared the crowd. That was a good one--he didn't want tofind them downtown! Well, what would _he_ be doing down there?

  "Well, who's goin' to relieve us?" inquired Hank plaintively. "Last timewe was down I had to stand guard all night!"

  The bronco-twister ran his eyes over the crowd again, as if searchingfor some one.

  "Where's that feller that refused a drink this evenin'?" he demandedfacetiously. "He's the boy fer second guard--good and reliable--andHinglish, too. Hinglish, I'll ask you and yore Mormon friend, Mr. Clark,to kindly stand the second guard. Bud and Bill third, and Jack and Buckfourth. I'm boss now, and I don't stand guard."

  "Oh, thunder!" grumbled Brig, as he threw himself down on his bed. "Iwish the boss would come back. Them rounders will stay in town allnight. Let's take a little flier ourselves," he urged as Bowles lay downbeside him. "We can git back in time!"

  But a sudden sense of responsibility had come over Bowles as he observedhow the crowd faded away, and he held Brigham to his post. Atten-thirty, in response to a hurried summons, they took a spare blanketfor warmth and rode out to stand their guard.

  The stars wheeled round in their courses and sank down in the west; thehorses shifted about on the barren plain and made their customaryefforts to escape; and when the first cold light of dawn crept in, itshowed "Hinglish" and his Mormon friend still standing their lonelyvigil.

  But for once in a lifetime self-sacrificing virtue got its reward, forHenry Lee came riding out with his buyer at daylight and discovered themat their
post. He did not say much--in fact he did not say anything--andBrigham and Bowles did the same; but there was a difference in the air.At last Bowles had justified his existence--he had stayed with his jobto the end.

  There was a hurried searching of the town for Bat Wing cowboys, astraggling return of drunken and mutinous punchers, and then, withbarely men enough to man the gates, the work of shipping began. By twosand threes the dogies were driven down a lane; the cattle inspector readthe brands and made his tally, and the buyer passed them on or cut themback. Then, as the cutting and re-cutting was finished, the cattle werepunched up the chutes and crowded into the cars. As the day wore on,more and more of the hands returned and took up the prod pole; but HenryLee made no remarks. Even when his trusted straw-boss showed up late, hemade no comment; but once back in camp he pulled his book like a pistol,and began to write out checks.

  "Well, boys," he said, "you were drunk last night; I'll have to give youyour time. Hardy, you're a good cow-hand, but I'll have to let you go,too. So here's your time checks; and turn your horses out. I've got tohave men I can trust."

  There was a heavy silence at this, for all the outfits in the countrywere full-handed now, and no one was looking for men. And Henry Lee wasa good man to work for--he treated his hands white, fed them well, andpaid the top price to boot. He also kept the best of them over winter,while others were riding the chuck-line or hanging around livery-stablesin town. But nobody said a word, for they knew it would do no good; and,after he had paid them off and gone back to town, the luckless ones whohad been fired drew off by themselves and talked the matter over. To besure, they had the price of a drunk in their clothes; but they werefired and put afoot now, and town has no allurements to a cowboy unlesshe can ride in on a horse. So Hardy Atkins and his Texas followerslolled sulkily around the camp, sleeping fitfully in their blankets andglowering at Brigham Clark and the few careful spirits who had escapedtheir employer's wrath. And in particular they glowered at Bowles, thevirtuous and dutiful, and hated him above all the rest for his air ofconscious rectitude.

  Supper that evening offered no appeal to the drink-shaken carousers, butthey stayed for it all the same, hoping against hope that the boss wouldcome back and give them another chance. But they knew him too well tothink it--Henry Lee would let his whole calf crop grow up to bemavericks before he would take back his word. Still they waited, andalong toward sundown, as luck would have it, he came out; and with him,riding like a queen on her spirited horse, came Dixie May. She lookedthem over coldly, returning short answers to their shamefaced greetingsand saving a smile for the cook.

  "Good-evening, Mr. Mosby," she said, pouring out a little coffee forpoliteness' sake. "And so these boys had to go on a drunk and get fired,did they? Well, you won't have so many to cook for now--that'll be oneconsolation."

  "Yes, Miss Dix," agreed the cook, "but mighty little, believe me! Onecowboy is jest about as ornery an' no 'count as the other--and whiskygits 'em all. They're all alike--I been cookin' for 'em fer thirtyyears, off an' on, and they ain't one of 'em is worth the powder to blow'im to--excuse me, Miss Dix. But, as I was sayin', take 'em as theycome, and keep 'em out of town, and these boys is pretty fair--prettyfair; I'm sorry to see 'em go."

  At this kindly word of intercession, a new light came into the eyes ofthe unemployed; but Dixie Lee had come on a mission, and it was not herpolicy to yield in a minute.

  "Well, _I'm_ not!" she declared. "If you'd listened to the amount offoolishness that I've suffered from these boys, Mr. Mosby; if you'dheard 'em say how they were going to save their wages and buy a littlebunch of cows--and tell about the quarter-section of land they had theireye on--and swear, so help me God, they'd never take another drink ofwhisky as long as they lived--I believe you'd be glad to get rid of'em!"

  She turned and ran her eye over the crowd, and both the just and theunjust quailed before her.

  "And so you were drunk, were you, Mr. Atkins?" she inquired, fixing hergaze upon the deposed straw-boss; and Hardy Atkins shot a look at herwhich was both confession and appeal.

  "And you, Jack?" she continued severely.

  "Yes, ma'am," spoke up Happy Jack, upon whom the severity of her mannerwas lost. "I was drunk, all right."

  "Well, you don't need to be proud of it!" she observed cuttingly. "It'sno distinction in this bunch. Brig, were you drunk, too?"

  "No, ma'am," responded Brigham promptly.

  "Oh, what's the use of talking?" scoffed Dixie, glancing at his swollenface and bloodshot eyes.

  "All the same, I wasn't!" denied Brigham boldly. "I reckon you'd lookkind of bug-eyed if you'd been standin' guard all night!"

  "Well, what's the matter with your face then?" she demanded. "Did theground rise up and hit you?"

  "No, but an old cow did, over in the shippin' chute!" And Brigham drewhimself up and grinned defiantly. It was not often that he had a chanceto assume this high moral pose, and he decided to make the most of it.

  "That's right," interposed Henry Lee, who so far had let his daughter doall the talking. "Brig and Bowles stood guard all night and brought upthe remuda in the morning. I won't forget that, Brig," he addedsignificantly. "I'm looking for men I can trust."

  "Well, good for you, Brig!" commented Dixie May, smiling with suddenapproval; and at that the other suitors fell into a black rage ofjealousy and distrust. There was silence for a while, and then HappyJack spoke up.

  "Mr. Lee," he said, "I know I was drunk last night--my own fault, ofcourse--but here's the proposition. You got to take on somebody to doyore work; what's the use of hirin' these town bums when you can gityore old hands back? That's the way we stand, and I hope you'll give usa chance."

  This was a long speech for Jack, and he wiped the sweat from his brow ashe waited for the answer. The rest of the unemployed rumbled theiracquiescence to the statement and watched for some sign of weakening;but Henry Lee did not change his frown.

  "I'm looking for men I can trust," he said at last. "These boys herestayed in camp and were on hand to help with the shipping. Maybe some ofthem ain't quite as good cowboys as you are, but I can depend on themnot to turn my remuda loose the first night I leave 'em alone, and I'mgoing to make them top hands. You fellows get the top mounts andforty-five a month," he added, glancing briefly at Brig and the faithfulfew, most of whom were nesters boys, and married men working for astake; "and I want some more just like you."

  "But how about us?" inquired Happy Jack after a silence. "I'll take onfor a green hand, myse'f--forty dollars--and ride bronks, too. And Iknow that upper range like a book!"

  "Sure!" murmured the rest; and once more they waited on Henry Lee.

  He sat for a while studying on the matter, and then he exchanged glanceswith his daughter.

  "If he takes you back, are you going to run it over these other handsand make a lot of trouble?" she inquired shrewdly. "Because if youare----"

  A chorus of indignant denials answered this unjust accusation, and DixieLee's face became clear.

  "Then I'd take 'em back," she said.

  "No, I won't do it," rapped out Henry Lee. "But I'll tell you what Iwill do," he went on, as the gang lopped down despondently. "You boyshave got your time checks. All right, you go up town and cash them in,and if you can pay your saloon debts and get out of town sober, I'lltake you on. But if any man takes a drink, or brings out a bottle, he'llnever ride for Henry Lee again--I've lost enough horses through drunkenpunchers. Brig, I'll leave you in charge of the outfit."

  He swung up on his horse as he spoke, and Dixie rode away after him,followed by the admiring gaze of all hands and the cook. Henry Lee was agood boss, but the average Texas cow-puncher is not weak-kneed enough tocourt the favor of any man. Once he is fired, he takes his money andspends it philosophically; but in this case Dixie May had intervened,and rather than lose their chance with her the whole gang had takenlessons in humility.

  "She's all right," observed Happy Jack, wagging his head and smiling ashe watched her off. "She wraps him around her
little finger."

  "Wonder how she come to be down here?" inquired a new hand; and Jackanswered him, with a laugh.

  "Ridin' herd on the old man, of course!" he said.

  "Sure!" grumbled Hardy Atkins. "The old lady is up there, too. That'sthe one thing I got ag'inst Henry Lee--he's been a booze-fighter andquit. That's what makes him so doggoned onreasonable!"

  "They say John B. Gough and Sam Jones was reformed drunks, too,"commented Poker Bill sagely; but there was one member present who didnot take even a philosophical interest in the discussion. It was BrighamClark, the new straw-boss. Through a chain of circumstances a littlehard to trace, he had refrained from his customary periodical, and,behold, of a sudden he was elevated above all his fellows, and placed ina position of authority.

  "Well," he broke in sharply, "it's gittin' dark--who's goin' to relievethat horse wrangler? Bill? Buck? Well, I'll put you on the first guard,anyhow--only way to save you from yorese'ves!"

  "Aw, listen to the big fat stiff!" commented Buck Buchanan, who felt theneed of a nap; but Brig paid no attention to his remarks.

  "You boys bring them in to the pen fer a drink," he ordered, withpompous circumstance, "and hold them out on yon flat. Who wants to standsecond guard? Jim? Hank?" He craned his neck about as Hardy Atkins haddone the night before; and Hardy, who had been thinking about otherthings, sat up with a sudden scowl.

  "Whar's that feller that refused a drink this evenin'?" demandedBrigham, imitating with roguish accuracy the broad Texas accent of hispredecessor. "He's the boy fer second guard--good and reliable--comesfrom Texas, too. Mr. Atkins, I'll ask you and yore cotton-picker friend,Happy Jack, to kindly stand second guard. Bud and Bill third, and Samand Slim fourth. I'm boss now, and I don't stand no guard!"