The Fighting Shepherdess

by Caroline Lockhart

  CHAPTER II

  AN HISTORIC OCCASION

  The experienced ear of Major Stephen Douglas Prouty told him that he wasgetting a hot axle. The hard dry squeak from the rear wheel of the"democrat" had but one meaning--he had forgotten to grease it. Thiswould seem an inexcusable oversight in a man who expected to make fortymiles before sunset, but in this instance there was an extenuatingcircumstance. Immediately after breakfast there had been a certain lookin his hostess's eye which had warned him that if he lingered he wouldbe asked to assist with the churning. Upon observing it he had startedfor the barn to harness with a celerity that approached a trot.

  Long years of riding the grub-line had developed in the Major a gift forrecognizing the exact psychological moment when he had worn out hiswelcome as company and was about to be treated as one of the family andsicced on the woodpile, that was like a sixth sense. It seldom failedhim, but in the rare instances when it had, he had bought his freedomwith a couple of boxes of White Badger Salve--unfailing for cuts, burns,scalds and all irritations of the skin--good also, as it proved, for dryaxles, since he had neglected to replenish his box of axle grease fromthat of his host at the last stopping place.

  He leaned from under the edge of the large cotton umbrella which shadedhim amply, and squinted at the sun. He judged that it was noon exactly.His intention seemed to be communicated to his horses by telepathy, forthey both stopped with a suddenness which made him lurch forward.

  "It's time to eat, anyhow," he said aloud as he recovered his balancewith the aid of the dashboard, disentangled his feet from the longskirts of his linen duster and sprang over the wheel with the alacrityof a man who took a keen interest in food.

  Unhooking the traces, he led the team to one side of the road, slippedoff the bridles and replaced them with nose bags containing each horse'sallotment of oats--extracted from the bin of his most recent host. Thenhe searched in the bottom of the wagon until he found a monkey-wrenchwhich he applied to the nut and twirled dextrously. Canting the wheel,he moistened his finger tip and touched the exposed axle.

  "Red hot!"

  He left it to cool and reached under the seat for a pasteboard shoe-boxand bore it to the side of the road, where he saw a convenient rock.Both the eagerness of hunger and curiosity was depicted on his face ashe untied the twine which secured it. He was wondering if she had put inany cheese. The Major especially liked cheese and had not failed tomention the fact when his hostess had let drop the information that awhole one had come in with the last freight wagon from town. He removedthe cover and his smile of anticipation gave place to a look ofastonishment and incredulity. It was difficult to believe his eyes! Notonly was there no cheese, but that chicken wing and back which had beenleft on the platter last night, and which he had been as sure of asthough he had put them in himself, were not in the box. He felt underthe paper as though hoping against hope that the box contained a falsebottom where the chicken might be concealed. There was no deception. Hesaw all there was.

  "Sinkers!" His voice expressed infinite disappointment and disgust. Heprodded one of the cold soda biscuits with his finger, took it out andset the box on the ground beside him. He was hungry, therefore, insultedas he felt, he had to eat, but he looked over his shoulder in thedirection from which he had come, and said aloud, "Them Scissor-bills'llknow it when I stop there again!" The declaration was in the nature of athreat. While he munched the dry biscuit, which contained but a trace ofbutter between the two halves, he gazed off at the vista of nothing inparticular that stretched out before him.

  On his left the sand and sagebrush, cacti and sparse bunch-grass wasbounded by the horizon; behind him, in front of him, it was the same;only on the right was the monotony broken by foothills and beyond, arange of purple snow-covered peaks. From the slight elevation or "bench"upon which he sat he looked down upon a greasewood flat where patches ofalkali gleamed dazzling white under the noon-day sun. The flat wasquarter-circled by a waterless creek upon whose banks grew a fewmisshapen and splintered cottonwoods.

  The countless millions of nearly invisible gnats that breed in alkalibogs sighted the Major and promptly rose in swarms to settle upon hisears and in the edges of his hair. He fanned them away automatically andwithout audible comment. Perhaps they served as a counter-irritant; atany rate, the sting of the indignity put upon him by what he termed a"hobo lunch" was finally forgotten in more agreeable thoughts.

  In the distance there was an interesting cloud of dust. Was it cattle,loose horses, or some one coming that way? The Major's eyesight was notall it had been and he could not make out. Since they were coming fromthe opposite direction he was sure to have his curiosity gratified. Hisroving eyes came back to the greasewood flat and rested therespeculatively. Suddenly his jaw dropped and a crumb rolled out. Helooked as though an apparition had risen before his bulging eyes.Involuntarily he sprang to his feet and cried, "My Gawd--what a greatplace to start a town!"

  The idea came with such startling force that it seemed to the Major asif something broke in his brain. Other ideas followed. They cametumbling over each other in their struggle to get out all at once. Apanorama of pictures passed so swiftly before his eyes that it made himdizzy. His eyes gleamed, the color rose in his weather-beaten cheeks,the hand with which he pointed to the greasewood flat below trembled ashe exclaimed in an excitement that made his breath come short:

  "The main street'll run up the creek and about there I'll put the Op'ryHouse. The hotel'll stand on the corner and we'll git a Carnegie Liberyfor the other end of town. The High School can be over yonder and we'llkeep the saloons to one side of the street. There'll be a park wherefolks can set, and if I ain't got pull enough to git a fifty thousanddollar Federal Buildin'--"

  Then came the inspiration which made the Major stagger back:

  "I'll git the post office, and name it Prouty!"

  He felt so tremulous that he had to sit down.

  It seemed incredible that he had not thought of this before, for deepwithin him was a longing to have his name figure in the pages of thehistory of the big new state. Tombstones blew over, dust stormsobliterated graves, photographs faded, but with a town named after himand safely on the map, nobody could forget him if he wanted to.

  The Major's assertion concerning his "pull" was no idle boast. Therewere few men in the state with a wider acquaintance, and he was aconspicuous figure around election time. The experience he had acquiredin his younger days selling Indian Herb Cough Syrup from the tailboardof a wagon, between two sputtering flambeaux, served him in good steadwhen, later, he was called upon to make a few patriotic remarks at aFourth of July Celebration. His rise was rapid from that time, until nowhis services as an orator were so greatly in demand for cornerstonelayings and barbecues that, owing to distance between towns, it kept himalmost constantly on the road.

  The Major sold an occasional box of salve, and in an emergency pulledteeth, in addition to the compensation which he received for what wasdesignated privately as his "gift of gab." But the Major, nevertheless,had his dark moments, in which he contemplated the day when age shouldforce him to retire to private life. Since the wagon containing hispatent leather valise was his home, the Major had no private life toretire to, and his anxiety concerning the future would seem not withoutcause. Now in a flash all his worries smoothed out. He would capitalizehis wide acquaintance and his influence, gain independence andperpetuate his name in the same stroke. At the moment he actuallysuffered because there was no one present to whom he could communicatehis thoughts.

  The cloud of dust was closer, but not near enough yet to distinguish themoving objects that caused it, so he set himself energetically toapplying White Badger Salve to the axle, replacing the wheel andtightening the nut. When he straightened a horseman who had ridden outof the creek bed was scrambling up the side of the "bench." He wasdressed like a top cowpuncher--silver-mounted saddle, split-ear bridleand hand-forged bit. The Major was familiar with the type, though thisparticular individual was unknown to him.


  "Howdy!" The cowboy let the reins slip through his fingers so his horsecould feed, and sagged sidewise in the saddle.

  "How are you, sir?" There was nothing in the dignified restraint of theMajor's response to indicate that his vocal cords ached for exercise andhe was fairly quivering in his eagerness for an ear to talk into. Therewas a silence in which he removed a nose bag, bridled and shoved a horseagainst the tongue.

  "Back, can't ye!"

  "Nooned here, I reckon?"

  The Major thought of his chickenless handout and his face clouded.

  "I et a bite."

  "Thought maybe you was in trouble when I first see you."

  "Had a hot box, but I don't call that trouble." He added humorously:

  "I can chop my wagon to pieces and be on the road again in twentyminutes, if I got plenty of balin' wire."

  The cowboy laughed so appreciatively that the Major inquiredingratiatingly:

  "I bleeve your face is a stranger to me, ain't it?"

  "I don't mind meetin' up with you before. I've just come to the country,as you might say."

  The Major waited for further information, but since it was notforthcoming he ventured:

  "What might I call your name, sir?"

  The cowboy shifted his weight uneasily and hesitated. He said finallywhile the red of his shiny sun-blistered face deepened perceptibly: "Myname is supposed to be Teeters--Clarence Teeters."

  As a matter of fact he _knew_ that his name was Teeters, but injectingan element of doubt into it in this fashion seemed somehow to make thetelling easier. Teeters was bad enough, but combined with Clarence! OnlyMr. Teeters knew the effort it cost him to tell his name to strangers.He added with the air of a man determined to make a clean breast of it:

  "I'm from Missoury."

  The Major's hand shot out unexpectedly.

  "Shake!" he cried warmly. "I was drug up myself at the foot of theOzarks."

  "I pulled out when I was a kid and wrangled 'round considerible."Teeters made the statement as an extenuating circumstance.

  "I took out naturalization papers myself," replied the Majorgood-humoredly. "My name is Prouty--Stephen Douglas Prouty. You'llprob'ly hear of me if you stay in the country. The fact is, I'm thinkin'of startin' a town and namin' it Prouty."

  "Shoo--you don't say so!" In polite inquiry, "Whur?"

  "Thur!"

  Mr. Teeters looked a little blank as he stared at the town siteindicated.

  "It seems turrible fur from water," he commented finally.

  "Sink--drill--artesian well--maybe we'll strike a regular subterraneanriver. Anyway, 'twould be no trick at all to run a ditch from Dead HorseCanyon and get all the water we want." He waved his arm at the distantmountains and settled that objection.

  "Wouldn't them alkali bogs breedin' a billion 'no-see-'ems' a second bekind of a drawback?" inquired Teeters tentatively.

  "That'll all be drained, covered with sile and seeded down in lawns,"replied the Major quickly. "In two year that spot'll be bloomin' likethe Garden of Eden.

  "I've got to be movin'," the Major continued. "I'm on my way from acornerstone layin' at Buffalo Waller to a barbecue at No Wood Crick. I'mkind of an orator," he added modestly.

  "And I got about three hundred head of calves to drag to the fire, if Ikin git my rope on 'em," said Teeters, straightening in the saddle.

  The Major asked in instant interest:

  "Oh, you're workin' for that wealthy eastern outfit?"

  "Don't know how wealthy they be, but they're plenty eastern," Teetersreplied dryly.

  "I was thinkin' I might stop over night with 'em and git acquainted. TheScissors Outfit can't be more'n fifteen mile out of my way, and it'll bea kind of a change from the Widder Taylor's, whur I stop generally."

  The cowboy combed the horse's mane with his fingers in silence. Afterwaiting a reasonable time for the invitation which should have beenforthcoming, the Major inquired:

  "They're--sociable, ain't they?"

  "They ain't never yit run out in the road and drug anybody off hishorse," replied Teeters grimly. "They charge four bits a meal tostrangers."

  "What?" Surely his ears had deceived him.

  Inspired by the Major's dumbfounded expression, the cowboy continued:

  "They have their big meal at night and call it dinner, and they washtheir hands at the table when they git done eatin', and Big Liz has tolope in from the kitchen when she hears the bell tinkle and pass 'emsomethin' either one of 'em could git by reachin'." He lowered his voiceconfidentially, "Most any meal I look fur her to hit one of 'em betweenthe horns."

  The Major stared round-eyed, breathless, like a child listening to afairy tale which he feared would end if he interrupted.

  "In the evenin' the boss puts on a kind of eatin' jacket, a sawed-offcoat that makes a growed man look plumb foolish, and she comes out insilk and satin that shows considerable hide. Have you met this hereToomey?"

  "Not yet; that's a pleasure still in store for me."

  "Pleasure!" exclaimed Teeters, who took the polite phrase literally."More like you'll want to knock his head off. Old Timer," he leaned overthe saddle horn, "seein' as you're from Missoury, I'll tell you privatethat you'd better keep on travelin'. Company ain't wanted at the ScissorOutfit, and they'd high-tone it over you so 'twouldn't be nowaysenjoyable."

  "There is plenty of ranches where I am welcome," replied the Major withdignity. "I kin make the Widder Taylor's by sundown."

  "Miss Maggie plays good on the pianner," Teeters commented,expectorating violently to conceal a certain embarrassment.

  "And the doughnuts the old lady keeps in that crock on the kitchen tableis worth a day's ride to git to." The Major closed an eye and with theother looked quizzically at Teeters, adding, "If it wa'nt forStarlight--"

  "Starlight is shore some Injun," replied the cowboy, grinningunderstandingly.

  "Now what for an outfit's that?"

  The moving cloud of dust which the Major had forgotten in his keeninterest in the conversation was almost upon them. "A band of woolies, apack burro, one feller walkin', and another ridin'."

  The cowboy's eyes were unfriendly, though he made no comment as theywaited.

  "Howdy!" called the Major genially as, with a nod, the herder would havepassed without speaking.

  The stranger responded briefly, but stopped.

  "Come fur?" inquired the Major sociably.

  "Utah."

  "Goin' fur?"

  "Until I find a location. I rather like the looks of this section."

  "Sheep spells 'trouble' in this country," said the cowboy,significantly.

  "Think so?" indifferently.

  Seeing Teeters was about to say something further, the Majorinterrupted:

  "What might I call your name, sir?"

  "Just say 'Joe,' and I'll answer."

  The Major looked a trifle disconcerted, but in his role of Master ofCeremonies continued:

  "I'll make you acquainted with Mr. Teeters."

  The two men nodded coldly.

  To break the strained silence the Major observed:

  "Got a boy helpin' you, I notice."

  "Girl," replied the sheepherder briefly.

  "Girl? Oh, I see! Them overalls deceived me. Daughter, I presume."

  "Pardner," laconically.

  The Major looked incredulous but said nothing, and while he sought forsomething further to say in order to prolong the conversation they allturned abruptly at the rattle of rocks.

  "The boss," said Teeters sardonically from the corner of his mouth, andadded, "That's a young dude that's visitin'."

  Toomey was perfectly equipped for a ride in Central Park. He looked anincongruous and alien figure in the setting in his English ridingclothes and boots. The lad who accompanied him was dressed inexaggerated cowboy regalia.

  Toomey used a double bit and now brought his foaming horse to a shortstop with the curb. He vouchsafed the unimportant "natives" in the roadonly a brief glance, but addressed himself
to Teeters.

  "Where have you been?" he demanded in a sharp tone.

  "I ain't been lost," replied Teeters calmly. "Where would I be 'cepthuntin' stock?"

  "Why didn't you follow me?"

  "I think too much of my horse to jam him over rocks when there ain't nospecial call for it. I kin ride on a run 'thout fallin' off, when they'sneed to."

  Toomey's brilliant black eyes flashed. Swallowing the impudence of thesewestern hirelings was one of the hardest things he had to endure in hispresent life. But even he could see that Teeters thoroughly understoodcattle, else he would have long since discharged him.

  "I've ridden about ten extra miles trying to keep you in sight."

  "If you'd let them sturrups out like I told you and quit tryin' to setdown standin' up, ridin' wouldn't tire you so much." Teeters looked atthe English pigskin saddle in frank disgust.

  Toomey ignored the criticism and said arrogantly:

  "I want you to follow me from now on."

  An ominous glint came in the cowboy's eye, but he still grinned.

  "I wa'nt broke to foller. Never was handled right when I was a colt.Don't you wait fer me, feller, you jest sift along in and I'll come whenI git done."

  Judging from the expression on Toomey's face, it seemed to the Major anopportune time to interrupt.

  "Since nobody aims to introduce us--" he began good-naturedly, extendinga hand. "My name is Prouty--Stephen Douglas Prouty. You've heard of me,like as not."

  "Can't say I have," replied Toomey in a tone that made the Major flushas he shook the extended hand without warmth.

  To cover his confusion, the Major turned to the sheepherder whose softbrown eyes held an amused look.

  "Er--Joe--I'll make you acquainted with Mr. Jasper Toomey, one of ourleadin' stockmen in these parts."

  The introduction received from Toomey the barest acknowledgment as hedirected his gaze to the grazing sheep.

  "Where you taking them?" he asked in a curt tone.

  "I really couldn't tell you yet."

  Toomey glanced at him sharply, attracted by the cultivated tone.

  "I wouldn't advise you to locate here; this is my range."

  "Own it?" inquired the herder mildly.

  "N-no."

  "Lease it?"

  "N-no."

  "No good reason then is there to keep me out?"

  "Except," darkly, "this climate isn't healthy for sheep."

  "Perhaps," gently, "I'm the best judge of that."

  "You'll keep on going, if you follow my advice." The tone was a threat.

  "I hardly ever take advice that's given unasked."

  "Well--you'd better take this."

  The sheepherder looked at him speculatively, with no trace of resentmentin his mild eyes.

  "Let me see," reflectively. "It generally takes an easterner who comeswest to show us how to raise stock from three to five years to go broke.I believe I'll stick around a while; I may be able to pick up somethingcheap a little later."

  A burst of ringing laughter interrupted this unexpected clash betweenthe strangers. It was clear that the lack of harmony did not extend totheir young companions, for the lad and the girl seemed deeplyinterested in each other as their ponies grazed with heads together. Theimmediate cause of their laughter was the boy's declaration that when hecame to see the girl he intended to wear petticoats.

  When their merriment had subsided, she demanded:

  "Don't you like my overalls?"

  He looked her over critically--at her face with the frank gray eyes andthe vivid red of health glowing through the tan; at the long flat braidof fair hair, which hung below the cantle of the saddle; at her slenderbare feet thrust through the stirrups.

  "You'd look pretty in anything," he responded gallantly.

  She detected the evasion and persisted:

  "But you think I'd look nicer in dresses, don't you?"

  Embarrassed, he responded hesitatingly:

  "You see--down South where I come from the girls all wear white and laceand ribbon sashes and carry parasols and think a lot about theircomplexions. You're just--different."

  The herder waved his arm. "Way 'round 'em, Shep," and the sheep beganmoving.

  "Good-bye," the girl gathered up the reins reluctantly.

  "You didn't tell me your name."

  "Katie Prentice."

  "Mine's Hughie Disston," he added, his black eyes shining withfriendliness. "Maybe I'll see you again sometime."

  She answered shyly:

  "Maybe."

  Toomey started away at a gallop, calling sharply:

  "Come on, Hughie!"

  The boy followed with obvious reluctance, sending a smile over hisshoulder when he found that the girl was looking after him.

  "Hope you make out all right with your town," said Teeters politely as,ignoring his employer's instructions, he turned his horse's head in adirection of his own choosing.

  "No doubt about it," replied the Major, briskly, gathering up the linesand bringing the stub of a whip down with a thwack upon each backimpartially. "S'long!" He waved it at the girl and sheepherder. "I trustyou'll find a location to suit you."

  "Pardner," said Mormon Joe suddenly, when the Major was a blur in acloud of dust and the horsemen were specks in the distance, "this lookslike home to me somehow. There ought to be great sheep feed over therein the foothills and summer range in the mountains. What do you think ofit?"

  "Oh--goody!" the girl cried eagerly. "Isn't it funny, I was hoping you'dsay that."

  He looked at her quizzically.

  "Tired of trailing sheep, Katie, or do you think you might havecompany?"

  She flushed in confusion, but admitted honestly:

  "Both, maybe."