The Fighting Shepherdess

by Caroline Lockhart

  CHAPTER XVII

  EXTREMES MEET

  Kate raised herself on an elbow and looked out through the open windowabove her bunk where the first streak of dawn was showing. The soft airwas redolent of things growing and the pungent odor of sagebrush. Thebush birds were chirping furiously; all the soul-stirring magic ofspring in the foothills was in its perfection; but it conveyed nothingto Kate save the fact that another day was beginning in which to getthrough the work she had outlined.

  She was like that now--practical, driving, sparing neither herself norothers--apparently without sentiment or any outside interest. Her sheepand that which pertained to them seemed to fill her whole horizon.

  The interior of the wagon alone was sufficient to disclose the change inKate. As the growing light made the dim outlines clearer it brought outon the floor and side benches a promiscuous clutter that containednothing suggesting a feminine occupant. There was no scrollwork in soapon the window now. On the contrary, the glass badly needed washing. Nodecorative advertisement, no bouquet above the mirror, or festal juniperthrust between the oak bows and the canvas. A pile of market reports and_Sheep Growers' Journals_ replaced the fashion magazines, while theshelves that had contained romances and histories were filled with bookson wool-growing.

  The floor space and side benches were occupied by new horse shoes, a canof paint, sheep shears, a lard bucket filled with nails and staples,boxes of rifle ammunition, riding boots and arctics, a halter and abroken bridle.

  It all said plainly that the wagon represented only a place for sleepand shelter, yet, since she had no other, it was home to the sheepwoman.

  Kate raised herself higher on her elbow and called sharply:

  "Bowers?"

  A sleepy response came from somewhere.

  "It's daylight--hurry!"

  Bowers's voice, plaintive but stronger, answered:

  "I'd be ten pounds heavier if it wasn't for that word 'hurry.'"

  Kate smiled faintly. Complaining and threatening to mutiny was to Bowersmerely a form of recreation and Kate knew that nothing short of a chargeof dynamite could blast Bowers loose from his beloved wagon. He spokeinvariably of the ranch as "Our Outfit" and he could not have been morefaithful if their interests had been identical, though he missed nooccasion to declare that it robbed a man of his self-respect to work fora woman.

  The chief complaint of Kate's herders was against her brusque imperiousmanner and her exactions, which took no account of their physicallimitations. Fatigue, weather, long hours without food or sleep undertrying conditions, were never excuses to satisfy her for the slightestneglect of duty, or any error of judgment which worked to herdisadvantage. She seemed to regard them as human machines and they feltit. All save Bowers obeyed without liking her.

  "Headquarters" were still on the original homestead, but they had grownsince they had consisted of Kate's sheep wagon, Mormon Joe's tepee and aten-by-twelve cook tent. Now it looked like a canvas village when firstseen through the willows, for there was a dining tent connected with thecook tent by a fly, and near it a commissary tent where were heapedsupplies, saddles, harness and all that it was needful to keep undershelter, while around the tents was a semicircle of sheep wagons. Therewas a substantial horse corral, and across the creek the sheep-pens hadtripled in size, with a row of well-built shearing-pens beside them.Under a long shed with a corrugated-iron roofing there were sacks ofwool piled to a height which gave Kate a feeling of deep satisfactioneach time she passed them.

  Everything showed thrift, economy, a practical intelligence and aSpartan disregard for personal comfort. The camp was as devoid ofluxuries and superfluities as an Indian village. And on a hillside wherethe afternoon sun lay longest there was a sunken grave enclosed in wire.Here Mormon Joe was turning to dust, unavenged, forgotten nearly, by allsave a handful.

  Kate felt that she had every reason to be satisfied with her progressand to congratulate herself upon the judgment she had displayed incontinuing to raise sheep for their fleece when the price of wool wasnil, practically, and every discouraged grower in the state, includingthe astute Neifkins, was putting in "black-faces" that were better formutton. Now a protective administration was advancing the price of wool,and when she sold she would have her reward for her courage. She hadbeen the first to import a few of the coarser wool sheep from Canada andthe experiment had proved that they were especially adapted to the rockymountainous range of that section. The Rambouillets she purchased hadkept fat where the merinos had lost weight on the same feed. The eweshad sheared on an average of close to twelve pounds and the bucks morethan fifteen, a few as high as twenty-five. And now she wanted more ofthem.

  Thus circumstances seemed to have diverted her tastes into new channelsentirely. As she had once yearned for clothes, and companionship, andhappiness, she now with the same intensity wanted sheep, and more sheep,and better sheep. Little by little, too, and unobtrusively, she wasacquiring script land, lieu land, long-time leases, patented homesteads,and the water holes which controlled ranges. To do all this meant theelimination of every unnecessary expenditure and she denied herselfcheerfully, wearing clothes that were no better than her herders',shabby sometimes to grotesqueness.

  The coming autumn she would have old ewes and wether lambs to shipsufficient to cover her expenses, while the sale of her wool at presentprices would enable her to grade up her herds to a point that would beapproximately where she would have them. She had seen too many hardwinters and short ranges ever again to be over-sanguine, but she knewthat unless some unprecedented loss came to her she was well on the wayto the fulfillment of her ambition. A few good years and the "SheepQueen of Bitter Creek" would no longer be a title of derision. But thesethoughts were her secrets and she had no confidants. Bowers was thenearest approach to one, but even he knew nothing of the incentive whichmade her seemingly tireless herself and possessed of a driving energythat made all who worked for her fully earn their wages.

  Bowers was preparing breakfast by lamplight when Kate clanged thetriangle of iron to awaken two herders asleep in their "tarps" under thewillows. They crawled out in the clothes in which they had slept,dishevelled and grumbling.

  They breakfasted by lamplight, seated on benches on either side of thelong table improvised from boards and cross-pieces of two-by-fours.There was no tablecloth and the dishes were of agate-ware as formerly.Kate ate hurriedly and in silence, but the usual airy persiflage went onbetween Bowers and the herders.

  "It near froze ice this mornin'," Bowers observed by way of makingconversation. "I was so cold that I had to shiver myself into apressperation before I could get breakfast."

  "I slept chilly all night," said Bunch, and added, looking askance athis erstwhile bed-fellow, "They ain't no more heat in Oleson than arattler."

  "Looks like you'd steal yurself a blanket somewhur," Bowers commented.

  "I wouldn't a slept the fore part of last night anyhow," Bunch saidpointedly.

  "I hope I didn't keep you awake with my singin'?" Bowers's voiceexpressed a world of solicitude.

  "Was that you makin' that comical noise?" Bunch elevated his brows inastonishment. "I thought one of the horses was down, and chokin'."

  Bowers slammed a pyramid of pancakes upon the table.

  "Why don't you take a shovel, Bunch?" he demanded. "You're losin' timeeatin' with your knife and fingers."

  "These sweat-pads of yourn would be pretty fair if 'twant fur the lumpsof sody a feller's allus bitin' into," the herder commented.

  "Maybe you'd ruther do the cookin' so you kin git 'em to suit you,"Bowers retorted, nettled.

  "Oh, I ain't kickin'--I lived with Injuns a year and I kin eatanything."

  "You got manners like a pet 'coon," Bowers eyed the herder with disfavoras that person shoved a cake into his mouth with one hand and reachedfor the molasses jug with the other.

  Kate paid no attention to this amiable exchange of personalities, forwhile she ate with the men she seldom took part in the conversation. Nowshe said,
rising:

  "Stack the dishes, Bowers, and come over and help us."

  "Yes, Bowers," Bunch mocked when Kate was well out of hearing, "comeover and run down fifty or sixty sheep and wrastle a few three-hundredpoun' bucks and drag around several wool sacks and halter-break thattwo-year-ol' colt while you're restin'."

  Bowers resented instantly any criticism of Kate by her herders. But hehimself saw and regretted the change in her. Occasionally he wished thathe dared remind her of the old adage that "Molasses catches more fliesthan vinegar," for there were times when she made difficulties forherself by her brusqueness, antagonizing where it would have been aseasy to engender a feeling of friendliness. She was more interesting,perhaps, but less lovable, and this Bowers felt vaguely.

  The work that morning went slowly. Bunch and Oleson moved withexasperating deliberation and made stupid blunders. The brunt of thelabor fell upon Bowers and Kate, who soon were grimy with dust andperspiration. As the sun rose higher, so did Kate's temper, and hervoice grew sharper and more imperious each time she spoke to theshirkers. The fact that the present task was necessary, because ofcarelessness on their part, did not tend to increase her tolerance.Bunch, herding a band of yearlings, had allowed them to get back totheir mothers. To allow a "mix" was one of the supreme offenses and theherders knew that only necessity ever made Kate overlook it. If new menhad been available, both Bunch and Oleson would have received their timechecks quickly.

  Kate had been at the "dodge gate" until she was dizzy. Her eyes achedwith the strain of watching the chute and her arm ached with the strainof slamming the gate to-and-fro, which cut them into their properdivisions. The last sheep was through finally, but not until the sun washigh and the heat made exertion an effort.

  "There are some yearlings in there that belong in the 'bum bunch,' andsix or eight with wrong earmarks. We'll have to catch them." Kate setthe example by walking in among them, and immediately a cloud of dustarose as the frightened sheep ran bleating in a circle. Above the dinKate's voice rose sharp and imperative as her trained eye singled outthe sheep she wanted.

  "There, Oleson, that one! Bowers, catch that lame one! Hold that sheepwith the sore mouth, Bunch, till I look at it."

  The sheep dodged and piled up in one end of the corral to the point ofsuffocation, then around and around in a dizzy circle, with Kate and theherders each intent on the particular sheep he was bent on catching.

  In the midst of it a laugh, feminine, musical, amused, rang out abovethe turmoil. Kate looked up quickly. Her swift glance showed her thefigure of a man and a girl leaning over the gate at the far end of thatdivision.

  She frowned slightly.

  "Bunch," curtly, "tell those people to stand back."

  Bunch waved his hand and yelled bluntly:

  "Git back furderer!"

  Again the light feminine laugh reached Kate and her lips tightened asshe thought cynically:

  "Dudes from the Scissor Ranch over to look at the freak womansheepherder."

  Disston winced a little. Kate might misunderstand and take offense atBeth Rathburn's laughter.

  But Kate ignored, then forgot them, until Bowers, working at that end ofthe corral, came back and jerked his thumb over his shoulder:

  "That feller wants to speak to you."

  Kate looked up impatiently, hesitated, wiped her face on the sleeve ofher forearm and walked over without great alacrity.

  As she went forward Kate looked only at the girl, who, cool and daintyin her sheer white muslin, her fair face reflecting the glow from thepink silk lining of her parasol, small of stature and as exquisitelyfeminine as a Dresden china shepherdess, was her direct antithesis.

  Kate's divided skirt was bedraggled, a rent showed in the sleeve of herblouse, her riding boots were shabby, and the fingers were out of herworn gauntlets. Her hat was white with the dust of the corral, her hairdishevelled and her face, still damp with perspiration, was grimy. Butsomehow she managed to be picturesque and striking. Her clothes couldnot hide the long beautiful curves of her tall figure and she carriedherself very erect, with something dignified and authoritative in hermanner, while her wide free gestures were the movements of independenceand self-reliance.

  Disston looking at her eagerly and intently as she came closer notedthat the changes the years had made were chiefly in her expression. Thefriendly candor of her eyes was replaced by a look that was coldlyspeculative, and her lips that had smiled so readily now expresseddetermination. Her whole bearing was indicative of concentration,singleness of purpose and patience or, more strictly, a doggedendurance. These things Disston saw in his swift scrutiny before sherecognized him.

  She stopped abruptly, her eyes widened and her lips parted inastonishment.

  "Hughie!" She went forward swiftly, her eyes shining with the gladwelcome he remembered and all her old-time impetuosity of manner. Thenshe checked herself as suddenly. She did not withdraw the hand she hadextended, but the smile froze on her lips and all the warmth went out ofher greeting. She added formally, "I wasn't expecting to see any one Iknew--you surprised me."

  Wondering at her change of manner, he laughed as he shook hands withher.

  "I hoped to--it's one of the things I've been looking forward to."

  Beth Rathburn was looking, not at Kate, but at Disston, when heintroduced them; she could not remember when she had seen him soanimated, so genuinely glad.

  "I've been enormously interested--however do you do it?" Miss Rathburnsaid in her cool drawl, while she studied Kate's face curiously.

  "It's my business," Kate replied simply, regarding her with equalinterest.

  "And you live out here by yourself, without any other woman? Aren't youlonely?"

  "I'm too busy."

  "You work with the men--just like one of them?"

  "Just like a man," Kate repeated evenly.

  "It is quite--quite wonderful!" Beth subtly conveyed the impression thaton the contrary she thought it was dreadful.

  Kate drew back her head a little and looked at her visitor.

  "Is it?" coolly.

  "And Hugh never has told me a word about you--he's been so reticent."She laid her finger tips upon his arm in proprietory fashion while a slymalice shone through the mischievousness of her smile.

  Disston colored.

  Kate replied ironically:

  "Perhaps he is one of those who do not boast of their acquaintance withsheepherders."

  "Kate!" he protested vigorously.

  She regarded him with a faint inscrutable smile until Bowersinterrupted:

  "How many bells shall I put on them yearlin's?"

  "One in fifty; and cut those five wethers out of the ewe herd. Catchthose yearling ewes with the wether earmark and change to theshoe-string."

  "What do you want done with that feller in the pen?"

  "Saw his horn off and I'll throw him into the buck herd later."

  "Where'll Oleson hold his sheep?"

  "Well up the creek; and if he lets them mix again--"

  "He says he can't do nothin' without a dog," Bowers ventured.

  "Then he'd better quit right now--you can tell him." Kate's voice wascurt, incisive, her tone final. "He can't use a dog on theseRambouillets--they're high-strung, nervous, different from the merinos.Anyway, I won't have it." She swung about to indicate that theconversation was ended.

  "That's all Greek to me. Do you understand it, Hugh?" Miss Rathburn'slofty drawl, her faintly patronizing manner, all indicated amusement.

  "I don't know much about sheep," he admitted.

  "Do you know--" to Kate, with all her social manner--"you aredeliciously unique?"

  Kate, who detected the sneer, but had no social manner to meet it, askedbrusquely:

  "In what way?"

  "You're so--" she hesitated for a word and seemed to search hervocabulary for the right one--"so strong-minded."

  Kate's eyes were sparkling.

  "If by that you mean intelligent, I thank you for the compliment, andI'm sorry that I
can't--" She checked herself, but the inference wasclear that she intended to add--"return it."

  Miss Rathburn's fair skin became a deeper pink than even a pink-linedparasol warranted, while Kate addressed herself to Disston exclusively.

  Disston had listened in dismay. Whatever was the matter? In truth, itmust be, he told himself, that women were natural enemies. He never hadseen this feline streak in Beth to recognize it, and he had feltinstinctively that, on Kate's side, from the first glance she had notliked her visitor.

  To Beth Rathburn, it was ridiculous that Disston should take seriouslythis girl who, at the moment, was considerably less presentable than anyone of their own servants--that he should treat her with all thedeference he showed to any woman of his acquaintance, as if she were ofhis own class exactly! And a worse offense was his obviously keeninterest in her. It was a new sensation for the southern girl to beignored, or at least omitted from the conversation, and each second herresentment grew, though the underlying cause was that she felt herselfovershadowed by Kate's stronger personality.

  To remind Disston of his remissness she walked over to a pen whereBowers, astride a powerful buck, saw in hand, was having his owntroubles. She returned almost immediately, shuddering prettily:

  "He's sawing that sheep's horn off! Doesn't it hurt it?"

  "Not nearly so much as letting it grow to put its eye out."

  "I presume you do that, too?" The girl's eyes and tone were mocking.

  "Oh, yes, I do everything that's necessary." There was something savagein Kate's composure as she turned directly and looked at her. "I havesheared sheep when I had no money to pay herders, slept out in the hillson the ground on a saddle blanket with my saddle for a pillow. I've mademy underwear out of flour sacks and my skirts of denim. I've lived oncorn meal and salt pork and dried apples and rabbits for months at atime. I eat and hobnob with sheepherders from one year's end to theother. I'm out with a drop bunch in the lambing season, and I brand thebucks myself--on the nose--burn them with a hot iron. I'll send you wordwhen I'm going to do it again and you can come over--it's e-normouslyamusing. Just wait a minute--come over to the fence here--and I'll showyou something. I'm even more deliciously unique than you imagine."

  She walked to the gate and vaulted it easily. Hughie and Beth could dono less than follow as far as the fence, while Kate stood searching theband of sheep that milled about her. When she found what she sought, shemade one of her swift swoops, caught the sheep by the hind leg and threwit with a dextrous twist. Then holding it between her knees, she took aknife from her pocket and tested the edge of the blade with her thumb.

  The girl at the fence cried aghast:

  "Oh, what's she going to do?" Then she clutched Disston's arm and staredin fascinated horror while Kate ear-marked the sheep and released it.

  "She's barbarous--horrible--impossible!"

  "You brought it on yourself, Beth," he reminded her in a low tone."You--goaded her,"

  "And you defend her?" she demanded, furiously. "Take me away fromhere--I'm nauseated!"

  "I'll say good-bye--you go on, and I'll join you."

  He vaulted the fence and went up to Kate, who was going on with her workand ignoring them.

  "Kate," he put out his hand, "I'm sorry."

  She disregarded it and turned upon him, her eyes blazing:

  "Don't you bring any more velvet-pawed kittens here to sharpen theirclaws in me!"

  "Kate," earnestly, "I wouldn't have been the means of hurting you foranything I can think of."

  "I'm not hurt," she retorted, "I'm mad."

  "I'm coming to see you again--alone, next time. I want to know why youdid not answer my letters--I want to know lots of things--why you're sodifferent--what has changed you so much."

  "And you imagine I'll tell you?" she asked dryly.

  "You wouldn't?"

  She shrugged a shoulder. "I don't babble any longer."

  "It's nothing to you whether I come or not?"

  "I'm very busy."

  He looked at her for a moment in silence, then he held out his hand oncemore.

  "I am disappointed in you!"

  "Are you, Hughie?" she said indifferently, as she took his hand withoutwarmth.

  "Bowers!" Her tone was energetic and businesslike as she turned sharply."Come here and help me earmark the rest of these yearlings."

  Disston stood for a moment, feeling himself dismissed and alreadyforgotten, yet conscious with a rush of emotion which startled him, thatin spite of the fact that her dress, speech, manner, occupation, mode oflife violated every ideal and tradition, she appealed to him powerfully,stirred him as had no other woman. She aroused within him an envelopingtenderness--a desire to protect her--though she seemed the last womanwho needed or cared for either.

  When Oleson with the ewes and lambs was well up the creek, Kate gaveBunch his parting instructions:

  "Let them spread out more. You Montana herders feed too close--it's afault with all of you. Can't you see the grass is different here? Useyour head a little. Got plenty of cartridges? I saw cat tracks in apatch of sand along the creek yesterday. He got eight lambs in his lastraid on Oleson's band. I'll have to put out some poison."

  She walked slowly across the foot log after the last lamb had leapedbleating through the gate. She inspected her boots, noting that one heelhad run over, and looked at her gauntlets, with the fingers protruding.Then, when she stepped inside the wagon, she walked straight to themirror and stared at her reflection--dishevelled, her face franklydirty, about her neck a handkerchief that was faded and unbecoming, amouth that drooped a little with fatigue, her whole face wearing anexpression of determination that she realized might very easily becomehard. A few more years of work and exposure and she would begrim-featured and hopelessly weather-beaten. No wonder that girl hadlooked at her as though she were some curious alien creature with whomshe had nothing at all in common! And Hughie had said he wasdisappointed in her.

  This was Katie Prentice, she said to herself--Katie Prentice for whomthe future, to which she had looked forward eagerly, had been anotherword for happiness--the Katie Prentice who had tripped in and out ofthat air castle of her building, looking like this girl that Hugh hadbrought with him. Now this image was the realization!

  Just for the fraction of a second the corners of her mouth twitched, herchin quivered--then she raised it defiantly:

  "To do what you set out to do--that's the great thing. Nothing elsematters."

  She slammed the door behind her and untied her horse from the wagonwheel.

  "Come on, Cherokee, we'll go and see what that Nebraskan's doing."

  The Nebraskan was standing on a hilltop when she first saw him, facingthe east and as motionless as the monument of stones beside him. Hissheep were nowhere visible.

  As Kate rode closer the same glance that disclosed the band of sheepshowed her a coyote creeping down the side of a draw in which they werefeeding. She reached instantly for her carbine and drew it from itsscabbard, but she was not quick enough to shoot it before it had jumpedfor the lamb it had been stalking. The coyote missed his prey, but thelamb, which had been feeding a little apart from the others, ran intothe herd with a terrified bleat and the whole band fled on a commonimpulse.

  The coyote followed the lamb it had singled out, through all itstwistings and turnings, but maneuvering to work it to the outsidewhere it could cut the lamb away from the rest and pull it down at itsleisure.

  Kate dared not shoot into the herd, and after a second's considerationas to whether or not to follow, she thrust the rifle back in itsscabbard and turned her horse up the hill.

  Even the sound of hoofs did not rouse the herder from his deepabsorption. His hands were hanging at his sides, and his mouth waspartially open. He was staring towards the east with unblinking eyes,and with as little evidence of life as though he had died standing.

  "What are you looking at, Davis?"

  He whirled about, startled.

  "I was calc'latin' that Nebrasky m
ust lay 'bout in that direction." Hepointed to a pass in the mountains.

  "A little homesick, aren't you?" Her voice was ominously quiet.

  "Don't know whether I'm homesick or bilious; when I gits one I generallygits the other."

  "You were wondering just then what your wife was doing that minute,weren't you?"

  Her suavity deceived him and he grinned sheepishly.

  "Somethin' like that, maybe."

  "You are married, then?"

  The herder began to see where he was drifting.

  "Er--practically," he replied ambiguously.

  "So you lied when you joined the Outfit and I asked you?"

  The herder whined plaintively.

  "I heerd you wouldn't hire no fambly man if you knew it."

  "When I make a rule there's a reason for it. 'Family men' areunreliable--they'll quit in lambing time because the baby's teething;they'll leave at a moment's notice when a letter comes that their wifewants to see them; their mind isn't on their work and they're restlessand discontented. I knew you were married the first time I found youwith your sheep behind instead of ahead of you."

  "You can't understand the feelin's of a fambly man away from home." Herolled his eyes sentimentally. The subject was one which was dear to theuxorious herder. He pulled out the tremolo stop in his voice andquavered: "You feel like you're goin' 'round with nothin' inside ofyou--a empty shell--or a puff-ball with the puff out of it. You got afeelin' all the time like somethin's pullin' you." He looked so hardtowards Nebraska that he all but toppled. "Somethin' here," he laid ahand on his heart, approximately, "like a plaster drawin'. Love,"eloquently, "changes your hull nature. It makes lambs out o' roughnecksand puts drunks on the wagon. It turns you kind and forgivin' and takesthe fight out o' you. It makes you--"

  "Maudlin! And weak! And inefficient!" Kate interrupted savagely. "Itdistracts your thoughts and dissipates your energy. It impairs yourjudgment, lessens your will power. It's for persons who have no ambitionor who have achieved it. For the struggler there's nothing worthbothering with that doesn't take him forward."

  "That's a pretty cold-blooded doctrind," declared the shocked herder."If 'twant for love--"

  "If 'twant for love," Kate mimicked harshly, "you wouldn't be indulgingin a spell of homesickness and leaving your sheep to the coyotes!Sentiment is lovely in books, but it's expensive in business, so I'mgoing to fire you. Bowers will be here with the supply wagon to-morrow,so I'll take the sheep until he can relieve me. I'll pay you off and youcan walk back to the ranch or," grimly, "take a short cut through thePass up there--to 'Nebrasky.'"